Chapter 15 - A Christmas Carol

Christmas came faster than the Flash. Before I could think twice, I had bought and wrapped presents for everyone I could think of, helped Alfred decorate the entire first floor, and sorted through—I kid you not—a hundred and fifty-two Christmas cards from Wayne Enterprises employees, various Justice League members, a couple old friends from school who found out where I had moved, and at least three dozen fan letters from Dick Grayson's extensive following. I forwarded those to his Chicago address. He texted me a picture when he got them, of his fancy loft decorated with cheesy Christmas cards.

There were a couple packages, too. I saw one from Tim, with a letter signed by all the Teen Titans; I pinned that one up in my bedroom. There was one from Dick—an enormous box that required three people to move it. I noticed one wrapped entirely in black, with a handwritten tag that simply said, "Meow." I handed that one to Bruce right quick.

I saw nothing from Jason.

On the twenty-third, Bruce hosted the Annual Wayne Enterprises Christmas Party in the grand ballroom. I went for a little while, just to show off my fancy new dress and shake some hands. I was about to leave when Bruce got hold of me.

"Samantha! I hope you weren't going to leave just yet." He steered me back into the crowd. "I have someone I want you to meet."

Oh, boy. Maybe it was another Justice League member! Then, Bruce stopped and tapped a middle-aged man in a crisp suit on the shoulder. When the man turned around, I saw he had a sprig of holly in his lapel, and a small wrapped box in his hand. He saw me and smiled the warmest of smiles.

"This must be Samantha."

Bruce put a hand on my back. "Sam, this is Lucius Fox. He's my right-hand man. I couldn't run the company without him."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Samantha," Lucius said, extending a hand. I shook.

"The pleasure's all mine, sir."

"Mister Wayne has told me a great deal about you," he said. "That is, when he can bear to bring himself into the office."

"You know me," Bruce said, using that fake laugh I associated with Tim's birthday party and important phone calls.

"I took the liberty of buying you a gift," Lucius said, handing me the box. "You can open it now; I'm sure Santa won't mind."

I smiled and tore the paper off the box. I saw the words "Lake Finnwell Jewelers" in gold-embossed script. Then I lifted the lid. Inside was a pair of earrings, crafted to look like a bird in flight, with a single yellow jewel in each.

"They're beautiful," I breathed. "Thank you, Mr. Fox."

"Lucius, please. I heard you liked meadowlarks." He winked.

I stared at Lucius, then down at the earrings, then up at Bruce. Bruce gave me the smallest knowing grin.

"Lucius is responsible for getting important messages to me—including anything interesting customer service finds."

Oh. Oh.

I held out my hand again. "Lucius, I owe you."

"Not at all. I'm glad to have you back safe and sound; that's payment enough."

"I can at least get you a Christmas present. After all, it's only fair after you got me one. I'll add you to the list."

"That's very generous," Lucius said. He glanced up at Bruce. "I like this one. When do we get her out in the city?"

"Ah-ha," Bruce coughed. "No, not Sam. She's… not like that."

I stared at the floor. I knew exactly what they were talking about. And for some reason, Bruce's response made me… mad.

I looked up. "Well, it's lovely to meet you, Lucius. Bruce, if you'll let me, I'd like to make a fashionably early exit."

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow."

I smiled and shook hands with Lucius one more time, then made my escape. The walk back to my room gave me time to think.

Bruce didn't want me out there. He didn't want me to become a vigilante. And once upon a time, I would have whole-heartedly agreed. I'm not a fighter; I don't do capes and masks and punching bad guys. That didn't make sense back then. But now…

Now I was a fighter. I had it programmed into me; maybe I ought to use it for a good cause. I realized I had started expecting to become one of them—to become a vigilante for justice, to get my cape and mask, and to start using my powers for the greater good.

And now Bruce was against it. I had only just become open to the possibility, and it was gone.

Maybe.

As I reached my room and got ready for bed, I glanced at the balcony doors, remembering that night when Damian took me out. I remembered the feeling of wearing the mask, of swinging around the city by wire, of having a plan and executing it. That life… I could do that. I knew I could. And if I knew it, maybe I could convince Bruce. Oh yeah… and Alfred. But then, if Alfred let Bruce do it, maybe he wasn't as strict as he seemed.

I turned and walked out onto the balcony. I hugged myself against the cold and watched my breath form clouds in the night air. Somewhere out there, Gotham City flickered with life—families huddling around Christmas trees, last minute shoppers racing from store to store, friends gathering in bars for a holiday toast. All of them needed protection from the dangers and pitfalls of Gotham's worst; and more than ever, I knew that was meant to be me. I had to keep this city safe, by Batman's side or by myself.

Sadie Beckham's face crossed my mind. Then Jem's. Then my parents'. I remembered all my high school friends, all those nice people at Dad's gym and Mom's laundromat and the burger place where I worked. My heart swelled; for them, I had to do this. For them, I had to become a hero.

