Warning: Language . . .

Jason looked at his bike longingly; thinking that if he ran now, he could be on it and out of sight before anyone could open the door. No one would have to know that he had ever been here. But he had promised . . .

Sort of.

It was too late, however. He had spent too long fluctuating between staying and going and now the door was opening. His heart gave a painful thud and tried to claw its way up his throat.

"Master Jason," exclaimed Alfred. "How wonderful to see you again!"

Jason turned to greet the old butler; nervously running a hand through his hair in order to neaten it. Alfred had never been keen on helmet hair.

"Uh, hiya, Alf . . ." he cleared his throat. "Alfred, I mean." Whatever had happened between him and Bruce, Jason had never lost his respect for the older man that ran the manor with precision and . . . well, love.

Alfred looked him over critically. "It appears we're are going to have a colorful Christmas this year," he indicated Jason's swollen nose and bruising that extended outward beneath both eyes. "But you look to be in good shape otherwise. I imagine you are in need of a proper meal, though, now that you're here."

He blinked as his eyes confirmed the number of years that had passed by in the old man's appearance. Less hair on top, but more gray. A few more lines creasing his forehead, meaning more worries. Jason felt a twinge of guilt that some of those lines might have been caused by him.

"I've never found anyone who could rival your cooking, Alfred," Jason freely admitted.

"Well, don't stand out here in the cold! Come inside quickly!" Alfred practically beamed at him. Well, whatever constituted 'beaming' to a stalwart, British butler.

Before he knew it, Alfred was propelling him into the warmth of the foyer. Jason glanced around, looking for changes from the last time he had entered the impressive entry hall. Surprisingly little, but then Bruce was always as much a stickler for tradition as Alfred was. The decorations, however, did seem a little grander and more festive this year.

"Perfect timing," Alfred was saying. "Everyone is up and should be coming downstairs at any moment."

It was eight o'clock in the morning. That was the butt-crack of dawn for people in their line of work, although memories of getting up at five a.m. for training before breakfast and school flitted through his reluctant mind. Doors were slamming and loud thumps of running feet drifted down to the hall from upstairs, announcing the eminent arrival of the current Bat brood.

Jason stiffened, and he had to battle the urge to run. Alfred must have realized this for he laid a hand on Jason's shoulder.

"Steady there, Master Jason," the elder man murmured gently.

Laughter floated in the air, causing Jason to frown slightly. That was new . . . Well, not exactly new. There had been laughter before, he remembered, but it had been uncommon and often stilted. What he heard now was bright and full of joy.

There was the change he had been searching for.

The higher-pitch of feminine laughter was interspersed with that of the male variety. Jason recognized Dick's; and could only assume that the other distinctive voices belonged to that of his replacement and the demon child he had heard about.

The tension in his shoulders increased. He hadn't seen Red Robin without Batman since he had beaten the shit out of the kid almost a year ago, and he had only glimpsed the newest Robin from a distance a few times.

"Race you," came a childish voice, Jason assumed was the demon brat.

"Whoa, partners! Nobody goes in without Bruce," Dick's voice chided.

"Hey, let me go!" Damian yelped, followed by Elle's laughter.

The sounds were getting louder and clearer as their owners drew closer.

"Morning," came Bruce's deep voice.

"Merry Christmas! We were beginning to think you were going to sleep the day away," Dickiebird replied teasingly.

Jason was surprised. He had assumed that Dick would have sounded more nasally that he did after Jason had broken his nose so thoroughly. It had only been one night, and already the sap sounded more or less normal.

"Who could oversleep with all this racket going on," Bruce joked. Joked?!

Good God! What had he missed?

"Sorry, Bruce," Tim apologized. Jason figured him for a suck-up.

"Father, make Grayson set me down," the demon demanded royally.

"Good morning, Damian. Merry Christmas," Bruce said, almost happily. "How's the eye, Elle?"

"Much better, thank you," Elle answered. "Merry Christmas!"

