A/N: As I won't be online tomorrow, I decided I'd upload this chapter early. So you know, no chapter tomorrow. But things should be back to normal on Friday. Sorry for any inconvenience.

January 16th, 12:03 AM

Kid Flash had arrived in Blüdhaven during the afternoon, but was well aware of the futility of seeking Nightwing during daylight hours. He'd hung around the city in civilian clothes, taking in the atmosphere and looking for likely trouble spots where Nightwing might be inclined to hang out.

As darkness began to fall, Kid Flash felt a twinge of unease. That sixth sense used by every superhero to sense danger was telling him that there was something in the night that he did not want to meet. There was a chill in the air that had nothing to do with temperature. A predator stalked the night, a perfect killing machine, which Kid Flash had the uncanny impression was as aware of his presence as he was of it. He didn't know where it was, but the eery feeling of something preternatural easing its way through the dark was hard to ignore.

He knew then, and perhaps always had, that he would not be finding Nightwing. Nightwing was going to be finding him.

This suddenly seemed like a bad idea. Kid Flash couldn't remember the last time he'd felt nervous walking an ordinary street, even in a bad neighborhood. His speed and racing metabolism were enough to protect him from virtually any normal attacker. And yet, he felt the danger increase with each passing second. As the sky turned black and the majority of Blüdhaven's population retreated to their homes, he felt almost on the verge of panic.

He knew why. Something unseen was hunting him, following his every movement. He tried running for awhile, but sensed that whatever it was could predict his movements, or somehow follow them, perhaps from above. The only place of safety lay outside the city of Blüdhaven. But he couldn't leave. Not until he'd spoken with Nightwing.

And so he pressed on, breath frosting white in the frozen air, walking silent icy streets, waiting for he knew not what, yet had every sense alert for. He looked up from time to time, both expecting to see Nightwing on a rooftop and knowing he would not see Nightwing until he wanted to be seen.

He finally stopped in an alley. Whatever or whoever was following him, they were going to have to come and get him here, or go on with whatever business they had elsewhere.

"I knew someone would come," the voice behind him both did and did not startle Kid Flash, and he turned to face the shadow figure... Nightwing "but why did it have to be you?,"

He stood with his feet apart, holding an eskrima stick in either hand, head down but eyes forward, piercing gaze boring right through Kid Flash as though he wasn't even there.

Kid Flash knew the voice at once, and knew the eyes as well. But the rest was a stranger to him, including the frozen fire which burned like silver ice within his eyes. It had been Nightwing who'd given Kid Flash the bad feeling he'd had all night.

"Robin...," Kid Flash began, but Nightwing cut him off savagely.

"Robin is dead!," he nearly shouted, trembling with a feeling Kid Flash wasn't prepared to guess at "and if you've come for what's left, you'll have to fight for it,"

"What are you talking about?," Kid Flash asked, taking a step backward.

Nightwing regarded him with open hostility, in the same way he'd looked upon the many villains they'd faced together in the past, as if Kid Flash were neither friend nor stranger, but a terrible foe. Kid Flash realized for the first time just how far his friend had been driven over the edge.

"How did this happen?," Kid Flash asked "why are you being like this?,"

"You ought to know," Nightwing hissed, suddenly shifting his stance and moving more into the shadows "you helped make me this way,"

"Me?. What did I do?,"

He almost didn't want Nightwing to answer. He knew there could only be a single, condemning answer, the same one which he had told himself over and over since before he'd even left the Team. Nightwing melted into the shadows, vanishing in the darkness, then reappearing right beside Kid Flash, whispering the answer, which stung like a lash from a whip.

"Nothing,"

Kid Flash turned towards the voice, but Nightwing was already gone.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He'd never had reason to fear his friend before, there was no reason to be afraid now. No matter what had happened, Kid Flash had to believe his trusted friend and teammate was still in there somewhere. That person would never hurt him. Even if the creature on the surface wanted to, the person he knew would never allow that to happen. Nightwing would not hurt him. He had to believe that.

"Well I'm here now," Kid Flash said, glad to hear that his voice sounded steady.

The words did not have the desired pacifying effect. Nightwing was back where he'd started, slowly pacing in the same way that a caged tiger might, keeping one eye on Kid Flash at all times. Kid Flash knew it would be a mistake to move. In fact, he was beginning to suspect that it had been a mistake to come here at all. Nightwing hadn't wanted to be found, and maybe with good reason.

"What happened to you?," Kid Flash expected no answer to this, and got none.