"Don't worry, Gotham," I whispered, my words floating into the winter chill like a prayer embodied. "I'm coming."

/

The next day was Christmas Eve and the Wayne family party, with added guests: the Kents and Diana. We had an elaborate three-course feast, prepared by Alfred; we sang Christmas songs around the grand piano, played by Alfred. If I had thought singing "Happy Birthday" with the Waynes was fun, it was nothing compared to pairing up with Superman for "White Christmas." I tried to get Bruce to sing "The Christmas Song" with me; he politely refused.

And of course there were presents—most of which were bought and wrapped by Alfred—under the biggest tree in the manor. I watched, smiling, as Jon practically threw a bag full of homemade chocolate truffles at Damian, and Damian casually pointed out a limited-edition Superman action figure he had procured for Jon. Clark got an expensive designer tie, Bruce got a fur-lined trapper hat, and Diana and Lois exchanged jeweled bracelets they may or may not have bought for themselves.

Then there were my gifts. I had never received so many Christmas presents. There was a pearl necklace from Damian, a diary from Alfred, a peacoat from the Kents. Diana gave me a hairpiece which, apparently, was forged by Amazonian warriors and protected the wearer from curses and bad luck. I got two gifts from Dick; one was a pendant necklace, and the other was a book about music and its effects on the human mind. The note inside said, "Found this in a nearby bookshop and thought of you." Tim sent me a hat from Paris; I wondered what he was doing in Paris.

But the best gift was from Bruce. He sat down with me on a couch by the fire and handed me an envelope. When I opened it, I found nothing but an ad for an online tutoring program. I turned to Bruce in confusion.

"That," he said, pointing to the ad, "is your new school. I told you I'd help you finish your education, and I plan to follow through. You can take your classes entirely online, there are discussion forums and advanced courses—"

I flung my arms around him, laughing. "Thank you, thank you! Bruce, thank you so much!"

He patted me on the back. "You're welcome."

"So when do classes start?"

"Early January. You'll have one semester in spring and one in summer. There's a graduation ceremony in August."

I kissed him on the cheek. "You're the best, Dad!"

We both froze. I blinked and stuttered. "That is, I mean, you're… you're kind of like a dad to me, unless you'd… you don't…"

Bruce smiled. "I don't mind one bit, Samantha."

We sat together in front of the fireplace for the rest of the party. I couldn't help crying just a little bit. I used to sit with my dad just like this, nestled under his arm with my legs curled to my chest. Maybe, once, sitting like this with Bruce would have felt wrong. But now, it just felt safe. And so, through my tears, I smiled.

/

I surprised myself by ruining the moment. After the Kents and Diana had gone home, Bruce and Damian went down to the Batcave to prepare for patrol. I followed at a distance, running over and over in my head the speech I was going to use to turn Bruce to my side. Tonight, I was going to become a vigilante superhero.

Bruce noticed me the second I stepped out into the cave. He smiled, which was odd to see under the Batcowl. "Samantha. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Yes, I believe Santa Claus only comes once you're asleep," Damian joked. "You don't want to put him off-schedule."

"And you're going out to patrol on Christmas Eve," I shot back. "If anyone's going to throw Santa off-schedule, it's you two."

Bruce straightened, tugging on a glove. "What do you want, Sam?"

I fidgeted with my hands behind my back. "I… wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

"About… patrolling."

The smile vanished. Rats; he caught on too fast.

"Hear me out," I said quickly. Time for the spiel. "Bruce, I know you and Alfred are both very sensitive about the idea of me becoming a vigilante like you. But I want you to remember who and what I am now. I can fight, sometimes better than you. I have powers, too, which make me even stronger. If you're worried about me getting hurt—"

"Sam."

"If you're worried about me getting hurt, I have it covered! And I believe this is what I'm meant to do. I've been thinking about this a lot, and I know I'm supposed to use my powers for good, to keep the people of Gotham safe. If you don't agree—"

"Samantha."

"That's fine! But I'm going to do this. With or without your help. So will you help me?"

I let the question hand, my eyes fixed on the stone floor. The silence stretched out for one minute too long, and I risked a peek up.

Bruce was smiling again.

"You know, sometimes it's uncanny how much you remind me of Tim."

"Is…" I swallowed hard. "Is that a good thing?"

"Sam," Bruce said, pulling back the cowl and sitting down, "I've watched so many people risk their lives for the people of this city. Dick, Tim, Barbara and her father. So many have taken it upon themselves to care for Gotham's innocent and good."

I nodded. "I know."

He looked me in the eye. "And Sam… somehow I always knew you'd become one of them."

I ducked my head and smiled. "Really?"

"You have that same spark I see in so many of them. You have that thirst for justice, and you believe in goodness so powerfully… in a way I haven't for a long time. I think Gotham needs someone like you."

He stood, walked to me, and held out his hand. "You're not quite ready yet, but… it's Christmas. So I'll give you this, as my final gift. I will help you get there."

I took one look at his hand and bypassed it for a hug.

