Dinner at the Manor was…unpleasant, to say the least. Awkwardly tense. Bruce seemed furious as he shoveled food into his mouth while reading the evening paper. Richard sat at the far opposite end, picking at his plate and staring at the wall. Alfred watched the pair with a raised eyebrow, but didn't say anything. At least not yet. Bruce was sure the elder would give him a good lecture later about not talking with his old foster son; but at the moment, he was too angry and too stubborn to care.

Richard stared at the plate of food in front of him. It looked appetizing – Alfred was an ingenious chef – but he couldn't bring himself to eat. His mind was still reeling with his argument with Bruce, Wally's death, his 'temporary resignation'… and the fact that he just didn't want to be Nightwing anymore. He wanted to be Robin. Robin had always found a way to make things right with his warden. Robin had always found a bright side to any situation. Robin had always managed to laugh and smile in the bleakest of times.

Nightwing didn't have any of those qualities.

Nightwing was constantly clashing heads with the Batman. Nightwing almost never smiled, and it had been forever since he'd laughed. Nightwing could only see the negative aura surrounded everything. That's what happened when you lived in Bludhaven. That's what happened when you decided to leave a part of yourself in the past, or locked away in the darkest corners of your mind.

The footage he had watched earlier only made the ache in his mind and heart grow. He missed laughing with his teammates. He missed Wally and Artemis bickering and flirting, missed sparring with Aqualad and Superboy. He missed M'gann's cute interest in everything Earth had to offer, and he missed being the Boy Wonder. He had loved doing the 'ninja thing', as Wally had called it. Disappearing completely except for his signature laugh.

Everything was different. His Team was long gone – either all grown up or dead. There was a new Boy Wonder, a new Young Justice, a new everything. And though there were benefits to being a legal adult, to being Nightwing, Richard missed his old way of life. A lot.

What I wouldn't give to be Robin again. At least one more time. Just one last time. To be Robin again…

"Master Richard?"

He was interrupted in this thoughts by Alfred poking his shoulder gently. "Are you finished with your meal, sir?" the old butler asked. Richard noticed with surprise that the entire table had been cleared already, and Bruce had disappeared. When did that happen? He looked up into the eyes of his old friend and nodded. "The food was delicious, Alfie, but I'm just not hungry at the moment. Maybe you can wrap it up or something…"

"Do not worry, Master Richard, I have it under control," the old Bat assured him, picking up the untouched meal and carrying it into the kitchen.

He remained where he was sitting, not wanting to risk meeting up with Bruce if he wandered around. When Alfred came in again with a cloth to wipe the antique table, the Bird of the Night spoke up, "Where's Bruce gone off to?"

"Patrol. He said he won't be back until past midnight, I'm afraid," was the answer. "He did say you were welcome to spend the night, though."

He couldn't help but scoff at that statement. "C'mon, Alfred, I'll stay if you want me to but there's no way Bruce invited me to stay the night. We just blew it out down in the cave."

"Master Bruce may be a bit belligerent this evening, but he isn't without his manners. He did indeed say you could spend the night here in the Manor, and if you don't believe me…"

"I believe you, Alfie! I'm sorry I doubted." Richard put up his hands, feigning surrender. The last thing he wanted was to start a verbal fight with his old butler now. "Maybe I'll spend the night. I don't exactly feel like being in the same building as Bruce right now, but I don't wanna go back to Bludhaven either." He thought about his dingy little apartment and shuddered. "Yea, I'll crash here 'till morning."

Alfred nodded, seeming satisfied. "Very good, Master Richard. Your room has already been prepared, and when Master Bruce and Master Timothy return tonight, I'll inform you that you are here."

"Tim's coming back tonight? Good – some decent company." He made that last statement under his breath as he got up and began making his way to his old bedroom.

The moment he stepped through the doorway, it was like being transported back in time. Nothing had been changed in his room – nothing. The only difference being there wasn't a speck of dust on anything. Same comforter on the twin bed, same books sat on the shelf. Even his old computer rested plugged in on the desk in front of the window with the same blue curtains.

