AU story:Bruce Wayne is a bitter man, hating the world for the death of parents and the life he didn't choose. Can his old friend Lucius Fox change his heart?

A Bat Christmas Carol

With Great Respect For Charles Dickens

By

Part 8: A Death in the Family

*Sniffle*sniffle*sniffle*

"Mom, you're crying again," Gaven stated. "I can do that for you."

It's all right, Gaven," Solona stated. "I can manage. Your father will be coming home soon. I need to get the Christmas dinner on the table."

"I don't feel like celebrating," Haley said. "It's not the same."

"I know sweetie," Solona replied, and she looked toward the stairs that led up to the bedrooms.

It was then that Dick came in the door. He sat down in a chair and sighed.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Dick said. "I forgot to bring . . ."

"It's all right," Solona said. "We have enough. In fact, Damian Wayne came by earlier to express his condolences. I gave have him some tea. He looked so weary."

"You're such a good wife," Dick said. "I spoke to the priest today. He'll be able to do the service for . . . For Timoti."

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

"That's Christmas Day," Solona said.

"I know . . . . I don't know how we're going to come up with the money."

Solona went over and handed Dick the jar they had used to save money for medicine and surgery for Timoti. "I don't know if it's enough."

Dick took the jar and broke down. "Fratele, meu, fratele meu mai mic," Dick said in Romani.

A tear slipped down Bruce's face, something he did not expect. Before he knew it, Bruce was taken to a cemetery. It was later in the day or was it the next day. He saw the family gathered together on a hill overlooking the Gotham river. There were a few gathered well wishers, friends that Dick had known in his life. Some of them appeared to be Tim's age. They must have been his friends. A small tombstone marked the small freshly dug grave. Only a name and a date appeared on the stone. It felt wrong on so many levels. The teen should have been laughing and playing with his niece and nephew.

One by one, the friends slipped away until only the family was left behind. Then each family member stepped away, leaving only Dick Grayson behind.

"I have to leave you now," Dick stated. "I have to help Lona with the Christmas dinner." Dick pulled from his coat a small Christmas gift. "I was going to give you this. It's not much, but we all chipped in. Oh, Timoti, I miss you so much." Dick rose from the gravesite and walked down the hill to his remaining family, leaving the small lonely tombstone behind.

"Spirit," Bruce began. "You showed me what amounts to be almost eager gladness for the death of a man, and deep profound, almost painful sadness at the death of Dick's brother. I'm confused. Where am I in all this?"

The bat-like spirit moved through the cemetery to an area that was darker, where the tombstones were broken and cracked.

"Why are we going over here?"

The Spirit moved to where there was a tombstone and a freshly dug grave. He pointed with his wing-like cape.

"You must be mistaken," Bruce stated.

The spirit pointed again.

Bruce crept forward and read the name on the tombstone. "No, no it can't be. Am I the man they were talking about? Please, Spirit don't let me die like this, alone and in the dark, and no one to mourn my death. Please, I will change. I will honor Christmas, and help those in need. I will find a way. I'll keep Christmas in my heart all year long. Please, I know I can change." Bruce pleaded for his life, but the Spirit didn't seem to hear him. What was he doing wrong? Why did the spirit continue to glare at him? And then Bruce looked into the spirit's eyes and within them he saw so much more, so much that he finally understood. Tim had not died from the illness or his broken leg. That had healed, though badly. Tim had died protecting his cousin, Haley from being snacked out of his arms. He had been too weak to defend her, and horror struck. Bruce looked toward the small tombstone on the hill. It was alone now, Dick had left his brother's side. And in that instance Bruce learned the most valuable lesson. That boy's life was tied with his, tied in a way where both lives were lost. Because Bruce had ignored his clerk had not gotten to truly know him, he did not know about his family and the plight they were in. He understood now, that the choices he made, had been wrong. He let others sway him from a path he should have chosen and now, according to the Spirit of Christmas Future, that story, his story, Tim's story would come to an end. He turned back to his own lonely grave, and realized if this was his fate, then so be it, but the teen's fate, there had to be a way to change that.

"This future cannot be the only path. Can't a man change? If a person changes, chooses differently doesn't the future change? Please tell me I can wipe away the writing on that stone!" Bruce's words weren't for himself. If that was his end, then so be it. Maybe he deserved it. He had not made a difference in anyone's life but his own.

The Spirit loomed closer, hovering over Bruce, glaring his red eyes, and his mouth opened to reveal sharp teeth. The ground opened up once more as it did when Bruce was a child.

"NO!" Bruce screamed falling once more into the darkness.

Continues with Part 9