At that moment, Elle was bumping shoulders playfully with the Replacement as they neared the top of the stairs, followed by Dickhead hoisting the brat over his shoulder by his own petard as the demon squawked idle threats. Bruce brought up the rear with a contented smile on his face.

Jason glanced around the room again and back at Alfred. His eyes darted nervously back toward the door.

"Relax," Alfred tried to assure him. "You're in the right house."

"Are you sure," Jason asked, perplexed. "This feels more like something out of the Twilight Zone. Bruce is smiling; people are laughing and joking . . . What the hell happened?"

Alfred's mouth twitched down briefly as he reminded Jason about language.

"A new addition," the butler said, by way of explanation. He looked up and ruined Jason's escape by announcing his presence to the others. "Look who's joined us for Christmas!"

Elle had just noticed him and wore a delighted grin. Drake spotted him and Jason watched with glee as the color was leeched from his face. Dick spun towards him, forcing Damian to twist and raise up in order to glare at him. Bruce's face froze with a hesitant smile.

"Jason!" Elle dropped Drake's arm and rushed down the stairs. Dick looked alarmed, but Elle raced around the bottom of the balustrade and practically threw herself into his arms.

Jason oofed softly as the woman wrapped him up in a hug as if he were a long-lost family member. He blinked when he realized abruptly that that was exactly what he was . . . Although not hers. At least, not yet, apparently. His gaze shot up, startled, to see Dick picking up his pace to join them. The idiot was smiling as if he were actually glad to see him.

Jason frowned as he noted that the swelling in Dick's nose had gone down greatly, and his raccoon eyes were not much more than a few patches of purple, green, and yellow. It looked like he had had a week to heal rather than just overnight! Jason knew for a fact that his own bruises had only deepened overnight to black and a dark, dark blue. What the hell?

"We're so glad you came," Elle was saying, drawing his attention back to her.

Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail and braided; making it obvious that whatever bruises she had borne the previous evening had nearly disappeared altogether. Jason could only see the faintest trace of yellow and green near her hairline and a shadowy area gracing her cheek. Had she managed to cover it with makeup? She did a damned good job of it! He'd have never known if he hadn't been the one to give the bruises to her just twelve hours before.

"Are you sure," he asked, his gaze flitting back up to where the Replacement was slowly descending the stairs with Bruce.

Jason's lips quirked. Smart of him, sticking to Bruce's side like that.

"I'm positive," she assured him, stepping back from his hesitant embrace.

Dick stepped forward and shook his hand. "Merry Christmas, Jay! Take those sunglasses off and stick around," he teased him.

Jason narrowed his eyes as he searched for traces of makeup on Dickhead's face. Didn't appear to be any, however. "I'm not wearing sunglasses," he groused, annoyed. "And you know it . . . How did you . . .?"

"Ah, ah," Elle grabbed Jason's arm and tugged him further into the room. "No shop talk. It's Christmas! Say hi to Damian."

Dick swung around so that the disgruntled brat was facing him. The kid glared at him; arms crossed. If he didn't look so freaking creepy, Jason would almost think he was cute. But he wasn't that stupid . . .

Elle, however, apparently had no problem with the demon, and laughed; ruffling his hair like he was a fucking puppy or something. Jason knew a predator when he saw one, though. Kid or not, Bruce and Talia's offspring was a loaded pistol waiting to go off.

"Todd," the demon spouted.

Jason blinked. "Uh, yeah."

Damian's eyes widened suddenly and he straightened up on Dickhead's shoulder. He turned and glared in Elle's direction. When Jason looked, the woman was had the most blatantly innocent expression on her face, indicating that she was guilty of something. Thankfully, Dick didn't seem to think they needed more time to acknowledge each other's existence and turned back around; swinging the child to face his surprised adversary.

"I'll have you know, Hamilton," Damian was quick to inform her, "that my feet are not ticklish."

Jason's lips quirked into a lopsided smile as Elle made a poor attempt at denial, but then she was grinning and laughing at the little brat.

"Perhaps, Damian," she said lightly. "Or perhaps I didn't give it a good enough try."