Like I never left. He walked over to the computer and sat down in the wheeled-chair, turning on and typing in the password (he still remembered even after a year of not using it: Zatanna). He made a mental note to change it later – remembering his ex-girlfriend every time he used the computer was probably not good for the brain.

He found himself wandering to the photo files, and drew in a sharp breath when he found on particular photo that he remembered taking five years ago. There was him, all dressed up in his school uniform, snapping a selfie while holding his phone up to a tall blonde girl who could only be Artemis. He remembered taking that picture. He remembered running up to his teammate – she hadn't known he was Robin at the time – and taking the photo, laughing the whole time.

"We'll laugh about this sometime!" He remembered shouting that at her before running off, doing the 'ninja thing'.

"We never did," Richard breathed, back to the present time. He had never even shown Artemis, who was now Tigris, the picture. We never did laugh about that.

Then, he drew up another photo, this one being risky and a secret – Bruce had forbidden him from keeping any connection to Robin or the Team in his room. To protect his identity. But he had kept this one picture: a photo of him, Wally, and Kaldur, all standing together and making goofy faces. On the bottom, he had photo-shopped the words Today's the Day! in bold text.

He remembered that day too. Their first mission as a Team had been a success. It had been their first day as an official team, their first tour of the Hall of Justice. The first time they were more than just sidekicks. He remembered the three of them, all sneaking through Cadmus labs, freeing Superboy, becoming the best of friends.

"Did you know?" he whispered, talking to himself but also to the picture of the three smiling, laughing boys. "Did I know that that day was the beginning of the end?" Beginning of the end…

That day, they became a Team.

Now, he had no team. And Wally was dead. And Rocket and Green Beetle were dead too. And Batgirl was leader with Kaldur. And Batman had a new Robin. And Gotham was no longer his home. And now, he didn't even know if he had a home. Haly's Circus, his first home, had been closed down two years ago. His parents had died nine years ago. Bruce only argued with him now, Alfred didn't recognize him, Jason was dead, Tim was part of his old Team…

Nightwing didn't grieve. Nightwing didn't cry. Nightwing didn't fall to pieces, or show any weakness…

But Richard Grayson did.

He couldn't hide it any longer. After making sure the door was closed, Richard shoved himself away from the desk, and rolled over to his old bed. He collapsed onto it, breathing heavily as he tried to regain control of himself. He couldn't. He couldn't stop now.

He had no team.

Wally was dead.

Dead.

The best friend he had ever had was dead. They'd never laugh again, or hang out. Wally would never crack a grin, or make some stupid remark, or flirt with Artemis, or spar with Superboy. They'd never be partners again.

They had been like brothers. And now all of that was over.

He had died in front of his very eyes! He should've done something! Should've pulled Wally out of the battle, told him it was too risky! He could've and should've done something!

And yet he had done nothing!

"Today's the day!"

Did he know that first day as a Team would be the beginning of the end?

The end of his team, the end of his partnership with Batman, the end of everything he cared about.

Artemis was now Tigris. The Light was still plotting and scheming. Roy Harper, his other friend, was actually a clone of the real guy, and was married to an ex-villain. The real Roy was now Arsenal, and he hated Nightwing.

Fool! He was a total fool!

Richard shoved his head against the mattress. Maybe he would suffocate this way, and end everything.

But eventually, his head jerked up and he gasped for air. Stupid survival instincts!

He settled for just lying on his old bed, thinking about how everything he had once held so dear had fallen apart, and he hadn't been able to stop it.

He just wanted to go back in time and be Robin. Just be Robin. The laughing computer hacking ninja with the short stature and talent at stealth. He wanted to be Wally's best friend, Kaldur and Batman's protégé. Archenemy to the Joker even! Yes, he missed bickering with the Gotham villains too! He had given up the bantering and witty remarks a long time ago, and now the Bludhaven desperadoes saw him just like they saw the Batman. A man of shadows. Not even bothering to acknowledge except maybe point a gun at his head.

