Continuing Tradition: The Tenth Light
(In Memory of the Nine)
By
AJ
Tim lit another candle in the rack. He tried to concentrate on the victims, but his thoughts mourned for another. It had been a year since he was gone. He remembered the last time they stood together. It was when Bruce was thought to be dead.
'That was before I found the proof,' Tim thought. 'Dick was so broken up. He wouldn't listen at first, but when I did find the proof, he started lighting that extra candle. I want him here, not . . . not . . . ' Tim tried to hold back the tears and the anger. 'IT'S NOT FAIR!' he screamed in his mind. 'HE's NOT SUPPOSED TO DIE!'
Tim felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around to see Damian there was a puzzled frown on his face.
"Whaqt are you doing, Drake?" Damian questioned.
"Lighting candles, Tim replied as he fought back the tears, his words coming out a little more harsh than he intended.
"I can see that, why are you lighting candles? It seems like a senseless act to burn wax for now reason."
"I have a reason," Tim argued. Tim lit the last two in the rack making it ten in all. The tenth one was a little off to the side and a little higher in the rack then the rest of the candles.
'Well," Damian commented. "I'm waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
"To tell me your reason, Drake. You're ignoring me and don't deny it."
"I'm not ignoring you, Demon, go away." Tim wanted to be alone to mourn Dick in peace.
'Don't call me that, and you started it. Now tell me your reason or I'll snuff out all these candles. You'll burn the Manor down!"
"No I won't! This is the chapel! You're supposed to light candles!"
"Candles for what?" Damian demanded.
"To remember the DEAD!" Tim yelled back, tears steaming down. "To remember the dead!"
Damian stood there, his mouth slightly open with surprise. He didn't expect that kind of reaction. He looked at the rack of candles and counted them. He remembered the headline on the front page of the Gotham Gazette announcing about some church out of state where nine people had been shot and killed, but that was out of state. That had nothing to do with Gotham. And Drake had not lit nine candles he lit ten.
"You miss counted, Drake," Damian accused. He was about to snuff out the tenth one when Tim grabbed his arm.
"No, I didn't," Tim said. He knew who that tenth candle stood for. He knew that Dick would approve.
Damian's eyes narrowed. "Either you can't count, Drake, or you're more of an idiot than I thought."
"The nine are for the victims," Tim said through gritted teeth. "The tenth is for the shooter."
"The shooter," Damian looked at Tim like he lost his mind. "Now I know you're an idiot."
'Dick told me once about another shooter, that he must have been just as much a victim. That he must have been full of pain. He tried to understand instead of condemning the person."
"Grayson told you that?"
'Yes."
"Grayson's an idiot as well."
"Don't speak ill of the dead! He's not here to defend himself," Tim stated with vinegar on his tongue.
Damian looked over as Tim turned away to hide the loose tears that slipped down Tim's cheeks. Damian stared at the tenth candle, then stared back at Tim. Turning back once more at the tenth candle, Damian stared into its flickering flame and suddenly understood.
The tenth candle just wasn't for the shooter. It was for another victim of violence, a man who was a martyr for their cause, the one who paid with is life with his full heart, who's heart had been hooked up to a bomb that would have destroyed millions. Damian noticed the position of that candle. It wasn't completely apart from the rest, but neither was it grouped with the others as well. It stood close by, just slightly above the rest, like a guardian while the other candles lined the rack as if they were looking toward the other. It could be misconstrued that the single candle was above the rest because it considered it-self superior, but that wasn't the case. It wasn't even placed in the center, and yet it sat shining its light on the others as if bathing them in its warmth and embracing the nine. It was as if Dick's light was still there.
'Like Grayson would have done,' Damian thought. Damian turned once more to see Tim with his head bowed and tears still glistening on his cheeks in the light of the candles. He felt humbled and ashamed at what had transpired with his older adopted brother. He moved over to Tim's side and placed a comforting arm around his brother's waist.
"I'm sorry. I miss him, too."
Tim reached around and pulled Damian into a hug. Both stood there silently weeping as the wax slowly melted and each flame slowly extinguished itself. The tenth candle remained, burning the longest as if saying to the pair, do not despair, as I burn, there is still hope.
End