"We're here," Al whispered. He just curled up tighter, unwilling to move in the cold. "Oh, don't be like that." He felt her hands on his shoulders, trying to pull him out of the trunk.

"Why don't you leave me alone?"

"Oh…it hasn't been that bad, has it?" She sounded sympathetic, but with the blindfold on, he couldn't tell if she was just being sarcastic again, or if she might actually be feeling some guilt. "Come on, Squish, help me out here. I just want to take you inside. It'll be nice and warm, and you know what? After tonight, you're never going to have to see me again."

What exactly does that mean? he wondered.

But he couldn't very well stay out there in the cold, so he let her help him out of the trunk. When he was on his feet, she slipped an arm around his waist in what felt oddly like a hug.

"What are you doing?"

"Helping. Every time you try to walk, you end up falling on your face."

"Whose fault is that?" he snapped. She giggled and gently nudged him forward. "And why do you keep giggling at me like that?" he asked as they trudged through what felt like snow.

"You're cute when you're angry. Step up." He stumbled as his foot came down on the concrete step; she steadied him carefully. "One more."

"You could take off the blindfold." She scoffed.

"Yeah, right. Like I'm really going to let you know exactly where I live. Besides, this will be more fun if it comes as a surprise. Hold still." She snatched off his hat and snugged another one down over the top of his mask.

"What was that?" She didn't answer. "What have you done?"

"Shush. It's time to lose the blindfold." He heard the sound of a door opening as she pulled the strip of cloth away from his eyes and called out, "I'm home!"

He blinked in surprise as they stepped into the living room.

It was warm—almost stifling, but delicious after the numbing cold outside. The room was dim, lit only by dozens of strings of twinkling white lights and a magnificent multicolored Christmas tree. The smells of fresh gingerbread and days' worth of other cooking drew a loud growl from his stomach, although it was mostly drowned out by the sound of Frank Sinatra singing "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing."

Standing in the doorway to the kitchen was another young woman in a Christmas sweater, her hair festively striped in red and green, a spatula in her hand, her mouth hanging open in shock as she stared at him.

Then she let out a bloodcurdling scream and ran. Not too unusual, that. But this one ran toward him, not away. And then…there was only one way to describe it. She glomped him so hard he staggered, and they both dropped to their knees on the hardwood floor. She squeezed him in the tightest hug he had ever experienced, and he forgot everything else and struggled to get away from her, thinking only of escape. And, damn it, he was helpless, he couldn't even move…

"Captain?" Al said calmly. "I think you scared him." The other woman (the captain?) pulled back, noticing the panic in his eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said soothingly, putting both hands on his shoulders to steady him. "I didn't mean to startle you. It's just such an honor to meet…" She looked down at him. "OMG! He's sex in a straitjacket!" she squealed, and glomped him again.

"Om'g?" Al repeated, pronouncing it awkwardly.

"Om'g," the Captain agreed. Very reluctantly, she pulled away from him. "Sorry, Professor. Will you shut the door, Number One? It's bloody freezing." Her phrasing was decidedly odd in light of her lack of a British accent; there was a trace of the South in her pronunciation, even fainter than Al's. He glanced over his shoulder as she closed the door, catching a brief glimpse of the street, just enough to see that what he had thought was snow was nothing more than slush and dead grass. A lot of good that information would do him in an escape.

"Well," said Al. "Merry Christmas, Captain. Aren't you going to unwrap him?" The Captain's eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

"You mean he's mine? For me? You got me a Squishykins for Christmas?" she squealed. He rocked back, wary of another glomping.

"Yup. Don't that just beat all? I mean, literally. Tell me this isn't the best Christmas present ever. Go ahead. Try to say it, and see if lightning doesn't strike you down."

"First of all, my sweet, this isn't a contest. Second of all, you haven't seen your present yet." Then she turned around and glomped him, knocking him flat on his back.

"What's my present?" Al asked. The Captain giggled.

"Is…is everything all right in there?" came a new voice, male, hesitant, and quite familiar indeed. Al let out a very soft, very evil little giggle.

"Eddums," she said. The Scarecrow sat up to see none other than the Riddler standing in the doorway that led to the kitchen. "You got me an Eddums?"

"Is…she the one?" the Riddler asked. The Captain nodded. With an air of great ceremony, he nodded in greeting to Al and held something out to her.

It was just a candy cane with a jaunty red ribbon tied around it. There was no reason why it should have made Al throw back her head and cackle the way she did.

