Dick awoke before sunrise and immediately grinned. Now that's what I'm talking about. His left side was sore from the hard concrete roof and his hand tingled with sensation. Way to go, J'onn, Dick thought relieved that sensation had returned. The buzzing behind his right ear was still there, though it had calmed to a low hum and was almost ignorable. He jumped to his feet but instantly wished he hadn't when his body angrily reminded him he hadn't eaten since McDonald's and that that meal had been forcibly evicted. Dick rubbed his empty tummy and pouted. Batman would have my head if he knew I was letting myself go this long without food. He sighed and made his way down to the streets below. Thankfully, I'm in a town where crime is king. He thought with bitter-sweet sarcasm, regarding a small deli still closed for the night.

Popping out his knife from his belt, Dick made short work of the lock. He closed the door behind him and found the cheapest produce available and began chowing down. Satisfied with his meal, Dick found his strength return and left a note on the counter explaining his plight and promising to pay back the owner in the future. Dick made his way down an alley he knew would meet up with the main road when his body shocked him with the now familiar sensation of drowning. Damn! Dick thought about nothing else but keeping his sustenance down. He willed himself not to vomit as a blinding hot light enveloped him for the fourth time and sent him ricocheting through time.

Dick, grabbing his stomach that was twisting and turning in complaint, groaned and kept his eyes shut willing his head to stop spinning. I don't know how Darkseid's powers work and I'm not going to embarrass myself by pretending I do, but this is happening way too frequently to be some sort of byproduct of unintentional time travel. Dick thought it had to do something with magic. Zatana… he thought, but he only guessed his ex-girlfriend had something to do with this whole mess. His body never liked magic and his body certainly didn't like what he was experiencing now. He opened his eyes and took in the alley. It hadn't changed, save for the lighting as the Sun now appeared around its zenith. He ground his teeth. When am I now? Dick lugged himself out of the alley and into the bustling street. The noises of the city were a welcome difference to the deafening roar of time travel. He ran his hand through his thick, black hair and regained his composure, walking out into the mass of men, women and children of Gotham.

Only happy that he kept his food down, Dick greeted a newspaper sales man with one of his award winning smiles. The sales man grunted in response and eyed Dick's clothes. Not in fashion anymore? He laughed under his breath unsure that it was ever in fashion.

The paper's headline read: GOTHAM'S PRINCE RETURNS FOR ONE WEEK. A picture of a suave, well-dressed and muscular teen leaving a plane took up the majority of the front page. Dick made a mental note to show this picture to Bruce when and if he ever got back, as the youth shown sported flowing unkempt locks similar to Nightwing's haircut several years ago. He tried to guess Bruce's age and assumed he was looking at a surly fifteen year old. Dick wondered how he was doing, why he had returned. He remembered Bruce tell him about how he trained. Alfred had sent him abroad to study, but Bruce had ended up studying a lot more than academics and only came back when he was twenty-one. Shortly afterwards, Batman made his first appearance and Bruce amassed a following of drunken party girls and wealthy playboys. I wonder if Batman is already at the forefront of that kid's head.

Dick wondered aimlessly, trying to think about happier things. One of his many talents was the ability to maintain a cheery disposition, despite the cruel and humorless situations the Universe plopped Dick in all the time. If the Justice League was manipulating time, or at least the time around him, then he concluded maintaining history as it was, was for the best. I just need to stay out of trouble and keep my head down until the League can pull me back home.

Dick spent the day in the park, watching the children play in the fountain Thomas Wayne had commissioned. Gotham wasn't all bad, but the corruption that inspired Batman's war on crime was evident without too much digging. The citizens left a wide berth between themselves and the police and made sure to keep the children away from any dark corners. Dick found evidence everywhere and was reminded strongly of the hopelessness he felt as Robin. The war was so time-consuming then. Even as Nightwing, alone in Blüdhaven, he worked less than he ever had when Robin started. Batman really had changed the city from the core. Doesn't make it any less hard knowing how I could've helped him…

The Sun began to set and Dick found it concerning how he had spent the whole time in the park and not once had a cop come to question his motives. They just didn't care here. Well, it helps me keep my head down…

As if on cue, as the park was emptied, Dick jumped to his feet hearing a trash can bang violently in an alley behind him. Several grunts confirmed something illegal was going down. Everything always happens in a damn alley way. Dick quickly checked he was alone before slapping on his mask and removing his denim.

