Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or anything related to the franchise.

The Bat Legacy

What Doesn't Change

"We started arguing. A lot." Nightwing examined the board for a moment before reaching for a piece, the corner of his mouth pulled up a little lopsided. Gordon knew that if he pulled it back a little more it would match the crazed grin of a boy from long ago. "I didn't like the decisions he was making anymore."

"No! Nonono! Let me up!" Robin bucked against the Batman, throwing his weight up and thrashing to all sides. "I have to help him!"

"Not that he was making bad ones. I just felt the guilt on me for decisions he was making."

"Robin, stay down!" Batman dug his forearm into the kids collar bone.

Gordon should stop this. Something was off.

"And I didn't like it. I snapped."

The boy was trapped. Trapped, and that man was falling falling falling. Gordon could almost feel the screams running through the kid, in him and becoming Robin in some place he did not know. Did not want to know.

He could draw out his gun. Say enough and demand the boy be let go. But there he was thrashing, Batman the stoic and him wild and cursing.

Jim had never heard Robin curse before.

"No! Let me help him!" But he was pinned. "You son of a bitch!" Robin threw back an elbow into his mentor's throat and squirm out from under his chest. Batman let out a choked gasp but managed to grasp the back of Robin's collar, right where his black cape began.

Robin let out a hoarse shout and whirled around in a round house that Batman deflected at the last moment, his hand whipping away from the force with a sickening crack.

"It was time for me to leave."

"ENOUGH." He commanded harshly, and with his good hand he threw the back of Robin's head into the hard cement of the roof top and repeated the action again when the boy latched his ankles around the back of Batman's knee and pulled the man towards him. Batman stumbled forwards until almost all his weight was leaned over the boy. Robin didn't rise again.

"I needed to make my own choices."

Gordon watched as Batman let a gloved hand ghost over the boy's throat before skimming the back of his head. The glove came away clean; no blood in sight. He sighed and picked Robin up, gentle in a very un-Batman like manner.

From the shadows Gordon looked on with a mute sort of shock. Never before had he seen Batman strike his protégé, and after that he hoped to God he never would again.

Three weeks and a single shot later, and he knew he never would.

He couldn't decide which was worse.

Nightwing tilted his head up, giving the impression of eye contact. Maybe from his perspective he was.

Gordon locked his eyes on the centers of the white field of the mask, "He beat you. It saw it, kid, so don't go about denying it."

Nightwing shrugged, "That one time. And if you got to see what else was going on, you probably would have helped him."

"He hit you before that." Gordon said it like he knew it was true.

Nightwing shrugged again. Jim clenched his jaw.

"I thought he was going to kill you." His voice cracked oddly, his mouth twisting as if being restrained painfully.

Nightwing shook his head slowly, dropping his gaze to the board, "He saved my life," he said simply.

Gordon followed his gaze and pretended to study the set, "He stopped you from helping that man."

"That man was already dead, Commish." He eyed the board and tilted his chin pointedly, "I just didn't want to see it for what it was."

Gordon wondered why he was even pretending here. The kid had him beat half a dozen times since the game started. He was just drawing all this out. Gordon wasn't even paying attention.

"Fine. So you weren't getting along." He nudged a piece forwards and shivered with goosebumps. It always seemed freezing in his office lately, "I saw you get shot."

Now the grin was back for real, child-like tug at his lips and in his tone, "I've seen you get shot too. And poisoned, and hit by a car –twice– and mauled by the Man-Bat, and strangled by a purple weed and–"

"Nightwing."

Gordon froze.

Nightwing's smile didn't waver. Gordon almost didn't like how young he looked when he smiled like that.

"Bats." He grinned, "You're back early."

Batman. Gordon eyed the shadows until the cloaked figure materialized out from nothing.

"Something you something you seemed to have been aware of long before I did."

"What?" The smile turned from fond to teasing.

"You're all packed and saying good byes." His tone was uninflected, "Sounds like you were planning for an early take off."

The smile dropped. "I just had a hunch." Nightwing shrugged, "Someone once told me to trust those."

"Good advice."

Nightwing stood up, "Believe me, I know." He interlocked his long fingers and stretched his arms above his head, "I guess I should take off then –"

"Stay."

Nightwing paused mid stride.

"At least for tonight. Stay." The words were a command, but the tone left him the chance to refuse. He didn't.

He dropped his arms, "Okay." Nightwing said slowly, "I'll just leave in the morning then."

Batman nodded, looking as if he wanted to say something else. Instead he turned towards Gordon, "Commissioner," he acknowledged before disappearing into the darkness outside the window, not once letting his back be turned towards Gordon.

"This isn't over Batman. I'm going to hunt you down and put you up for reckless endangerment of a child and murder."

Gordon swallowed when he was gone. "He never told me you were alive," he said softly, "I blamed him for your death."

Nightwing looked at him oddly, "That's because he blamed himself. I didn't die, but I really could have."

"Was it his fault?"

Nightwing looked out the opened window, the white gaze of his mask far away from the office. The office lighting Gordon could see a raised scar running into his hairline from the back of his ear, not quite covered by the inky hair falling nearly to his chin. "No," he said slowly, "it really wasn't."

He moved with a soundless grace to the open frame, blending into the dark like ink into oil. "Good game Commish."

Jim stared. "Nightwing."

He wondered if he was already gone.

"Yeah?"

Gordon swallowed thickly, "Tell him– You tell him that this changes nothing."

Nightwing didn't respond.

Gordon sat in front of the unfinished chess game for hours. Nightwing could have beaten him. Should have. But here it was, not over yet.

Anything to keep this kid from dying.

Anything.

So… Don't know. Alright, feel free to leave some feed-back. I do know where this is going, which is always nice.

-KydChyme