Happy Holidays everyone!
L.L.A.P
~Laces
A Batman Christmas Carol
Thomas and Martha Wayne were dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The entire city of Gotham knew it and so did their only son, Bruce Wayne. Thomas and Martha were as dead as a doornail.
What people didn't know was how their deaths impacted Bruce Wayne. Bruce was effected so much by their deaths that he was consumed with revenge.
Using that drive, he became the vigilante known as Batman, and in Batman's life, there was no time for a holiday.
Including the holiday of Christmas.
"Master Bruce, it's Christmas. You should relax and stay home." The old butler, Alfred, stated. The gentleman was obviously concerned about the man's wellbeing, but Bruce shook his head.
"No. Joker is planning to break out of Arkham, and I need to be ready for him."
"If I may sir, that is the paranoia speaking."
"Just leave me alone for a while, Alfred." Bruce snapped, patience wearing thin. Bruce could hear the butler let out a sigh, then measured footsteps exiting the cave, leaving him in peace.
However, several minutes later, light swift footsteps traveled down the stairs.
"Bruce, we need to talk." It was Bruce's eldest adopted son, Dick. His blue eyes were wide and his face showed signs of concern.
"We can talk later."
"No, we can talk now." Dick spun the man's chair around to glare at him.
"It's Christmas and Tim's still pretty sick from that toxin scarecrow hit him with."
"Tim has bounced back from worse."
"That's not the point, Bruce. It's Christmas. Y'know, a holiday when family spends time with one another. We are technically a family."
"Go away, Dick. I have work to do."
"Goddammit Bruce! Can't you just-"
"I don't have time for your temper! Get out!" Bruce's own temper was growing from his lack of sleep and with a final huff and a glare, Dick stormed out of the cave, leaving Bruce in silence.
Christmas was a time of pain for Bruce. When memories of his parents flooded his mind and he didn't want to embrace those memories. In fact, he tried his hardest to bury them as deep as he could. It was just too painful to remember.
The night drew on and Bruce could hear the grandfather clock upstairs chiming. Then suddenly,
"Bruce." The man stiffened in his seat at the voice.
"Bruce." Another eerily familiar voice echoed on the cave walls. Bruce turned around in his seat to see that in front of him were two pale ghostly figures. A man and a woman.
The man was wearing a nice suit and had a graying black hair. With a square jaw and strong shoulders, he looked very much like Bruce.
The woman had striking blue eyes with her hair done up in a sophisticated way, wearing a nice long evening coat and around her neck was a string of pearls.
The figures were Thomas and Martha Wayne.
"Mother? Father? I… no. No. You're dead. This isn't happening."
"Bruce-" the specter that looked like Thomas started but Bruce didn't let him finish.
"No. I was tired and I fell asleep. This is all a dream. Or maybe remnants of the fear toxin from Scarecrow."
"Bruce this isn't a dream and you are not hallucinating." Martha said in a gentle voice. "We're here to warn you." Bruce paused, staring at the two figures before him. they sounded, looked, and carried themselves just like the Thomas and Martha Bruce remembered. However, Bruce still wasn't sure if they could be trusted.
"Say I believe you. What do you want to warn me about?" Bruce questioned skeptically.
"You need to change your ways, son. At least on Christmas." Thomas stated. "Take a break. Don't be afraid of old memories and spend time with your family."
"This is ridiculous." Bruce grumbled, shaking his head.
"Say what you will Bruce, but you will be visited by three spirits."
"I've been haunted enough by you two all my life!" Bruce exclaimed, but in a blink of an eye, his parents were gone.
Bruce shook his head, believing it all to have been an illusion due to his lack of sleep. Taking a deep breath, Bruce went back to work on his computer again.
It was when the clock tolled one when Bruce felt the hair on his skin raise.
"Hello Bruce." Bruce turned to see a little boy with bright blue eyes and dark wild hair. He was wearing a white tunic and slacks and appeared to be glowing.
