Season of Such Infinite Labor
Season of Such Infinite Labor
by Mara
Summary: “Please repeat, Batman,” Tim said. “Because I could have sworn you said–“
Tim’s voice on the comm held a note of astonishment, Bruce thought. More than a
note, really. More like an entire symphony.
“Please repeat, Batman,” Tim said. “Because I could have sworn you said–”
“I’ve had reports–reputable reports–of Santa and his elves on various rooftops
around Gotham. Carrying sacks of…something.”
Silence. “That’s what I thought you said.”
Bruce found he was gritting his teeth and forced himself to stop, shifting his
feet slightly to keep from slipping off the icy ledge. “I want these people
found and I want to know what’s going on. And I want to know yesterday.”
For her own reasons, Babs broke in at this point. “You’re trying to catch
*Santa*? Maybe he’s here delivering presents. Why do you assume he’s up to no
good?”
“Because this is Gotham,” Bruce said.
“Right,” Babs said.
“I’m on it,” Tim said.
Cass didn’t bother to say anything.
* * * * *
For the first hour, it was nothing more than a normal search for a criminal or
criminals known to be in the city. Oracle coordinated their search patterns as
they spiraled in from the outer suburbs, monitoring various police bands while
Batman, Batgirl, and Robin tried to keep warm as snowfall grew heavier.
Then they had their first lead. “A concerned citizen,” Babs said, “just called
in a report of Santa and two elves climbing up his fire escape. No reindeer, I
guess.”
“Address?” Bruce asked, dropping to a crouch in the lee of a smokestack to catch
his breath and get out of the wind.
“3220 DeVine, near the Kane Building. Said concerned citizen wants to know–and
I quote–what kind of city we’re running here.”
There was a snort of laughter from Tim, quickly suppressed. “Very funny,” Bruce
said. “Let’s converge on that location, team. Move with all deliberate speed.”
Looking up at the sky, he frowned. “Before the weather gets any worse.”
* * * * *
Really, Bruce thought as he skidded his way across a roof toward a rendezvous
point, he should know better than to say something like ‘before the weather gets
any worse.’ It was nearly as bad as saying ‘what could possibly go wrong?’
Not that he was superstitious, of course. He’d gathered countless data points on
this subject and was prepared with an entire dissertation on the subject,
complete with footnotes and references to quantum physics.
The plain truth was, things always got worse and they always went wrong.
He slammed to a halt as Cass muttered an obscenity he hadn’t even realized she
*knew*, let alone would ever speak. “Batgirl, report,” he said as he held grimly
onto a brick wall to keep from falling on his ass.
There was an odd squelching sound in the comm and for a moment, his mouth simply
gaped as he tried to figure out what he was hearing.
“Batgirl!” Babs said sharply.
“I am fine,” Cass said. “I…fell off a roof.”
“What?” Three voices yelped in astonishment.
“Into a snowbank. Cold and wet. But unbroken.”
Tim coughed. “You fell into a *snowbank*?”
“But I can still beat you, Robin,” she said quietly and very sincerely.
“Right. Got it.”
Bruce shook his head. “Let’s focus here. Batgirl, you’re uninjured?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s continue, if everyone is *quite* done.”
Babs chuckled. “On that note, everyone break west, as we have another sighting,
this time on the roof of the symphony hall heading toward the Hill. The good
news is that they’re moving closer to you.”
Bruce paused before shooting his decel line. “What’s the bad news?” he asked
with resignation.
Babs paused. “It’s also sort of good news, because it will slow them down.”
“Oracle…”
Bruce’s growl would have caused most Gotham criminals to throw down their
weapons and whimper for their mommies. Babs just snickered at him. “It seems
that somewhere along the line they acquired some reindeer.”
“Reindeer? In Gotham? Does the Gotham Zoo even *have* reindeer?” Tim sounded out
of breath, but Bruce couldn’t decide if that was from moving quickly or trying
not to laugh.
Babs whistled with great insouciance. “Well, not so much reindeer as dachshunds
in harness.”
“If this is a joke…” Bruce said as he continued on his way, unable to think of
a threat dire enough to cover the situation.
“Would I joke about this?” Babs asked, and Bruce could practically hear her hand
over her heart.
“YES!” three voices chorused.
“I’m hurt. I’m offended. Besides, it’s not a joke. Somehow, these loonies have
gotten a couple of wiener dogs and stuck harnesses and reindeer antlers on
them.”
“Wiener dogs?” Cass asked.
