A/N: so, i noticed that since i first published this, i neglected to make edits as my writing style improved. So six years later, here's a much better and very much different version of my story. If you've read it before, read it again because I've changed a lot of things. Hope you enjoy this version! don't forget to review!
December 23rd
Terry would be a fool to expect time off for Christmas. He made that mistake his first year as Batman, but quickly learned that both Gotham and Bruce show no sympathy towards holidays. Although he still secretly hopes for a break every passing year, he wasn't surprised to receive a call from the Justice League requesting his assistance. So he left without hesitation while Jazz stayed behind to look after their city during his absence.
"Cheer up," Rex suddenly says, pulling Batman out of his thoughts to notice his friend had quietly made his way to his side. "Things are quieting down; you'll get to go home soon."
"I've learned not to be optimistic around this time of year," Terry replies, bringing his eyes back to the view of his home planet; floating in orbit miles away from Earth always gives him mixed feelings of awe and irritation. "You and Marina planning anything special this year?" He asks without looking at Rex.
"Nah, never bothered; we're both too busy," Rex replies, shrugging. Since Terry first met them seven years ago, Marina and Rex's relationship had blossomed from friendship to romance; Terry was one of Rex's groomsmen at their small wedding ceremony. "She's been down there with the rescue team for almost twelve hours now and I don't think she'll be back anytime soon."
"Such is the life I guess," Terry sighs stepping away from the enormous viewing window. "You just come back?" He asks as they walk together to one of the control centers on the second floor of the station.
"Yeah, but not staying for long."
"I'll come with you then."
"There's no need. The worst is over; we just have to help the Peruvians clean up. You should go home, enjoy the holidays like the rest of humanity."
"It's not like I have anything better to do," Terry replies. "My family's in Florida and Bruce is… well, being Bruce."
"What about the new chick?"
"So you heard."
"We all did. You haven't said a word about her yet."
"What is there to say?" He shrugs. Rex raises a brow at him, suggesting he disagrees with Terry's indifferent attitude regarding his partner of two years. Terry rolls his eyes in response.
"So what's her story?"
"We're not talking about this now," Terry says as they enter the control center.
"Fine," Rex replies, sensing his reluctance could be blamed on the fact they are both still on duty. "How bout you just tell me why you'd rather spend Christmas here instead of with her."
"She's busy with her own family."
"Oh yeah? She got brothers? Sisters?"
"Subtle, Rex," Terry sarcastically replies, knowing his friend is just fishing for information.
"Doesn't hurt to try," Rex grins.
"Attention, Justice League team leaders: Warhawk, Green Lantern, Blaze, Slick, and Batman," an announcement suddenly sounds, "please head to telepad three to assemble your teams."
"Showtime," Rex says with another smirk. After reading their respective team member's names off of the console, the two head out to the designated teleportation pads, prepared to set out to the chaos of Peru.
December 23rd
With this being Jazz's first time spending Christmas with her mother since she was a child, her reluctance isn't just understandable, but expected. Since her mother helped put her father's murderer behind bars despite the risk to herself, Jazz had grown to respect her more. But although she had forgiven her for past sins, the awkwardness between them is something that will take a lot longer to resolve; and Nicole is fully aware of that fact, which is why she decided to visit Gotham for the holidays instead of spending it at another Parisian fashion show.
As she finishes plating the delivered gourmet Italian food, Nicole hears the doorbell go off. With everything in order, she hurries over and opens it to find Jazz standing on the other side with an awkward smile on her face.
"Am I early?" Jazz asks.
"No, no, of course not," Nicole enthusiastically replies. "Come in, it's freezing out there."
Taking a step into the warm mansion, Jazz takes off her coat, which her mother takes and hangs in a closet.
"So how was your semester?" Nicole asks as she leads the way to the dining room.
"It was fine," Jazz replies, studying her new surroundings.
Nicole had gone all out with the decorations making Jazz feel like she's walking into Mrs. Claus's dining room. Garlands wrap around stair banisters, wreaths shaped into center pieces sit on the table with candles ticking out of them, ornaments hang from every available chandelier; the room reminded Jazz of Whoville from a vintage version of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas".
"Wow," she quietly exclaims, her eyes roaming around the room. "You, uh, didn't have to go to all this trouble."
"Oh, what, this? It's not trouble, really. Your grandparents used to love decorating for the holidays; I guess I inherited that passion. Come here, let me show you something."
Nicole walks out of the dining room and into the family room with Jazz following close behind. They walk into another magnificently decorated room where it appears no shiny embellishment was spared. In the corner by the chimney stands a tree at least seven feet tall and wearing decorations Jazz has never seen before.
Nicole smiles at her daughter's amazed expression. "Beautiful, isn't it?"
"Yeah," she quietly agrees before they approach it.
