Chapter 21 – Wedding Bells

Neither Bruce nor Selina had ever imagined a winter wedding for themselves. That was primarily because neither of them had really envisioned a wedding for themselves at all, regardless of the season. But now that it had arrived, with the perfect dusting of snow and twinkling Christmas lights all across town, they both recognized it was perfect.

This was the only time of year when Gotham actually looked… charming. Less gritty, less dark and intimidating.

Exactly like the two people getting married. Their dark, intimidating costumes were replaced with stunning satin, lace, and a perfectly tailored tuxedo. Bruce had chosen a silver town car to lead the wedding convoy to church – a bright departure from his dark limo, or obsidian Batmobile. Everywhere they looked, rich symbolism guided their path and lifted their spirits. It left no room for doubts or misgivings.

Today, everything was right, even if all the world's troubles weren't solved.

Yet as Bruce's car pulled up to the old cathedral, his eyes nearly fell out of his head. Were his eyes deceiving him? Or was that one of the world's troubles standing right there on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets and smiling a mischievous, dimpled grin?

"Clark?!"

Bruce feared the mirage would dissipate before he made three steps. But four, five, six… he slowly drew closer, and so did the man before him. Clark's joy radiated enough to warm the air between them.

"Is it really you?" Bruce almost laughed. Surely this was an illusion, some kind of joke. Who vanishes for over two months, only to reappear on his best friend's wedding day, arriving on cue as if nothing had been amiss?

Clark just nodded, not breaking his smile.

In a flash, Bruce gripped Clark's shoulders to confirm he was real, then enveloped him in a crushing hug – or, what would have been crushing to anyone else.

"You're okay!" Bruce's frosty breath floated out like a thankful prayer. "You're alive. And you're here!"

"So it would seem!" chuckled Clark.

Bruce pulled back to lock gazes. "Where have you been? What happened?"

"Ah, well…" Clark tilted his head toward the approaching wedding party. "I'll have to explain all that later."

Leading the group of well-dressed attendants was Alfred. Even his well-practiced poker face faltered when he spotted Clark. Exchanging a brief, incredulous look with Bruce, he quickly recollected himself and greeted Clark with standard decorum.

"Mr. Kent, good morning," he greeted civilly. "A pleasure to see you here. You are well, I trust?"

Clark caught the tone in Alfred's question. "Yes, thank you Alfred. I am," he replied reassuringly.

Satisfied with Clark's sincerity, Alfred nodded and turned to Bruce. "Given this new development, Master Wayne, do you still want me to perform the duties of Best Man?"

Bruce's grin matched Clark's now. "If you're offering to let Clark step in, then you're relieved, Alfred."

"Of course," Alfred reached inside his coat and withdrew the ring box. "This is your responsibility now, Mr. Kent."

The two men made the arrangement official with a handshake, then turned to see the women's town car arriving.

"We should get inside," Bruce advised. "Bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony, you know."

The stereotypical flutter of wedding preparations, drama, and controlled chaos filled the church vestibules. Not even billionaires were immune to missing cufflinks, neckties that refused to cooperate, or bouquets with damaged petals.

And of course there were perfunctory complaints from the youngest attendants. Dick repeatedly whined that being Ring Bearer was a "little kid's job" not befitting a ten-year-old of his stature. Alfred boosted the boy's confidence by explaining that "little kids" don't receive proper hero names, like the one Bruce recently gave him: Robin. (Inspired by Catwoman's previous Robin Hood lifestyle, though that part wasn't revealed to Dick.)

Alfred also pointed out that the flower girl, the daughter of one of Bruce's cousins, was the same age as Dick. This succeeded in reducing his embarrassment and providing him a cute distraction during moments of boredom.

Meanwhile, Selina's party was managing well enough, though a flicker of sadness stabbed her heart as the opening piano notes began. Alfred was a dear man for offering to walk her down the aisle, but no one could truly replace her deceased father today. Or her mother, for that matter. To have no parents here to witness her nuptials was heartbreaking… tragic… and…

…exactly what Bruce was experiencing too.

She wiped a single tear from her cheek, smiling from a combination of emotions. Their lives might not be perfect, but together, they were unmistakably perfect for each other.

This was the singular thought filling her soul as she and Alfred stepped into place. The aisle was long before her, and two hundred pairs of eyes rose to watch her glide toward the altar. She barely noticed any of them; only one set of eyes mattered right now, and they were waiting gallantly at the finish line.

Those eyes beheld her with equal intensity. If Bruce had been dumbstruck the night he met her at the date auction, he was all but turned to stone now.

It was all coming full circle. His terrifying, all-consuming captivation was just fate dramatically signaling his soulmate. But then, wasn't that exactly what he needed to recognize it? He was a man who relied on obvious signals. The Commissioner knew that well enough to install a giant light for the night sky.

Speaking of the Commissioner, he and his family smiled at Selina from the second row on the right as Alfred steadily led her forward. Bride, groom, and loyal servant embraced tenderly before Alfred stepped over to Clark's side.

The ceremony was a dreamlike blur for the two speaking vows. Their mouths spoke each word with perfect diction and clarity, but it was as if their bodies were not their own. Too many beautiful, impossible things were colliding for any of it to seem real.

The rings felt eternal on their fingers, the music lifted their spirits nearly all the way to heaven, and the brilliance of a thousand glittering facets dazzled from every angle. Then there was Clark, standing there like a resurrected saint, convincing them unequivocally that this was all a dream.

Yet the day proceeded, with just as many minutes and hours as any other. And the dream did not cease.