Nightwing has always been there.

No matter what, he prides himself on his ability to drop everything and help any one of the people who depend on him. He is a son, a mentor, a partner, a colleague, a friend- a hero.

So when Batman calls him for help, of course he answers. Despite their rocky relationship recently, Nightwing flies to the aid of his former mentor. The result is a momentary glimpse at a future that is all but predictable as it grins knowingly back at him, daring him to accept the outcome.

Bzzzzt.

Dick opened his eyes, looked groggily around the dingy apartment bedroom, and then closed them again.

Bzzt Bzzzt.

He groaned and dropped a heavy, gloved hand over the edge of the bed, feeling for the phone ringing. When he finally did pick up the cracked and scratched iPhone 5, the vibrating promptly stopped. Dick stared at the screen.

Bruce.

He quickly hit redial and held the phone to his ear, burying the other side of his face in the pillows. They smelled like blood, and faintly of dryer sheets and his Axe Apollo cologne.

"Dick," Bruce answered the phone after hardly two rings. "I need your help."

And with that, he was off again. Dick dragged himself out of bed and put his mask on, and then turned from the door. He instead leapt out the open window. It was a quick burst of cold night air and the wind rushing in his ears and then his hands, lazy and relaxed from years of creating the habit, brought up his carbon steel high-tech escrima stick and fired the grappling hook from the end of it into the concrete trim of the building across the street. He yawned and braced his legs as his boots hit the brick of the apartment complex. Without even a glance downward to the street ten stories below, Nightwing flicked the reverse button with his thumb and the heavy, high-tech metal rod promptly jerked and then rocketed upward. Using the momentum from the pull, he flipped up onto the roof gracefully and landed, crouching on the ledge and staring out at the polluted expanse of nighttime Gotham.

The exhaustion had set in about eight hours ago. It was nearly three in the morning, and as Nightwing made his way across the city, falling from rooftops and sliding down heavy metal drain pipes, he couldn't help but think that this was not the most eventful way he could be spending a Friday night. Saturday morning?

Whatever, he brooded as he landed silently on the back of a Pepsi delivery truck. Nightwing promptly sat down on the top and tried to control his breathing. Normal twenty-four year olds spend their Friday nights at the clubs or with friends. If I ever get out of this… I'd be happy to spend them sleeping.

He sighed. It had been an incredibly long night. He could no longer tell if the wetness on his face and neck was sweat or blood, if the fatigue he felt was sleep deprivation or blood loss, or if that God-awful smell was his uniform or the dainty ol' streets of Gotham. He ran a hand through his matted black hair.

The old Gotham Library. Why the hell would Bruce say to meet him there? It was abandoned, sure. Secluded, yes; but not exactly the most terrific location for a criminal squatting place. Nightwing fired the grappling hook from the escrima stick to the left, and there was a quick and short k-chink as it embedded itself in the wall of the Library. Nightwing stood, wincing at the soreness in his legs, and pushed off from the delivery truck. He swung up to the rooftop and landed quietly on the crumbling shingles.

Batman stood at the other end of the building, staring darkly down at the opposite street. Robin looked bored, sitting at the edge of the wall as he picked at the laces on his boots. Nightwing made no attempt to hide his approach as he started across the rooftop. Robin looked up and his face lit.

"Nightwing!" he cried, and then his face returned to its usual scowl as he quickly tried to disguise his joy. Batman shushed him and Nightwing hesitated. He stopped at Batman's left and followed his gaze down to the alleyway, where several clown-masked thugs loaded an unmarked van with duffle bags of cash. Drug money, he assumed, and a hell of a lot of it. Nightwing put his boot up on the ledge, ready to go into action, but Batman's hand shot out in front of his chest. He had to halt quickly so as not to be impaled by the sharp vambrace on his forearm. Nightwing looked at him irritably.

"I want the Joker," Batman growled.

"So you're letting the money get away with these goons?" Nightwing hissed.

"No."

Nightwing was about to fire a snide remark back at him, but held his tongue. Years of training and adapting had taught him to hold his tongue. As they watched, however, he grew more and more impatient. Robin, too, looked restless.

Just as Nightwing was considering teaching Robin how to play poker to pass the time (he had a deck of cards in the boot compartment. Never know when playing card throwing stars would come in handy), Batman snapped his fingers quietly. They returned to the wall. The van was running, the brake lights casting a red and orange glow over the grimy brick. Two burly masked men in leather jackets stood outside of the back door to the building adjacent to the library. Nightwing counted three more in the back of the van as it's door closed, and presumably there was a driver and a passenger. Seven in all, though they were all big and heavily armed. As they watched, the Joker himself stepped cautiously out of the door of the building…

…and looked straight up at Batman.