As the couple and the demon moved out of the way, the Replacement moved to join them. His eyes darted nervously from Jason as he followed the couple in the direction of the dining room.

Bruce remained; standing off to the side as if he were afraid the Jason would explode if he got too close.

"Merry Christmas, Jason," he said after clearing his throat. "It's good to see you."

Jason stared, wondering once again if it were too late to leave. Dick and Elle stopped at the entrance to the hallway that led to the formal dining room to look back. They were waiting for him. The chick was smiling encouragingly. He rolled his eyes and heaved a huge sigh.

"Merry Christmas, Bruce," he muttered and moved to catch up with the others, leaving Bruce to bring up the rear.

It was going to be a long day.

"How long am I expected to stay," he asked.

"As long as you feel welcome," Elle told him; tucking her hand into his arm as she walked with him.

"I should go now," he grumbled.

"Feeling uncomfortable for your own reasons is not the same as feeling unwelcome," she informed him. "We all want you here."

Drake was ahead of them and Jason watched, amused, as he practically dove into the dining room.

"Maybe not all of you," he replied.

Damian yelped and reared up indignantly. "No need for violence, Grayson. I didn't say anything."

"And you won't, either," Dick told him, warningly.

The demon huffed, but didn't remark further.

"It's going to be a wonderful Christmas," Elle declared.

Jason and the brat snorted together in response and rolled their eyes. Elle laughed.

"See, you and Damian are already finding common ground," she grinned, and gave his arm a tug. "Come on, slowpokes! I'm hungry!"

Breakfast had been a stilted affair. Mostly the sounds of silverware clacking on china and the muted sounds of chewing broken only by the occasional request for the salt or pepper. The only entertainment came from watching the silent communications going on between Dick and his fiancée where they sat across from each other. Bruce found his gaze sliding repeatedly back to Jason, though; greedy for the sight of his wayward son finally safely ensconced inside his home . . . If only for the day.

After breakfast, the family moved silently into the living room. The tree was lit as it had been last night, but Bruce stared in shock. The room had been transformed. It still bore the graceful décor placed there by Alfred for the holidays, but there had been additions . . . A lot of additions!

Paper snowflakes of multiple sizes were hung from the ceiling; new stockings were hung along the mantle and stuffed to the brim. There was a railroad track laid out around the room and upon entering, the toy train tooted brightly and began its journey around the perimeter. A fire had been laid and was crackling cheerily . . .

When had all this happened, Bruce wondered. Everyone had been together in the dining room, and even Alfred had only disappeared into the kitchen for mere minutes before reappearing at someone's side. He eyed the room's other occupants suspiciously. Had someone sneaked down earlier this morning? They would have had to . . .

Christmas music began playing in the background from a brand new CD player on a side table automatically as people moved to the various seats and sofas throughout the room. Everyone was looking around them in surprise and no little awe. The scent of pine filled the air along with the smell of cinnamon and vanilla from a plate of cookies. A hint of peppermint came from a glass jar of candy canes. But what had drawn the most attention was the numerous gaily-wrapped presents that had been missing the previous day and were now propped strategically around the fireplace and by the tree; including a new sled with a huge green bow.

And the tree . . . A brand new tree topper graced the top of the fifteen foot Douglas fir! A star that was as beautiful as any Bruce had ever seen.

He glanced over at Elle, now sitting beside Dick. She looked as awestruck and as impressed as anyone present, but somehow not surprised. He glanced up at that tree topper wonderingly. If Elle was responsible, how the hell had she managed to get that star up there by herself? Dick must have helped her, but, if anything, he looked shocked by all he saw. Bruce didn't think his surprise faked, and yet . . .

This would have required hours of labor. He had the sudden urge to rush past everyone and head to the Batcave in order to pull up his security feed. He didn't have a camera in the living room, but he did in the hallway and foyer. He would be able to see anyone who came in here from the one positioned down the hall. The one in the foyer would tell him who exactly had come downstairs in the middle of the night. But a glance at Alfred, who was gazing admiringly at the new decorative additions with the rest of the family, would likely string him up if he were to disappear right now.