"Thank you, Bruce," I whispered.

He chuckled and hugged me back.

"Now all we have to do is convince Alfred."

/

Christmas morning rolled slowly out of bed and unfurled its glory with soft golden light. A light snowfall overnight had covered any tracks and blemishes, and the whole world looked pristine. I got up and walked to the balcony doors to stare at the wonderland outside.

There was a package out there.

I quickly opened the doors and swept the package into the warmth of my room. I skipped to my bed and nestled into the duvet to open my surprise.

Inside was a scarf. A black scarf, at least twice my height, and as soft as silk. The only other thing in there was a piece of paper with a hastily written note.

Keep warm out there, Samwise.

I beamed as I wrapped the scarf around my neck, determined not to take it off for the rest of the day.

Alfred walked me to a small church outside the city for the early service. I cried again, this time remembering all those Christmases past when my parents and I would wake up at the crack of dawn to go to our church out in the country, and I would wear my favorite dress with the lace trim, and we would sing "Joy to the World" and "Hark the Herald Angels" with as much gusto as we could muster that early in the morning.

It also reminded me of Sadie and the Beckhams again. I silently wished them well and prayed that Ra's al Ghul never found out they'd harbored me. And I hoped they were happy. They deserved nothing less.

After church, as we were walking home, I got up the courage to tell Alfred about last night's development. I tried to put it as casually as possible. He still freaked out.

"Absolutely not."

"We've already agreed, so…"

"You aren't ready," Alfred said. "You simply aren't ready, and that's that."

"I know, but Bruce is going to train me. He's going to make me ready. So you still have a little time to… come around."

"No, thank you. You aren't a fighter, you are a maid."

I stopped in my tracks. "Alfred. I am a fighter."

He turned back to me, his eyes misty. "I know, Samantha. I know."

I ran to him, and he held me so tight I thought he was going to break my spine. I didn't want him to cry, not on Christmas. But I knew I had to do this.

"I'm sorry I told you like this. I should have waited until after Christmas."

"It's fine," Alfred sighed. "I just… don't know how to stop you."

"Please don't," I whispered. "I need to do this."

He let me go and took my head in his hands, staring into my eyes. "Are you positive? This is your calling?"

"I'm sure."

He looked at me for a second more, then gently leaned over and kissed me on the forehead.

"Then far be it from me to hold you down, my beautiful meadowlark. Just please… please be careful. I don't want to lose you again."

"I promise, I won't leave you ever again."

"Nice try," he chuckled. "But we both know I'm going to be staying up even later into the night, worrying, now."

"Oof, the guilt trick. That's not fair, Alfred."

"Worth a try."

Once we got back to the city, Bruce and Damian joined us for a day wandering around Gotham to enjoy the lights and decorations that spruced up downtown. Even the most crime-ridden city in the world could get into the Christmas Spirit. We had brunch at a fancy restaurant, and did a little extra Christmas shopping just for the fun of it.

And then, that evening, we went to the Gordons' house for dinner. I hadn't seen Jim Gordon since he arrested me way back when. He didn't seem to hold it against me, as he piled slice after slice of ham onto my plate. Babs assured me that he trusted Bruce Wayne, which meant he trusted anyone Bruce took in. I did my best to relax.

After dinner came presents, once again. I gave Babs the adorable turtleneck sweater I had found for her, and was rewarded in return with a gift card for a local coffee shop, and the promise of a date.

She was showing off the new phone her dad had surprised her with, when Gordon pulled out his own buzzing device. He sighed.

"I'm sorry, it's work. I'll be right back." He picked up the call and slipped into the kitchen.

The room got quieter and quieter as Jim's voice slowly rose in volume. Something was wrong. I glanced at Babs.

"It's big," Barbara said, knitting her brow. "That's his problem voice. Bruce?"

Bruce held up a finger as Jim stormed back into the room. He made a beeline for the coat rack.

"I have to go," Jim said tersely, pulling on his greatcoat. "I'm really sorry, but something's come up."

"What's the problem, Commissioner?" Bruce asked.

Jim set his jaw. "Breakout at Arkham Asylum."

Bruce's shoulders tensed. I could see him shifting into Batman mode.

"Who?"

Jim shook his head as he opened the door. "Take a wild guess."

"The big one?"

"Oh, yeah."

Babs gripped my hand. "Not him."

Jim lowered his brows. "You guys stay here. Waynes, I'd say it's safer if you don't go out on the street. We'll set you up for the night."

"Thank you."

As the door slammed shut, I turned bewildered to Barbara. "Who's the big one?"

Babs closed her eyes as if praying. Then she turned to me, her face grim.

"It's the Joker. The Joker is loose."

/

And that's it! That's the last chapter of Flight Path. A warning to all my readers, I don't have much more actually written, so it might be a loooong time before you see part three. But don't worry; I have it all planned out, and I'm honestly pretty excited. So, as ye olde radio programs would say, "Stay tuned for the next episode of Samantha's life!"