The alley was occupied with four men. Three in the usual thug get-up which apparently never goes out of fashion, and the fourth in all black, including a ski mask. Too easy, he began to think, loving the stereotypical clothing. Before he settled the disagreement between the men, the fourth in all black had subdued the three others with several swift kicks. Dick recognized the style as a form of martial arts which focused on leg work, not the typical fighting style of a Gotham back-alley thug. He was going to let the fight end there, keeping his head down and all, but decided to intervene when the man in black pulled out a knife.

"Whoa there, buddy!" Nightwing called, performing a back-hand spring and knocking the knife into the air. He flipped to his feet and caught the blade with a cocky grin. "Don't you think winning is enough?" He asked, throwing the weapon to the back of the alley. The man in black was shorter than Nightwing initially thought. He crouched, apparently thinking about his next move and, Nightwing assumed, caught off guard but his super hero uniform.

"You know," Nightwing began, keeping his cocky attitude he knew the criminals just loved so much. "Ski masks are really dated."

The man in black lunged for Nightwing, striking several times. Each attack was easy enough for Nightwing to deflect, but he noticed the sheer strength behind each blow. He'd be a lot harder to defend against if he knew how to use all that power properly. Nightwing grinned with each blow, taunting his assailant.

"Come on," he laughed. The man growled, evidently irritated. He had taken down the three thugs without breaking a sweat and now some freak in a mask was toying with him like a puppy with a cat's tail.

The man in black slipped, tiring himself out which allowed Nightwing to put his patience to the test. Nightwing slipped his hand through his opponent's defenses and grabbed the cotton ski mask, ripping it from his head.

Nightwing jumped back, easily evading several more kicks. "You know," he started, regarding the man with a lop-sided grin. "I really wish I was surprised."

Bruce Wayne's long hair was matted to his face with sweat, his mouth contorted with both irritation and concentration. Nightwing noted how much more muscular Bruce was then he had been as a teenager, but he was disappointed. Ironically, by fifteen, Nightwing had far better training.

Bruce, as stubborn as ever, growled and jumped at Nightwing. He threw a knee at Nightwing's chin that was smacked down. Each punch or kick was batted away, adding to Bruce's furry.

"You're fighting angry," Nightwing chided, playfully. Bruce emitted some low, guttural sound and stopped to regain his baring.

"Maybe 'cause I AM angry!" He yelled and punched wildly. He noticed Nightwing's lack of offense and was insulted. "Hit me!" He goaded. "Fight back!"

Nightwing laughed, dancing around Bruce with expert agility. This infuriated Bruce even more. He reached into his boot and pulled out a second knife. Nightwing's laughter faded immediately. Bruce took his silence as a show of fear and smirked. He made to swing at the masked hero but gasped when his wrist was pinned, as quickly as lightning, to the wall behind him. Nightwing was mere centimeters from his face, his face set in a terrifying glare. The blade fell to the concrete with a somber clang. It took Bruce a moment to realize his feet weren't touching the ground. Nightwing clutched one hand around Bruce's wrist while the other lifted the boy by the neck, leaving just enough room for him to breathe.

"What do you think you were going to do, kid?" Nightwing hissed, channeling his act from his Batman days.

Bruce grunted, struggling to free himself. "Teach criminals a lesson," he spat.

"You think you were going to kill me? Kill them?" He nodded to the unconscious thugs on the ground.

Bruce didn't respond but his gaze faltered as he regarded the helpless men. Nightwing waited for his breathing to slow, making sure he was calm before letting Bruce go. Bruce fell to the ground and quickly scrambled to his feet.

Nightwing sighed and ran his gloved hands through his hair, shaking the locks with stress. Bruce starred back at him, looking him up and down curiously, but still cautious.

Nightwing shook his head. "What makes you think you can just kill people?" He asked calmly.

Bruce gave a small shrug, "They're just common criminals. Worthless."

Nightwing immediately thought how satisfied R'as would be to hear the Dark Knight say that. He shook his head and answered passionately, "No, there's no such thing as 'worthless'." He pointed to the men. "You see them? That's somebody's son, somebody's brother…" He advanced on Bruce to emphasize his point. "That's somebody's father." Bruce swallowed, but glared stubbornly. "Are you going to tell me, you'd be fine stealing a father from a son in some back alley?" Bruce didn't miss the point. His eyes darted around, looking at anything but Nightwing's masked eyes.

