It's not what I had whished for. But somehow it seems fitting, to be lying in the snow, numb. Numb. Numb… I've stopped shivering by now, shivering from the cold that is. The shivers that convulse my body are from fear. Only fear. I don't feel the pain. But I should. I know I should. With this much blood around me, there's no way I shouldn't, but is does seem to fit. There was no grand end for me like I had anticipated when I became a hero, there where not white lights, no violin music rolling though the snowy hills, my parents weren't reaching out for me their body's glowing or angelic.

I hoped that didn't mean I was going to hell. I could see my breath in tiny, very tiny, wisps above my cracked lips. The hot blood, which rightfully belonged in my body, was out on the snow and steaming around me, more steam was rising up to the heavens from that then my lips. That. That frightened me. Good lord. I was dying. I was dead actually, there was no way I would live through this. It was impossible.

I didn't regret. Heck, I was disappointed, more than regretful. I was disappointed that death wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. And as weird as that sounds, death hurts. Well, not so much now I was numbed from the snow, but I promise it did hurt when it happened.

I had killed myself. That. That itself was the disappointment. I didn't commit suicide I just did something stupid that lead to my demise. To this. I'd been lying here a while, bleeding out. Waiting to die. To freeze. To fall asleep. To have this regret, disappointment. To have this numbness. Or for the life to flash in front of my eyes. Which it hadn't yet. 21 lousy years, that all I asked for. Just flash, common I want to see it once more.

There most defiantly had been lows. But then again there had been perks. The team, Bruce, Tim, Damien. And yes, Jay. Oh god, how I had been torn up when he died. The disappointment I had felt when he came back as Red Hood. It was almost like what I was feeling now. Feeling about my life.

Richard Grayson. I was happy with that life. What I questioned. Here as I was dying. Was my life behind the mask. Then again, most of my life was behind a mask. I knew that by now Bruce would be looking for me. Batman. Isn't it weird how we refer to our identities like two separate people? I guess I was separate, Richard loved. Nightwing lost.

I died as Nightwing. I look down to my blue crest, which is slowly tinting red. Good lord, I don't want to die as Nightwing! I don't' want to be remembered as Nightwing! I struggled to rip off the blue crest, then my mask. The bleeding, due to my struggles increased and I found it wet on my lips.

Tim would grieve. We were close. Oh God, so close. I had gotten too close to him. I should have known better than to let someone get close to me after my parents. Another mistake. Another disappointment. Tim would come. Tim would see. Tim would die. All my fault.

Bruce would come. He'd see. He'd kill. All my fault.

I shakily took a hand to my face and wiped off the blood. Stupid motorcycle. Stupid, icy road. Stupid drunk driver. I wasn't the drunk driver, some semi truck had slammed into me. It was 3 in the morning. I could only assume he was DWI.

He had ruined my life. Hell, he had ended my life.

I should write a note. I looked around. For Dad, for my brothers, for my friends. I struggled to roll on my side, the blood searing down my frozen cheek. I used my finger to write in the snow. The letters came out red from the blood on my hands.

What do you write? When you know it's the last thing you will ever say? What is there to say that hasn't been said? I wondered if I should write something along the lines of "check mate" or "no regrets."

I decided on "going home."

That realization was scariest enough to spring tears to my eyes, they where like acid down my cheeks. I was excited to see my parents. But I was leaving a parent behind.

Bruce is not my father. He is not my father. He is not my father. He is not my…father.

He is so much more. He is my dad, my teacher, my mentor, he is my whole family rolled up into one…one…man.

God lord, what am I doing? Why am I making this so hard on myself? I rolled back over onto my back and stared at the stars. I'll miss those. Most out of anything mother nature had to offer. Stars, my stars. Stars I reached for and most of the time missed. I was a star. Just flickering out now.

My motorcycle is a heaping pile of scrap metal, still smoking. Smoking like my blood. I realize I have smeared the ground with it. It looks like a massacre. It's scary to know it's all mine.

Why am I not dead yet? Common life, I want to see you again, flash already.

"Richard?" it's a small voice. Small and angelic. I mumble in reply. I'm tired. I want coffee. I want a blanket. Maybe a pillow if I'm lucky. "Richard?!" The voice is screaming now and I wince. The blood around my lips running down my chin. Feet are running through the snow, the crunching reminding me of broken bones. "RICHARD!"

"Quiet, kid" I mumble. It's Timmy. I know it is. I know those sobs. Those sobs are the same ones that break my heart when Batman yells at him and he cries in my arms. I soothe him. Tell him it's all going to be ok. Tell him he's got me. I hate those sobs, yet somehow right now I hate them more.

"Richard…" he's whispering now, his small hands grabbing my face. His teary eyes looking me over. "oh please God no, not my brother" his whispering is heartbreaking "PLEASE NO!" he screams his throat raw and scratchy. I grab his wrist as tightly as I can

"Timmy! Timmy! Look at me!" he does. I realize I am whispering too. I have no strength but somehow I hold onto his wrist. I brush his dark hair out of his face. He dyed it to look like mine a couple years ago right after he had taken my mantle as Robin. The look had stuck. "Everything…is going to be…okay" I said it as if I was convincing myself. Breathy. Dying. Like a ghost whispering in your ear.

My voice scared me. He looks so young, younger than 15.

"Richard…stay-stay with me?" it comes out a question.

"As long as I can, buddy" the numbness is wearing off. The pain is coming back and I squint against it, clamp my teeth onto my tongue. Timmy is laying over me trying to warm me up. "Don't," I say quietly.