"I take it back," she told the Captain. "One of these years I'm going to beat you."

"Nope, not going to happen. You know we manage to tie every year. Why stop now?"

"Yeah, but…do you ever think this might be getting a little out of control?" She smiled down at the Scarecrow, who froze in the act of edging toward the door. "Someone wants out of his straitjacket. Explain it to him, Captain. Eddums, I'm going to jump you now." She let out a belated squeal and threw herself into his arms. And he managed to remain standing.

"Wow…I can't believe I have the biffing Scarecrow sitting in my living room in a straitjacket and a Santa hat."

"Santa hat?" he blurted. The Captain frowned.

"She kidnapped you, didn't she? That's why you're so twitchy. Damn it, she knows better than that." She hugged him, gently, this time. "I'm really, really sorry. See, the thing is, we're both huge fans of your work. We've been reading up on you for years, and…you seem lonely, so…I guess this is Number One's weirdo way of inviting you over for Christmas dinner." Dinner? His stomach growled again, despite his best efforts to quiet it, and she hugged him tighter. "Doesn't anyone ever feed you?"

"Well, no," he said, hoping she would let go of him soon, before he started to panic again.

"Poor Squishykins." She snuggled with him. "I know you're hungry, so think about that before you run away, okay? All I want to do is feed you. Well, that and hug you for all you're worth while you can't get away." He felt her fumbling with the straps behind him. "You should be hugged, and often, and by someone who knows how. But I want you to know that this is the last time either of us will touch you without your permission, okay?" She pulled away from him, taking the straitjacket with her. He stretched out his arms, tingling with the returning blood flow, and briefly considered his options.

One: he could run now and just hope they didn't catch him, ignoring the fact that it was near freezing outside, he was half blind without his glasses, and he had no real idea where he was. Two: he could bide his time and run later, when they weren't expecting it, always assuming a better opportunity ever actually came up. Three: he could stay and take his chances with the crazy bitches.

He looked up at Al, who was engaged in deep and animated conversation with the Riddler. He looked relaxed enough, and she could not have been more different from the picture of her that he had built up over the past few days. She looked so happy, eyes shining with excitement, a gentle smile lighting her face, hands fluttering as she talked. Those two were acting like old friends already.

As for the Captain, she was sitting perfectly still in front of him, looking as intent as if she were trying to approach a wild animal.

"Are you going to chirrup at me?" he asked tentatively. Her face split into a wide grin.

"Do you want me to?" Then she laughed. "You know, even with that mask on, I can tell when you're looking horrified! It's neat!" She got to her feet, holding out a hand to help him up. He accepted it with extreme reluctance. Fortunately, she didn't hold onto him any longer than was absolutely necessary to get him standing. Then she let him go, although she looked like she wanted to hold his hand and then some.

He made sure to take a step away from her, keeping a safe distance. And then he had nothing else to do but stand there, feeling incredibly awkward, while his inner pessimist insisted that he was wasting his only chance to get away.

"Dinner should be ready soon," the Captain said, shy now. "Would you like something to drink? We have eggnog, cider, chocolate milk, about fifty different kinds of tea, um, coffee…yeah. Maybe you should just come with me," she said, noticing the furtive glances he kept shooting at Al, who was now sucking the Riddler's candy cane and wearing his green bowler.

He followed the Captain into the kitchen, taking a path that kept him a nice, safe distance away from Al.

With a delighted smile, the Captain pressed a glass of eggnog into his hand.

"Thank you," he said awkwardly.

"You're welcome! And if there's anything else you need, don't be afraid to ask. I know you probably don't want to be here, so if you feel like you really have to leave, well, I'll understand."

Oh, really?

"Really," she said, interpreting his skepticism correctly. "You're not a prisoner, you're a guest. A very honored guest, Professor Crane. Is it all right to call you that?"

"Fine," he said shortly. It is immensely preferable to Squishykins, anyway. She smiled.

"And you can call me…" She thought carefully. "Might as well go with Nova. That's not my name…"

"But it's what I can call you," he finished. She flushed, hearing the anger in his voice.

"I'm sorry. I…do you want to leave? I can have some food packed up for you in no time, and…if you need a ride somewhere…or…"

Now he just stared at her, perplexed. Not only was she offering to let him leave—with food?—but she seemed…sorry to see him go. She couldn't actually want him to stay for dinner like some kind of normal person…could she?

That was just…strange.