“They’re–”
“Oracle, can we *please* focus on finding them before we find out what they have
in their bags?”
“Oh. Right.” Keys clicking. “Well, I think you’re all pretty close. You know,
assuming they haven’t taken flight.”
“Oracle!”
“Get a sense of humor, Batman.” More keys. “Okay, I’ve got a feed off 126 Baxter
that shows a glimpse of them approximately five minutes ago. Go find ’em and
then you can get back to your nice dank Cave and sulk.”
Bruce ruthlessly suppressed further growls that would obviously have no effect
on Barbara. He channeled his annoyance into careful placement of his feet and
decel lines, not wishing to provide Tim with further amusement.
Despite the howling winds and stinging snow pellets, it was only a few minutes
before he got his first glimpse of his targets, one building away. “I have
them,” he said into his comm. “They’re just climbing onto the roof of 1450
Alliance Ave. Approaching them now.”
“Ten minutes away,” Cass said.
“Be there in five,” Tim said. “Be careful.”
Bruce didn’t bother to respond to that as he swung to that next roof, landing
with a thunk and a small skid that he was fairly sure his targets didn’t see.
Before he was seen, he pulled out batarangs.
“Stop right there,” he said. They didn’t seem to have any weapons, but he kept
the batarangs in his right hand.
The very jolly looking Santa and three shivering men in pointy hats stopped and
looked at him. The dachshunds bounced around their feet in glee at all this
excitement.
Bruce waited.
Everyone else waited. Even the dogs.
Teeth gritting even harder, Bruce said, “Who are you?”
“Ho ho ho!” Santa chortled. “Who do you think I am?”
Bruce wondered if it was actually possible to crush your own teeth. “I don’t
know, but I don’t want you creeping around Gotham. Hand over the bags now.”
“But what about the children?” one of the elves wailed, clutching the bag to his
chest.
“Give. Me. The. Bags.”
With chastened looks, the elves handed over their bags. Santa’s look was more
reproachful, but he too handed over his bag. The dachshunds tried to dash around
Bruce’s feet, but got their antlers tangled up and ended up rolling around the
rooftop barking at each other.
Keeping an eye on the men, Bruce gingerly opened one of the bags.
It was filled with fish.
Not Joker fish with sickening grins. Just…fish. Scaly, ordinary fish that
looked like they’d come straight from a grocery store.
“What…”
“Batman,” Barbara said sharply in his ear, “please report.”
“They’re carrying fish,” he said.
The comm was silent.
Santa smiled and said, “I thought people deserved a nice fresh fish for
Christmas.”
“Fish,” Bruce said.
“Uh-huh!” Santa nodded, happy smile firmly fixed on his face.
“Where,” Bruce asked carefully, “were you when you had this brilliant idea?”
“We’re roommates at St. Elizabeth’s,” one of the elves said.
All four men nodded.
There was a choked snort from the comm, probably Tim again.
“St. Elizabeth’s,” Barbara said. “That would be, I assume, the minimum security
mental hospital that takes all the *harmless* patients, right?”
“I assume so,” Tim said.
“I’m alerting them to the whereabouts of their lost…elves now.”
Bruce sighed. “It was a very nice thought,” he told Santa, “but I’m afraid your
fish-delivering time is up. You’ll have to head home now.”
“But we can’t go! We haven’t had a chance to deliver the fish yet!” Santa
clutched his belly.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you to stay out here in the cold.”
“We have to! Everyone will be so disappointed!” Santa and the elves looked
utterly dismayed and the dachshunds, sensing their concern, started yipping and
running in circles again.
Bruce stood there on that roof, freezing and tired and sore, and he felt himself
lose control. “It’s not Christmas!” he hollered at the men. “It’s February 2nd!”
Everyone stopped and stared at him.
“It’s not Christmas?” Santa asked.
“No.”
“Not the night before Christmas?”
“No.”
“Not even near Christmas?”
“No! It’s Groundhog Day!”
Santa blinked and then beamed at him. “Well, it’s a holiday anyway. Can’t blame
a guy for trying.”
In the distance, Bruce heard sirens.
“The fire department will be there any moment with ladders and St. Elizabeth’s
is sending a couple of nurses that know them.” Barbara clicked a few keys.
“You’re safe to go any time.”
Bruce shook his head. “Don’t try this again,” he said to the men.
Santa laughed. “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!” The dachshunds
yipped.
Superman, Bruce thought as he headed off the rooftop, probably didn’t have
nights like this.
–end–