"The ornaments are antiques passed down for generations," Nicole explains. "They're all hand made by the women of my family. See this one?" She points at a bird holding an olive branch in its beak carved in wood. "It was the first ornament made when my family came to the States almost a hundred and fifty years ago. That chip on the bird's tail is my mom's fault. She dropped it on accident when she was putting it up the first year it was handed to her."
"What did you make?"
Nicole squints as she searches the enormous tree for one of hers. After a few silent moments, she points at a white and blue furry snowflake.
"I made that one when I was twelve; it was my first one and I got to sew it on my own. I named my fashion line Snowflake because of it." She points to an intricately decorated angel made of while felt, feathers, and beads. "I made that one when I was fifteen, and it was the first time I realized I wanted to be a designer."
Jazz gives her a small smile before she turns her attention to the middle of the room. "What's that for?" She asks when she notices materials laid out on the coffee table.
"This," Nicole excitedly starts, pulling Jazz's hand and leading her to the table. "This is a Cleland family tradition. Get down here, come on," she encourages as she kneels.
When Jazz sits, her gaze drifts over to the multicolored sheets of fabric, the different shapes and sizes of wood, ribbons, beads, and scissors before she looks at her mother.
"So what are we making?"
"Anything you want," her mother smiles, picking up two square pieces of red velour. "If you can glue it, you can do it. That's what my grandmother told me the first time I made my ornament."
"I'm not exactly creative, though," Jazz confesses, hesitantly picking up the glue gun.
"It doesn't have to be creative. We have a dozen Santas on the tree, for crying out loud," Nicole replies as she sews the fabric together. "Hell, it doesn't even have to be good. It just has to be something meaningful to you, something you love."
Jazz takes a moment to think about what her mother just said; the question asking what she loves churns in her head as she tries to find an answer. Her eyes turn to the decorated tree hoping for some inspiration before a small smile creeps on her lips when she figures it out. She picks up two slabs of wood, one circular the other square, and she turns to her mother.
"You mind if I make one for a friend?"
December 23rd
'Slag it! How did I get myself into this? I'm going to be ridiculed for decades! I mean isn't that what families do? At least I'm dragging Jared down with me. But I still can't believe I agreed to this. Cooking a Christmas dinner for both our families? What the hell was I thinking? How do you even cook a turkey?'
"Do you think we should get two turkeys instead?" Jared asks, but the question goes unanswered. "Max?"
"Huh? What?" Max suddenly wakes from her worried thoughts.
"Hon, relax; you'll cook a great dinner. How many times should I say that?"
"Until I am blessed with the knowledge of how to prepare a Christmas feast for not one, but two families!" She reaches a hand into the freezer to grab two whole turkeys. "How did you con me into this?"
"I didn't; you just couldn't stop yourself despite me objecting," he replies, unable to stifle a grin.
"Then what good are you as a boyfriend? You had one job: keep my big mouth from getting me into trouble. How'd you screw that up?"
"What can I say? Seeing you in trouble once in a while is too tempting to pass up," he replies still smirking before Max glares at him. "Anyway, what's next on the list?"
"Well, no thanks to your 'she can cook anything from scratch' comment, we need bread crumbs."
"Lead the way, Rachel Ray."
"Who?" Max asks with a raised brow.
"You know, that wrinkly old chef everybody loved a few decades ago."
"I have no idea who you're talking about," Max responds as she pushes the cart in the right direction.
"Yes you do!" Jared calls out after her with a growing smile.
December 23rd
"But she always pinches my cheeks till they're about to pop," Matt whines to his mother as she packs suitcases sitting open on her bed. Telling from her hurried actions, it's obvious she's doing most of the packing while her youngest son does most of the complaining.
"Matt, you know we visit grandma every Christmas," she replies as she folds another pair of shorts.
"Yeah, but why couldn't it be Granny Beth? She's way more schway," Matt continues, leaning against the doorframe.
"You're just saying that because she gives you money whenever you visit," she replies, throwing shirts from the dresser over her shoulder and into the luggage.
"That and she has a German Shepard; Buck doesn't compare to that wimpy poodle Grandma Macy has."
"Matt, we visited Beth on Thanksgiving. Now its Macy's turn."
"But-"
"That's enough out of you, young man," she scolds, frowning at Matt. "One more word and you'll be staying with… um," Mary hesitates. She usually uses Grandma Macy as a threat, but in this situation, she's at a loss. "Mr. Wayne?" Matt scoffs, suggesting he's clearly not intimidated. He may not know Bruce as well as Terry, but he knows for a fact Bruce isn't going to let a kid hang around his place for a week. "Just grab your stuff; we're leaving first thing tomorrow."
"And what if I don't?" He stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest making an obvious statement of refusal.
"You forget, Matt," Mary ominously grins. "I'm the one in the position of power thanks to one tiny detail." Her son frowns with confusion before she continues. "Presents."
"You think bribing me is going to work?" Mary raises a single brow at him, instantly wiping away the cocky smile Matt is wearing. "I'll be needing that bag now."
