Disclaimer: I do not own Batman Beyond or any of the referenced story lines or characters therein.

Author's Note: I suppose it's a little early for a story like this, but I was in the spirit of things. Hopefully, this will bring a little cheer to your December. :)

Holiday Knights

(A homage to The New Batman Adventures episode by the same name)

Silence.

It wasn't a thing often heard in Gotham city. But in the late night, when time teetered on the edge of the New Year, people looked on towards the clock tower. Anticipation was in the air, thick and tangible as the second hand clicked onward. Throughout the snow covered gathering square, voices fell silent, and happy, excited visages turning toward hopes that hadn't been present less than a year ago. In the short months recently passed, many things had changed for Gotham.

It seemed, for the first time in forty years, the entire city had turned over a new leaf. Crime was down, and the good people were no longer scared. Somewhere out there, hiding in the shadows, even on this night… They knew he was waiting. They knew he was there, and ready to perform his job. Snow fell in eddies, whipped by a biting cold breeze through the thick and polluted air. Purity hung about with these flakes of crystallized water, giving the darkest city in the country an almost angelic aura, glowing white in season and spirit as those seconds ticked on.

Party favors and little fireworks were held ready, snow muffling the shuffling footsteps as loved ones found each other, holding tight to what they had. Smiles glowed as white as the snow covering the ground, and all eyes were riveted to the clock tower. Above, dark clouds roiled, holding the threat of oncoming blizzards, but at the moment, bundled, colorful, and excited Gothamites huddled in tight groups, anticipating the first of the New Year. Another year still lived in safety, despite all that had happened.

The seconds dragged on until the bell finally rang. In that moment, when the clock struck twelve, it was as if an eruption occurred. Belated Christmas hats were tossed into the air, along with party hats and favors, and confetti launched explosively into the freezing atmosphere. Such a rage of cheering went up that the entire city was deafened in that single moment. Tears were shed, resolutions were made, and it seemed that finally, something better waited for this city where they lived.

The heat of closely bundled bodies radiated, the contagious spirit flowing through every person in the square, down the streets, into every apartment and home cheering for another year survived; another year without the Jokerz invading their homes; another year still together as a complete family.

This was a new year, where high above, a dark figure watched, a symbol of courage emblazoned in red upon his armored chest. The past year hadn't been the best for him, considering the loss of his own father, problems concerning his girlfriend and conflicts with his new job, grades dropping in school… but the people dancing in jubilant circles below made him smile. This was his doing, and he knew it. These people had hope.

The dark clad figure slipped back into the shadows, traveling lightly along the rooftops, enjoying a bit of freedom riding the lazy winds on his gliders. He was in no hurry to get to his destination, unlike so many other times. Tonight, of all nights, things had been surprisingly quiet. But now… it was time for the meeting. According the old man, it was a tradition he'd held with the old commissioner. He knew she'd be there now. Or at least, that's what he said. Batman wasn't sure what to expect, and honestly, the idea seemed rather corny. But still he went, if only out of respect to the past as they looked forward to the future.

The smoky atmosphere of the old café was almost overwhelming. Within the confines of the crumbling yellow walls, an ancient old man in a wheelchair wiped down the counters of an old bar alongside his son, who was shakily shooing customers out of the store. New Years Eve was over. They were closing now – or so he said. In actuality, it was a lie – a ruse that for the first time in his life, he was given the chance to employ. Many, many years ago, his father had done the same for the father of the woman sitting in the back booth near the door from the alley, and another darkly clad figure that never faded from the minds of every Gotham citizen old enough to have seen him. Nothing but an urban legend now, his spirit still haunted these walls, where he had come once a year to meet with another Commissioner Gordon, long since passed away.

Low jazz music floated from the corner jukebox. This was the same machine that had been playing for customers for over 50 years now, since way before the last time such an incredulous meeting of persons had occurred.

"Calm down, Bobby." The old man's gravely voice said laughingly as he looked to his overzealous son. "This is an old tradition we're honoring here."

"Got that right, Joe." Another aged voice rose quietly along the muted trumpet thick in the atmosphere of the little restaurant. Her white hair was cropped short, a long, heavy trench coat wrapped tightly around her frail figure. She raised a mug to her lips, sipping at the hot coffee within. The old man in the wheelchair smiled, shooing his son into the back, and following suit, leaving the woman alone in the front of the store. The lights flickered off, leaving the mood dim. Somewhere behind her in the low-lit atmosphere, a shadow shifted inconspicuously, but just enough to catch the fringe of her sight. "I almost thought you weren't going to come." She said quietly, taking another long draught from the mug.

"I almost didn't." The shadow stepped forward, materializing into him. The elderly woman sighed, a smile claiming her thin, pressed lips. The wrinkles on her face crinkled, especially around her blue eyes. "Just like the old days, things like this. Really takes me back."

He stayed silent for a moment before slipping into the booth bench opposite her. "Honestly, it's awkward." He admitted.

