Nightwing and Harley Quinn are enemies.

Dick Grayson, Nightwing's alter-ego, fell in love with Harleen Quinzel, a shy, daring, clever psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum. Among the many problems with the relationship was her alter-ego. Nighttime Gotham saw Harleen Quinzel disappear, and Harley Quinn rose in her place.

The Joker, Harley Quinn's lover, her mentor, has murdered her. Dick Grayson is faced with the pain and regret of what he should have told her when he found out that her other half, Harleen Quinzel, was just a facade. And she is, too.

Dick flipped through the air, laughing happily as he caught the trapeze bar in front of him. He could feel his young muscles work powerfully to propel him forward, his father catching his feet.

"Keep your abdomen tight." His father called. Dick bit his lip and made sure to do so as he reached for his mother's outstretched hands. She caught him around his thin wrists and he smiled up at her, her dark hair blowing behind her as she watched him.

"Now don't loosen your grip. A tight grip is key," she instructed. Dick's hands tightened around her wrists.

"It's gymnastics and flying," he grinned. She smiled wider and swung her bar faster. Dick swiftly caught the middle bar again, and hooked his knees around it. He reached his hands out for her, and she jumped from her bar. He caught her around the wrists, his grip tight, and swung her up before releasing her and letting her fall gently to the net. He pushed powerfully off of the bar and twisted in midair, backflipping out a ways so he wouldn't land on her. When he hit the net she bounced up a few feet, and he laughed. He rolled toward her when she came back down.

"How was that?" he asked.

"Remind me again why I never ran away to join the circus," she replied breathlessly.

"Be careful on the tightrope, Dick," his father told him, a broad hand resting on his small son's shoulder. "There won't always be a net there to catch you." Dick peeked over the platform at the net far below them. His father took away his balance bar. "Think of it as a tool. Other tightrope walkers may use it as an extension of themselves, but I want you to learn to walk without one. It comes in handy, improves your balance; and the audience always loves a good trick," his father winked. Dick giggled.

"I know a trick," he smiled as he took a couple of unsteady steps onto the wire.

"And what's that?" His father smiled, putting his hands on his hips.

In answer, Dick spread his arms out wide and tipped backwards off of the tightrope. His father cried out, and he heard his mother scream from below, but he just laughed as he landed safely on the net and bounced high in the air. His mother helped him down when he walked to the edge of the net.

"I like falling, Mom," Dick grinned, his cheeks flushed.

"Look out below!" Dick called, laughing. He released the bar and fell gracefully down to bounce on the net. Lee flew a few feet in the air and landed, rolling toward Dick and coming to a stop on top of him. He laughed uncontrollably and smiled up at her. He couldn't quite get over how beautiful she was. And how taken he already was by her. As he leaned up to kiss her again, someone cleared their throat down by the ring. Dick froze, his lips brushing hers.

"Slow down, Richard," his mother told him sternly. "I don't think you need to be practicing without a net just yet."

"But I can do it!" Dick protested, calling from the opposite platform. His mother bit her lip, but she nodded.

"All right, come on, my little Robin. Let's see you fly. But be careful!" She smiled, hiding her worry, as Dick readied himself on his trapeze bar. He jumped up and swung off of the platform. Gaining momentum, Dick released the bar. His mother gasped as his hands caught the center bar. It was an easy enough maneuver, but she couldn't help but worry. There would be nothing she could do if he fell. As Dick swung, his father put a hand on his mother's shoulder.

"We've seen him do this a thousand times," he reassured her. Dick jumped. His mother inhaled sharply. His hands hit the third bar and she sighed with relief. Dick swung up to them and his feet planted on the edge of the platform.

"See? I told you I'd-" His face fell as he teetered on the edge, not quite gaining his balance, and then toppled backward off of the platform. He heard his mother scream and as he scrambled for something to catch in the empty air; his father's hand closed around his wrist. Dick gasped, crying out as his arm jerked painfully, and his father hauled him up onto the platform.

"Always the little daredevil, Richard. Don't overestimate yourself."

"Wait-" She cried as he kicked off of the ledge, his arms outstretched like he could fly, and Harley quickly realized that he wasn't going to make it. Dick's fingertips caught the edge of the building she stood on, but it wasn't enough and his hands slipped. A black gloved hand reached down and caught one of his wrists. His other hand grasped her arm as a hand in a red glove clasped around his forearm to help heave him up. Dick glanced up at Harley Quinn's face as she pulled him up. Soon his elbows were resting on the ledge of the roof. She let him go and let out a tired breath as she fell to her knees.

