The Knight Before Christmas

by **Mercy** Thu Dec 24, 2015 1:17 pm

His cape wrapped around and whipped along the currents of the wind. Eyes closed, if only for a moment. These nights weren’t different from any other; everyone knew just how private Bruce was on Christmas Eve. The rest of his extended family tended not to bother him lest they receive an unwanted lecture on the duties and choices made on the night he devoted himself to rid the city that took the lives of his parents, the same oath of loyalty, secrecy, and courage that everyone in the family promised when they joined Bruce on his journey.

The chill of the midnight wind surrounded him, Batman was at the edge of the abyss, a calling that beckoned to him every single night. A reminder that he was alone.

Through his mind’s eye however, it wouldn’t stop him from reminiscing how these nights were thirty years ago.

-

Opening his eyes he looked down at the present his parents gave him, he smirked and cocked his head. “Is that a nutcracker?” Bruce asked, picking up the wooden man. “What am I going to do with a nutcracker?” He asked keeping his smirked and confused face frozen looking up to his father, Thomas inching closer to point out why the gift was so special.

“It’s not just a nutcracker, Bruce. It was made by your great, great grandfather, and passed down ever since. Today is not about the gifts you receive, but about learning humility and what it means to be family. The best gifts come in the smallest of packages.” He explained putting his hand over his son’s shoulder. Disappointed in something he wasn’t entirely aware or ready to hear, Bruce sat Indian style and watched his father get up and straighten his suit. “I’m going to check on your mother, I’ll be right back.” He informed the youngster before walking away.

-

Wings cutting through the night, Batman landed atop a speeding car. Of course when businesses and establishments were closed, nights were to get busy. The GCPD knew this, most of their officers on duty celebrated a night early. Those were the same officers skidding to a halt as the car swerved off the road and smacked a tree. Red and blue lights flashed methodically, as the Dark Knight pulled out two unconscious culprits.

“Gee, Bats, you don’t have a day off either?” One of the cops asked approaching the huge mass of muscle cloaked by darkness. Batman said nothing, as if he didn’t know what he was talking about, until he dropped the two goons on the floor in front of the heat.

“Nathanial and Emma Battles. A husband a wife crime duo, attempting to be this generation’s Bonnie and Clyde. Their hits are only focused on billion dollar conglomerates by hacking into their databases. Queen was hit last week, Lexcorp the week before. I wasn’t going to let them hit Gotham like they did with Star and Metropolis. Thankfully Wayne Industries keeps everything on hard drives. They needed to break in, and they weren’t going to do that on my watch. Evidence is in the backseat. Take care, officers.”

“Yeah, you too’s Bats, I-…” Without notice, the caped crusader was already gone, reeling back into the shadows. Several of the officers looked to one another; the question of “Was the Batman really human?” began to be muttered about the cops.

-

Kicking his feet back and forth on a stool that was far too high for him, he leaned against the bar in the kitchen. “Elbows off the counter, Master Bruce.” Alfred snapped, the proper straight backed butler ordered. He lazily complied, taking his sweet time and rolling his eyes. Bruce idly turned the nutcracker around in his hands, inspecting the paint and detail that was applied to it. “It’s not even an action figure, Alfred.” He complained moving the stiff arms up, “And nuts will probably crack this thing’s jaw. It’s so old and rickety.” He held it up to show the butler what he was speaking of.

“I don’t believe the purpose of the nutcracker is meant for neither a toy nor its intended design. Instead, ponder the implications of why you believe your father would give such a gift for the Christmas season.” Alfred explained putting a turkey in the oven. The thespian took off his oven mitts and discarded them on the island. “It’s important to him, ergo, it should be important to you.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, as usual Alfred.” Bruce said in disappointment, still not in full understanding. “I’m glad you see it that way, Master Bruce. Care for an early Christmas cookie? They’re right off the press. You may have one as long as you don’t tell your parents, that is.” He smiled offering him a warm star shaped cookie, where the young Bruce accepted. “Deal.”

-

“Put… the gun down.”

The order was clear, concise, spoken in a deep voice that crawled over grave stones. A shaking hand trembled as the finger hovered over the grasp’s trigger. The blonde backed into the corner, cradling the handgun between her hands aimed at the man in the denim jacket.