"Don't what?" He looks up at me; I realize he's in civilian clothes. His eyes are bright red.

"Don't warm me up" I cough and blood gargles past my lips. "The cold is numbing the pain" he leaps off me like I had suddenly caught on fire.

"Oh my god! I was hurting you!" he sobbed "I'm so sorry" tiny fists scrubbed at his eyes. My blood was on him.

"Not your…fault, kid" we were silent. It was eerie. As if we both came to a silent agreement that nothing could be done. I feel his hand softly grab mine and it's pulled into his chest.

"D-dear God…if you can hear me. P-please help him. He's my big brother. He's my big brother." I don't know why he repeated it. "He saves me, he's the only one that does. He keeps me real and everything that hurts me…h-he makes it go away" I force myself to look at him. His eyes are closed. He's pleading. "I can't live without him. He dries my tears and patches me up when get hurt…he catches me when I fall and teaches me how to fly, like his mom taught him…" my mom. "God…he's my best friend…" I tune him out. I focus on the stars. I have to or I'll cry my eyes out. I want to tell him so bad that God can't help me anymore, but I would never crush the little hope he holding onto. Big brothers don't do that. I realize he's stopped praying and is calling out to me.

"Yeah, still here" I mutter, closing my eyes. He's rubbing my face with his thumb, wiping the blood from my lips. I hear him mutter something like "You'd better be" or "You'd never leave" or "so I can see"…

It was "I love you, D" D for Dick. One of my other names. He's telling me to stay awake, I can hear the sobs catching in his throat like hiccups. There. There's a second voice. I smile. More like a grimace. It's dad.

"Richard! Tim! How is he?!" they swap words. I hear a curse or something. Then two strong, familiar arms lifting me.

At first I don't know why I did it but when I scream for all I'm worth, the hushed silence is shattered. My brother, my dad scream right along side me. It hurts. Oh lord, it hurts. "Dickey, son, stay with me" he's pleading too. His voice is cracking. The same cracking I heard when Jay died.

"Dad, no" I say, my voice soft my eyelashes fluttering. "I can't let them see me like this" he knows I mean the team, the heroes. My family. "You've-You've got to take Timmy away" he protests, "please, dad" I see in his eyes, he knows why.

That time has come. Life still hasn't flashed.

"Timmy, go" Batman says. His voice is demanding, dangerous, warning. Solemn.

"NO! HE'S MY BROTHER!"

"TIMOTHY! I AM NOT ASKING!"

"NO! I AM NOT FUCKING LEAVING HIM!"

The curse rings in the air. I've never heard him curse before. It almost hurts.

"Please" I whisper "Timmy, just go"

"But, D"

"I will be alright" No. No I won't. But sometimes a small lie is easier to forgive than having to live with seeing someone you love die.

"Y-you promise?" he's broken. He's breaking.

"I do." He kisses my forehead. i feel bad because i'm sweating. his fingers find my cheek then he runs off, crying. He's headed for Mount. Justice. In a few minutes he be screaming at the team, telling them about me. In few minutes I'll be gone and he's be screaming at everyone. "Dad, I'm so sorry-" he cuts me off, looking down at me

"Who did this to you?" His voice is gruff, as dangerous as before, he rocking me like a child. The same way he did the night my parents died.

"Drunk driver" he looked as if he couldn't believe me

"No villain?" I know. I couldn't believe it either. I. I had been killed by a regular Joe, no grand finale, no dying in the line of duty. Nothing.

"Shocking, huh? Not how I thought I would go either" my lips twitches into a smile. He chuckles and I feel him hold onto me tighter.

"You're going to be okay, Dickie" People and their stupid hope. Saying anything to make the pain more bearable. The ones unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of such false hope play along. I did too.

"Everything will be okay" he nodded. He understood. But he didn't believe it. He reads the words written next to me but says nothing. I find myself staring at him. Is he going to say anymore? Is there anything to be said? He's looking at the crest I ripped off my chest. It's lying crumpled in the snow.

"You're my son," he says. He's not talking to me though. "You're my everything" I say nothing. Usually I would have said "you should coin that" or "you should write a song" but today. Right now. I said nothing.

Common life. Flash by. I want to see you again.

The invasion had ended 3 years ago, miraculously no one had died. I had prided myself in that, even when the others hated me for my decisions. They had gotten over it though. They had seen why. The method behind my madness. It made me stronger. I had never lied like that to them since. Well, besides just lying to Timmy.

"Richard?" I don't respond…I'm too tired. "Son?" His voice is quiet as if not to wake me, my eyes slowly click into his. It's time. Common life. Common life. Common life. Flash already. Flash, JUST FLASH! I'm getting desperate, I want to remember all the things I had done. Anything. What had I done? Then…

There it was.

The starry night sky. So many stars. So many little dots of light. Each a person I had saved. There were so many. I tried to count them…

1, 2, 3, 4 – 23-48

"Richard? RICHARD PLEASE!"

I never got to 50.

OMG SO SAD...PLEASE REVIEW THIS IS A ONESHOT. SO THIS IS ALL. BUT I DO TAKE STORY REQUESTS SO FEEL FREE TO REVIEW AN IDEA FOR FUTURE STORIES. THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING.

PLEASE DO NOT DRINK AND DRIVE. MY FRIEND DIED LIKE THIS AND IT IS NOT WORTH IT.

REVIEW PLEASE.

-eact