A/N: This is in response to the bombing of a mosque in Minnesota. This is a sad and inhumane act. Any place of worship should be considered a sacred place. I felt Damian would be outraged by this. Muslims come to this country not to spread Islam, but to have the same rights as all Americans do, to have freedom to worship, and now that freedom is threatened. Every American should be insulted by this.
What Will Lighting Candles Do?
"The only mosque in Gotham City that serves a large population of Muslims was bombed early this morning. The religious community condemned the actions of the bomber and called for that person's arrest. Commissioner Gordon said they were doing everything they can to find the bomber."
Tears streamed down Damian's face as he watched the news. How could someone do this? Things like this happened only in his native middle eastern country of his birth, not here, not in Gotham City. Deep rage filled him, and his Grandfather's words rung out in his head. 'Infidels, how dare they. They should all be wiped out, this Earth cleansed of their hatred . . . '
"It's awful, but they were lucky."
Dick Grayson's words barely registered in Damian's mind.
"What do you mean they were lucky! They bombed a place of worship! A sacred temple!"
"They were lucky, because no one was hurt," Dick said calmly.
Damian scowled.
"Look, it's just a building," Dick explained. "It can be rebuilt."
"That's not the point," Damian frowned. "It's what it represents! It's supposed to be a place of safety, of security, a holy place where people go to pray. Where are they going to go now? Answer me that!"
Dick Grayson sighed. "Look, I was born in a circus wagon, and I traveled with my family. We worshiped in a tent, a tent that would be constructed and taken down for each performance. We didn't have a permanent place, well not in the same sense. Each place we went to was some place new."
"You do not understand, how can you!" Damian raved.
"Damian, is your place of worship in that building or is it in here?" Dick placed his hand on the center of Damian's chest. "You don't need a building to be able to worship in."
"Yes, I do." Damian said.
"Why?"
"Because I go to that mosque," Damian answered.
"You do?"
"Yes, not often," Damian explained. "Only when I feel a need. Mother would let me go, but it wasn't to learn about the Koran. It was to show me what kind of people I would be ruling over. She despised all religious faiths as false, and the people who follow as weak. She believed what they needed was a strong leader like my Grandfather, but I saw something more."
"What did you see?"
"I saw a strength that went beyond the body. I saw a community of people who prayed for peace, who prayed for the end of violence."
"Most people want that," Dick said.
"Not all," Damian said, as he turned back to view the devastation. The mosque just wasn't a building. It was a thing of beauty as well. It was built by craftsmen and artists who used their hands to create something sacred. And now it was lost forever, those treasures gone. There was another reason that Damian started to attend the only existing mosque in Gotham City. It was a piece of his heritage. He felt close to the people there. He could speak in their language, exchange ideas. He would take his sketchbook and draw what he saw there, trying to capture the beauty on paper.
"I'm sure there will be a candle lighting service outside," Dick said gently. "Do you want to attend? I can go with you."
"What will lighting candles do?"
"It will remind people that we are there for them in this crisis." Dick explained.
"We should be hunting down that bomber!" Damian growled. What he wanted to do was hunt that bomber down and remove his head from his shoulders for his crime.
Dick could hear the bitterness and the anger in Damian's voice. "There's too much anger and fear in the world already. You don't need to give them another excuse to spread more hate. Come with me and light a candle. If anything, it will bring peace to your soul, and maybe a little peace to others."
"How?"
"You'll be in community with them. You can grieve with them for their loss," Dick pointed out. "And we can also do our own search for evidence that the police might have missed."
Damian gave Dick a sly smile. "Okay, you're on."
"Oh Damian, the sword stays home."
Damian didn't answer, as he followed Dick from the living room, heading down to the cave to change. He might not be able to literally take the head of the person responsible for the bombing, but that didn't mean he couldn't use his imagination. At times, he felt lighting candles served no purpose. It was pointless and a waste of time. Now he couldn't wait to get to that mosque. Lighting a candle meant so much more for him, because afterward, he could put his prayer into action, and bring the person responsible to justice. Oh yeah, he couldn't wait. Damian quickly changed into his uniform.
"Come on Grayson, hurry up," Robin exclaimed. "The people of that mosque in Gotham need us."
"I'm coming, Robin," Nightwing stated. He couldn't help thinking about another brother at that moment, a brother who also would have wanted to be there. 'This candle will also be for you tonight, Timmy. I still miss you.'
Nightwing and Robin each zoomed out of the cave on their motorcycles with Robin leading the way. Nightwing couldn't help shaking his head as he spied Damian's sword on his back. 'You can take the boy out of the desert, but you cannot take the desert out of the boy. I'm going to pity that poor bomber once Damian gets his hands on him.'
They sped to Gotham City as the sun set in the west.
End