Looking him over, she could understand why. He never came and went in places like this in clothes… like that. The suit was different that the classics, that was for sure, but it still held the same effect. It had the same spirit. The second generation Batman was composed of skin-tight black cyber-armor, longer pointed ears, no cape, blood red gliders shaped like bat wings, and one of the most ambitious, impulsive and reckless teenagers Barbara Gordon had ever known.

She held no great love for the costume any more, but she'd be the first to admit that during the past few months, he'd scared the criminals into order again. He'd put down mercenaries like Inque that the police had been unable to get tabs on, and even dealt with the return of crooks like Mr. Freeze, and the uprising of villains like Blight. "I suppose it's different for us than it was for my dad and Bruce." She finally admitted, breaking the silence.

"You suppose?" One lens of the full-face mask seemed to thin, contorting to the dubious expression he now stared at her with.

Barbara smirked. "Alright, I know it's different. I know who you are, I know who Bruce was. I know that this town will never be the same because of what he did… and what you are doing."

"And here I thought you didn't like me." Batman smirked a bit, crossing his arms, and resting them on the rather grimy tabletop. The spiked gauntlets scraped the soft wood mercilessly, but neither occupant of the dimly lit café took much notice. Barbara gestured to the second mug on the table. "Got you coffee."

Batman glanced to it momentarily, before taking it lightly between his hands, and sipping at the thick, hot liquid. He stared downward for a moment before turning his gaze back to the Commissioner.

She cocked her head to the side slightly, sighing and gesturing to the old café. "Over forty years ago, my old man and Bruce used to meet here at this very time every year. It was their private celebration of sorts – their way of acknowledging each others' hard work formally, in a city where vigilantism wasn't widely accepted, and their partnership was rather looked down upon."

"You're much different than your father." Batman commented dryly, actually surprised that Bruce hadn't chimed in on the com-link yet. Muted trumpet accented their conversational silence, and Barbara closed her eyes, enjoying the light Christmas jazz, despite the fact that the holiday had passed almost a week ago.

"I am." She agreed. "I don't approve of your leaping rooftops and butting in on police business. I'm not your partner, and I'm not here to help you with your cases. What you do is your own business, and I want no part in it." Her words were cut and terse. She was being frank. There was no sugar coating her disapproval of Bruce taking on yet another apprentice. But…

Batman picked up on the air of anticipation that her comment held, as if it weren't finished. "But…" He smirked a little. "…Here we are."

"Here we are." Barbara repeated in a musing tone. "Even if I don't approve of your meddlesome tactics… I won't deny that you've done some good here. You've brought hope back to this place. I think it was Harvey Dent that once said… the night is darkest before the dawn… and before Batman came back, Gotham was in one of its darkest times."

Batman was silent for a moment, sipping the coffee again before setting it aside gently. He actually wanted to be able to fall asleep later tonight when the old man let him go home. "I'm not the only one working hard to rid this city of people who destroy others' lives." He looked at her pointedly.

Barbara smiled with a sarcastic flair. "I know, kid." She looked away, scanning the area with a light smile. "And together… we're bringing the dawn."

"So you called me here to give me a cup of coffee and a pat on the back?"

Barbara snorted. "If that's the way you'd prefer to look at it, then yes. But it's not that. Not really. I called you here… because we both have the same objective. We're both people trying to dig this city out of hell. Pushing aside my pride and misgivings about what you do, I can say that a cup of coffee and a pat on the back is really the least of what I could do for you. You deserve more."

Batman smiled a little, averting his gaze. "I don't deserve anything. I don't do this job for the fame, acclamation, or prizes. You should know that better than anyone."

"And I do." Barbara sighed, stirring the liquid in the mug before her. A bit of steam still rose from it. Tapping the spoon lightly on the lip of the porcelain cup, she set the utensil on her napkin before drinking deeply again. "If nothing else, this night represents a tradition upheld. Batman is back, and despite the fact that our little meeting was different, because I know who you are… the sentiment is there. Almost like I can feel my dad's spirit close by, smiling down on us."

"Perhaps he is." Batman's voice answered, sounding slightly amused.

The Commissioner sighed, scanning from the jukebox, across the bar, back to the seat across from her, but it was completely empty. "Yeah." She smiled, setting eyes upon the credit card before her on the table. She shook her head. "Just like old times." Picking up the credits, she looked them over, rubbing her fingertips along the edges. If she knew Batman – and of all people on this earth, she should – then there would be the exactly correct amount for their two coffees, and perhaps a slight tip. In over forty years, this little café hadn't changed a bit, including prices.

Barbara stood, placing the credits on the counter before shuffling out into the dark night, pulling her beige trench coat even tighter. "Welcome to the new year, Terry." She whispered. "Keep up the good work. Maybe if we do this again next year, I'll beat you to the check."

Somewhere not too for above, a two smiling eyes glowed out of the darkness, before slipping back into the shadows, disappearing into the Gotham night. He'd always be nearby, though, because he was Batman. And that was his job, and would be, for years to come.