It was Dick at the age when Bruce first found him.
"Dick?"
"Nope." The young boy giggled. "I'm the Ghost of Christmas Past."
"I see." Bruce sighed, voice full of annoyance and disbelief. "Well, leave me alone, ghost. I have work to do."
"It's Ghost of Christmas Past." The boy stated indignantly. "And I've got a job to do." The boy stuck out his hand to Bruce.
"What?"
"Take my hand." Bruce made no movement and the boy rolled his eyes. "Just humor me, okay?"
Bruce didn't know why, but he found himself slowly grasped the boy's hand and he was suddenly enveloped in white. He then found himself standing in his living room except it looked very different. Tinsel was strewn across the room and a large Christmas tree stood near the windows, decorated with colorful balls and ornaments and lights.
"Dick?"
"Ghost of Christmas Past."
"Alright. Ghost of Christmas Past, where are we?"
"You're living room. A really long time ago."
Just then a young boy bounded with energy into the room followed by a young man and woman. The boy was headed towards the Christmas tree.
"That's… that's…"
"You? Yup, it is. You at seven years old. Look at how happy you are."
"This was the last Christmas with my parents." Bruce whispered, watching his younger self tear through wrapping paper to get at his presents.
"Yes it is. And you're actually smiling and showing you're teeth while doing so." The spirit grinned as the little boy ran over to Thomas and Martha.
"Look what Santa got me Daddy! A Grey Ghost action figure!" little Bruce giggled in excitement and Thomas Wayne ruffled the boy's hair.
"That is incredible, son." Thomas smiled and older Bruce shook his head.
"I can't look at this."
"Would you prefer another memory?" questioned the Ghost of Christmas Past, but Bruce just glared at him.
"I would prefer to be left alone."
"Well, I can't do that. At least, not yet." The spirit waved his hand and Bruce found himself in the same living room except the atmosphere was much more grim.
There was no tree or decorations or any sign that it was Christmas at all.
"What's this Christmas, Spirit?" Bruce inquired and the Ghost of Christmas Past gave him a morose look.
"This is your first Christmas without your parents." The spirit informed and just then there was the ringing of the doorbell.
Bruce watched as a younger version of Alfred made his way to the door and Bruce followed so he could see who was in the doorway. He recognized the woman, Leslie Thompson, and Alfred let her into the house.
"Hello Ms. Thompson."
"Hello Alfred. How is Bruce doing? I brought him a present." The woman informed, holding a small wrapped gift.
"I am afraid that the young master isn't doing so well. He's locked himself in his room, won't let me in, doesn't want to talk to me. This holiday… well, it was one he spent with his parents. Now that they are gone… he feels alone." Alfred frowned, then shook his head, his eyes glazing over. "I'm afraid that I'm not nearly a good enough guardian. I never wanted to replace his parents but… I want to be able to comfort him at least. For him to let me in…"
Leslie wrapped an arm around Alfred and gave the man a strong hug. Bruce's heart broke when he saw small tears trailing down Alfred's cheeks.
"Alfred… no. You don't understand." Bruce spoke, trying to get into the man's line of vision. "You always meant something to me. Without you, I don't know how I could-"
"He can't see or hear you Bruce." The spirit stated. "This is the past. Just reflections of things that have happened and cannot be undone."
Bruce glared at the spirit.
"Then why show me this if nothing can be done? Why show me a time when I was truly happy and then this? When I was depressed and one of the people I consider my family is in tears because of how I treated him. Why show me this if I can't change it!?" Bruce exclaimed.
"Because you need to see how the way you acted here effects the way you act now." The spirit stated. "And there is still more for you to see." With a wave of his hand, the background dropped away until Bruce found himself on an icy mountaintop. His eyes scanned the area until they settled on a figure who was bundled up in the snow. It was him. It was Bruce and he had to be in his early twenties.
"You were training to become Batman. I don't think you even know if it's Christmas." The spirit said.