Nightwing moved as though he were impatient to be on his way to somewhere, as if he had some place to be, or something to do which could not be done until he'd finished this encounter. He looked as though he felt hunted, paced as a trapped beast might, anger and frustration seething from him almost like smoke. And yet, there was a strange look in his dark eyes, as though he had already seen the future and resigned himself to it. He was waiting, Kid Flash finally realized, for the end.

It could be the end of their conversation, or the end of the world. Either one seemed equally likely, and Kid Flash really didn't want to guess which it might be. Suddenly Nightwing stopped and looked skyward, as though he'd heard something. Instinctively, Kid Flash looked up as well, but saw nothing save the tops of buildings and the wintery night sky.

"Go home, Wally," Nightwing said, his face still turned toward the sky "you left this world behind, don't make me drag you back into it. Let me die as I see fit,"

"What?," Kid Flash felt he'd missed something.

But, once again, Nightwing declined to answer his question. Kid Flash watched him walk away into the night, and wondered if he should follow. He didn't know what he'd been expecting when he set out in search of his friend, but this wasn't it.

He felt as if this wasn't the boy he'd known at all as his friend. Nightwing was a stranger to him. Kid Flash knew nothing about him, except that his reactions were unpredictable and apparently irrational.

"Nightwing, wait," but by the time he said this, Nightwing was already gone.

He wasn't sure what to do. Normally when a mission was going awry, he'd call for backup. But this wasn't some villain that needed hunting down, or a hostage in need of rescuing. This time it was different. Kid Flash didn't see how the Team would be able to help on this one.

He was tempted to go to Batman, and demand to know what had happened. He was sure Batman knew, but he was equally certain that The Bat would never talk. At least, not so long as Nightwing maintained his own silence on the subject.

He decided that the only thing to do was stay in Blüdhaven, at least for the time being. Nightwing could find him if he wanted to. But, until then, Kid Flash wasn't going to chase him. His friend had never forced his advice on Kid Flash, what right had he to do what Nightwing never had?. He knew that Nightwing had long been aware of his desire to leave the Team, but Nightwing had never said a word about it, not until Kid Flash had spoken with him about it. Now it was time for Kid Flash to follow his friend's example. The best thing to do was to simply be there, be silent, and wait for Nightwing to come to him.

Trouble was, Kid Flash had never been a patient person. He wasn't sure that he could make himself wait long enough. But it was right, it was what his friend needed, and so he would do his best for Nightwing's sake.

Seeing Kid Flash had brought back the old familiar ache of loneliness. Nightwing didn't want to be alone. He missed the Team. But he couldn't go back to them. Even if they let him back in, they couldn't possibly overlook what he'd done, or what he was likely to do. Surely by now they knew he'd killed Batman. That was something he could never explain away, something he could not contrive a believable excuse for.

He knew that he had acted in self-defense, that it had been his only chance at escape. Truly he knew that. But it still felt wrong. Perhaps because he couldn't convince himself that he'd done it for a reason. Though there were good reasons, his reason for lashing out had been irrational. He'd simply had enough. It went further than fear or rage, or self preservation or even revenge. It was something deeper than even instinct.

And since then, little by little, his former fear had turned to anger and then to something even more deeply savage. He was a killer now, and felt not even a scrap of remorse for it. He strangely felt a perverted guilt for his lack of guilt, but that was not enough for a chance at redemption.

He'd thought he could face anyone. That his lack of feeling and his own feral nature was enough to allow him to kill anyone who came for him without hesitation. To defend himself, or to die, with equal willingness. But when he saw Wally, he somehow couldn't do it.

He couldn't bear to attack, or to allow Wally to do it either. Wally was his friend, and had wanted out of the life. He wanted Wally to have that freedom. And, if Wally was ever dragged back in, he certainly didn't want to be the reason for that. He hoped that his old friend would grant him this one thing, that Wally would go home. Nightwing could face anyone. Anyone but him.

01:30 AM

Nightwing had wandered aimlessly for a time, lost in his own thoughts. The sound of an alarm going off got his attention at once. Swiftly he headed toward the sound, coming to a stop a street or two over and climbing onto a rooftop for a better view of the area.

Someone had broken into a jewelry store. The hooded figure had already climbed back out the window, having found all the jewels secured for the night. Whoever he was, he wasn't very bright, to expect that valuable merchandise would be left virtually open to theft with nothing but a bit of glass and a cheap alarm system to protect it.

Nightwing didn't stop to think. Immediately he swept in to take the would-be criminal down. Closing in, he saw that his opponent was little older than he was. They were speaking, but he didn't catch what they said, plowing right into the other boy with his shoulder, knocking him flat.

Nightwing wouldn't be able to sort out what exactly transpired until later.

