I do not own any of these characters. These are my versions of Bruce Wayne and BrokenKestrel's version of Susan Pevensie.

Please enjoy this story/chapter for free.

The Doorkeeper hadn't quite prepared her for what kind of room she would be stepping into. It was a library. There was a fireplace with logs blazing in it and a large armchair on her left and on her right bookshelf after bookshelf with the necessary room to walk and peruse between. And before her, on a window-seat and bookless, was a boy. His head was resting on his knees, and his arms were hugging his legs. Susan paused to take in the scene. He reminds me of Edmund more than ever.

Edmund would often retreat to the library of Cair Paravel. Edmund's hair would get a little unkept and messy as Bruce's was now. When last she saw him, this boy had been Lucy's size when they went to Narnia. He must have had a growth-spurt since. Now his legs were longer, and he was Edmund's size when they'd gone through the wardrobe together.

As before, he seemed to sense her gaze and raised his head to peer at her. Bruce's eyes went from narrow under strong black brows to wide. "Well …" he said a bit gravely and his voice a bit choked. His eyes were a little red this time. "I am impressed. It's not easy to get in here." His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head. "How 'do' you end up on this property?"

Susan grinned gently, yet also a bit cheekily. "As I get to other places on my trips."

Bruce leaned on one clenched hand and hummed thoughtfully before replying. "Why are you here now then?"

"May I ask what you were thinking about first? It seemed serious."

Bruce frowned and huffed. "My Aunt Leslie, really my godmother, she was like a big sister to my father and dear friend to my mother, is making me go out this Christmas Eve. She has said I can go to either the hospital or orphanage. I don't have to go to both, but I have to choose one."

Susan blinked a moment. He saw her blank face and added, "Not to stay. My family, including Alfred, my parents, and me used to go to the hospital my father worked at and hand out presents. Then we'd head over to the Gotham City Orphanage and do the same."

Susan nodded gravely. "Ah …"

"I didn't go last year … without them … and I don't want to go now. But Aunt Leslie says I've spent enough alone time grieving and at this point it may be unhealthy moping and obsessing. Thus, I have to go out whether I like it or not."

Susan frowned. "I've heard similar things from friends."

Bruce scanned her up and down a moment before asking. "How are you handling your family's deaths this year?"

Susan winced and then sighed. She dared to walk over to the window seat and sit beside Bruce who didn't move, even to flinch, but carefully followed her with his eyes. Once seated by him she replied, "I wanted only to cry and be alone with their ghosts last year. A friend came by and made me get up and do things … This year, I've promised another friend to attend a party …"

"But you don't want to."

"No …"

"Why do others who care make us do things at such times. Even Alfred has sided with Aunt Leslie."

"I think … it grieves others who love us when we grieve, and they want to make us happy again, make us a little more who we used to be, or at least who we will be when we've healed."

Bruce's brows furrowed. "I'm not sure I want to heal, let alone have 'fun.' They're not here. And they 'mattered.' To go on without them like this, doing what 'they' started without them … it's like saying they didn't."

Under Susan's serious gaze, he bowed his head and continued in an even quieter voice. "And … if others out there, patients who should have been my father's patients, and children my mother should have played games with this year … like she did two years ago … if they agree with me, I'll be angry. No matter how sad they are, however, much they miss my mom and dad this Christmas Eve, it can't match 'my pain' the last two years. And if they don't … I'll be mad they don't matter enough to them. So, I'll be mad either way and ruin things. So, why should I go at all?"

Susan sighed. "I've felt the same way sometimes, but … I think … eventually … we have to learn to give to others again, the love our loved ones would want us to give away, even when it hurts."

It wasn't her words, but the waver in her voice, the way she looked up. Her eyes watered in the light of the chandelier above them and fire beyond and beside them. Bruce studied all of this with a frown. His voice was soft as he replied, "You 'know' … and yet, you can say that."

Susan turned fully to him to meet his gaze. She first trying to push her tears back while doing so. Then she let them fall as she gave a gentle smile. "Perhaps as your Aunt Leslie said, you don't have to do both. And maybe, with them, you should be honest if anger fills your heart. But your parents sound like they were full of love, like my siblings, and shared it with others. So that means they'd want your heart to share love with others too, soon … when you are ready."

Bruce bowed his head looking away. He remained silent for several moments. Then, "I don't think I should go to the hospital this year. I'm too angry my parents didn't even make it to a hospital. That was all I wanted after the criminal left, to get them to one in time, and it was hopeless. But I know that's unfair, unjust, I don't want to be angry with those who don't deserve it. But … maybe those at the orphanage, they might … many probably 'will' understand there ... like you. Maybe that won't be so bad."

Susan felt a chill in the fire-warmed room, not from the window behind her back, but from before her. It was a familiar feeling that made her stand to her feet. She turned a smile back on Bruce who seemed to feel it too. His eyes were wide and looking in the direction she had to go. She attempted to distract him with the goodbye she already wanted to say. "I think there is wisdom in your words, your decision. I hope you will not mind if I wish you a 'Merry Christmas,' Bruce Wayne."

As she walked away, he spoke softly after her. "And to you … mysterious Susan …"

Susan walked first the way she'd come but then turned into the many lines of bookshelves. After another turn, she found the door back was formed into the end of one and stepped through.

After she left, Bruce felt the cold he'd felt before dissipate and then disappear. He stood up and walked around the room finding just some slight cracking in the wood of a wide three-tiered bookshelf he didn't think had been there before. He traced the cracks with a finger, before stepping back to take a wider view of it. Then Alfred stepped into the room. "Well, Master Bruce? Have you made your decision?"

Bruce stepped out where the man could see him and nodded. "The orphanage alone this year, Alfred. Maybe I'll do better … more .. next year, though."

His butler and godfather gave a relieved smile and seemed to reply in all sincerity. "Very good sir."

What do you think?

God bless

ScribeofHeroes