"This was important. I was learning endurance and pushing my limits. It helped make me stronger." Bruce informed and the spirit shot him a glare.
"And all the while Alfred is alone in the giant manor, worrying about you during Christmas." The spirit stated and Bruce fumed in anger.
"I am saving people as Batman. I save lives. I cannot afford to be selfish!"
"But for one night a year can you at least show your family how much you care!? You are viewing this to see how you were during past Christmases. At first you were happy, then after your parents deaths you hurt the one person who means a lot to you and now in this Christmas past you are alone on a mountain top shunning the ones who love you." The Spirit explained, but Bruce could feel his anger boiling.
"Then stop tormenting me by showing me these things since I cannot undo them and leave me!" Bruce exclaimed.
The Ghost of Christmas Past gave him a look that immediately made Bruce's blood run cold. The spirit's face was one of hurt and sadness. It brought forward a memory of another Christmas.
The first Christmas with Dick when the two had finished up a patrol late at night. Dick had said something about spending time together as a family on Christmas. Bruce remembered responding, saying that Dick would have to spend it with Alfred since he had Wayne Industry business to attend.
And then Dick made that face. A face that held so much pain and hurt from wanting to spend Christmas with a father figure on the first Christmas without his family, and then being told no.
The look filled Bruce so much with guilt that at the time Bruce just turned his back and walked up the stairs to the manor. He always regretted not comforting the boy.
"Dick-" Bruce started but the Spirit waved his hand and Bruce was back in the cave on the chair in front of his computer. Alone.
Bruce took in a pained breath as he looked around the cave.
A bad dream. He thought, then continued typing away at his computer, trying to push away the memories in his head and the guilt building in the pit of his stomach.
When the grandfather clock upstairs chimed two, a scent of food wafted into Bruce's nose. Specifically the scent of chilidogs.
Bruce turned around in his chair to see an assortment of food on a decorated table in the middle of the cave. In front of the table was a young boy with curly black hair in a colorful Robin suit except his mask was off, revealing bright green eyes. His smile was large and cheerful as he ate a chilidog in his hand.
"Hello Bruce! Come in and know me better!" he smiled.
"Jason?"
"No, I'm not Jason. I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present." The boy laughed, then offered the food in his hand out towards Bruce. "Chilidog?"
"No thank you." Bruce said slowly, but couldn't stop staring at the boy who appeared just like Jason did when he was young.
"Do I look familiar to you?" the spirit inquired.
"Yes. Yes you do." Bruce nodded. "Something from my past."
"Well, that's no good." The boy giggled. "I'm supposed to represent the present not the past. Did I mention that I was the ghost of Christmas Present?"
"Yes, you have." Bruce nodded, a small smile playing on his lips at the scatter brained mind of the spirit who looked like Jason.
"Well, I'm here to show you the Christmas of today." The spirit laughed, then took Bruce by the hand and they transported to upstairs where they ended up in Tim's room in the manor. In the room was Stephanie, Jason, and Damian.
"Where the hell is Bruce?" Stephanie growled as she looked down at Tim with worry. She was sitting on the bed next to the boy and all the while Tim's eyes were closed as sweat clung to his hair.
"Father must be doing something important at Wayne Industries." Damian stated, but his face did show some concern for the young man residing in the bed.
"More important than Tim's health?" Stephanie shot back at Damian, glaring at the boy, but her attention was pulled away from Damian when she heard Tim mumbled in his unconsciousness,
"Bruce." His voice was so weak.
"All the kid does is call his name." Jason stated from his place leaning on the doorway. "The least Bruce could do is just take at least ten damned minutes to take a break from work and try to drive over to comfort him."
"Tim's resilient." Bruce stated, looking at the boy in the bed, then at the spirit. "He'll be fine."
"Shhh, keep watching." The Ghost of Christmas Present hushed.
"I brought Master Timothy some water." Alfred informed as he strode into the room. The butler looked tired and worried. He knew that the chances of getting Tim to drink the water was slim, but it was worth a shot.