He was a shadow.

And he didn't want to be.

Wally was DEAD!

Why was this so hard to accept? Wally was dead, and he wouldn't ever be coming back.

Please let this be a nightmare.

He knew it wasn't.

He didn't even recognize himself.

He just couldn't hold it anymore. All that cool, composed aura that Nightwing held shattered into pieces, and Richard Grayson didn't have the strength to rebuild the mask he always wore.

When the first tear came, the others followed freely. And he couldn't even stop it, much to his chagrin. Every time he tried to stop, he would think of Wally, and his old team, and the fact that everything had fallen apart.

He did it silently, though. Nightwing didn't show weakness.

That didn't mean he never had any.

He suddenly felt like he had nine years ago, when his parents had died.

Lost.

Alone.

Overcome with loss and longing and grief.

Wally was dead, and he was beginning to fear Batman hated him. After all, he had the new Robin now. Tim was now Bruce's son. He was Nightwing, Bird of Bludhaven.

And to Gotham, he was nothing.

He fell to pieces silently in his bedroom, slamming the light off and drowning in the darkness.

.

::::: ::::: ::::: ::::: ::::: :::::

.

2:30 am.

The Batman slipped into the Bat-cave silently, as was his nature. Patrol had produced nothing. I suppose aliens almost taking over the Earth caused even the villains to take a break from crime tonight.

As the Dark Knight hung up his cape and cowl, he noticed a familiar red and black uniform hanging on the hook. Tim was home.

Tim being home reminded him that he had told Alfred that Richard could stay the night as well. He wondered if his former ward had accepted. Probably not. Why would he after arguing with me earlier?

The Bruce Wayne side of him actually thought about apologizing to his former partner; but then the Batman came out and smashed those thoughts into the dirt. Why should he apologize? Richard was an adult, and adults sometimes squabbled. Richard has also been the one to come into his mansion and start an argument.

It was once his home too.

But then he walked away.

Was that what he was still upset about? Richard moving out – no, storming out – on him a year ago? "No." The Batman talking to himself? Correct – he was only human after all. "I'm not upset about that." His voice was just above a grumble as he marched up the stairs exiting the cave and entering his Manor.

Everything was silent; almost. What caught Bruce off guard was that Alfred was sitting in the living room, quietly reading a book. "Alfred, what's wrong? Do you know what time it is?" The Batman giving his butler a curfew? Actually, this time the answer was 'no'. But Alfred was like his father. Concern was the appropriate word for this situation.

"I wanted to speak to you, Master Bruce, before retiring," was the calm reply. "You see, I'm concerned about Master Richard…"

"This is about Richard? Look, Alfred, he'll be fine." Bruce didn't even let the poor man finish. "He's Nightwing now, and from what I've heard his team say, he can handle himself. In combat and out."

"He quit on his team, remember? Right after losing Mr. West. Master Bruce, don't you think it might just be possible that Master Richard cannot handle what is going on right now? Emotions can be powerful things, sir."

"What are you talking about? Richard is a capable adult who…"

"He's an eighteen-year-old boy, sir." It had been a while since Alfred had raised his voice against his 'master'. That didn't mean the old man had lost the gall to do such a thing, and right now, it felt good for him to finally vent all the frustration he had been feeling towards the man whom he thought of as his son. "He's just lost his best friend, Bruce (That's right, not Master Bruce. Just Bruce.) and he's trying to hide the grief instead of face it. Not to mention the tension between the both of you. It is suffocating. The fact that you and him hardly ever speak besides mission talk is simply…wrong. Wrong, and I believe you know it. But you both are too stubborn to admit that you are both wrong and that you both need to make a change."

Bruce stared wide-eyed, trying to keep his dark demeanor but only managing to look speechless. Oh, Alfred, I hate your guts. Not even Superman had the courage to scold the Dark Knight in such a manner. "Alfred, now is not the best time…"

"Now is the perfect time, sir."

