In Loving Memory

In Loving Memory

Tim Drake was standing looking at the plain area of grass next to the graves of Thomas and Martha Wayne. The only thing to show that this was a site of significance a single Yellow rose laying on the ground.

Tears roll down the boy's face. "Dick, I am sorry I wasn't here, I didn't know!" he whispers.

He jumps as a hand is placed on his shoulder. He turns his tear stained face toward the man standing next to him. "Why didn't you let me know straight away. I would have like to have been here. I loved Dick too."

"I know that Master Tim, so does Master Bruce, but it wasn't possible to wait. It's because you loved him that I've told you about this place. Only five of us know and it must remain our secret! I must have your solemn promise on that"

The boy nods "On my mothers soul!" the boy murmurs, to Tim there is no more solemn promise he can give. Tim's eyes move away from the old mans haggard face and travel across the grass that covers the unmarked grave of Richard Grayson.

Alfred stiffly bends down and picks up the yellow rose laid on the grave. It is showing the first signs of wilting. He replaces it with a fresh specimen.

"All your friend will be with us today, Master Dick, I wish I could bring them all here to see your grave, but that's not possible. Today you will see how much you meant to so many people. How many lives you changed, how much you were loved and... how much you are missed."

The old man abruptly turns away, tears on his face. Tim takes his hand.

"Why can't Dicks friends know where he is buried? Why couldn't Dick's body be found? Come on Alfie, I've a right to know!"

Alfred just shakes his head. "Ask Master Bruce!" is all he mutters before he walks away.

"Some good that would do me!" he says bitterly. Then Tim notices that the old man is walking stiffly. He hurries to catch him up. "You OK Alfie, he asks, taking the mans arm. You don't look too good."

"I am perfectly fine Master Tim." The man says using his most infuriating civil butler's tone. They enter the house by the garden door that leads into the study.

"You're just as bad as Bruce." the boy fumes turning on his friend, anger at his stubbornness, overcoming polite behaviour. "You're not all right, nor is Bruce. But neither of you will admit it. Bruce's fists look like he's hit every low life punk in Gotham and you look like death and you're walking around like you're in serious pain, but all I get from either of you when I ask is 'I am Perfectly Fine'. Tim stops when he sees the look of anger on the old mans face.

"Sir, I may be a servant, but my life is my own. Please let me have some privacy."

"I only want to know because I care." Tim pleads, but the old man has gone.

"I know you care Tim, that's what makes it so good to have you here right now." a quite female voice says.

Tim runs up to Leslie and he hugs her tight.

"Bruce has been out every night since Dick.. died... looking for those responsible. When he doesn't get the answers he wants, he's letting his fists do the talking." She says quietly.

"I figured that. He was the same after Jason died." Tim remarks.

"That's why it's so good that you're here to help him." Leslie says smiling in a sad way.

"Yeah, if he'll let me." Tim mutters. "And Alfie, how did he get hurt?"

"Alfred got hurt, when he staged the accident at Deadmans Bend. It's mainly bruising and a couple of cracked ribs. It's not serious. His main problem is he's worried sick about Bruce. We both are."

"Where's Bruce now?"

"He's working in the cave."

"I'll go see if I can help him." Tim says.

Leslie smiles, "I'll go and talk to Alfred, he'll be busy getting things ready for ....after.." she wipes a tear away and turns abruptly heading for the kitchen.

The only light in the cave is coming from the giant viewing screen. Bruce is sat in front of it watching the information scrolling down the screen. A tray of food stands, cold and untouched on the table next to his chair. Bruce shakes his head, "Nothing, nothing, the clue has got to be here!" he mutters slamming his fist down in frustration on to the table.

"Perhaps you're looking too hard, Bruce."

The man turns to face the boy, his face set hard. "It here Tim, I've got to find it."

"You will, but right now there are other thing as important, if not more so."

"Like what?"

"Like the memorial service, like being there for your family. Li... "

"What family? I've got no family, not now Dick's gone." Bruce whispers.

"What about Alfred, what about Leslie?" Tim asks. "They are your family. They need you to be there for them."

Bruce is shaking his head, "I can't go, I've got to solve this, I've ...!"

"Do you know I think you're the most self centred individual I've ever met". Tim shouts. "Not only are the old couple who raised you, mourning their grandson, they are worried sick about you. Have you seen how ill Alfred looks, how scared Leslie is. She's afraid that she going to lose him, and you. It won't take much to put the old guy under, then you can arrange for another grave in your private cemetery. " With that he storms back up to the house.

He heads for the kitchen but stops when he sees a weeping Leslie being comforted by her friend. He feels tears running down his own face. Tim starts to head out of the kitchen but Alfred beckons him in. "It's all right son." he says, voice breaking. He removes one arm from around Leslie and holds it out to Tim. The boy moves closer and finds a comfort in his friend's embrace.

The old church in the centre of Gotham is full, friends from both of Dick's lives are there, his Titan team mates, old high school friends, Clark and Lois Kent, representatives from the Blündhaven police department, friends from his old circus days.

Jim Gordon is sat on the far side of the second pew from the front holding the hand of his daughter Barbara, whose wheelchair is parked next to him. Leslie is sat on the other side of Jim, both women are trying not to cry. This is supposed to be a celebration of Dick's life.

Alfred is stood at the door, greeting people, doing this job enables him hold on.

"Any sign of Bruce?" Tim whispers as the time approaches to start the service.

The old man drops his eyes and shakes his head before turning away.

Then suddenly Bruce's there, dressed in a black suite. He squeezes Tim's arm before hurrying to catch Alfred up. Tim watches Bruce place an arm around his old friend, then he guides him down to the front of the church. Alfred stops at the second pew but Bruce guides him to the front. Then he collects Leslie and seats her next to Alfred, before sitting beside them. Smiling grimly Tim sits next to Jim Gordon.

The service is what Dick would have wanted a celebration of a life well lived. Bruce speaks of a brave son, his police officer partner tells of a loyal friend. Alfred has lost it, he cannot stop the silent tears. Leslie is holding him tight trying to comfort him. Bruce moves over and sits on the other side of his friend and put an arm around him. He leans back toward Tim.

"Tim, could you read this for Alfred?" he asks.

Tim looks at the neatly folded sheet of paper and nods.

There's not a dry eye in the place after he's finished reading the Circus Performers prayer.

The reception is at the Gotham Hilton, everyone is there except, Alfred, Leslie and Bruce.

Tim looks around for his friends and finally spots Bruce coming in to the room from the direction of the service elevator.

"Alfred needed to go home." Bruce says. At the boys worried look he adds "He'll be OK Tim, Leslie is with him, he just needs to rest."

"How about you Bruce, how are you doing?" Tim asks.

"Hanging in there, you know?"

"I know." Tim adds.

"Tim thanks for this morning, it needed saying. I do tend to be self-centred, you're right. That's always been my problem. Are you up to helping me tonight. I want to review what I've discovered so far. Then tomorrow we, can find out who did this together. I need a partner's help to solve this one."

Tim nods and Bruce smiles grimly. "We're going to find them Tim. They're going to pay!"