"Hey Alf, any word from Dick?" Jason inquired but before Alfred could answer, Dick came storming into the room.
"That egotistical cold-hearted self-blaming stupid ass hole!" Dick ran a hand through his hair as he took in a deep breath and then breathed out.
"I'm taking it that the talk with father was not satisfactory." Damian sighed.
"No, it was not good. He kept saying that Tim is going to be fine but he just… he doesn't understand how serious this is. Since this is scarecrow's gas it's mental just as much as it's physical. And since Tim's calling out Bruce's name, it's clear that he needs Bruce." Dick fumed, face full of stress, worry, and rage.
"I'll get him to come." Jason stated. "I might break several of his bones, but I'll get him to come one way or another."
"I can help." Steph nodded.
"Nobody is breaking anybody's bones." Alfred warned.
"And I doubt you two could make Bruce come back. I got in several good punches before he removed me from his office. Something about this time of year just makes him more stubborn than usual." Dick sighed, looking tired and defeated.
"Then what do you want us to do?!" Jason exclaimed, moving from his place from the doorway closer to Dick. "Just sit on our asses and hope that Bruce comes home before Tim possibly dies?!"
"If there's nothing we can do then there's nothing we can do!" Dick shot back and Jason was swiftly in Dick's face.
"Nothing we can do!? We can go down there and kick Bruce's ass until he agrees to come over and visit Tim!"
"You think I didn't try that!?"
"Then maybe you should have tried harder!"
"You think I want Tim to die!?"
"Well since you obviously didn't get Bruce to come here it makes me wonder how much you really care!"
"Jason I'm gonna-"
"Bruce!" Tim exclaimed, eyes still closed but tears leaking from them and he was shaking. The tension between Dick and Jason quickly dissipated as their attention turned to Tim, who now seemed to be trembling.
"You think he can hear everything?" Steph whispered and Alfred nodded,
"It's a possibility." Dick quickly was at Tim's bedside and stroked the young man's hair.
"Sorry Timbo. I'm sorry, but you're going to be okay. You don't need Bruce to get better. We're here for you Timmy, we're here."
Bruce's eyes were fixated on Tim, but he had to ask the spirit a question. Finding it difficult to tear his eyes away from Tim, Bruce looked at the spirit.
"Tim will be alright… am I correct?" he questioned and the spirit shook his head.
"That is the future. I am the ghost of the present. However, I see another glass case in the batcave and a cold suit inside." The spirit informed. "But what do I know. Tim has bounced back from worse." He quoted Bruce from earlier then laughed. His laugh wasn't as jolly as it was before, but more like the cynical laugh that the older Jason would have. Likewise he seemed to be growing taller and a white streak started to make its way through his hair.
"Are you growing old, spirit?" Bruce questioned and the spirit chuckled.
"Yes, I am. My time in the present is up. But remember what you have seen Bruce. Remember and live in the present and not the past." With that, the spirit faded away and Bruce found himself once again in the cave.
At this point Bruce had a feeling that he wasn't dreaming and what was going on had to be something.
Instead of working on the computer he took in deep even breaths, trying to calm himself and prepare himself for the next spirit. The clock sounded at three and sure enough a large hooded figure shrouded in darkness appeared.
"Are you the Ghost of Christmas Future?" the hooded figure mutely nodded. "Then please, show me what you need to. I will heed your warnings."
The spirit waved his hand, shifting the surroundings to that of a cemetery.
"Tim." Bruce whispered, his eyes resting on a headstone stating Tim's birth and his death, the gap between the two years far too little.
"This is my fault. If I listened… he died December 26th. He died after Christmas." Bruce shook his head, but his eyes then rested on more headstones all being that of his family. Alfred. Dick. Jason. Damian.
"No, what happened? What did I do?" Bruce whispered, on the verge of tears.
"We ignored them." The spirit rasped out and the shroud of shadows revealed an old man with graying hair wearing the Batman suit, except the cowl was off. "And we are made to suffer by living. We live to see our failures. By ignoring our family we eventually kill them. And we must pay."
