::Insert all the legal mumbo jumbo here. We all know the drill: don't own
Nightwing.god is that a crime.please R&R if you can!::
::Chapter One::
It was going to be one of those nights. You could feel it, even see it in the dank smelling, icy air of the city. The wind swept by with drops of newly fallen rain that had begun to fall harder and faster with each passing moment. Dick sighed grimly, it was definitely going to be one of those nights, he thought again. Pulling his jacket closer about him in a futile effort to stay warm, he glanced down at the ground before him. Spots of rain presented the tombstones with a multicolored appearance.
"Evening Mom.Dad."
He muttered hoarsely. Quietly he kneeled down upon the grass, feeling the wetness of the ground seep through his jeans. His hands grasped around one of the tombstones tightly as he leaned forward and rested his head against the cool slab of stone. Tears began to wind their way down his chiseled features as his shoulders began to shake with quiet sobbing.
"Sometimes I wish you were still around. Tonight more than ever."
He finally managed to utter. The wind howled, ripping through his already tousled hair. It was yet another similarity that he shared with his surrogate father, his partner and friend, Bruce Wayne.The Batman. As much as he tried to distance himself from the older man, there were just too many likeness' that they shared. Bruce always visited his parent's graves on certain regular occasions and also whenever things got a bit rough and he needed to pour out his soul. Dick had done the exact same thing on many nights previously in his life. It had been weeks since he'd visited the cemetery last, but the passing days had steadily grown more intense for him.
Sometimes he hated Bruce; or at least thought that he did some of the time. He could never really hate Bruce, but he could certainly get frustrated and angry with the man. He did that a lot, especially tonight. Why couldn't he ever just be supportive and happy? Dick thought bitterly. He scoffed at his own thought. Bruce happy was like saying Gotham or Bludhaven were the best places to live. He shook his head, drops of tears and rain flying from his hair and face. Alfred was proud of him, so was Barbara, even though she did worry about him.
"Why can't I be someone other than Nightwing and Richard Grayson? Why can't he let me be happy as Officer Grayson?"
He asked the impassive objects in front of him. Silence, as always, but at least he was getting the thoughts out. This was a particular thought that had been festering in the back of his mind since he first put on the badge and uniform. He recalled how unhappy Bruce seemed when he finally told him about what he'd done, and he could swear Bruce looked upon his uniform with hatred. Neither Bruce nor Batman hated the police. The man had so much respect for Gordon for crying out loud, so what was so wrong with him being in law enforcement? Dick swiped at a few falling tears in frustration; he just couldn't figure it out. Was it the fact that he was doing something different from Bruce? Did he not think he was spending enough time as Nightwing? It was true that life had grown tougher trying to balance being Nightwing at night, Officer Grayson during the day and just regular Dick Grayson everywhere in between. He'd never admit to it, but all the juggling around had begun to wear him down mentally and physically. It couldn't be that he was putting himself at risk. He'd done that for years at Batman's side as Robin and then on his own as Nightwing. So what was it? Why did Bruce seem to despise him so much for having become an officer?!
"Damn it!"
The words ripped through the air as Dick slammed his fist into one of the tombstones. Blood trickled down from the now torn skin on his knuckles. His body went limp as he curled up close to the two tombstones, resting his tired body against the firm rock. Cradling his now bruised and bleeding hand in his lap, he leaned his head against the stone.
"I just don't get it, Bruce."
He muttered to himself. He fought with himself to keep his eyes open, but the too many sleepless nights lately finally came upon him as the darkness crowded around his vision.
::Chapter One::
It was going to be one of those nights. You could feel it, even see it in the dank smelling, icy air of the city. The wind swept by with drops of newly fallen rain that had begun to fall harder and faster with each passing moment. Dick sighed grimly, it was definitely going to be one of those nights, he thought again. Pulling his jacket closer about him in a futile effort to stay warm, he glanced down at the ground before him. Spots of rain presented the tombstones with a multicolored appearance.
"Evening Mom.Dad."
He muttered hoarsely. Quietly he kneeled down upon the grass, feeling the wetness of the ground seep through his jeans. His hands grasped around one of the tombstones tightly as he leaned forward and rested his head against the cool slab of stone. Tears began to wind their way down his chiseled features as his shoulders began to shake with quiet sobbing.
"Sometimes I wish you were still around. Tonight more than ever."
He finally managed to utter. The wind howled, ripping through his already tousled hair. It was yet another similarity that he shared with his surrogate father, his partner and friend, Bruce Wayne.The Batman. As much as he tried to distance himself from the older man, there were just too many likeness' that they shared. Bruce always visited his parent's graves on certain regular occasions and also whenever things got a bit rough and he needed to pour out his soul. Dick had done the exact same thing on many nights previously in his life. It had been weeks since he'd visited the cemetery last, but the passing days had steadily grown more intense for him.
Sometimes he hated Bruce; or at least thought that he did some of the time. He could never really hate Bruce, but he could certainly get frustrated and angry with the man. He did that a lot, especially tonight. Why couldn't he ever just be supportive and happy? Dick thought bitterly. He scoffed at his own thought. Bruce happy was like saying Gotham or Bludhaven were the best places to live. He shook his head, drops of tears and rain flying from his hair and face. Alfred was proud of him, so was Barbara, even though she did worry about him.
"Why can't I be someone other than Nightwing and Richard Grayson? Why can't he let me be happy as Officer Grayson?"
He asked the impassive objects in front of him. Silence, as always, but at least he was getting the thoughts out. This was a particular thought that had been festering in the back of his mind since he first put on the badge and uniform. He recalled how unhappy Bruce seemed when he finally told him about what he'd done, and he could swear Bruce looked upon his uniform with hatred. Neither Bruce nor Batman hated the police. The man had so much respect for Gordon for crying out loud, so what was so wrong with him being in law enforcement? Dick swiped at a few falling tears in frustration; he just couldn't figure it out. Was it the fact that he was doing something different from Bruce? Did he not think he was spending enough time as Nightwing? It was true that life had grown tougher trying to balance being Nightwing at night, Officer Grayson during the day and just regular Dick Grayson everywhere in between. He'd never admit to it, but all the juggling around had begun to wear him down mentally and physically. It couldn't be that he was putting himself at risk. He'd done that for years at Batman's side as Robin and then on his own as Nightwing. So what was it? Why did Bruce seem to despise him so much for having become an officer?!
"Damn it!"
The words ripped through the air as Dick slammed his fist into one of the tombstones. Blood trickled down from the now torn skin on his knuckles. His body went limp as he curled up close to the two tombstones, resting his tired body against the firm rock. Cradling his now bruised and bleeding hand in his lap, he leaned his head against the stone.
"I just don't get it, Bruce."
He muttered to himself. He fought with himself to keep his eyes open, but the too many sleepless nights lately finally came upon him as the darkness crowded around his vision.