"You really went all out this year, Alfred," Jason remarked, whistling.

"Yeah, when did you have time to do all this," Tim asked the elder man as he sat down in a chair as far away from Jason as he could find.

Alfred appeared perplexed. "I had nothing to do with all of this," he admitted. "I thought that maybe one of you . . ."

Dick shrugged his shoulders. "Don't look at me! I was sleeping the sleep of the innocent last night," he said, but his gaze traveled to Elle curiously.

Dick's fiancée sat smiling, but didn't return his glance. Neither did she admit to anything, Bruce noted.

Damian must have been thinking along the same lines as his father. He stared at Elle before asking, "Did you do this?"

Elle blinked at him and smiled. "All this?" She spread her hands out, indicating the entirety of the room. "When would I have had the time?"

"And how would she have gotten to the top of the tree," Tim asked. He looked at Dick, knowingly. "You helped, didn't you? Of course, you did! You had to have."

Dick laughed and waved his hands. "No, no, I swear that I didn't have a thing to do with this."

Jason narrowed his eyes, but kept his mouth shut. He clearly thought Dick was lying, but didn't want to start an argument apparently. Yet another thing that was a welcomed oddity this Christmas Day.

Damian was frowning as he turned in a circle taking in all the changes that had been made during the night. "Well, someone had to have done this," he declared. "It couldn't have happened all by itself!"

"Well, of course, someone did it, Damian," Elle grinned knowingly. "I think it would be obvious."

"Hah! I knew it was you," Damian crowed. "But how did you get all the way up to the ceiling without help? You would have woken Alfred pulling the ladder in here from the garage."

Elle laughed. "I didn't say that I did it! I only admitted that someone else did."

"What's that supposed to mean anyway," Tim tilted his head as he considered her. "You say you didn't do this, but you act as though you know who did. Someone in here is lying through their teeth!"

"My vote is for Santa's elves," Elle murmured softly.

But not softly enough.

Jason snorted with laughter. "Elves? Yeah, right! Even if Santa Claus existed, he would never be able to get through the manor's security system without Bruce being alerted."

Elle blinked and considered him. "You think not?"

"Not a chance," Jason waved the question away. "Bruce's Bat-paranoia guarantees that. This place is wired so tightly that only a spider would have a hope of not setting off the alarm!"

"I resent the accusation that I have allowed spiders to reside inside the manor," Alfred sniffed.

"I read that at any given moment we are within two feet of a spider," Tim relayed to anyone listening.

Elle blanched and gaped at him. "If I lived a thousand years, Tim, I could have gone my grave without knowing that little bit of trivia and died content."

Tim bit his lip to keep from grinning, and ducked his head; his face flushing.

Damian was staring at Elle oddly. "Elves," he repeated her idea.

"And Santa," she added calmly; not taking the least offense to Jason and Tim's gentle ridicule.

Jason barked with laughter. He leaned over so that he could see Dick easier. "Where the hell did you find this chick?"

Alfred cleared his throat and Jason flushed a little.

"Sorry, Al," he said, "but seriously, Dickiebird. She's a hoot!"

Elle smiled contentedly and leaned against Dick. He, in turn, wrapped a possessive arm around her.

"If she says its Santa and his elves, then it must be so," Dick said in lieu of answering Jason's sarcastic question.

Damian spun to face his eldest brother. "You're kidding!"

"Who else could it be, Dami?" Dick asked the younger boy.

"But the alarms . . ." he began. "Todd and Drake both said Father's system would have been triggered had anyone opened an outside door."

It was Elle's turn to laugh. "He didn't come through the door," she said.

Damian frowned. "The window, then," he added sourly.

"Santa gets into the house through the chimney," Elle told him.

Damian glanced at the roaring fire. "What about the fire? There would have been footprints of ash all over the carpet! And . . ." he bent a little but couldn't actually see the flue. "And how did he get through the chimney in the first place; magic?" He didn't bother to hide his skepticism behind manners.

