Author's Notes:

This is really a drabble or an obsenfic just to wish the fandom Happy Mother's Day.

BTW, Evan is David's Guide. You'll meet him more formally later.

Not beta'd, barely spellchecked.... <g>

Happy Mother's Day!



D.L. Witherspoon

(Posted 05-09-99)


Remembering Mama

They crossed the cemetery, dressed in their best suits. The tall man and the little boy both carried a single rose. The shorter man, his long, curly hair pulled back in a dignified silver clip, only had the little boy's hand in his. As they neared one of the stone monuments, the one with the ponytail stopped, and the other two went forward.

The man kneeled and placed his rose at the base of the headstone. The child did the same.

"Remember what to say, David?"

The child nodded. "Happy Mother's Day, Mommy."

The man stood, brushed off his knees, and took the child's hand. They walked over to where the other man patiently waited, and the three headed back in the direction they had come.


You Don't Have To

"Uncle Blair? Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, Dave-man. What's up?"

The teen scratched idly at the back of his neck. He'd recently gotten a crew cut and was still getting used to it. "Uh, tomorrow is Mother's Day and I...uh, I was thinking that maybe you...uh...didn't have to come with us to the cemetery."

Blair knew David could hear the spike in his pulse, but he was determined not to let the anxiety show in his voice. "That's cool. If you just want it to be you and your dad, I understand."

David dropped his head into his hands. "No, you don't understand," he said sadly.

"Then explain it to me. That would be the best way, wouldn't it?" Blair always urged the young man verbalize his problems instead of keeping them bottled up like Jim had done most of his life.

"You know that now I know what my mother did to you. All these years of going out there and honoring her.... You don't have to do that anymore, Uncle Blair. Not for me, okay? Heck, I'll even understand if you don't want me to say her name around you," the boy added anguishedly.

"Alex Barnes Ellison," Blair said softly. He looked at David with a faint smile. "If it doesn't bother me to say it, then I don't have any trouble with you saying it either, David. And, contrary to what you might think, I haven't been playing the martyr by going to her gravesite with you and Jim. You see. When you were born, Alex and I declared a truce."

"She was gone by the time you reached the hospital," David pointed out, having heard the entire story of the events leading up to his conception and what had happened afterwards.

"That didn't stop us from coming to an understanding," Blair replied, knowing the young Sentinel was aware that the supernatural could, and sometimes did, occur. "Her part of the bargain was bringing you into this world. My part was to be here for you, to help you survive the world better than she had.... Yes, she killed me, but she also gave birth to Uncle Blair, a man I'm quite proud of, actually. In a way, Alex is the mother of all of us-- you, your dad and me. Without her, none of us would be who we are now. So when I go to the cemetery, I'm there to say Happy Mother's Day, too. If it's all right with you, I'd like to continue that tradition."

David always smiled easily, but it was rare that he gave into the big grin that reminded Blair so much Jim. He was slightly annoyed that David was as anal as his father about cleanliness and order-- a teenager who could actually see the carpet in his own room was unnatural in his opinion-- but the other traits he'd picked up from Jim warmed the Guide's heart. That smile was one of them.

"It's more than all right," David said, hugging his uncle enthusiastically. Being a "toucher" was also something he'd picked up from Jim. "And Uncle Blair, I'm proud of you too."

Blair wrapped his arms around the kid who was rapidly surpassing him in height. Even if he and Alex had hated each other to the bitter end, there was no way he could hate her now. There was way too much love in his life for negative emotions.

The next day, they got out of the car and David handed a rose to his father, one to Blair, and kept one for himself. Jim raised an eyebrow at the addition of the third flower, but didn't say anything. Instead of stopping a few feet back, Blair walked up to the headstone with them and lay his offering with theirs.

David smiled, feeling the last of his anger toward his mother melt away.


Through The Years

The police captain's heart almost burst with pride as he glanced at his companion. At eighty-five, his father walked with the same military bearing he had at forty-five, maybe a tad slower but still with his usual air of command. What hair that remained was white and years of not only seeing the worst of mankind, but years of laughter as well, had left his face lined and craggy. But his eyes were still bright, the senses keen, the intelligence never dimming. Quite frankly, David thought, as he gripped his rose securely, the only thing really different about his father was that his sense of humor had become even more wicked as the years went by. But that was probably due to prolonged exposure to his Guide, speaking of which.... "You guys going to take all day or what?" he yelled to the duo behind them. His Guide, Evan, was supposedly helping Blair across the carefully mown grass, but considering "old Uncle Blair" had won the Best Dancer title just last night at the Senior Center, agile footwork wasn't much of a problem for Rainier's Anthropology Department Chair.

"Don't bother them," his father chastised lightly. "They think we're so preoccupied with this that we won't notice they're plotting against us."

"Dad, after all you've been through, you certainly pick a strange time to go paranoid on me," David replied.

"Listen to them." Ingrained habit had David obeying smoothly.

"So, you think that would work, Blair? If we could get them both...."

"Piece of cake, Evan. I'll just tell Jim that...."

He shook his head and let the conversation fade to the background. "You'd think they would let us have one day of peace," David groused to his father.

"Guides and peace. Don't think I've ever heard the two words in the same sentence, son," Jim said with a deep chuckle. They stopped in front of the familiar headstone and waited for the lagging pair to join them. Then all four men placed their flowers at the monument.

"Happy Mother's Day, Mom," David whispered. Then he took his father's hand, smiled at his companions, and the four walked back to their car in comfortable silence.


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