"Please tell me where we're going?" Dick begged for the third time since they'd left the house.
"Remind me," Bruce replied evenly, "are you fourteen, or four? I forget when you use that tone." While he was glad that his son was so eager to know what was going on, he couldn't take any more pleading. If the teen kept imploring him for an answer he was bound to crack, and he wanted their destination to be a surprise until the very last moment.
The lead-up to this day had begun the previous year, when he'd finally taken Dick to the Gotham Festival of Trees. The Festival had been held for ten seasons running in order to raise money for the various charities that were covered by the wide umbrella of the Wayne Foundation, but it had never occurred to Bruce to actually attend. He got away with such benign neglect because there was no grand party or opening gala for him to play a starring role at, but only a week of public viewing of the dozens upon dozens of specially decorated conifers. Between the small admission price to the show, the sponsorship fee that local businesses paid for a chance to put their name on a display or host a vendor booth, and the silent auction sale of the trees themselves, the event always netted a hefty profit. It didn't need Bruce to be involved, and he had never volunteered.
That had changed thanks to a broken arm. On the night of Black Friday, Robin had ended up chasing after a hijacked armored truck on his motorcycle. Batman had rushed ahead to set a trap for the crooks, who had fallen into the fold like sheep being chased by a particularly skilled herding dog. The spikes had blown out the money carrier's tires instantly, sending it careening into a light pole and causing debris to fly. Robin had stopped well short of the studded strips, but he wasn't quite out of the danger zone. Before either vigilante could react a section of twisted bumper had caught the teen midway between his elbow and his shoulder and ripped him off of his mercifully unmoving bike.
He had been unhurt save for a little road rash and a cracked humerus, but his injuries had been sufficient to ground him through January. Having little else to do as school wound down towards the winter break, Dick had filled his empty hours with television. It was a treat in which he was generally far too busy to indulge, and consequently he had paid as rapt of attention to the commercials as to the shows themselves. Once he had seen the glittering advertisement for the Festival he had been determined to visit the faux-frosted lanes of the civic center, and he had talked of little else for days.
Bruce, unable to deny his child much of anything even when he wasn't sporting scrapes and a sling, had agreed with relatively little cajoling. They spent an entire afternoon examining the sparkling displays, voting for their favorites, and munching on various treats purchased from the sellers scattered throughout the building. The media caught wind of things, naturally, and insisted on an interview with the billionaire before he left. He'd obliged them, and it was during his question and answer session that he'd been set on a path towards further involvement with the Festival.
One of the microphone-wielding crowd had queried as to whether or not he would be sponsoring a tree the following year. He had demurred, but it was too late – the idea had been planted in Dick's head. The remaining three weeks until Christmas had been filled with little hints about how neat it would be put together a theme and see how much it sold for. On one occasion a couple of rough decorating sketches had been 'accidentally' left on Bruce's desk. The boy had caught the bug, and he wouldn't shut up about it.
Only when he was allowed back out on patrol did his comments about making trees merry and bright for charity cease. While night work seemed to have wiped his obsession from Dick's mind, though, it had only cemented it in Bruce's. The Festival, he realized, was exactly the sort of thing that his son would have already been involved with if Batman and Robin didn't exist and he'd been able to have a more normal childhood. It had been heartwarming to see him so wrapped up in something that had absolutely nothing to do with masks or villains or violent crime, and once the spell seemed to have lifted Bruce found himself wanting it to return, if only temporarily.
He had cradled that small hope for twelve months, just waiting for December to come around again. It had been nothing to arrange to purchase one of the bare trees for Dick to decorate, and he had worked with Alfred to come up with a theme and procure all the materials that could possibly be wanted for the task. Everything was waiting for them at the civic center, and it was there that they were headed this morning.
"Fourteen," Dick answered, rolling his eyes. "I can't help it, Bruce! I feel like we're going to do something amazing, but I can't figure out what it is! The closest I can guess is that we're going to pick out a tree at our lot, but if that's what it is then we're kind of taking the long way around. Although...why haven't we gotten the tree yet? It's normally up by the end of Thanksgiving weekend." His eyes narrowed. "Is something going on?"
"You know that answer to that," Bruce replied, biting back a grin. They were less than two minutes from their destination now, and while the teen was getting closer he wasn't likely to ferret out the truth before they parked.
"There's always something going on," Dick sighed, repeating an oft-quoted aphorism of Batman's. "I know that, but what?! I hate it when you keep secrets from me," he pouted. "When you manage it, you're really, really good at it."
