Three Days Till Christmas, 2024
It was a bitter cold late December day. Last minute Christmas shoppers paraded through the streets bundled up in coats and scarves and mittens while searching for the perfect gifts. Bruce and Mardi walked side by side in comfortable silence, a few packages carried in festive bags. Between the two of them they only had a handful of people to shop for, and were utilizing the time to spend together since the next few days were expected to be hectic and mostly spent apart. Mardi was scheduled to fly out of Gotham airport in two days to visit her father for Christmas, though she'd offered to stay with him instead, which he politely refused. It was more important, he had said to her, that she spent the holiday with her father while she still had the chance.
Mardi stopped in front of a storefront and peered into the showcase window at a display of dresses. Standing next to her Bruce peered around at the bustling activity. A car pulling to a screeching halt in front of the bank across the street immediately captured his attention. Four young men were inside, all wearing ski caps and dark glasses. Three of the men immerged and Bruce noted as the one closest to him turned, his overcoat slipped open to reveal a gun slung over his shoulder. The three men entered the bank as the fourth stayed behind the wheel of the still running car.
He turned to Mardi and said, "Why don't you go inside and pick out a nice dress. It'll be my Christmas present to you."
She peered up at him suspiciously. "Haven't you already gotten me a present?" she remarked.
"An early birthday present then." She pressed her lips together. They had just celebrated her 36th birthday a month before. "Get a pair of shoes while you're at it. I have to run an errand. Don't leave until I get back."
"But Bruce, I don't need a new dress…" she started to argue, but it was cut off as he bent down and kissed her firmly and thoroughly on the mouth. When he released her, she looked up at him with a lazy smile and said, "One of these days, Mr. Wayne, that's not going to work for you anymore, then what will you do?"
"I won't be long." He made sure she was completely inside the store before backtracking halfway up the block and cutting across the busy street. He came up on the car from the rear on the driver's side and rapped on the window. "Got the time?" he mumbled as the window started to lower.
"Get lost jack…ugh!" A quick, solid punch to the face rendered the man unconscious. Bruce pushed him back so that his head rolled onto the seat's headrest, giving the illusion that he was simply napping. For good measure Bruce reached in and removed the keys from the ignition and tossed them into a sewer drain.
Looking both ways to make sure no one witnessed the scene, he moved hastily up to the bank's doorway. Through the double glass doors he could see one of the three men standing in the vestibule in such a way that he could both guard the entrance and monitor the activity inside the bank at the same time. Bruce flipped up the collar of his cashmere coat in an attempt to shield his face from view, and walked to the door, tapping to draw the guard's attention. The man turned and hollered through the glass, "Closed. Come back later." Bruce cupped a hand behind his ear and shrugged, keeping his head bent down slightly. Perturbed, the man turned the thumb lock and opened the door slightly. "I said we're closed…" The sentence was cut off as Bruce reached in and grabbed his lapels, slamming his face into the glass. He slid slowly down to the floor leaving a Rorschach trail of blood and spittle.
Surreptitiously Bruce stepped over the prone body and pulled the door shut behind him, throwing the lock back into place. A gun, which the crook had hidden behind his back, lay on the floor. Bruce picked it up and pulled out the clip, slipping it into his coat pocket and dropping the empty weapon at his feet. Then he reached down and removed the knit cap from the man's head, placing it on his own. He pulled it down over his hair as far as it would go. The reflective sunglasses followed, the left lens cracked from the blow.
Looking through a second set of double glass doors, Bruce could see thirteen customers and employees laying face down with their hands over their heads along the right side of the large room. A man with a gun in his hand slowly patrolled the area between the hostages and the central service counter, where he leaned over for a better view to the back. As he was doing this, Bruce slipped inside. A young girl of about three, who was lying next to her mother, looked up with wide eyes. He raised one hand and laid a finger across his lips. The girl quickly turned her head and buried it into her mother's side.
Bruce slipped to the left using a courtesy counter for cover. He was pondering how he was going to take out the last two thieves without some sort of weapon when he spotted a shiny black shoe laying next to the table. Connected to the shoe was a leg that disappeared along the side of the table. Bruce crawled over and saw the dead body of the bank's security guard with a bloody hole in his chest. His lips pressed together for a moment in anger, and then he looked down at the guard's belt. On one side was his sidearm, still holstered. The robbers had caught him off-guard, shooting first to gain control of the situation. On the other side, settled into its own loop was what the police referred to as a peacekeeper, or a blackjack. He managed to slide the long black stick out as silently as possible, and peered around the corner.
The man was leaning against the counter again and called out, "What's taking so damn long? Get on with it!"
A voice yelled back, "Hold your horses Hank! She's going as fast as she can!"
Hank grimaced and turned to pace back in the other direction. His back was directly towards Bruce and he knew the time was right. Bending slightly at the waist, he took several long strides and swung the stick in a long arc, smashing it into the back of Hank's knees. With an aborted cry of shock and pain, the man flew backwards, landing hard. Bruce grabbed the gun and used the side of his hand to smash into the man's nose, knocking him out in one blow.
