The little boy was softly crying in his sleep.
When his father had written home with the terrible news of the Wayne murders, the Beagle family was both shocked and outraged at what had happened. Their hearts went out to the poor child left parentless.
Alfred sat down on the edge of the bed and began to lightly rub the child’s back. Bruce’s eyes flickered open, and he looked up at the young man.
“It’s OK, young Master Wayne,” Alfred whispered, “tears are God’s way of helping you wash away the pain.”
“I still miss them,” Bruce said softly.
“And I’m sure that they miss you.” Alfred used the sleeve of his robe to wipe away the little boy’s tears.
Bruce slid closer to Alfred and snuggled up against him. The young man pulled the covers up around the boy’s shoulders and gave him a sad smile.
“Try to get some sleep,” Alfred said. “If you need me, I’ll be right here.”
Bruce closed his eyes and was soon asleep. When he awoke a few hours later, Alfred was still by his side.
***
As the few presents that surrounded the Christmas tree were passed out, Bruce sat silently in the bedroom. At the sound of the door opening, he looked up and saw Alfred standing there.
“What are you doing in here?” the young man asked.
Bruce shrugged.
“You are missing the presents. Father Christmas even left a few for you,” Alfred said as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“Presents for me?” Bruce asked.
“Of course,” Alfred said, smiling. “You didn’t think that the old man would forget about you, did you?”
Truthfully, Bruce was positive that Santa Claus had forgot him. He remembered his father telling him about the children in the orphanages that didn’t get anything for Christmas, and he had assumed that, since he was now an orphan, he wouldn’t be getting anything, either.
Alfred held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s go see what he brought you.”
Bruce took the young man’s hand, and they went into the living room.
“There you are,” Jarvis said as he set a small stack of presents in front of an empty chair.
“Are all of those mine?” Bruce asked.
“They sure are,” Alfred said.
For a few hours, Bruce forgot his grief and was the wide-eyed, happy child that Jarvis remembered. As he tore the plain brown butcher paper from the gifts, he made sure that Alfred got to see each and every one.
“There’s one more present,” Alfred said as he reached into the pocket of his shirt. “Father Christmas wanted to make sure this one didn’t get lost, so he asked me to give it to you personally.”
Bruce couldn’t figure out what was so special that Santa would take such care to be sure he received it.
Alfred handed Bruce a small gift that was just the right size for his little hand. Bruce looked at Alfred, then back at the gift. Slowly, he began to unwrap what he soon discovered to be a small box.
When he removed the lid from the box, Bruce’s eyes grew wide with surprise. Carefully, he removed a locket and held it up by the chain.
“Open it,” Alfred told him.
Bruce did. Inside, he found it contained two small pictures: one of his mother, and one of his father. Tears began to fill his eyes.
Alfred gave the child a hug. “Father Christmas told me to tell you that now you can carry a bit of your parents with you wherever you go. He also said that whenever you look at their pictures, you’ll remember that they’re thinking of you.”
Bruce wiped his eyes with his sleeves. He still missed his parents, but as he looked up at Alfred, he knew somehow that he wasn’t alone.
The End
The Warlord
Unto Us a Son
by Drivtaan
When Travis Morgan, the Warlord of Skartaris, shares the joy of Christmas with his wife Tara, they unexpectedly receive the greatest gift of all. Guest starring Jennifer Morgan and the Scarab!
***
Tara stood with her hands on her hips, shaking her head at the absurdity of her husband’s latest obsession. What a strange world it must have been that he had come from.
Travis Morgan, his daughter Jennifer, and Jared Stevens — a young man known as the Scarab, who was from another world, one even further removed from Skartaris than Travis’ home — were gathered around a huge fir tree. Laughing like children, they were hanging colored beads and baubles on the branches. As the two men would place an occasional globe on the tree, Jennifer would follow along behind, casting a minor spell on the globe and causing it to blink in a myriad of colors. The queen of Shamballah had to admit to herself that, despite the absurdity of what they were doing, there was something infectious about their laughter.