"No," he whispered, suddenly finding his boots very interesting.

Nightwing took in the pathetic appearance of the teen and decided to relax his voice. "You're all that's left of who your parents were." Bruce's eyes shot up at the mention of his parents, but he let Nightwing continue. "Don't turn them into murderers." Bruce understood exactly what Nightwing was talking about and nodded limply.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence before Bruce spoke again, his voice stronger. "Who are you?" Nightwing popped his lips, not knowing how to respond.

"That's a good question," he said.

Bruce wasn't impressed. "You never came back," he accused and Nightwing targeted the hurt in his otherwise restrained tone. He sighed.

"I know," he replied, feeling useless.

"You're exactly the same," Bruce stated curiously. Nightwing removed his mask and picked up his denim from the opening of the alley and put it back on. Bruce's brain seemed to be working in overtime trying to solve this new mystery and Dick found it impossible to look away. His face changed from confusion to wonderment to anger. Shocking, Dick thought. "You…" Bruce looked like he wanted to state his conclusion, but was afraid of being wrong. Dick cocked his head, waiting for Bruce's thought.

"You," his eyes narrowed in disbelief. "You travel through time." He paused and spat, "Nice outfit." Dick was impressed which left a bitter-sweet taste in his mouth. He didn't want his former mentor to be so clever in his youth. Dick didn't respond. "Why me then?" Bruce asked, connecting the dots. Dick shook his head, his mouth gapping like a fish out of water and shrugged.

Bruce ignored Dick's response and his face became stern and hurt, "Why didn't you save them?" The venom in his young, former mentor was painful.

"I couldn't," he responded, honestly. "Trust me, I tried, but… I couldn't."

Bruce took a deep breath, but Dick knew he didn't want to forgive him. He needed someone to blame and Dick found he was fine with it being him.

"But…"

"Just remember that you are their memory," Dick began. He wasn't going to leave before he knew Batman wouldn't kill. "Protect the people. Rehabilitate the criminals. Help them like your father did his whole life. He dedicated himself to helping these people." Bruce watched Dick closely. "You've got to-" Dick stopped midsentence. He clutched at his head as it began to swirl and fog violently. His body began to shake with chills and a dull roar filled his ears. The familiar and now-hated feeling of drowning took over and Dick was flung forward in time with a blinding flash of light.

Dick fell to his knees into a puddle and coughed. "Oh, God!" He proclaimed, wishing he could blow his head off. Cash and Tylenol… he thought, remembering his promise to reorganize his utility belt. Well, he thought, lifting himself to his feet. That could've gone better. He grappled to the building above in search of signs of when he landed. Oh, good.

Dick sighed, relieved as more familiar buildings dotted the skyline of Gotham. He was closer to his time, but not everything was as it should be. The orphanage, for one, was still not erected. No Robin, then. He leaped across the alley to the adjacent roof, running across the buildings in no specific path. He always thought best when he was on patrol. And if I keep going forward in time, there's nothing to worry about. Hauling himself over a roof shed, he froze. A black, armored tank outfitted with sleek, streamlined fins was parked below. He crouched, not wanting to be seen by anyone who may be inside and grinned at the familiar sight.

Dick realized nobody was inside when a rough looking overweight thug came flying through the lamp-lit street and landed into a dumpster. Dick couldn't help but grin as a tall, ominous shadow loomed over the man who was now clearly terrified. Dick was always a fan of the theatrics.

"Where's the shipment headed, Harry?" The nightmare-inducing voice sent Harry into a fit of panic.

He flailed helplessly among the garbage, trying in vain to move his bulk away from the creature of the night before him. "No, please! I've got a family, two boys… a… a wife!" He scrambled over the side of the dumpster and fell pathetically on his greasy stomach. "Please!"

Dick helplessly felt like a child again, anticipating the next move in awe.

"Down by the docks, there's a manhole marked with green paint!" Harry squealed. "That's all I know, I swear!" He held out his hands in submission.

"Thank you," Harry was lifted from his feet and knocked unconscious. Alive, but very unconscious.