"It's two-thirty in the morning, Alfred!"

"I passed his room a few minutes ago. He was not asleep."

"You know that…how?"

There it was. The Alfred-glare. "I have my ways. I heard him."

"Heard him doing what?"

"Go see for yourself, Master Bruce." There. The comport act was back on. Pennyworth the Fearless was hidden back under the calm demeanor of Alfred the Butler. "I do believe it is high time you two had a little chat anyways. It's time you talk with your son, sir."

Bruce managed to blink twice at the older Bat, mind zipping and fogged up by the sudden outburst from his butler. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it, opened it again; and then, frustrated, the Dark Knight silently trekked towards the staircase, taking each step slowly so he could have time to clear his mind.

He was brought back to reality when he heard Alfred cheerfully call, "Good-night, sir!"

He looked behind him, but Alfred had already disappeared from the room. Just like a Bat. Bruce couldn't help but smile a bit to himself. That crazy old man…

He couldn't deny Alfred had a point. Richard hadn't just been his ward – he had been his son. It was time they talked.

When he reached Richard's door, he hesitated to knock and he hesitated to just open it. Alfred was right – Dick was still only eighteen – but that was a legal adult. After a few minutes of warring in his head whether he should even talk at this hour of the night at all, he finally just tapped lightly on the wood.

At first there was no answer. Bruce stood there, awkwardly, and then knocked again. When he still received no reply, he settled for the fact Richard was asleep; but then, just out of curiosity, he slowly turned the door handle and looked inside.

When he saw the lump on the bed that was his former protégé, for just a second, Batman found himself looking at his thirteen-year-old foster son, curled up on the mattress, sound asleep while his overprotective guardian watched in silence. For just a second, Bruce was pulled backwards to five years ago, when it had just been him, Alfred, and his partner, keeping the streets of Gotham safe. Then, his mind cleared, and he was brought back to the present day.

Richard seemed to be asleep, knees drawn to his chest underneath the comforter, arms wrapped around himself in a protective manner. Bruce felt like he was trespassing, but he took a few steps in without making his presence known in the slightest. The Batman knew how to move without a sound – he practically lived his life in the shadows, when he wasn't head of Wayne Tech.

He watched the boy quietly for several minutes, not knowing what to do. Alfred had said he was awake. Alfred was obviously wrong. He turned to leave, when a thought occurred to him. Either that, or Richard is awake, feigning sleep because he doesn't want to talk to me. That thought made him want to frown and smirk at the same time. He turned back so he was facing the bed and crossed his arms. Then, ever so quietly, he whispered, "Richard."

And, immediately, a pair of familiar blue eyes opened up, and glanced at him. "Bruce." A statement, not a question. He'd been awake. Slowly, Richard sat up, and stared at the older man, a neutral expression plastered to his face.

Bruce shifted uncomfortably – yes, even the Batman could be uncomfortable at times. Richard simply stared patiently, waiting for one of them to speak. A battle of wits over who could remain silent the longest… Everything's a battle with us nowadays. He scowled at the thought.

Richard noticed, and mistook the scowl for a Bat-glare directed towards him. He looked down at the ground and mumbled, "Is there something you needed?"

Yes, I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to apologize. I want to make things right between us, Dickie. But of course, even though the thoughts were there, Bruce had never been a man of words – or expressions. He couldn't find a way to say it out loud, so he simply stared at the younger man in the bed, silent and menacing, even if he didn't want to appear that way.

Richard peeked up through raven locks that feel in front of his eyes. He saw Bruce staring at him, and looked back down, biting his lip. Damn, Bruce, are you emotionally retarded or what? Even so, he couldn't blame him completely. It wasn't like he was doing any talking either.

He couldn't been more surprised when he suddenly felt a firm but gentle weight on his shoulder. He jerked his head up to see Bruce staring down at him, one of his large hands resting on his shoulder in a comforting gesture.