As she approached, Jennifer nudged her father then mouthed a silent spell. A sprig of mistletoe appeared in the air over Tara’s head, causing Travis to rush forward, grab his wife, and give her a big kiss.
“If this small plant has that kind of effect,” Tara said after she caught her breath, “then perhaps I should cover the ceiling of our bedchamber with it.”
This brought a laugh from Travis and the others.
“So, tell me,” Tara asked, “what is the meaning of trying to bring the forest inside and decorate it?”
“It’s called Christmas,” Travis said as he gave his wife another quick kiss.
“This is only a part of Christmas,” Jennifer corrected her father.
“Yeah,” Travis said. “There is also the giving of gifts.”
Jennifer gave Travis a look of agitation. “It is a day set aside to commemorate the birth of God’s son. The giving of gifts was originally done by wise men who traveled hundreds of miles to bring gifts to the child.”
“Ah, I see,” Tara said. “This god required a celebration for such a grand birth.”
“Actually, He didn’t,” Jared replied. “The child was born in a stable, surrounded by shepherds.”
They could see the confusion on Tara’s face.
Jared continued. “He sent His son to be a sacrifice for mankind.”
Tara shook her head. The thought of anyone sacrificing their son made her think of her own son and how he was forcibly taken from her years ago. A fresh pang of sadness coursed through her body as she thought of the armband, the only memento she had of her time with her son, which was now also lost to her forever as well. She changed the subject.
“How does this tree fit into Christmas?” she asked.
“It’s just one of the ways we’ve always celebrated,” Travis said.
Before the conversation could continue, one of the palace servants entered the room bearing a message for Travis. After reading it, he took a piece of parchment and a quill from the servant to write a response.
“I take it that the messenger is waiting for the reply.”
“Yes, your majesty,” the servant responded. “It is a young boy with fiery red hair.”
At the mention of the boy’s hair color, Jennifer thought of the young boy who had traveled with her for a while. “I really should scry and see if I can locate Tinder,” she said. “I wonder what he’s been up to.”
“Tinder?” Travis asked as he handed the missive back to the servant. “That is the name of the boy who helped me escape when that double took my place. I thought he had died in a fire.”
With a wave of her hand, Jennifer summoned a small globe from her room; it appeared almost instantly. Seconds later, she had coaxed an image of Tinder into the globe. It was the same red hair and the same brown tunic that she remembered. The only difference was that he was a little taller, and he was wearing a strip of cloth tied around his arm.
“It’s him,” she said as the globe vanished from her hand and reappeared in her room. “The boy who brought the message is Tinder.”
“Then I owe that boy a great debt,” Travis said. With his Jared, Jennifer, and Tara in tow, he followed the servant to where the boy waited.
Th
e messenger was just finishing an apple when the small group entered.
“Tinder!” Jennifer said as she rushed forward and gave the boy a hug.
“So you are Tinder,” Travis said as he approached the boy. “I never really got to thank you for helping to free me.”
Tinder had a look of confusion before realizing what the king was talking about. “That — that was you in the mask?”
“Yes, it was.” Travis extended his hand to the boy.
As Tinder reached out to accept the king’s hand, Tara noticed a glint of gold peaking out from beneath the strip of cloth. Instinctively, she knew what it was. At that same moment, she realized that she, too, had seen this boy before. He was the same child that she had seen staring at her armband. Like a tigress, she leaped and caught the boy by the wrist.
“Thief!” she screamed as she jerked the cloth from Tinder’s arm.
Travis’ mouth dropped open when he saw his old wristwatch around the messenger’s arm.
Before things could get further out of hand, Jennifer forced her way in between Tara and Tinder. “There must be a good reason for this,” she said.
“There is,” Tara said. “He is a thief. I saw him staring at my armband not too long before it disappeared.”
“It was mine first!” Tinder screamed, temporarily forgetting to whom he was speaking. “It was a gift from my parents.”
