A/N: sorry if anyone seems OOC, not used to writing them

Disclaimer: Don't own Ninjago and affiliated characters.

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It was late, that much he was aware of, but FSM knows he was long overdue for a visit.

Ebony locks swayed in the wind as he grew closer to the stone slab. A bouquet of flowers in hand, he reads the name engraved fondly and the words below it.

"Loving wife, mother and savior." It read.

He sits on the ground, legs crossed. He didn't care that his clothes would get dirty and messy. Not that he ever did. The ground was comforting and nice and soothing, it was his element after all.

Like it was his mother's.

Maybe that's why he was reminded of her when he used his powers. Feeling the warm and calming embrace of his mother as strength fueled his arms and tremors erupted from beneath him.

(Long slender arms wrap around his torso and he giggles, feeling the warmth and love that he thought would protect him no matter what.)

"Hey Mom," he greets, as if she were right in front of him with that smile she always gave him when he was little. "It's been a while hasn't it? Sorry I haven't visited you in a while." He hears her in his head, assuring him.

"It's fine," she says, eyes the color of his own twinkling in delight. "Being a ninja must really take up a lot of your time." She lets out a small chuckle. "I know using my powers to help people did too."

"Saving people," he amends, letting out a chuckle of his own.

He'd always thought he had gotten his element-wielding ability from his father, or at least from his side of the family. Apparently, he thought wrong.

Ever since his father had confessed of his mother's powers after learning that he was ninja and that he used the powers he inherited from his mother the same way she did, he felt a lot closer to her more than ever.

(Sometime he wonders if that was why Dad pushed him so hard, wanting he, his son, to be like him

Because he had grown to be too much like her, too much like Mom

And he got scared that he'll lose him the same way he lost her

They lost her.)

He talks about his team, tells her stories of their recent adventures and really, anything that came to mind, from Jay's unchanging mouth of lightning to Seliel's new developments on her gear.

Mom had a lot of fun teasing him with the last part.

("Oh, she's a real keeper, no doubt. Still haven't asked her out yet?"

"Mom-!"

"Just like your father," she sighs. "She's going to have to make the first move like I did at this rate."

"She's just a friend!")

He almost didn't notice that it was getting late.

"Cole," he hears from behind him. "I knew I'd find you here."

He turns to face his father, unhinging in his position. "Hey, Dad."

The older male walks over to his son and looks at the gravestone with a sad smile. He pats the top of the stone, reminiscing of their times together.

He's never stopped wondering how someone as amazing as her fell in love with someone as simple as him.

"You're late, you know." He grins at his son, ruffling the younger's hair.

"I know," Cole huffs in mock frustration. "You don't have to remind me."

"It's time to head back home," his fathers tells him, heading to where his car was parked.

"Yeah, I'm coming. Just give me a few minutes."

"Alright."

He places the flowers in front of the stone slab and places his hand on top of it, like his father had done.

"I know it's late but," Cole smiles.

"Happy Mother's Day, Mom."

And he then runs over to the car, his father hovering his hand over the wheel, threatening to blow the horn.

"Shotgun!"

He sits at the passenger seat and buckles up, grinning as his father rolls his eyes affectionately.

"I haven't made the cake yet," he tells the younger, eyes not straying from the road. "I was waiting for you to come home."

It had been made tradition to bake a cake on Mother's Day. (They did something else on her birthday.) They've never failed to make her favorite every year since the day she di-

"The guys kept me busy, didn't really notice the time."

(He peered over the tall table, the three-year-old still too short to see over it without a stepping stool.

"Mommy?"

The black-haired woman turned to her adorable son with a hum, still mixing the contents of the bowl in her hand. "What is it, honey?"

"What 'cha making?"

"Cake, it's my favorite." She pauses to bop the little one on the nose. Cole lets out a giggle. "And when you taste it, you're sure to like it. Just like Mommy."

She was wrong though. He didn't like it.

He loved it.

Lou cries. He had hoped that Cole wouldn't have gotten his mother's sweet tooth.)

Had the two of them looked back, they would have seen the wispy figure of a raven-haired woman smiling at them and waving goodbye.

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A/N: Happy Mothers Day!