“You don’t want to do this.” Batman said approaching, slowly to the crying woman, her swollen face, and her shaking hands, she was bruised and half naked. Scars only turning purple in the cold. “Put… the gun down.” Now his voice sounded like he was pleading. Still calm. He arrived just in time. Stepping in front of her line of fire, he wrapped his hand around the barrel of the six shooter with one hand and used his other to slowly remove the gun from her frail grasp. She held it like it was the only thing she could hold onto.

Secretly, the man who Batman had turned has back to, quietly picked up a fire iron that had been sprawled on the floor. Getting to his feet, he let out a battle cry, putting his full body in the swing. Batman turned, grabbed his weapon holding hand and lifted the man into the air for a split second before swinging his own fist down on the man’s face, pulling him back into the ground. The floorboards cracking at the impact, and the blonde screaming in fear.

Satisfied with his work, he picked the gun from off the floor and clipped it onto his utility belt. Stepping out of the open window, Batman turned back to the scarred woman. “The police are on their way. You won’t have to worry about him from now on. I promise.” Looking in fear, tears and blood still steadily streaming from her face, she nodded in understanding, and he left the scene as fast as he entered it.

-

Martha Wayne had finished applying make up, blush, eye liner, and of course lipstick; making sure her it was covering all corners of her mouth, Martha popped her lips. She turned to her son, smiling. “How do I look, Bruce?” she asked brushing her hair out of the way. The eight year old boy smiled and nodded his head. “You look beautiful, mom.” He replied in an agreeable manner. She took it. “Thanks sweetie. Are you ready?” Again, Bruce nodded his head. Sensing that something was wrong she stood up in her dress and walked over to him. “What seems to be bothering you dear?” Martha asked sitting next to him on the bed and throwing an arm around him. “I don’t understand the nutcracker dad gave me. Alfred and dad tried to explain it, but it just doesn’t make any sense.”

The woman signed and held onto her son a little tighter. “Well Bruce, you see we are blessed with many riches. Success and wealth is normal to us. Of course we could have gotten you anything you want for Christmas, and money isn’t an issue here. He was hoping that you’d figure this out on your own.” Martha paused to look at him, just for a moment. Bruce returned the look, curious and wondering. “This is your birthright, Bruce. This nutcracker represents everything that the Wayne’s stand for, everything that we are. It tells us just how important each generation is. We may have money, but nothing is more important than family. You have to understand this above all, Bruce.”

The boy smiled and embraced his mother, showing that he understood, despite still being unsatisfied with his current gift. “Okay, now I have to choose a necklace.” Martha said getting up. “What do you think?” She asked after reaching her drawer, and held up two different kinds of necklaces. “Diamonds or pearls?”

-

It was 5:00 in the morning, roughly. The Batmobile had just passed through the waterfall and parked at the roundabout. The top opened up, emitting steam and a mechanical sound that filled the Batcave. The sun hadn’t exactly rose as of yet, but a hand from the Batmobile did. Emerging from the machine, the Batman got up and out from his signature vehicle. Alfred waiting with his hands behind his back, ever vigilant and loyal, stood waiting for him.

“Master Bruce.” Alfred nodded his head to the massive caped figure stepping out.

“Alfred.” He simply replied.

“I do hope you don’t mind, but I’ve made arrangements for dinner.” The butler said following the Dark Knight up a long flight of stairs.

“What arrangements?” Batman asked.

“Merry Christmas Bruce.” A familiar voice greeted just beyond the stairs, and to the platform in front of the Batcomputer. Stopping as he reached the top, half in shock, he saw Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, and Tim Drake sitting at a table that wasn’t supposed to be there, filled with food; turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, the like.

“The food is cold, but when you’re waiting around all night for you to show up in a dark icy cave, microwaving can only do so much.” Dick smiled. “Want to carve the turkey so we can get to the eating?” Tim asked popping out of his seat. “Sit back down, Drake, I told you, you’re going to eat soon.” Barbara smirked and brought the teen back into his seat forcefully.

Bruce lowered his cowl, feeling out of place and right at home all at the same time, the beaming faces of family looking right at him; he couldn’t help but take a seat. “Thank you. Everyone. Thank you for coming.”