"No… I couldn't… this can be changed." Bruce stated, looking into the eyes of his older self. The eyes were cold and depressed so much colder than his were. "Please spirit. Please tell me that I can prevent this. That this future isn't set in stone! Please!" Bruce looked over at Tim's headstone, knelt besides it and held it to his chest.
"Please. I can't let this happen to him! I can't fail anyone else. I'll be there for them! I promise. I'll be there for my family! Tim! T-Tim…" Bruce sobbed.
He sobbed and sobbed until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He expected to turn around and see the spirit but instead, he saw Alfred.
"Sir? Sir are you alright?" he questioned with worry in his tone. Bruce looked down and saw that he was at his computer, monitor running.
"Alfred." he whispered, but then brightened, hugging the man close to him. "Alfred! It's you!"
"Of course it is. Sir… Master Bruce… are you well?" Alfred questioned but Bruce suddenly stiffened and looked Alfred in the eye.
"Alfred, what day is it?"
"What day? Sir, it's December 25th. Christmas day."
"Christmas Day! Then I haven't missed it!" Bruce smiled and Alfred was clearly shocked by the man's change of attitude.
"Yes sir. You didn't work nor did you sleep through it. Now, do you want me to drive you to Wayne Tower? You have a business meeting-"
"Cancel the meeting Alfred." Bruce stated, standing from his desk and hurrying upstairs.
"Cancel it?" Alfred questioned in a tone of disbelief.
"Yes, cancel it. Today is Christmas and I fully intend on spending it with my family." Bruce grinned.
"Yes, Master Bruce. Of course. I'll call in right away." Alfred smiled, then went off to do so. All the while Bruce stripped out of his Batman suit and into a festive sweater and comfortable pants.
He then sprinted upstairs into Tim's room, where he was being watched by Jason, Dick, Stephanie, and Damian.
"Bruce." Dick whispered, eyes wide.
"Finally decided to give a damn?" Jason sneered, but Bruce swiftly hugged them both.
"The hell?" Jason questioned and Dick was silent for the first time in what seemed like years.
"My boys." Bruce grinned. "Merry Christmas." He then hugged Damian.
"Father… what is the meaning of this."
"It's Christmas, and I want to spend it with my family." He then looked over at Steph and engulfed her in a hug as well.
"Who are you and what have you done with Bruce Wayne?" Steph questioned and Bruce shook his head.
"I'm me… it was just an insane night." Bruce then turned his attention to Tim in the bed. He wrapped his arms around Tim, hugging him gently and running his fingers through the boy's hair.
"Merry Christmas, Tim." Bruce whispered. The boy slowly started to stir as he blinked up to look at Bruce.
"Bruce? Are you… are you hugging me?" Tim questioned weakly. He still had a fever, but he was actually awake.
"It's a Christmas fucking Miracle." Jason smirked and all the while Steph cheered in excitement that Tim was awake and Dick swiftly brought a water bottle to Tim for him to drink.
"How do you feel, Tim?" Bruce inquired.
"Really sick… that fear gas was nasty stuff… for some reason all I wanted to do was to hear you. Then I just woke up when I heard you say my name… that's so weird." Tim whispered after taking several gulps of water.
"Thank god Bruce came up when he did or you'd never wake up, Drake." Damian stated.
"Damian's right." Dick nodded. "We were really worried about you, Tim."
"Well, I feel better now." the young man chuckled, and Bruce beamed, giving the boy another tight hug.
"I am so grateful that you're alright." Bruce said in a whisper, but Tim heard it and his face brightened.
"Thanks, Bruce. For caring." Tim grinned, then questioned, "What day is it anyway?"
"It's Christmas, Tim." Bruce informed. "It's Christmas and I fully intend on having all of us spend it together as a family." Everyone in the room was smiling and Tim had a radiant grin on his face as he said,
"Well then, God Bless us, every one."
~The End~