The Dark Knight launched into action, diving from the roof and landing on one of the masked men. The five henchmen piled out of the van, and Robin and Nightwing dove into the fight as the Joker hit Batman across the face with a crowbar that he'd practically pulled out of thin air. Where the hell does he get this stuff? Nightwing barely had time to ask himself before he was literally dodging bullets.

Why do the bad guys hire thugs who have zero aim, and accuracy in the negatives? He wondered, as his escrima stick connected with the trigger-happy goon's head. He crumpled instantly. Two down, five to go. Nightwing did a back handspring and planted his feet firmly in the chest of another thug, who grabbed his foot. Kicking his face with his other boot, Nightwing managed to get away from the first man only to have another grab his arms from behind. The first man stood and threw a powerful haymaker at his face. Nightwing ducked and the fist landed on the face of the man behind him, and the hero tore his arms away, bringing both sticks down from above his head. He payed no attention to the sickening crack of the carbon-steel weaponry as it connected with the idiot's skull, and his thumb glanced over the button on the handle. Electricity crackled from the escrima stick and the miscreant shrieked loudly, convulsing in the grime on the concrete.

Robin screamed in pain behind him, and Nightwing swiveled in time to feel the cold iron of a crowbar connect with his face. His head snapped backward and he fell, getting a mouthful of not-so-friendly pavement. His head spun and he dragged himself quickly to his feet, and as he turned, Nightwing caught the crowbar and ripped it out of the goon's hands, tossing it aside. He had to focus incredibly hard to block the fierce and experienced shots coming at him. Nightwing slipped, momentarily, and the assailant got the upper hand; he twisted the hero's arm behind his back and Nightwing let out a cry of pain. Through the blood in his eyes he could see three of the Joker's henchmen had overtaken Robin and were shoving him into the back of the van.

Robin managed to struggle away from one man only to be caught by another. His right arm dangled uselessly at his side as he tried to hold his own against the men. Nightwing was forced to his knees. "Batman!" Robin shouted angrily, chopping a hand down on one of the men's necks.

Nightwing panted, barely managing to turn his head as his entire body screamed out in agony. Batman met his former protege's eyes... and then turned to run down the alley after the Joker. "NO!" Nightwing screamed.

He gathered his remaining strength, swept his boot under his attacker's feet and electrocuted him with one stick as he threw the other at the man holding Robin. It hit the goon square in the face, bouncing back to it's owner's hand, and Nightwing launched himself at the other two, taking them out in a few well placed blows. Robin coughed, holding his arm, and looked up at Nightwing; who stood and surveyed the men laying around the alley, unconscious or incapacitated, and wiped the blood from his face. More fell down his cheek.

"I could have handled it," Robin snapped. The boy's mask was torn, his costume soaked in blood. Nightwing examined him, alarmed. "It's just my arm. It's broken. No need to fuss about it."

"Let me see." Nightwing knelt in front of him. He touched Robin's arm and the boy cried out.

"Don't touch it, you imbecile!" Robin shouted. Nightwing smiled a little.

"Come on. Nice work." He said. As they exited the alleyway, they heard a cry of pain in the street. Nightwing and Robin broke into a run until they reached Batman, who was pulling himself up on the edge of a dumpster. Nightwing helped him up. "Batman? What the hell, did you fall?" Batman glared at him irritably. "Where's the Joker?"

"He got away," Batman growled, and touched his bleeding lip as he looked up at the rooftop.

"What?" Nightwing breathed.

"He got away, dammit." Batman snapped, turning to him. Nightwing bit his lip and nodded, trying to contain the fury welling in his chest. The two stood for a moment, deliberating if the other would throw a punch.

"You son of a bitch," Nightwing muttered.

"What did you say to me?" Batman hissed.

"You son of a bitch!" Nightwing shouted, shoving Batman backward. To both their surprise, it was actually quite hard, and Batman stumbled. "You stared right at me! At us! And you left us in that alley!"

"I knew you could handle yourself!" Batman snapped, his rough voice growing louder.

"No. No, you wanted the clown so damn bad that you abandoned us. Abandoned him." Nightwing gestured to Robin. "It doesn't matter if we could handle ourselves or not, at that moment we NEEDED you! Your son needed you!"

"We'll talk about this at the Batcave," Batman hissed, turning to walk back to the car. Nightwing couldn't take it anymore. He'd been awake for nearly forty-eight hours. Not only awake, but fighting, running, jumping, falling, working for two days straight. He was tired. Physically exhausted, and sick of Batman. He threw a wingding full force and there was a dull thunk as it embedded itself harmlessly in Batman's shoulder armor. The dark hero stopped short, his torn cape blowing ominously in the wind. He reached up and pulled the wingding out as he looked over his shoulder at Nightwing.

