The Visitor

On the night before Christmas, across all Blüdhaven, not a siren was wailing, not a babe needed saving. No crimelords or mooks had abruptly reformed. It was twenty degrees out! They were home, staying warm.

I was in my apartment, atop all those steps, preparing to shower after doing some reps, when all of a sudden came a noise overhead—not a clatter, or thumping, but a single foot-tread.

My visitor might not have meant any harm, but whoever it was had sidestepped the alarms. I threw on a bathrobe and killed all the lights to see out the windows and scan that dark night.

With a glance to the north side, I froze like the weather: whoever was up there had let down a tether and was clambering hand under hand to my floor. I crept to my balcony, opened the door, and blasted him with an extinguisher hose.

It took me a sec to distinguish the clothes: my caller was costumed in red and green tights, and wearing short sleeves on this blustery night.

"Cut it out, Dick! It's me!" shouted Tim with a sputter as he slammed back and forth on the wall like a shutter.

"Hey, sorry about that," I called. "Come inside." I passed him my towel, which had more or less dried.

Tim rubbed most of the frost off his face and his jerkin. "You'll be happy to know your extinguisher's working. Now I'm totally frozen!"

"It could have been worse. Next time you visit, try phoning me first."

"So I can't just drop by?"

"You dropped out of the blue—are you trying to do what the big guy would do?" As Tim shook his head no, I asked, "Why this late meeting?"

"I wanted to bring you my holiday greeting. You do know it's Christmas?" Tim said with some doubt as he wiped off his visor and looked all about. Along every wall there were boxes in stacks. Not holiday presents—I still hadn't unpacked. He pursed his lips sadly. "What we have here is a definite shortage of holiday cheer."

"Oh, really?" I snatched up a handful of cards and said, "All of my buddies have sent their regards. From Donna, from Wally, from Lian and Roy. Signed 'Kory,' signed 'Victor,' signed 'Gar! The Beast Boy!!'"

"You've collected six envelopes in a small pile, and that's how you decorate holiday-style? You should visit the mansion. It's strung up with lights, bright enough to be seen all the way from the Heights. And Alfred has trimmed an eleven-foot spruce—"

"You're trying to make me spend Christmas with Bruce."

"Yeah," Tim acknowledged. "I'll be home with my dad. And thinking of Bruce by himself is...just sad."

"He makes his own choice, wasn't always that way. I used to look forward to our Christmas Day. We did stockings, and sledding, and holiday songs."

"You know that that's only 'cause you'd come along. Otherwise, he'd have spent the whole day underground, and he'll be there this year unless someone's around."

"I have plans," I told Tim.

"Can you say what they are?"

I admitted, "I thought I'd go down to the bar."

"Spend the day in some gloomy place, dishing out brews? Now that really is something the big guy would do."

"Hold on, Tim! Christmas colors don't make you an elf."

"Says the guy who selected these colors himself."

"You got me on that. But I'm not in the mood for visiting Bruce and observing him brood. I just don't feel eager for Christmas this year. I might skip the whole holiday thing and stay here."

"That's your answer?"

"Uh-huh. My answer is, 'Nope.'"

"Well, I gave it a shot," he said, back at his rope. "At least open my present," was his final demand.

"Okay, Tim, I promise." I held out my hand.

"I'm afraid it's too bulky to bring in this manner."

"So where is—?"

He grinned. "At stately Wayne Manor."

And I heard Tim exclaim as he swung out of sight, "Merry Christmas to you and our friend the dark knight!"