"All right! Let's get this show on the road," the voice from the back called out. Bruce crouched just below the edge of the countertop. "Hank?" he heard, the voice located immediately above him. "What the hell…?" In his concern for his companion, he leaned forward to get a closer look. As soon as Bruce saw him appear over the edge, he reached up and grabbed his coat, yanking him completely over and onto his back, side-by-side with his compatriot. Shortly he was out cold as well.
He laid both weapons on the service counter and looked at the young teller who had been assisting in collecting the money out of the vault, now staring at him with wide eyes. "I think you can call the police now," he said in a low voice. She just nodded.
As he moved towards the door, the young girl leapt up and ran over to him. He looked down at her and she spoke. "Are you a good guy?" He nodded and she hugged his knees briefly before rejoining her mother, who, along with the rest of the hostages, was coming slowly to her feet. He pushed through the first set of doors, stripped off the hat and glasses, dropping them onto the still form of the look-out, and then let himself out the exit, straightening his jacket as he walked.
Several doors down, he entered a jewelry store. A few words with the shopkeeper got him exactly what he needed. The purchase was made in less than ten minutes, and he was back on the street with two boxes deep in his pocket, one long and slender, and one small and square. By the time he'd crossed the street and walked back to the dress shop, sirens could be heard approaching. Through the large glass window he saw Mardi in deep contemplation of two dresses being held by a sales clerk. He pushed open the door and silently walked up behind her. "I like the blue one," he spoke into her ear. She jumped and turned towards him.
"Oh, you scared me! I was thinking about the blue one too." She looked over his shoulder and asked, "What's going on out there?"
He glanced back to see several police cars and an ambulance. "Looks like something happened at the bank," he replied casually.
"Where was your errand?" she asked.
With a smile, he replied, "It's a surprise."
"Wayne," he spoke into the telephone. He was sitting at his desk in the study finishing up paperwork for the Wayne Foundation's yearly Christmas donations when the phone rang.
"Busy day?" the acerbic voice spoke from the other end.
The corner of his mouth twitched as he said, "Merry Christmas to you too, Barbara."
"Cut the crap, Bruce. There was an attempted bank robbery on the south side today. A man walked into the middle of it and took out the perpetrators in almost military-like precision. All witnesses describe the mystery man as having a large build and being very well dressed, though he wore a cap and glasses to hide his face and hair."
"And of course I'm the only man in Gotham who fits that description," he replied dryly.
"No, but you're the only one who used to be Batman." They were both quiet for several moments. "This can't continue Bruce. I won't allow it."
"Barbara…"
"You're a danger to yourself and to others. Don't ever forget that."
"I never do."
"Good. I expect I'll never have to make this call again." The phone buzzed in his hand after she hung up and he replaced the receiver solemnly.
"Who was that?" He looked up to see Mardi standing in the doorway. Her coat was folded over her arm and her bag slung on her shoulder.
"Nobody. A wrong number. Where are you going?"
"I told you last week I was helping Jesse with the school's holiday pageant tomorrow. It'll be an early day, so I'm going home for the night. My flight's first thing the following morning. I won't be back before I leave."
He nodded, vaguely remembering the conversation. "Come over here. I have your surprise." She hesitated, before moving across the room to stand next to his chair. "Give me your left hand." She frowned, but complied. He held it in one of his own while the other pulled open the top drawer of his desk. "I think when two people are in a relationship, a certain amount of commitment should be expected." Her eyes were wide and her cheeks went pale. She tried to take her hand back, but he held it tightly. "A commitment to being at a place at the agreed upon time for starters…" he said, finally pulling out the long box he'd purchased that day. Opening it he removed a delicate white-gold watch with diamond chips edging the face. She let out a long sigh of relief. "And the only way to do that is if you have a proper sense of time. You've been consistently tardy to every date we've had. This is unacceptable for someone rising up the corporate ladder. I hope this will help you keep better track of your appointments."
He fixed the clasp around her wrist and she said with a smile, "A watch. This is your big surprise? You had me scared there for a moment. It's beautiful, though. I love it."
Not letting go of her hand, he rubbed his thumb along her bare third finger while looking directly into her eyes. "You're not disappointed?"
The smile faded. "Not at all," she replied firmly.
"And if it had been something else, with a question involved…your answer would be…?"
She finally managed to pull her hand free. "No. My answer would be no."
"You won't even consider the possibility?"
"Never. I'm leaving now." She turned and walked stiffly towards the door.
"Why not?"
"I don't need to spell it out for you. I won't even waste my breath on it."
"Pretend I'm a doddering old fool and explain it to me."
"I'm not going to be anybody's trophy wife, is that clear enough for you?"
"It wouldn't be that way."
"Tell me how it would be then."
He leaned forward on the desk. "Why don't you tell me the real reason for your refusal."
"I told you already…"
"No! This is about your husband, isn't it? You did not kill him Mardi. You can't be expected to carry that weight around with you for the rest of your life."