The car made a left turn into a parking garage and began to ascend. "Just think about where we are," Bruce counseled, "and wait. You'll know soon, I promise. And stop pouting; that's cheating."
"Aaugh!" Dick threw up his hands in mock despair. "This is so awesomely frustrating..."
A minute later the trio was walking down the sidewalk towards the massive building that housed many of the city's smaller events. Bruce could tell that Alfred's excitement was building right along with his own, and a grin slipped onto his lips. This, he was certain, was going to be good...
The front entrance led them onto a balcony that overlooked the cavernous main chamber. Several long rows of blank trees stood waiting for their sponsors, most of who hadn't yet arrived. Men on scaffolding were busy turning the open-beam ceiling into a semblance of a starry night. A large table at the back of the space was doling out free coffee, cocoa, and cookies to the volunteers, all of whom were wearing smiles. It was perfect, and Bruce turned to see his son's reaction.
Dick had been wearing a puzzled frown as they'd approached the doors, but now his mouth went slack. "...Bruce," he whispered disbelievingly, "this...this is the Festival, isn't it? The Festival of Trees, like last year?"
"It will be, yes." He paused. "...You said you wanted to decorate one and see it sell, right?"
"Yeah, but...I didn't think...I mean, there was so much press last year, and you hate that. I honestly didn't think you'd even want to come look at them again." Dick swiveled to face him. "Did you really buy me a tree to decorate, Bruce?"
"You bet I did, chum," he nodded. "And I hope the press swarms it."
There were arms around his neck immediately, and a happy breath brushed past his ear. "Thank you. This is the best Christmas ever."
Bruce squeezed his boy tightly, not caring who was watching. "You're welcome, kiddo. Now," he pushed him back to arm's length, "let's go find your spot. You've got a lot of decorating to do."
Dick blanched. "Oh, no! I didn't have time to think of a theme, or-"
"That's all been taken care of, young sir," Alfred assured. "I think you'll be quite pleased with what you find waiting for you down below."
"I...you guys took care of it?" The wonder in the teen's gaze grew. "Aw...you're the best! C'mon, let's go; I can't wait to see what you came up with..."
"...This is the one," Bruce said shortly thereafter. A robust fir towered over them, rising fifteen feet into the air before it petered out in a perfect point. "Is it acceptable?"
"Acceptable?" Dick was all but trembling with joy. "It's gorgeous. Oh, man...this is going to make so much money for the Foundation. I just know it."
"I'm sure it will," the billionaire nodded. He felt no qualms about building up the youth's hopes as to how much money his contribution to the sale might bring in, as he had already arranged for this particular tree to be the high seller and to furthermore be delivered to his own living room at the end of the show. But Dick didn't need to know any of that just yet; today was about decorating and dreaming, and in his opinion it was high time those activities got underway. "See the sign?" he asked, pointing out a piece of paper propped up against the lowest branches. "That's your sponsor and your theme."
Dick's breath caught as he read the sheet. "...Sponsored by Haly's Circus," he murmured. "'A Three-Ring Christmas Tree'."
"Is that all okay with you, chum?" Bruce whispered as his son leaned into him again. "It's something that's never been done before for the Festival, and we figured that there's no one who could possibly do it better than you."
A sniffle sounded, but when Dick straightened he was wearing a smile. "It's perfect," he announced. "It's just...perfect."
They soon found that the many items Alfred had procured for decorating were equally flawless. There were gorgeous ceramic bulbs covered with vivaciously colored polka dots and stripes and chevrons; long chains of silk scarves that worked marvelously as garland; handsome tigers and horses and fire-eaters and fortune tellers, all made of hand-painted blown glass; and even a few grinning acrobats, who looked so at home hanging amongst the boughs that one could almost believe they had grown out of the tree itself. A heavy length of Indian tapestry appeared from the bottom of a plastic tote to serve as a tree skirt. The lights, they discovered, had been pre-set to flash in time with the calliope music that emitted from a tiny speaker hidden somewhere along the wire. In short the butler had forgotten nothing, and the teen's joy at the selection he'd been offered was palpable.
Bruce stood back and sipped coffee while he watched his son work. Dick flitted around the tree like the little bird that he secretly was, tucking something in here, adjusting a light there, and slowly making his way higher. Eventually a ladder was required, and the process was delayed by the necessity of moving it every time he wanted to tackle a new section of greenery. More and more people began to leave their own trees in order to compliment Dick's, holding the show up even further. For once in his life, though, the billionaire didn't mind the excessive wait; his boy was glowing with happiness, and that was enough to keep him satisfied.
