This little story came to me, and since I might not have an opportunity to post it on the very day that I would have wanted to, I thought I'd post it early. Enjoy.

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Honor Thy Mother

By

AJ

"Dick?" Bruce called his ward, wandering where he could be. The boy had only been with him for a few weeks. He had been tied up at Wayne Enterprises, trying to get a merger completed as well as trying to hide his nighttime activities from the child who now lived in his home. It wasn't easy and yet, it just seemed so strange and yet at the same time . . . so right.

"Dick, where are you?" Bruce called again. Something wasn't right, and an uneasy feeling entered the pit of his stomach. The boy usually greeted him at the door when Dick knew Bruce was coming home, but lately, the boy for the past few days had been strangely absent.

"Alfred, do you know where Dick is?"

"I'm sorry, Sir. I've been pre-occupied," Alfred stated. "Downstairs needed cleaning very badly. We need to discuss reducing the population a bit. Perhaps capturing some of the creatures and releasing them out in the more mountainous regions. You know the place can only hold so many."

"You're probably right . . . but I need to know where Dick is. I promised I was going to spend the day with him and unfortunately this merger has taken too much of my time. I didn't expect it to take over the weekend. I'm worried. He's never disappeared before like this."

"I think I know where he may be at, Master Bruce," Alfred said, and he waved a hand to have his older charge follow him.

Bruce followed the butler to the combination conservatory and library that faced out toward the back lawns. In a corner of the expansive green was a fenced in area tucked under some trees. A collection of stone monuments and gravestones could be seen. It was the Wayne family cemetery where generations of Waynes were buried, since the first Wayne arrived on these shores. Though not as large as the public cemeteries in Gotham City, the area was large enough to house several more generations. It was a family place and it was also a place that offered comfort and peace. Though not related, among the Waynes rested two who were new. They were joined by a common bond and held a place of honor.

Bruce looked out the window and saw Dick Grayson kneeling on the ground, a bouquet of flowers rested on his lap.

"Alfred, why is Dick sitting out there?"

"Two days ago, he asked if I would not mind getting him that bouquet of flowers."

"Why?"

"He wished to give them to his Mother."

"His Mother?" Bruce asked.

"Do you not remember what today is?"

Bruce should his head, puzzled why Alfred would ask him such a question.

"The young Master told me that on this particular day, when they weren't performing, they would take his Mother out for breakfast and his father would buy her a bouquet of her favorite flower, Lilacs. They would spend the day together and when the day was gone, watch the sunset. It was all they could afford to do."

"I don't understand, what's so special about today?"

'I can see that it has been far too long,' Alfred sighed. 'Perhaps it was time to remind him of it. I know he honors his parents each year, but this is something they both should share.' Alfred turned to his older charge and turned his head to the side, giving him a fatherly nod. "It is Mother's Day . . ."

". . . And it is the first time Dick is celebrating it without her. Oh Alfred . . . I . . . I guess I've forgotten a lot . . . "

"Do you remember what you used to do to celebrate Mother's Day?" Alfred asked.

Bruce bowed his head, trying to remember but the memories were all in shadow. Had it been so long? Had he really forgotten? Bruce listened as Alfred explained, the images becoming clearer in his mind.

"I would set my duty aside for that day so you and your father could make breakfast for your Mother and give it to her in bed. Then you would get dressed and attend the Mother's Day service at the local Unitarian Church down the road. Afterward, you would surprise your mother with small gifts you made her during the week, whether it was a drawing or a small clay sculpture. Your father would present your Mother with his gifts a precious book or a piece of jewelry she had been eyeing. Afterward, your father would take your mother to dinner while you spent the rest of the evening curled up by the fireplace reading a book, waiting for them to come home. When they would, your parents would take you up to your room and tuck you into bed."