"You couldn't possibly understand," she whispered.
"I understand a lot better than you could imagine."
"You can? Can you understand that at the moment I learned he was dead I felt no grief or sadness or horror? That instead I felt the most incredible sense of relief, like a huge weight had been lifted? How can you even consider marrying someone so terribly heartless?" She turned and fled. He heard her footsteps as she ran and the thud of the front door being slammed shut behind her.
Swarms of costumed children ran to and fro. They represented all ethnic backgrounds and religions, coming together to celebrate the most festive time of year. Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa, Winter Solstice, and more had a place in the massive production.
"Emmaline, Bryce! Stop that running! Come here and listen to me. Go get into your costumes. Do you remember your lines?" Jesse spoke to a particular pair of rambunctious tots.
"Yes Miss Crenshaw," the two young children said earnestly.
"Good. Now go on. We're gonna be starting any time." The kids hurried off in a more orderly fashion.
Mardi, who was sewing on a pair of antlers onto a small hat for a would-be reindeer, looked up and said, "You should get yourself one of those, Jess. You're a natural with them."
"I take care of fifty kids a day Mardi. That's what being a teacher's all about."
"Yeah, but you should have one of your own. You'd be a terrific mother."
"Maybe, but I'm missing a very important component." Mardi just stared at her. "A husband?" Jesse chuckled.
Mardi grimaced. "This is the modern age. A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle."
"Hold up. This coming from my roommate, who I might as well be living with a ghost for as much as you've been there. Something happen between you and Prince Charming? You have a fight?"
Mardi shrugged and bit the thread she was working on to cut it. "Not a fight per se. He brought up the 'M' word," she said shyly.
"He proposed! That's great! Isn't it?" She looked at Mardi suspiciously.
"No he didn't actually propose. It was more of a hypothetical question to see what I would say."
"And…?"
"And I told him no."
"Why on God's green earth would you do something like that?"
"Besides all the practical reasons? I guess…I'm not sure…it's just that," she bit her lower lip. "I don't know if he'll ever love me as much as I love him," she finished in a small voice.
"Honey, why would he ask you to marry him if he didn't love you?" Jesse asked. "Wait a second. He has told you that he loves you hasn't he?" Mardi shook her head slowly. "Have you told him?"
"No," she barely whispered.
"You're a strange pair alright. My advice: follow your heart and stop listening to that little voice. It's only going to get you into trouble."
She let herself in with the spare key he'd given to her. After the extremely long day she was exhausted and should be in bed sleeping if she ever hoped to make her flight on time in the morning, but this was an errand she could not allow herself to put off. It was late, and all the lights were off, so she assumed he'd already gone to bed. Steeling herself against the self-doubt she entered the large house and started up the stairs, trying to walk as softly as possible, but still managing to hit several small creeks on the treads.
At the master bedroom door she took a calming breath and grasped the knob. The room was dark as she pushed the door inward. She had barely taken one step in when a strong hand grabbed her arm, flinging her around until she found herself slammed into the wall face first, a heavy weight bearing into her back. She was too paralyzed with fear to speak and had to fight for breath.
"What do you want," a dark voice spoke into her ear. It sounded like Bruce, but not quite. Her heart thudded in her ears and her legs felt liquid.
"B-bruce," she managed to choke out. Abruptly the weight was removed from her back and light flooded the room as the switch next to the door was flipped on. Her eyes closed tightly to the blinding pain. She felt herself spun around.
"Mardi? What the hell are you doing here? I could have hurt you." He seemed angry but as he turned her around he gently gripped her shoulders. "Are you all right?" He asked more calmly.
She blinked as the light burned into her eyes, trying to focus on his face. "I'm fine, just a little shaken up. I had to come back to see you tonight, I'm sorry I just burst in. I used the key you gave me." Weakly she held it up for his inspection. "I couldn't leave things the way we did. I had to tell you…" She paused trying to find both the courage and the words.
"Tell me what?"
"I had to tell you that I'm in love with you. Madly, deeply, irreparably. I think I have been since I saw you staring at me on the street corner looking so handsome in your tuxedo. It scares me beyond all reason to feel like this. You even scare me sometimes. But what frightens me above all else is that some day you're not going to be around anymore and I'll have to live without you. It's just not fair," she finished in a hoarse whisper. His eyes went wide for a second, and then he pulled her towards him, circling his arms around her and cupping her head with one hand. His lips brushed her hair. She knew that she never wanted to be anywhere else in the whole world more than in his arms. He was shirtless, sleeping only in a pair of pajama bottoms. Her breath stirred the snowy hair on his chest as she said, "But I'm still not going to marry you." Her voice was muffled in his firm embrace.
"I have plenty of time to convince you otherwise," he quietly assured her. She attempted to shake her head no. She was so afraid – afraid to be with him, afraid to lose him, but most importantly right now she was afraid of being accused of using him for his wealth and influence, as if it were impossible to love this wonderfully intelligent, sexy, amazing man.