A white sedan came around the corner and a man leaped out. He came running towards Nightwing, who by this time had pinned the boy beneath him and was choking him, struggling with his own emotions, trying to regain the control which he had lost.

"Stop!. Stop, that's my son!. Get off him, you bastard!," Nightwing barely heard the words and didn't even feel the man pummeling him, noticing him as much as a bear might notice someone beating it with a small stick.

But a new sound came to him, this one he recognized at once. A siren. A police car came around the corner from the opposite end of the street, lights flashing and siren blaring. Nightwing at once let the boy go and backed off. He was out in the open. He'd forgotten to mind his surroundings and had to look for a shadowy place to disappear to. As he was doing this, a very young police officer leaped out of her vehicle and drew her firearm.

A warning flashed in Nightwing's mind. The man was kneeling beside his son. But it was dark, and the police woman was taking aim at him, thinking he was trying to hurt the boy.

"No!," Nightwing cried out "don't!,"

He either spoke too late, or his cry went ignored. The bullet fired from the gun in an explosion of sound which seemed to go down into the very depths of the Earth. The world seemed to stop for an instant, all was sound and noise drowned in the silence of horror.

No sooner had the man been shot than the officer opened fire on Nightwing, who took off running. There was nothing else he could do. The situation was too far out of hand. He'd let it get out of hand. He'd made that happen. He'd been stupid, and now... sorrow pierced his heart like an arrow.

The guilt he'd been unable to feel until now hit him so hard that he actually staggered and fell to his knees. Had anyone managed to follow him that far, they could have finished him then and there. But they hadn't.

"It shouldn't have happened," Nightwing told the frozen night air "it should have been me!,"

He wrapped his arms around himself and rocked on his knees, his body wracked with sobs whose origins he couldn't even recall, but couldn't stop even if he had wanted to.

07:20 AM

Nightwing returned to the warehouse where he'd been staying with the dawn. He had spent the night trying to think, to reason out. For the first time in a long time, he stopped to consider his actions. For so long he'd let himself run on automatic, acting without thinking. Existing without living.

He was tired. He was so damn tired. He was the kind of bone weary that comes from month after month of intense toil and difficulty. He just wanted to rest. He wanted to lie down, to stay there, long after the sun had come and gone, and just wait for the end of all things, or his own demise, whichever happened to come first.

He had not moved from the place he had originally found refuge. He'd had no need to. Nobody cared about this old warehouse. With the money he'd been earning from his job, he'd been able to purchase the supplies and equipment he needed to survive and become Nightwing.

He lay down on the sleeping bag he'd bought used at a garage sale, not expecting to go to sleep. But that's what he did, almost immediately.

And he dreamed...

….he stood in the dark once again. The place he always stood in his dreams these days. The place his soul had come to be. A place without warmth, without hope. He knew he was dreaming, and yet that did not make it any less terrible, any less real.

What are you doing here?. Are you lost?.

He bowed his head, at last resigned to his fate. He saw no alternative but to wait there in the dark, for the terrible flame to come and wipe everything away. Carried away by a rush of serpent-like flames, consumed by hate and fear. Lost. That was a good word for it. Lost in the dark.

But, for once, he was not afraid. Or angry. In a moment of clarity, the chaos of his spirit had grown still. He had no focus, no clear purpose, no goal, no reason why he did anything he was doing. But he had believed he was beyond caring, that nothing mattered to him anymore.

When the light came, it was not brought by fire. It was as if an enormous spotlight had clicked on and was shining down from the heavens. In that light played the images of the night before. The boy, the man, the gun. The roar of its firing was more deafening than it had been in real life, a sound of such force as to drive Nightwing to his knees. He fell and covered his ears, but couldn't close his eyes against the sight which was before him.

See what your self pity has done.

A man had died. An innocent man. Senseless violence had taken a boy's father from him. The images were suddenly not of that night, but a night not long before, in an icy train yard. A frightened boy lashed out at one who was both bitter tormentor and beloved father. It now came clear, that the emotion he had felt then was not the rage or fear he had supposed it to be.

This is a road which leads nowhere, yet has a clear and abrupt end.

It went still deeper than that. It had been love. The greatest hurt of all, the one he had been unable to bear, was seeing his father become a monster, consumed by vile and unspeakable evil, no longer the man he knew, but a perfect stranger using his face and name to commit terrible atrocities.

It was this that had driven him his whole life. Love for his family, for his friends, and for his city.

Wake up and live.

All was not lost. A spark of hope had been awoken in the darkness. A reason to be, to continue, to survive, and to keep fighting...

….Nightwing's eyes flashed open, and he knew what he had to do.