"No. We can talk here. 'Batman', these 'Robins' aren't expendable, despite what you may think." He snapped. It wasn't really what Nightwing thought, but despite the love he knew that Batman had had for each of his 'sidekicks', he was in no mood to deal with the dark and broody shit. "You did the same thing with me, the same thing with Jason and Tim. We turned out alright. Well, except for Jason, he went batshit crazy. Excuse the pun." Nightwing sighed. "But Bruce, this one isn't expendable. If he dies… you can't just find another son!" Nightwing shouted.

"ENOUGH!" Batman roared, his heavily armored hand coming right at Nightwing's face. Nightwing's arm shot up and he blocked the blow. Batman stared at him angrily, panting. Nightwing glared back, his jaw set; he wordlessly turned around and fired the grappling hook.

"Nightwing-" Batman began, but Nightwing's finger flicked across the button and the cording retracted, pulling him up to the rooftop. "Nightwing!" Batman called after him, but despite his exhaustion, Dick had already pulled his mask off and was running across the rooftops, away from his former mentor.

He didn't know exactly why he had snapped, but he decided to pin it on his exhaustion, the amount of pain he was in, and the fact that Batman had been kind of an asshole to himself and Robin lately. He didn't stop running until he was nearly halfway across Downtown Gotham, by the water's edge. When he finally did stop, Dick stood with his chest heaving, sweat and blood running down his face as he stared out over the water. Dropping down to sit on the ledge of the building, Dick sighed and looked at his bloodied mask in his hands. His breath came in short rasps past his thin lips as he felt his pulse calming, the night air cooling his flushed cheeks.

Stupid, selfish… you're acting like a child. Dick thought, sighing sadly and ruffling his dark hair. Bits of gravel and dried blood fell out of it. A child who really needs to be sprayed with a fire hose, he mused. He knew he should be getting back to his apartment, but Dick wanted to spend a brief moment just sitting still. It had been ages since he'd just laid down (actually, it had been about an hour, but still). Dick dragged himself to his feet and put his mask on as he jumped over the side of the building. He turned quickly in midair and caught the ledge, dropping down onto the fire escape. As he lazily swung his legs over the railing, Nightwing dove into a free fall, somersaulting in mid air, and then rolled to a safe landing on the pavement. He stood and his head rushed for a moment. When his vision cleared, he focused on the side of the road, where a sign pointed down to the subway tunnel.

"Oh. Subway." Nightwing exclaimed, and slid down the metal railing to the bottom. "It's four am. Why would anyone be on the subway?"

Once on the deserted underground, Nightwing stretched out on a bench. It was three stops to the closest station to his apartment building, and he felt he had plenty of time to relax. As he lay on the grimy metal, his eyes fluttered closed.

No sense in staying fully alert, at least not while the train's in motion, he thought. Enough time between stops to doze…

Nightwing jerked awake again when somebody kicked his boot.

"Hey." The husky voice snapped. Nightwing sat up, ready for anything. Three towering drunks stood, gawking at him. One leaned heavily on a support pole while the second fell across several seats. The last was standing over Nightwing.

"Hello," Nightwing said hesitantly. The man hiccuped and Nightwing could smell his alcohol laced breath. The three continued to stare.

"Do we know you?" The man leaned closer and finally said. Nightwing's eyes scanned the car. Outside the dirty windows, the concrete of the tunnel raced past. Most. Inconvenient place to fight. Ever, he thought. These thugs must have gotten on at the last stop.

"I don't think so," Nightwing tried, though he thought the Kevlar and nylon blue and black 'costume' would give it away a bit.

"Yea we do," the smallest man said, glaring through heavy lidded eyes as he tried to sit up in his seat. "That guy's Batman."

Nightwing raised an eyebrow as the third one hit the floor, staring around drunkenly and trying to discern why the earth decided to move and knock him over.

"No I'm not, I assure you." Nightwing said.

"He's the other one," the first man hissed, thrusting his neck further toward him. Nightwing's hand closed on the escrima stick at his side. "The sidekick."

"That's incredibly offensive," Nightwing muttered irritably. When the goon made a move, Nightwing's hand shot out with his escrima stick, crackling with electricity. "Don't move." Nightwing whispered, his voice deep and eerily calm. "Take one more step, and I promise you, this will hurt more than a taser."

The man stared at him stupidly for a moment, backing into the the support pole. Nightwing thrust the weapon closer to him and he scrambled to the back of the car toward his friends, where one was pulling himself off of the floor using the seats. The third looked like he had passed out.

"Stay on your side of the car. Come any closer, and I swear to God, Batman will be the least of your problems." Nightwing snapped and then winced as he laid back down across the seats. The two men pulled their friend to the far end of the car and situated themselves in the seats as the subway hissed to a stop. Nightwing closed his eyes again, the light above him flickering. He growled angrily and launched a wingding into the light so fast that the three men on the opposite end of the car jumped, and one let out a strangled scream. The light fizzled out and Nightwing crossed his arms over his eyes, wincing at the pain in his shoulder.