"I've been sworn to secrecy," Elle admitted, sincerely. She mimed locking her lips and tossing an invisible key.

Bruce kept silent throughout this; leaning back and steepling his fingers as he thought. He didn't know how Elle had accomplished this, but he was certain that she was responsible in some way. Dick had to have helped her, although Bruce was impressed with his improved acting ability.

"There are ways to make you talk, Hamilton," Damian challenged.

"Perhaps the name on the gifts would give a clue as to the perpetrator's identity," Alfred interjected calmly.

Damian spun about at the suggestion and darted to the sled. His fingers found the tag beneath the enormous bow.

"Damian Wayne," he read aloud. "Welcome to Christmas."

"That was very sweet of him," Elle whispered to Dick.

"Very sweet of whom," Tim asked; overhearing her comment.

Damian stared at her; as did everyone else in the room; Dick included.

Elle rolled her eyes and laughed. "Santa Claus, silly!"

Three of Bruce's sons groaned at her answer. Dick shook his head, grinning. "You aren't going to convince them," he told her.

She shrugged, unconcerned. "I don't have to," she said. "The truth is the truth, whether or not one is believed. But honestly, if you can ignore the evidence in front of you, how you ever managed to solve any mysteries is beyond me."

Tim stood up and started to make his way out of the room.

"Hold up, Tim," Bruce stopped him. "Where do you think you're going?"

"There is a simple way to solve this," he said. "The security camera in the hallway."

His thoughts exactly, but despite Bruce's own curiosity, he was enjoying the holiday magic Elle had managed to weave. Family discourse without yelling . . . He was ecstatic. No gift under the tree could compare.

"The tape will still be there after we open gifts," Bruce told him, waving the teenager back to his seat.

"Aren't you curious, Bruce?" Dick peered at him.

"Yes, Father," Damian demanded. "How can you not be concerned that someone bypassed your security system? This is a serious breach!"

Bruce's lips twitched and his eyes flicked to Elle and back to his youngest son. "I know who did it," he announced.

Damian didn't miss a beat. He pointed to Elle. "You are responsible! You did this!"

Elle's smile didn't waver. "If it helps you sleep at night, Damian. I have to admit that I never imagined that you could let yourself get so worked up over a visit from a gift-giving elf."

"There was no elf," Damian snorted. "That argument is illogical."

Elle sighed, shaking her head. "You see," she complained to Dick. "This is exactly why Kris prefers gives to children most of the time. Adults are just too suspicious. And you," she said, pointing at Damian, "need to learn to just be a kid for a change!"

Jason was still smiling. "Who is Kris?"

Tim slapped a hand over his forehead, undoubtedly realizing to whom she referred, but Damian's focus was like a laser beam. He thought she had slipped up.

"Kris . . . Kringle," Elle replied.

Damian frowned. "Who is Kris Kringle?"

Everyone laughed except for one confused eleven year old; even Alfred. Bruce found himself chuckling. She obviously wasn't going to give in easily, and he watched as the tension in the room visibly eased. Bruce relaxed and allowed himself to enjoy it.

"Enough," he interrupted. "It's time to see what Mr. Kringle brought us."

Damian's eyes widened. It was plain that the boy started rethinking his stance of Santa Claus with what he took as Bruce's admission of the man's existence.

Although Bruce was content to wait to relieve his curiosity, he was looking forward to the moment when he could slip away to view those tapes himself. But he decided then and there, that he would erase the evidence before Damian or the others had a chance to view it.

There was nothing wrong with a little Christmas magic, he decided. Not when it brought his long-lost son home, perplexed his most cynical child, and kept Jason and Tim together in the same room with each other and their brothers without threat or bloodshed. So far, so good . . .

REACTIONS?

Need reviews . . . Need *gasp* reviews! Please?

I would settle for some new stories, however . . . Something Dick-centric. Or at least more updates on the stories I'm following.

More holiday fun and fluff to follow! Keep an eye out!