Nightwing crouched on the Bludhaven rooftop, staring at the starless sky. Slush fell from the heaven, and below him, the city lay not in solemn stillness, but in debauchery and hatred and malice.

He sighed, his breath hanging in the freezing air. Christmas Eve, and the church bells rang for Mass. Not the Midnight Mass, that wouldn't be safe in this heaven-forsaken city. He closed his eyes. Listened to the bells.

God would understand, saving lives was more important than Mass.

His mother would understand.

He scrubbed at his face mask, wearily. When had he last slept? He licked his chapped lips, looking longingly at his thermos, empty since five o-clock, and the hot chocolate hadn't been that good, anyway.

The wind moaned around the cornices of the building, and he shivered. Gotham had never seemed so far away, or so inviting. He snorted. Gotham. Inviting. He felt like the most pitiful person on the planet, but somehow, that old city was inviting and safe, to him at least.

He remembered, as a little boy, snuggling beneath Batman's cape, the older man's warmth gentle and reassuring. He remembered cookies after patrol, the hug before bed, the Christmas tree sparkling with lights and glowing with popcorn and cranberry strands.

His head bowed to his chest, lost in reverie, lost to time. So lost, in fact, he almost didn't register the footfalls behind him

"Nightwing." A soft voice in his ear, and he smelled hot chocolate. A warm cup was pressed into his hands, and he sipped, shaking. "Easy, you're pretty cold." Batman rasped, and he nodded. "You know better than to fall asleep when it's ten below!"

"Wasn't… wasn't asleep." He managed from between clattering teeth. "Just… thinking."

Batman didn't say anything, just shifted back to watch Dick's face, listening.

"Listen to the bells." Dick breathed. They rang bravely over the city, Mass was over, caroling their song of peace and hope over the sounds of the cities suffering.

"Sfant lacas, tainic lacas…" he murmured, his voice rough with cold. His father had sung that song, in Rom, every Christmas.

"Silent night, holy night…" Bruce's voice was everything Batman's could never be, melodic, warm, soothing. Bruce sighed. "Come on."

"What?"

"Nobody's coming tonight."

"You don't know that."

"I do." Batman replied. "They're Italian mob. They're at Mass. Tomorrow, they're going to open presents with their Family. Which is where you should be."

"But I-"

"Come on." Bruce said again. "Come with me. To Gotham, we'll go to Mass, and then we'll go home."

"I…" Dick struggled for a moment, and then realized. Bruce wanted him home? Batman had left Gotham to come get him, personally? Bruce would go to Mass with him?

Bruce wanted him?

Who was he to tell Bruce no?