"You need to stop following me," she told him sternly, face to face with him. She gave him a peck on the cheek. "But I don't want you to fall."

"Just relax, Dickie-bird, mom and dad aren't going to find out." His brother laughed as they snuck to the tent. "We're just practicing."

"Mom and dad said not to practice without them, though." Dick whispered.

They climbed the ladder up to the trapeze platform, and his brother grabbed the bar, swinging out on it. He laughed merrily, and Dick couldn't help but smile. His brother let go, twisted in midair, and caught the bar again, falling toward Dick. He instinctively reached out and caught the bar, his brother jolting to a stop.

"What gives, Dick?" he whined, and Dick grinned. His brother's whole weight, whole momentum, was suspended by Dick's hand wrapped around the bar. "Pull me up."

Dick grinned and leaned forward, sending them both flying out into the center ring.

"Falling is just like flying, bird boy," Harley Quinn cackled, pushing Nightwing against the fractured railing of the balcony. It gave way under his weight and Nightwing's hand shot out, firing the grappling hook from the end of his truncheon. The cording wrapped around Harley Quinn's wrist and she jerked forward, catching herself on a jagged piece of the broken railing; Nightwing teetered dangerously on the edge, suspended only by the grappling wire tangled around Harley Quinn's wrist. He glared at her hatefully.

"If I fall, I'm taking you with me." Nightwing snapped. Harley strained against the wire and his weight. She met his glare before giving up and running toward the edge.

The crowd was roaring that night. Someone famous, some rich man who was donating a lot of money to the circus was there. The Flying Graysons had always been a hit, but they were tonight's main event. Dick couldn't have been prouder. As he climbed up to the platform with his brother, he looked across the rings at his parents, where they talked nervously. His mother bit her lip. His father put his hands on his hips anxiously.

As the ringmaster announced them, Dick grinned. Their first maneuvers went smoothly. Dick swung up and landed on the platform, bending over to chalk his hands in the bucket, waiting for his brother to swing up behind him. A horrible scream filled the air, a collective gasp of the audience, and Dick whirled around. His mother's trapeze bar had snapped in two, and he watched her fall, without a net. She'd been holding onto his brother. As his father dove to catch them, the ropes holding his bar slipped. His feet jerked off of the pole and Dick screamed, the sound muffled by the shrieking of the audience. Dick couldn't take his eyes off of them as they fell, almost in slow motion, and hit the ground. His heart stopped. A man in the audience stood. Dick raced down the ladder as quickly as he could, his blood rushing cold in his ears. Racing to his family, he shoved through the crowd that had already gathered. A tall, broad shouldered, dark haired man in an expensive suit stared down at the three bodies. There was so much blood. Dick dropped to his knees, tugging at his mother's arm. Everything around him grew dark as he dragged her into his lap, his eyes still wide with shock.

Dick turned Harley's limp body over in his arms, holding her to his chest. The circus was empty. He pressed his lips to Harley's forehead, his whole body trembling; Batman standing over him exactly the way that Bruce had when he'd held his mother fourteen years ago. Dick pulled his Nightwing mask off of his face and buried his nose in her bloody hair.

"I should have been there to catch them. To catch you. I'm so sorry, Harley. If only I'd said I love you."

Dick jerked awake, in a cold sweat and gasping, his blood icy in his veins. He looked around the room in horror, terrified of what he'd just seen. The knock that had woken him came again, and Dick threw the covers off of his waist as he got up.

When Dick answered the door of his apartment, Barbara covered her mouth. The bruising on his nose and his forehead had gotten worse, and his eyes were rimmed with red and empty of emotion. Dick sighed slowly and looked at Barbara, leaning on the door as if it was too much effort for him to even stand up straight.

"What do you want?"

"I just came to make sure you were okay. Bruce told me what happened." She put and hand on his shoulder. Dick stared at her for a moment before walking away, letting her hand fall away from his shoulder as he left the door open for her. He shuffled into the kitchen.

"Want anything? I have a couple of sodas somewhere. There's water in the tap. Maybe some coffee, too…" he trailed off, wincing as he bent over to look in the refrigerator.

"I'm good thanks," Barbara said, sitting at the counter. Dick wore a tank top undershirt, and there was more bruising on his arm. She could see the burn on his collarbone where the seat belt had dug into his skin in the crash. He winced again as he straightened up.

"Suit yourself," he muttered, running a hand through his hair tiredly.

"Dick you look terrible," she told him.

"Thanks for the heads-up, Babs, I almost felt like I looked good," Dick snapped, walking past her back into the living room, where he collapsed on the couch. Barbara walked over and sat on the armrest.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently.