“How dare you?” Tara’s voice was low and menacing, but Tinder stood his ground.
Jared placed his hand on Travis’ shoulder. “I think you had better do something.”
Travis blinked a couple of times, then spoke. “Tinder, answer me truthfully. Did you take this from the Queen?”
“Yes,” the boy said, “but it was mine first.”
“Liar!” Tara hissed.
“Jennifer,” Travis said to his daughter, “could you please take Tinder and get him something to eat?”
The young woman did as her father asked. Jared accompanied them.
“What is the meaning of this?” Tara asked after everyone had gone.
“There is more to this than meets the eye,” Travis said. “I believe the boy when he says his parents gave it to him. I’m not sure how they came about it, but it obviously means a great deal to him.”
“Well, what about me?” Tara began to cry. “Doesn’t it matter that it is the only link we have to our lost son?”
“Yes. It matters,” Travis said, trying to calm his wife. “That is why we need to straighten this out. We owe that boy a lot. If it wasn’t for him, neither one of us would be here today.”
“Then what do you suggest we do?”
Travis pulled his wife into his arms. “I don’t know.”
***
Tinder wasn’t in the mood to eat. It was only his respect for Jennifer and Travis that kept him from running away.
Jared helped himself to a piece of bread and a hunk of cheese while Jennifer sat deep in thought. “What if they are both right?” he suggested.
“I’m not a thief,” Tinder said defiantly.
“That’s not what I meant,” Jared replied. “I only meant that the Queen is right about you taking it, and you are right about it being given to you by your parents.”
“I agree,” Jennifer said. “I’ve been giving it some serious thought, and I think there is more to this than meets the eye.”
As both Jared and Tinder listened, Jennifer related the events of the time she had traveled with the boy. She spoke of the fight with the evil one that resulted in the death of Tinder’s friend at his hand.
“None but my father and his heirs should have been able to use the Hellfire sword,” she said, “but somehow, Tinder grabbed it without hesitation or consequence.”
Jared raised his eyebrow in surprise. “Are you saying what I think you are?”
“There is one way to find out. Tinder, will you allow me to cast a spell on you?”
Tinder wasn’t too fond of being the target for a spell, but he trusted Jennifer and gave her his consent.
Jennifer turned to Jared. “Could you do me a favor and go get my father?” Jared nodded and left. Once he was gone, the sorceress began to voice the archaic words to a spell. The final syllable had barely left her lips when both she and Tinder were surrounded by an electric-blue aura. A huge grin appeared on her face as Travis, Jared, and Tara entered.
Travis, too, was surrounded by the aura.
“Merry Christmas, Dad,” Jennifer laughed. “It’s a boy.”
***
All of her misplaced anger was now long forgotten as Tara tearfully embraced the boy that she now knew to be her son, thought long dead. She had held him in her arms for the better part of an hour as Travis and Jennifer tried to piece together what had happened the day they thought Joshua was killed.
Joshua — he now reclaimed the name he had before adopting the name Tinder — was still in a state of shock. He couldn’t believe that he was the prince of Shamballah.
“The best we can figure is that Deimos forced me to kill a clone,” Travis said, “and then hid Joshua away to be used against us at some other time.”
As he spoke, Travis handed his wristwatch to Tara. She accepted it, then handed it to her newly found son.
“Now it truly is yours,” she said as she gave her son another kiss. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered.
The End
Batman
Batman
Merry Christmas, Mr. Batman
by Immortalwildcat
Quick question: When was the last time Bruce Wayne, the original Batman, wore his cape and cowl before his death in 1979? If you said when his wife Selina (Catwoman) died, you haven’t read this story. This is the story of the Batman’s last Christmas. And this is also the one and only team-up story between the Batman and the Huntress. It’s been ten years since then, and now Helena Wayne (the Huntress) is finally ready to reveal that tale for her adopted daughter Sonia.