Yes, that's right. Richard remembered now. The Batman didn't use words. There had been a time, back when he had been Robin, when the two of them didn't need vocal communication. They had their own secret code, their own private language…

That was what Richard missed the most. He'd been too caught up in him trying to be an adult and lead the Team that he had forgotten completely about what it had really been like as the Batman's sidekick. The bond he'd once held with his mentor. Partner.

Father.

Bruce was still silent, and from the angle Richard was at, he looked frightening as well. But he honed back into his old senses, and saw the twitch in the older man's lips, the barely noticeable softness in his eyes. Translated: (I'm sorry).

He's apologizing? Richard gazed up at him, eyes widening just a tiny bit, muscles beginning to relax under the familiar touch from his father. Translated: (I am too).

Bruce got the message. He now took this time to observe his son. Richard looked tired, exhausted, drained; but then he noticed tiny, faint lines running from his eyes to his chin. Barely visible, but nothing slipped past the Dark Knight. Had Richard been crying? The thought seemed absurd to him, but then again, with all the stress on top of Wallace's death…

"We need to talk," he said finally. The way it came out of his mouth, it sounded like a harsh order, like a reprimand. Richard was almost inclined to scowl – but he once again looked for the minor details. He saw the lift in Bruce's eyebrows, the faint crease in his brow. The older man really did want to just sit and talk with him. He gave that bare smile of his and nodded, looking down. Silent message, translated: (I'd like that).

The hand was removed from his shoulder, and Bruce walked into the hall, not looking back. He was expecting Richard to follow; and he did. He slipped out of the bed and silently followed him as he always had as a small child. It wasn't until he reached the stairs that Bruce looked backwards. He noticed Richard had slept in his jeans and shirt. He raised an eyebrow, and as he turned to start walking down the steps, he mused on the fact. I do that too sometimes. When I'm tired from patrol or work at Wayne Tech. Hm. He liked the idea he had something in common with the young man.

Have you already forgotten all the things you do have in common with him? It's only been a year, Bruce. THINK. He had once been your second half, the light to your life of shadows.

Richard easily caught up with his guardian, and the two walked side-by-side into the kitchen. They paused, though, in the doorway, and both unknowingly gave the same amused smirk as they saw two cups of a rich smelling, creamy beverages sitting on the kitchen table. There was also a little card, with the neat words For Your Talk, Good Luck. –A printed neatly in swirling letters.

Bruce allowed himself a small smile. Alfred. Of course.

What almost made him jump, though, was the small chuckle that came from his side. He looked over to see a grin illuminating Richard's face as the young man softly laughed. It was a bit deeper than how it had sounded when he was thirteen, more rich and filling; and it was also a sound Bruce hadn't realized he had missed. A sound that had once echoed constantly through the Manor was now a rare treat that made Bruce Wayne, the Batman, smile. A real, genuine smile.

Richard heard himself laugh, and couldn't help but grin.

He could laugh again.

It felt nice.

Everything else had changed.

He could still laugh.

The signature chuckle came so easily to him. How did I ever forget? He risked a glance at Bruce, and his laugh intensified when he saw the man smiling right back at him.

"Alfie put you up to talking with me?" He'd guessed that earlier, this 'treat' confirmed it, but he wanted to hear the Batman admit it.

He did, with that quick nod of his head and then his own, deep throated laugh that sounded a bit awkward but easy-going at the same time. "Do you mind?"

Another burst of that unique laughter. "Not at all, actually."

The pair sat down and took a mug each. Richard stared at the table, still smiling wider when he looked at the drinks. "Hot chocolate. A perishable," he remarked lightly. "He knew you'd be talking to me tonight."

Bruce's lips curved upward a bit at the observation. Thanks, Alfred.

It still hurt. Richard still felt depressed, angry, regretful… Wally was still dead. He was still Nightwing. He was still trapped in the present time, and could never go back. There was still a new Robin, and he knew things with his old mentor would still be a bit shaky.