Finally the boy ventured back to his side. "It looks good," Bruce said seriously. "Damn good."
But Dick shook his head. "...Something's missing."
"What is it?"
"I don't know. I feel like I should, though..."
"Excuse me, Master Dick?"
They both looked down from the tree to find Alfred standing nearby with his hands behind his back. "What's up, Alfred?" Dick asked.
"The problem, young sir, is what isn't up. Namely, the tree topper." He brought forth a metal elephant with a gilded blanket across its back and its trunk held high in celebration. "I think you'll find that this fills the hole you were just discussing."
Bruce had a sneaking suspicion that the item had been specially ordered for this exact moment, and he couldn't help but be impressed. "That's legitimately beautiful," he remarked.
"Handmade," the butler informed him as Dick reached forward with a little coo to take the creature, "and fit for many, many Christmases to come."
"Wooow..." The teen was all but cradling the elephant, his fingertips skating gently along its cool hide. "You know...I'm actually really, really jealous of whoever ends up buying this tree. I mean, they get to keep all of the ornaments, and...well. I just hope they go to a good home, that's all."
When Dick had turned away in order to climb the ladder a final time, Bruce and Alfred exchanged sneaky smirks. "I don't think we have to worry about that, do you?" Bruce asked.
"...No, sir," the butler answered confidently, tipping him a wink. "I don't think we need to worry about that in the least."
Bruce made it a point to come home early on the afternoon that the Festival trees were delivered to their purchasers. Once there he sat in the living room with a stack of projections reports and waited. The crew that had carted the fir up from the heart of the city had only been gone for twenty minutes when he heard the front door close in the foyer. Dick's voice floated down the hall to him, carrying the electric excitement that all schoolchildren feel at the beginning of a vacation. "...The living room? Did we finally get a tree, then? We should decorate it when Bruce gets home. We're cutting it kind of clo-"
He broke off as he stepped through the doorway and came face to face with item that had been dropped off during his absence. "...My tree," he whispered, a broad grin spilling across his face. "Why...why's it here, though?"
"Because this is where it belongs, chum," Bruce answered quietly, announcing his presence.
Dick turned wide, dancing eyes on him. "...You bought it?" he ventured.
"Yes. Is that okay?"
"Of course! But...did it make a lot of money for the Foundation?
"It was the top-selling tree this year by a margin of five hundred dollars."
"Five hundred? It sold for that much?!"
"No. It sold for five hundred more than the top seller. The total amount you raised with your tree was three thousand, six hundred and eleven dollars." A beat passed as Dick visibly struggled to lift his jaw back into place. "That's a new record, by the way."
"I...you...what...what was the next tree? Which one got five hundred less than mine?"
Tickled by how things had turned out, Bruce chuckled. "Yours did."
"...Huh?" The teen shook his head. "I'm so confused..."
"Here. Come sit down with me." When he'd obeyed, Bruce went on. "Your tree was the top seller even before I got involved."
"No way!" Dick exclaimed, boggling at the riotous conifer gracing the far end of the living room.
"It was. But I'll tell you a secret; there was never any chance of your tree going into anyone's house but mine, no matter how much other people bid."
"...There wasn't?" A knowing look was turned on him. "What did you do?"
"I made an arrangement to pay five hundred more than whatever the highest bid on any tree turned out to be."
"When did you do that?"
"Before you even knew you had a tree to decorate, kiddo."
The teen stared at him for a long second. "You...you really did, didn't you?" he breathed. "You did that. You did that for me."
"I did. I did that for you." And for me, he added silently as Dick latched onto him in a tight hug. Seeing you happy for an instant is worth every penny I have.
"...Thank you," came eventually. "I love that tree. I love everything on it. I've been thinking about it ever since I decorated it, and...and you knew. You knew, and you bought it for me." He sighed. "You're the best, dad. I love you."
Bruce closed his eyes, squeezed the figure in his arms tighter, and savored those last seven words. When he was relatively certain that he wasn't going to burst into tears, he opened his mouth to reply. "I'm glad you're happy," he said hoarsely. "...Merry Christmas, son." …I love you, too...
Author's Note: We just had our local Festival of Trees here in Fairbanks this weekend, and walking through the displays gave me the idea for this little story. Lots of towns and cities have Festivals, and if you live near one you should definitely check it out. The money usually goes to a good cause, and it's great fun no matter how young or old you are. I've posted a few pictures from Festivals that I felt matched what I was imagining for Gotham on my blog. I will also be posting a really fabulous photo that gives an idea of what Christmas at Wayne Manor might look like a little later. Happy reading, and see you tomorrow!