December 23rd
"Mr. Bruce Thomas Wayne is cordially invited to attend
The Annual Holiday Charity Ball
On December 24th at 8:00 pm
Hosted by District Attorney Samuel Young
And his wife Commissioner Barbara Gordon-Young.
Dress code is White Tie."
Every year he gets her moves the cursor to open the second e-mail that always follows the first.
"You had better say 'Yes' this year, Bruce, or I'll personally come over and drag you there if I have to."
But she never does, and he knows it.
Only requiring two letters on the keyboard, he types in his reply and sends it. He then sets the laptop on the coffee table, picks up the cane leaning against the chair and slowly rises to stand. He makes his way to the ceiling to floor window and silently watches the delicate snowfall cover the vast land that is owned by the Wayne family.
'Family, right,' he mentally scoffs.
He switches his gaze to the unlit fireplace under the portrait of his family, Thomas and Martha Wayne, triggering a memory that only comes to him once a year.
"Dad? Dad! Come on! It's time to put the star on the tree!" Bruce called to his father from the bottom of the staircase.
"Alright, son. Just a minute," he called back his voice originating from the study on the second floor. But young Bruce was too eager to wait, so he ran up the flight of stairs almost as fast as the Flash and burst into the study just in time to find his father hiding something in the secret compartment built into the desk.
"What are you doing?"
"Shh. It's a surprise for your mother," he replied with a grin that Bruce returned.
"What is it?"
"I'm not saying a word," Thomas responded approaching his son and leading him out the door.
"You know I won't tell, Dad."
"Funny. That's the exact same thing you said on Mother's day, her birthday, and Teacher's day, and yet she still managed to find out," he laughed as he ruffled his seven year-old son's hair. Resting his arm on Bruce's shoulder, the two head down the staircase.
"There you two are," Martha's gentle voice said when the two reached the base. "Bruce, your cocoa is getting cold."
"Can we put up the star now, Mom?" Bruce asked looking at her with his warm blue eyes. She let out a soft chuckle as she crouched to his level and straightened his messy hair. "Patience, sweetheart. That's the key to-"
"Success," he finished for her somewhat disappointed. "I know." He stared down at his sock covered toes.
"But you know what I think?" He looked up to find an uncharacteristic mischievous grin stretched on her lips. She held up a beautiful golden ornament in front of Bruce. The star was encrusted with diamonds and a note engraved on the base of the ornament.
'Always love and you will prosper. Merry Christmas, my family,' were the words Bruce read. His father told him that those were the words of his great-great-grandfather, and ever since it was handed down from one generation to the next, the family has always done well.
"I think we've waited long enough." His mother finished still smiling at her son.
"Yes!" Bruce exclaimed as his eager grin returned.
Thomas laughed at the two. "Come on, let's not keep Alfred waiting."
With Bruce leading the way, they made it to the family room where Alfred was setting up the ladder by the tall, healthy pine tree. "Well, it's safe to say you three did an excellent job at decorating," Thomas praised as he admired the tree that seemed to glitter from the light of the fire it stood beside.
The delicate orbs were green, red, gold and silver, and each had a different design etched onto it. Silver tinsel hung from random branches with a traditional string of popcorn wrapped around it. The tree was at least twelve feet high, but the very tip of it was still bare and waiting to be dressed with the final and most precious ornament.
"I was the one who hung the tinsel and the popcorn," Bruce gloated with a bright grin. "Come on, Dad. We gotta finish it." He grabbed his father's hand and pulled him to the ladder's side.
"Careful, Bruce," his mother cautioned as Bruce began to climb the ladder.
His father stood under his son and kept a steadying hand on his side; he had to climb a few rungs to keep Bruce within arm's reach. Martha approached the two and handed the antique to her husband who in turn passed it up to Bruce. Treating it like the hundred-year-old inheritance that it was, Bruce took a gentle hold of it and gingerly placed it over the bare tip of the pine. Once he was sure it was on, he let go and smiled to himself. His father helped him down the ladder and the family of three – no, four – the family of four stood side by side: Thomas with arms around Martha, Bruce right beside them with Alfred on his other side. They were silent as they admired the completed tree. After a moment's appreciation, Alfred approached the base of the tree and flipped a switch that lit up the lights cleverly hidden within the branches. Bruce couldn't help but let out a gasp of wonder at the sight. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He then turned his gaze to his parents only to find them sharing a kiss.
But, having the mindset of any normal seven year-old, Bruce cringes at the sight. "Ew." Hearing his little comment, the three adults couldn't help but laugh.
It was one of the happiest times of his life, it was also the last time he ever saw the star ornament. True he had inherited it, but he never had the heart to take it out from storage. Alfred tried to persuade him, but he always refused.
'Three, two, one.'
Ding. "You've got mail," the voice from his computer sounds bringing a sigh to his lips. Barbara is too easy to predict.
-continued-