Author Notes: This is my first Nightwing fic. Um, don't blame me if I've destroyed canon:p
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Dick. Nightwing. Robin. Richard Grayson.
He isn't sure who he is any more.
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He can still remember the swing of the trapeze. The feeling of being suspended in midair. The thrill of danger. The thunderous applause of the audience.
And, as always, the snap of the wire and the silent scream of his parents as they fell, fell, fell.
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Bruce Wayne.
Prince of Gotham City.
Paragon of virtue in young Dick's eyes as the powerful, mysterious Batman.
Mentor, guardian, friend. Yet, Dick knew that he was never good enough for Bruce. Never strong enough. Never smart enough.
A voice whispers in Dick's mind that Bruce was simply trying to protect him but he clamps down on it. He's always been in Batman's shadow. Even their names prove that. Batman evokes images of power, images of fear. Dick knows that he's just a fucking songbird and always the "little Robin". Just like his mother's words predicted.
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He's his own man now.
But the voice still whispers poison. He's still close enough to Gotham City for Bruce to come running.
And Bludhaven is still rife with corruption. It still isn't safe.
Part of knows that it'll never be.
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He feels like he's wearing a mask most of the time. He's not the young Richard Grayson. He's no longer the son of John and Mary.
But he's not Robin either. He dropped that mask along with the position of being Bruce's sidekick, his inferior.
Nightwing. This is who he's supposed to be.
Yet that doesn't feel right either.
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Masks falter. Personas shatter. But the person underneath never changes.
With this knowledge, Dick realises that he needs to figure out who he is. Knowing that, maybe, maybe, he'll finally break free of Bruce. Maybe he'll finally be free.