But Bruce cared. He may not always show it, but at least he had the tiny fact that Bruce did care. In his strange, Dark Knight way. And most importantly – the Batman cared. He could see that now.

And it also helped to know that he could still laugh like that giddy, witty, computer-hacking ninja he had once been.

It didn't stop the pain. But it helped.

.

::::: ::::: ::::: ::::: ::::: :::::

.

8: 00 am.

They'd been up late, talking, but they still awoke early enough. Bruce sat at the table drinking coffee, Richard picked at his cereal, sitting at the breakfast island. It was quiet, but for the first time in a long time, it was a comfortable silence. A relaxed atmosphere.

When fifteen-year-old Tim came sprinting in for his breakfast, he took one look at the two of them and smirked, chuckling.

Bruce raised an eyebrow while Richard looked up. "What was that for?"

Tim grabbed a bowl and joined his 'older brother' at the island. "Do you know that this is the first time I've seen you two together, in the same room, and not trying to kill each other?"

Richard cracked a grin, and met Bruce's gaze for a quick second. Translated: (You've got no idea).

"So, how'd the mission go?" Richard couldn't help but ask – his thoughts were still dwelling on his Team. That's right. His team. During their talk last night, Bruce had helped him to realize that solitude wouldn't help the grief. So he was going to return the next day. He'd already informed Batgirl, and she'd seemed eager to give him his old position back.

"You know, same old, same old." Tim poured himself some cheerios and snacked on them dry, just like Richard. "Oh, but guess what! We picked up this Spanish dude who calls himself Bunker! He might join the team!"

Well, that was news. A new Young Justice teammate. Richard chewed on the thought for a moment, then smiled. "Is he any good?"

"His hands grow really big and then he just smashes stuff? Does that sound good to you?"

"…yep."

"Yea, me too!"

Both boys laughed at the same time. Richard suddenly picked up a cheerio and flicked it at the younger boy. Tim scowled, and then playfully threw one back at him. Cereal was flying, Bruce watched quietly, amused, and Richard felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

He's a good kid. I'm glad he's Robin. For a quick flash, he felt a stinging sensation as he was reminded of Jason, which led to him thinking about Wally. But the moment quickly passed, the smile returned.

It's amazing what one night's talk can do.

The depression wasn't gone completely. He still held a small longing for being that funny little boy he remembered once being. He still wished he was the Batman's right-hand man, that Wally was still his best friend, that he was part of his original team. But at least now he had a sensation of belonging, he knew he had a home with Bruce and Tim and Alfred, and he was going back to the Young Justice.

Maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright. For Richard Grayson and Nightwing. One person, two people.

When Alfred came into the kitchen a few minutes later, the elder couldn't suppress the smile that rose from amusement and satisfaction. Richard and Tim were having a playful cereal war, and Bruce was calmly watching with a twinkle in his eye. Translated: (everything was going to be just fine).

The cheerios stopped flying as soon as both Wayne sons spotted the butler. "Gah! Alfred!" Tim nearly fell off his stool, while Richard just grinned. "Sorry 'bout the mess, Alfie."

"No big deal, sirs. I'll fetch the broom." As the old Bat walked into the hall, though, he paused when he heard Tim exclaim, "Hey, here's an idea! Why don't you come with us on patrol tonight?"

Alfred listened with a wan smile as Richard thought it over. "Maybe…"

And then he heard Bruce's firm voice. "Come, Dick. It'll provide good training. Stealth and maybe combat skills." Translated: (I'd really like you to come).

Dick didn't even scowl at the use of his old nickname. Instead, Alfred could tell the boy was smiling. "I suppose some brushing up won't hurt. Nothing like Gotham villains to strengthen combat skills, right?" Translated: (You really want me).

"Definitely. I heard the Joker may be around these parts. We'll need all the help we can get." (Yes. Really).