Dick watched as Batman unlocked the Batmobile and glided over the concrete like a shadow. Dick's heart stopped. While repositioning himself, his denim jacket scrapped loudly across the roof's concrete. He'd never worn buttons on patrol before and the fact that he hadn't thought about being careful made him berate himself violently in his head. Batman froze.

Dick ducked but he could've sworn the Bat had seen him already. Dick didn't move until he heard the ignition start and the Batmobile race off into the night. He looked below, Batman was gone. He sighed, relieved.

The busy hustle and bustle of the day was just beginning as Dick made his way down town. It wasn't hard to see the differences between this Gotham and the one he had just left. The streets were cleaner, the people were louder and there were definitely more children. Batman had already made a real difference.

He passed an electronic sales store and saw the local news station appear. He stopped to see the date. His mouth went dry.

"Well, it sure is a happy day in Gotham, isn't it Phil?" Said the co-host sporting dynamite red lipstick.

"It sure is, Diana. The circus is in town and Bruce Wayne, Gotham's own millionaire, has announced he will be funding the festival and that all proceeds will go to charity. Now isn't that just nice?"

"He's one heck of a guy, Phil. Though we have been told, Mr. Wayne himself will not be in attendance."

Dick's brow furrowed. Not be in attendance? His heart raced. He felt like he was a volcano and was ready to explode in any moment. He had to get out of here, had to leave. This was the one day he couldn't relive. He had to move forward.

He ran. He didn't care where, he just ran. He collapsed under a bridge by a train track and covered his head with his arms. Send me forward! PLEASE! ANYWHERE ELSE!

His breathing was quick and shallow and his heart felt like it was going to burst. What could he do? I have two options…

Dick felt like throwing up as he contemplated his choices. He could either save his parents and never be Robin, never be Nightwing. Or, he could let them die and chose the life he already had. The issue wracked his body with physical pain. Anyone would think it were the easiest question. Obviously, you save your parents.

But then there was Bruce.

Could he save his parents and change his destiny while leaving Bruce alone to his fate? Who would be there for Batman? Who would make sure that he didn't fall too deep into the darkness?

He could save the only father he ever wanted, or the only father he ever had.

His stomach knotted as an image of a seven year old Bruce skipping and laughing, said, "You owe me!"

I owe you a lot more than that…

Dick lifted the plastic casing from the keypad and rubbed his chin before punching in a six digit code. The access bar took a moment before flashing green and signaling for the rock wall to slide open. It was quieter than Dick had remembered, but everything new tends to be. He slipped inside the Batcave, noticing a few differences here and there as the entrance slid close behind him. He continued deeper into the cliff side, but slowed when he heard the splatter of the waterfall. He spied the Batmobile in its regular parking space and figured Batman was also within. He smirked, finding himself growing more and more nervous.

Sneaking up on Batman was always fun, but that was when he knew Dick wasn't an enemy invading his home. If he didn't approach this right, he would end up in a lot of trouble. Especially since he was out of uniform.

He snuck up to the center of the cave and found Batman, as expected, glued to his oversized monitor deciphering clues and data. He smirked, deciding on how to play this. Batman wouldn't be totally on guard since he wasn't used to having little boys trying to surprise him, at least, not yet.

"So," Dick began nonchalantly, resting his elbow on the Batmobile. "No big plans for tonight?" Dick felt an incredible surge of satisfaction as he watched the Caped Crusader whirl around, his face a mixture of alarm and instant curiosity before it was replaced by the typical stoic mask. Dirk smirked, loving every second of Bruce's surprise. He tossed a Joker card he picked up on the way in back and forth calmly, waiting for a response.

Bruce, with his cowl draped over his shoulders, inspected Dick for a moment before quipping sarcastically, "Nice outfit. Come to give me another lesson on morality?"

Dick looked himself up and down with mock insult before hopping up the steps to join Bruce in front of the giant monitors. "Nope!" He exclaimed, prodding a finger at the black bat-symbol. "I've come to take you to the circus!" He grinned cheekily, but Bruce seemed unimpressed.

"You pop in and out of my life, never aging a day, never changing your clothes; you sneak into my cave-"

"'Batcave'."

"Batcave?"

"Batcave."