"Not with you," he muttered quietly, burying his face in the cushion. Barbara took a forced breath in through her nose.

"Then who do you want to talk about it with?"

"I want you all to screw off," Dick groaned into the cushion, his words muffled.

"Everyone's worried about you," she told him.

"Bully for them."

"Stop being like this," she pleaded. "I'm only trying to help."

"I don't want your help," he snapped, but his voice cracked. He furiously buried his face in the cushion again.

"You can't just bottle this up!" she cried, exasperated.

"Oh my, if soap operas have taught me anything…" he said sarcastically, and sat up on the couch. He glared at her, but didn't say another word.

"It isn't fair to get angry at me for this," she snapped at him. Barbara closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Why are you being so incredibly difficult?"

"Because I don't want to talk about this, least of all with you or Bruce. You both hated her, after all," Dick growled angrily, getting up from the couch and walking back to his bedroom.

"Dick we didn't hate her; we were worried about you. You love too easily. And it looks like we were right to worry," Barbara said, standing up. Dick hesitated and turned to look at her.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" he demanded, narrowing his eyes.

"That means look at yourself," she told him. "Forget who she really was, she broke your heart, and that was what we were afraid of."

Dick's face twisted in anger. "It wasn't her fault."

"Dick, she chose the Joker. How was it not her fault?"

"She was insane!" he shouted. "She didn't know what she's doing!" Barbara put her hands on his shoulders.

"I think you need to look at this clearly to see where the blame really lies," she whispered. Dick shoved her away.

This is my fault. I should have said something to her- my last words to her were a threat and now she's gone. Dick glared at Barbara angrily. "I know where the blame lies, dammit, and I'm seeing clearly enough." He looked down, his hair falling over his eyes. "She shouldn't be dead…" he whispered.

"Dick you can't blame yourself. She made her choices long before she met you. You couldn't have done anything. It wasn't you who pushed her, okay?" she pleaded. Dick closed his eyes.

"It wasn't me." he said hoarsely. "...I'll kill him, Barbara. I swear to it."

"Dick that's not what I meant," she said alarmed. "The answer to this isn't revenge." She caught the look on his face. "And I'm not saying it's forgiveness either. But maybe the blame isn't on one person here. Maybe this was meant to happen."

"Don't say that," Dick said weakly, not meeting her eyes.

"Dick, I know none of this is easy, and there is nothing I can say that could make this better. But you have to remember that this isn't your fault, even if you won't see the blame in what she did." She didn't say anything else until Dick met her eyes. "In fact, I would say you were probably the best thing that could have happened to Harley Quinn over the last few weeks." Barbara smiled sadly. Dick looked down, and he closed his eyes angrily.

"I'm so sick of crying already," Dick whispered, his voice thick. "I don't know what to do."

"I don't have any sympathy for you there," she told him with a smile before pulling him into a hug. "I spent a lot of hours crying over you."

Dick pulled away from her, turning his back on her. "You still have me," he said furiously. "I made a stupid decision. I told her that I couldn't love her because of who she was. And now she's gone, and I'll never get to tell her that I changed my mind."

"Dick you not accepting her doesn't change anything. She broke the Joker out of Arkham for Christ's sake. She was who she was."

"It doesn't matter. You don't understand, anyway, Barbara." Dick said angrily. "It may not change anything now, but it could have. If I would have told her how much I loved her, maybe she wouldn't have pulled a stupid stunt like kidnapping Batman. She could've lived. Even if she hadn't. Even if it hadn't changed a damn thing, I should have told her that I would've tried. I should have at least made an attempt to understand her. To help her!" he shouted, his sorrow boiling over to fury now.

"Dick the only person who could help her was herself."

"You don't know that," his hands shook with anger.

"She was a psychologist who was a psychopathic killer by night! There is no way she didn't know she was crazy."

"But someone could have helped her! I could have helped her! I could have saved her!" Dick shouted, punching a hole in the hallway wall. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he sank to the floor, his back against the doorjamb. He panted weakly. "I could have… saved her… I should have been there…" He looked down, and Barbara realized that he wasn't just talking about her sanity, or her double identity.

"You couldn't have known." She kneeled down beside him. "There's no way you could have known you'd need to be there to catch her."

"That doesn't matter. I should have been," he whispered. Barbara took his face in her hands gently and made him look at her. He met her eyes, and then she pulled him close, holding him tight. Dick inhaled shakily and buried his face in her hair, clinging to her shirt as he choked back a sob. She stroked his hair gently and closed her eyes.

"We're all here for you, Dick. Don't shoulder this burden alone."