Then Alfred heard that old laugh that he had missed in the mansion. "Well then, count me in! I hate to admit it, but I've missed that crazy clown."

Tim hooted. "Oh yea, and he's missed you! I feel kind of rejected – every time me and the Bats go to take him down, all he says is 'aw, where's the old Robbie?' and 'you're not my Bird Boy'. Dick, it's kind of insulting."

"Don't worry, kid. By tonight, he's gonna wish I'd stayed in Bludhaven."

He made good his promise. He spent the Saturday at the Manor, catching up with everyone, the atmosphere much more comfortable than it had been for the past year. When it came time for night patrol, Dick was able to use the zeta tubes, grab his uniform from Bludhaven, and make it back to the cave in less than five minutes. He'd contacted Aqualad, asking him to watch over 'his city' while he was in Gotham, and he'd be back with the Team the next morning. The Atlantian had simply grinned and nodded.

Come on, Joker. Make my day. Nightwing remained crouched on the rooftop of an apartment building, eyeing the Gotham City Bank for any signs of the deadly farceur. Tim was positioned on the building opposite of him, and the Batman was somewhere in the alley near the bank.

Nightwing waited about fifteen more minutes before his father's voice came through his earpiece. "I've got him. Behind the bank, take the ally, stealth mode."

Both he and Tim synchronized their movements so that they both travelled parallel to each other. It didn't take long for the to spot the Joker lounging behind the bank, arranging a lovely display of dynamite against the back wall. All three Bats moved in the shadows, watching their target with interest.

"Batman, we'll need to move before he blows that wall," Tim hissed into his mouthpiece. "When?"

Before the Dark Knight could answer, Nightwing spoke up. "Hey, not that I want to take the fun away from you guys, but could I make the first move? I've missed this bastard."

There was a pause from both lines, and then the Batman replied, "Agreed." Tone gruff, but Dick managed to pick up a tone of understanding and even amusement. He smiled to himself, grabbed his grapnel line from his belt, and swung into action.

He propelled over the Joker, at the same time hurling three razor disks at him. Somehow, the clown had seen an attack coming, and easily danced out of the way. "Ooh, Batsy! I was wondering when you'd show up! Did you bring that fakester with you too?"

Nightwing was already out of sight, and the Joker left the bank wall and began strolling around the ally, looking around with those insane-filled eyes. "Come out, Batsy!"

Suddenly, something must have clicked for the psycho, because he got this look of surprise on his face, and then scrambled back to where the disks were lodged in the wall. He looked at the blue/black design, and then put a finger to his chin, posing a deep thinker. "Hm…you're not Batsy. And you're not the little faker either."

Nightwing had had enough hiding. With one quick flip, he landed only a few feet away from his opponent and smirked. "Miss me, Joker?" His voice sounded almost as dark as the Batman's, but carried his now usual aura of playfulness and mischief.

The Joker squealed like a happy schoolgirl and spun around, grinning ear to ear – literally. "Robbie!"

"Actually, it's Nightwing now. And stop being so hard on the new Robin – he's only doing his job." Dick grabbed two more disks and prepared to throw them.

Joker's glassy eyes were dancing like mad, and he began dancing in place. "Aw, but he's not you, Robbie! I've missed our little dates – all I get are the faker and the Bat. And why change your name? Ah, well… At least I can still call you Bird Boy." He suddenly burst into a deranged fit of laughter that only the Joker could pull off.

He remembered a time when that laugh had scared him. But that had been the past. Nightwing smiled. There was an advantage to being who he was.

Nightwing wasn't scared of some crazy, make-up covered clown.

He burst forward in at a speed that the Joker was caught off guard. His fist collided with a bleached-white jaw, and as the clown tumbled backwards, Nightwing let out the signature cackle, intensifying as Robin and Batman joined him from behind, all three dropping into a fighting stance.

The pain was still there.

It still hurt to think about Wally or certain memories.

But at the moment, Nightwing – Dick – felt at home.