Bruce shook his head, "And then you say you want me to go to the circus with you." He paused, painfully waiting for an explanation which Dick, still tossing around a Joker card, was evidently not going to give. "Who the Hell are you?"

Dick shrugged, "Look, I'm just a guy that likes the circus and, you know what, quite honestly, has no control whatsoever on where in time he ends up." Bruce starred, completely without speech. "I thought you loved the circus."

Bruce frowned and turned back to the monitor, "Things have changed, maybe not for you, but I'm not that kid you met in the alley."

Dick sobered, his heart aching. "I know," he murmured. He sighed. "Look, just, change into Bruce, attend your own charity- I'll tell you who I am after we enjoy the show."

This peaked Bruce's attention. One of the greatest mysteries of Batman's life that he just couldn't solve was standing right in front of him, offering up a full explanation. He studied Dick intently, analyzing his face for lies. What he didn't know was he was analyzing a face he had trained to lie.

"You'll tell me everything," Dick gave a lopsided smile at the demand and nodded.

"Sure."

"Just like old times, isn't it Brucie?" Dick asked, as they entered the circus tent. He forced himself to smile despite the raging tempest threatening his very sanity within.

Bruce, frowning, gave Dick a sidelong glance of contempt and replied, "I offered you a suit. Did you really have to wear that in public?"

"You picked it out," Dick answered slyly and Bruce clenched his jaw, clearly not wanting to be in this present situation at all.

They took their seats and Dick tried his hardest to remain calm. Dick offered Bruce popcorn, but the millionaire waved it off. His face was set in a concerned glower.

"Bruce, that's not exactly the look the public expect," Dick chided, playfully.

Bruce glanced at Dick, but continued to scan the area. "Something doesn't feel right."

Dick raised his brow, "No?" Bruce shook his head and replied in a low tone.

"The other night Batman was called out here to settle a dispute," Dick listened as though he had no idea what Bruce was talking about. "Some thug was roughing up a few of the performers and threatened their lives."

"You don't say," Dick said dully.

"It just didn't sit right with me."

Before they could continue their conversation, a heavy and gray-haired Haley began his welcome to the audience and the show began. The acts rolled by like a blur to Dick. He couldn't focus, knowing what was to come. Just before he felt himself grow dangerously woozy, Haley stepped into the center ring and announced the final act.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN," Dick's heart was in his throat, his eyes watery and his head whirling with dread. "THE MOMENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! THE FAMILY THAT DOES IT ALL! I GIVE YOU: THE FLYING GRAYSONS!"

The spotlight hit the family with glorious radiance as the crowd roared with excitement. Bruce was clapping loudly, a smile almost on his lips. Dick's parents flew through the air with such poise, such grace- Dick couldn't bear to look away, though it made him sick to watch. I made my choice, he reminded himself while his hands shook violently.

His throat burned when Haley's voice echoed through the tent once more, "TONIGHT LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PERFORMING FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS CAREER: LITTLE DICKIE GRAYSON!"

Dick's eyes were glued to the eight year old he barely remembered. He knew it was soon. It was so soon. Too soon.

"He's remarkable," Dick heard Bruce comment.

"Yeah…" he whispered.

Then it all happened. As quickly as Dick remembered. First the pole slipped. Then the cord snapped. Then the world ended.

Dick's world was all a blur. He shut out the sounds of the crowd's screams and the burning lights from the ring. He crawled inside himself, into the safest hole he could imagine and there he breathed. In and out. Slowly.

When he opened his eyes we was staring at Bruce whose attention was absorbed by the eight year old boy, crying out for his parents to get up. His jaw had dropped and his body had gone still. Dick couldn't look at what Bruce was watching so intently, so he focused on the millionaire.

"He's just a boy," Bruce muttered to himself.

Dick swallowed, hard. "Go to him."

Bruce took a long second to pull his gaze from the boy to Dick. He shook his head and gaped, questioningly. He made to respond, but couldn't form the words.

Dick ordered softly, "Go to him. He needs you."

Bruce snapped his head back to watch the boy, who Dick could only assume was now covered in his parents' blood. Bruce stood slowly and stepped down from his seat, not looking back at Dick. He walked steadily to the center ring and knelt to the ground. Dick felt his face grow hot and wet, but he didn't have the capacity to think or to feel. He stood and left the circus.