(A/N: Takes place in my continuity and references events in Nightwing 117-118, Infinite Crisis, and the Nightwing Annual #2. I own none of these referenced works, characters or text nor the lyric listed at the top of this work of fiction.)

Fare thee Well, love
Fare thee Well, love
Far away, you must go.
Take your heart, love
Take your heart, love
Will we never meet again no more?
Far across, love
Far across, love.
O'er mountains and country wide
Take my heart, love
Take my heart, love
No one knows the tears I've cried.
 - The Rankin Family, "Fare Thee Well Love"

Finally after nearly a lifetime of false starts we'd found our way to one another.

When I saw him standing on the runway holding that sign my heart had leaped. I didn't know what he had planned, would never have dreamed that he'd do what he did then when I disembarked from the Aerie.

He'd asked me to be his wife.

I said yes.

I cried that day. Tears of pure joy for the first time in my life as he kissed me, as he held me. If that moment could have continued forever I would have happily lived there to the exclusion of all other things.

He proposed to me as he prepared to go into Hell itself. He proposed knowing that he might leave me alone forever and yet…he did it because he wanted me to know he loved me. That if he died in the morning we had this night, this moment, forever.

The morning came and the days that followed. He survived the OMACs, the destruction of Blüdhaven, and even Superboy Prime. I'd flattered myself to think that my beaten, damaged hero had survived just for me. That maybe in some small way I'd inspired him to survive.

I wasn't the only one who needed him, though.

When he came to in my apartment during his long convalescence, it was just us. I'd put away the diamond solitaire he'd given to me on that tarmac weeks before to avoid putting any pressure on him. A proposal given when you think you're going to die might be less attractive when you know you have to actually live with it.

I'd been preparing myself to give him his freedom. He'd wanted to talk about the ring, but I felt something in his words. They said he had no regrets but I had doubts about what was behind them.

Of course I'd doubted him before and so I pushed it all away including the discussion.

Until that day when I'd had him tied up in knots over a bed of foam rubber spikes.

"It's time to move on from all that. Let it go," I'd said.

Dick replied. "I don't know if I can."

With a feeling of dread, I counseled him, "Well, you'd better. We need a fresh start if we're to have any future together."

It was the closest I'd come to talking about our engagement. Otherwise it had gone unmentioned. In fact, if I were to be totally honest, I'd avoided it. I'd wanted him to address it when he had a healthy body and a clear head.

But Bruce in his infinite wisdom always had to put pressure on Dick, which put pressure on us. He had to give an answer by today of whether he would go with him on a bonding trip around the world to retrace the journey of Batman.

I didn't want him to go though I told him I did, because I know how much Bruce meant to him. I wanted him to stay, to prove my doubts wrong.

His character was never in doubt. What I'd doubted was my worthiness.

"And that's why I'm giving this back," I'd said. "To free you to make an honest decision."

We both knew what he had to do. For his own sake, I let him go. I released him from his bond out of honor. I would never have him torn on my account.

I told him that he needed to rediscover himself. Writing the letter I left for him on that morning broke what was left of my heart.

The note he'd left with the ring gave me hope. For a solid year I clung tightly to that hope as the only one I had. It was my touchstone, my connection to the dream I'd wanted so badly to be real.

But then when he came back, he was in Blüdhaven briefly and then gone again without a word. The next thing I knew he was in New York having some kind of relationship with a red haired fashion designer.

On that day I cried.

He'd made the promise and had sought to keep it though only out of obligation. The only honorable thing I'd had to do was let him go.

It was truly over for us.