Prologue: Another History Lesson
Chapter 1: Born to Be the Huntress
Chapter 2: The Guardian of Gotham City
Chapter 3: Playing Santa
Chapter 4: Christmas Day
Epilogue: Daughter of the Batman
Batman: 1978: Merry Christmas, Mr. Batman, Prologue: Another History Lesson
by Immortalwildcat
Christmas Eve, 1988:
“Time to hang up the phone and get to bed, Sonia!” called Helena Wayne from the kitchen of her Gotham City townhouse. “Don’t want to be awake when Santa comes, do you?”
Sonia Wayne, Helena’s thirteen-year-old adopted daughter, appeared in the doorway with the kind of scowl on her face that only a teenager could pull off well. “Come on, don’t you think I’m a little old to believe in Santa Claus?”
“Hey, a mother can dream, can’t she?” sighed Helena, draping a dish towel over the handle of the oven. “I guess I missed the fun years of pretending to be Santa and his elves, all rolled into one. Still, it’s after ten, and I want to be out at the manor by noon tomorrow to help Karen, Dick, and Alfred with the dinner preparations.” She draped an arm over the thirteen-year-old’s shoulder and guided her out to the living room. “So, how is Bat doing in San Juan?”
“He’s advanced to the final round and picked up ten thousand dollars in prize money,” said Sonia. “Sounds like the cards are favoring him so far.”
“I guess I can’t get too mad about him missing Christmas for a poker tournament,” said Helena. “And I won’t have to put up with any scowls from your Uncle Dick tomorrow, either.”
“I suppose I have to listen to another history lesson tomorrow, won’t I?” asked Sonia, turning out from under her mother’s arm and flopping onto the couch. “It was kinda cool, finding out about Uncle Philip, though.”
“That’s Great-Great-Uncle Philip to you,” laughed Helena. “It’s kind of a curse when you’re around older folks; they like to talk about the past and their family.”
“I know, and it’s the only way
I’m going to get to know them. Same for Jason, right?”
“Right.” Helena looked at a clock on the wall. “You up for another history lesson tonight?”
“Just you and me?”
“Just you and me. Dick and Alfred weren’t around for most of this one. This was back when Uncle Dick was still an ambassador and my father was still alive.”
Batman: 1978: Merry Christmas, Mr. Batman, Chapter 1: Born to Be the Huntress
by Immortalwildcat
Christmas Eve, 1978:
Twenty-one-year-old Helena Wayne whistled a Christmas melody as she adjusted the garland over the French doors in her new townhouse. The feelings of guilt over moving out of her father’s home were still there, but his constant reassurances kept those feelings dampened most of the time. “A young woman with a career needs to be out on her own, not anchored down with her old man,” he had said.
Since finishing law school the previous spring — the youngest in her class by several years — she had been splitting her time between working at the law offices of Cranston & Grayson, studying for the bar exam, and embarking on her nighttime activities as the Huntress. Having a place of her own made it much easier to keep her double identity a secret from her father.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. She picked it up. “Hello?”
“Helena! Glad I reached you at home!”
“Dick? What’s up? Something you need me to bring to dinner tonight?”
“That’s the problem, Hel,” said Dick Grayson. “Alfred and I are stuck in London, and we won’t be home until sometime tomorrow.” Helena’s eyes widened as she realized what the man she’d long considered to be her older brother was saying.
“You mean — Dad will be alone at the manor tonight? On Christmas Eve?”
“Yeah. There was a problem at Heathrow as we arrived from Capetown, and there aren’t any flights leaving for the States until later tonight.”
“A problem? A problem involving Robin, perhaps?” said Helena as she reached for the television remote and turned to the twenty-four-hour news station.
“Um, yeah. Some guy with a bomb; he was taken down, but they aren’t letting any planes fly until they sweep the whole airport. Man, I’m so sorry I talked Alfred into coming with me on this trip.”
“Don’t be. Ever since you got that post, he’s talked about going to South Africa with you. Look, I’ll pack some things, and I’ll stay out there with Dad tonight,” said the young attorney as she watched a news report detailing the capture of a hijacker in London.