Bruce felt ashamed, ashamed that he had forgotten such a wonderful loving memory. Too many years had been spent in shadow and sorrow. He would honor his parent's deaths each year, but not in the way this boy was doing. He would take two perfect roses and place them on the very spot where they lost their lives. It was a reminder for him why he was doing what he had chosen to do, but seeing this boy, taking a bouquet of flowers . . . As Bruce watched his breath caught in his throat. Dick had opened the bouquet and placed some of them against the gravestone, but then he suddenly rose and walked over to another and placed the rest against another much larger gravestone. Bruce realized Dick was placing flowers not only on Mary Grayson's grave, but on Martha Wayne's as well. Tears of awe and wonder rimmed Bruce's eyes. Dick was honoring not only his own Mother, but Bruce's as well.

Without another thought, Bruce opened the door of the conservatory leading out to the back lawns. Silently he walked with purpose and upon reaching the gravesite, Bruce stood in front of his ward looking down. Dick looked up at him then grabbed him around his waist.

"I miss her . . . Dad," a small voice said as he pressed his body against the larger man.

Bruce's eyes flew open, not expecting to hear the last word, a word so filled with faith, love, and trust.

'Dad? Did he just call me, Dad?'

"Yes, he did,' another voice answered.

'But . . . I could never replace his . . .'

'He knows that, but deep in his soul, he knows you are his second father.'

'How . . .'

A third voice joined in the argument, one that Bruce had not heard in so long that he thought he had dreamed it. It whispered deep in his mind and he could not deny the truth of it.

'Look closely, what do you see.'

'I see a bright light . . . that seems to surround him.'

'Just as there is a darkness that has surrounds you. He is a gift and I have given him freely to you. Take it.'

'But how . . .?'

'Do not question only accept. He is a part of you just as you are a part of him.'

Bruce could not deny that truth, a truth that came from the soul. Tears welled in his eyes and they slipped silently down, dripping on the ebony hair that rested against him. Bruce encircled his arms around the child's shoulders protectively, accepting the gift into his heart. And yet fear welled up inside, a fear so primal he knew what it was to truly be a father. Some day this child would grow into a man and leave just as surely as his father left him.

'No,' said another. 'You will be tested just as every parent is texted. The light will not fade. He will always be there, though you may not know it yet. Accept the gift.'

Bruce felt Dick shiver and he removed his coat, draping it over the child's shoulders in a protective cocoon. He encircled his arms once more, drawing the boy closer.

" . . . Thank you," Bruce said quietly.

Dick looked up, thinking that Bruce was thanking him for what he had done.

"I was wishing my . . . my mother . . . Happy . . . Mother's Day," Dick sniffled. "Then I realized maybe . . . maybe your mother might like some flowers, too."

"My Mother liked lilacs, too," Bruce said, remembering as the scent rose up to meet his nose. The memory was so strong he could not deny the truth of it and another memory came to the forefront of his mind. "She planted a whole variety in one of the flower gardens not far from here. Would you like to see them?"

"Sure," Dick said. "I guess our Mothers also had something in common, too."

"I guess you're right," Bruce said. "Why don't we honor them together. I can show them to you tomorrow."

So, the sons of Martha Wayne and Mary Grayson stood together watching the light from the fading day touch the trees as they stood together in companionable silence.

A tall figure watched from the window. He marveled at the sudden change that seemed to engulf the pair. He observed that a light of burnished gold seemed to surround the pair and he realized he had only seen that light once before. It was on the night that Thomas Wayne held his son for the first time. A bright light surrounded the new father while an ebony one surrounded the son. Their auras seemed to blend together to form a bond so strong that it seemed nothing would tear them apart, until that fateful night. Now it seemed that same light surround this child. It was as if the child carried the light of Thomas Wayne inside him, and father and son had been reunited. That light of burnished gold flared forming an unbreakable bond once more.

'He had never shown an interest in wanting a child before,' Alfred thought. 'Until now. Your son Martha Wayne has found that light once again. And Mary Grayson, you have brought to him a most precious gift. I vow to protect and see that this gift is nurtured. For whatever purpose this pair shall remain together no matter what may come. I honor you both for the love you have for your sons.'

End

A/N: Happy Mother's Day everyone.

Saturday, May 11th, 4:11 am. It seems my muse decided to add more to this story. It would not let it go. I had to get up to finish it.