So, this is the first fan fiction I've written in about ten years, but the pull of Young Justice could not be helped. I feel like I need to re-acclimate myself to using fandom characters rather than my own, so this first chapter is a bit of a tester. Not to mention a bit quickly written because I just wanted to see where inspiration took me. As such, I changed a few things mid-writing and attempted to catch any discrepancies, but things happen.

Also, quick note - the title is based off a quote Jason says to Donna in the comics. I figured it fit his character, at least in my mind. Who the heck knows at this point since he's been changed so many times.

Oh, and I don't own anything. Hope you all enjoy!

August 27, 2017 20:34 – Bludhaven

It was strange to him how most people thought anniversaries were supposed to be a positive thing. First dates, weddings, graduations, births. In the team's case, Dick reminded himself they had just celebrated their seventh anniversary a little over a month ago. Seven years. It was difficult for him to fathom sometimes that it had been that long since Wally, Kaldur, and he decided to hell with orders and assigned themselves a mission. The night was a bit of a blur… though being drugged and nearly crushed by a collapsed building helps with that, in hindsight. Still, that's one of the anniversaries worth celebrating.

Seven years. He should be happy. Whelmed, even. Pleased with the efforts the team has made since their stupid stunt at Cadmus nearly got them all killed – first by Blockbuster, and then by Batman. He could still feel the ache in his shoulders from all the chores he got as a result. Soon the deep ache was joined by something more pressing, more painful. It was damn near impossible to stay positive when he couldn't help but think about those other anniversaries.

Wally… and Jason…

It was three years to the day that he last saw his little brother. Three years since he last heard his crude sense of humor, saw him sucker punch a thug hard enough to rival Superboy, and heard him put on that tough-guy persona he pretended he owned.

Dick's jaw clenched at the memory. Jason had been there with them less than two months earlier, celebrating July 4th with more chili dogs than should be legally consumed in a single sitting. He had just been there, finding room for the cake M'gann made, ribbing Wally, flirting with Donna. Then, in a matter of days, gone. Changed from an "is" to a "was" thanks to a crowbar, a clown, and enough explosives to level a building.

In the weeks leading up to it, Dick knew Jason had been having a hard time, but the younger boy had put on a brave face. That day's session with Black Canary must have helped.

For almost a year, Batman had given him required weekly meetings Dinah, though whatever was spoken between the two of them stayed between the two of them. Dick could guess some of it, but… Jay started to clam up in those last few weeks, and Dick hated himself for not pushing harder. Now the unasked questions seemed to hang in the air, heavy like the ash and smoke that had consumed the rubble the young teen had died in.

The weight of the memory nearly choked Nightwing as he stared at his computer monitor. If he had known what was going on in that head of his, maybe he could have stopped Jason. Maybe he could have convinced him that he didn't need to go alone, that he had help. That he always had help.

Part of Dick knew his brother understood that. Jason had known it from the day they met. Dick was his big brother. I am his big brother, the former Boy Wonder reminded himself. Present tense. Just because the younger was gone, it didn't mean the role got taken away. It didn't erase all the first times, last times, or in-betweens they laughed over or fought over.

Like the first time they met. That was an anniversary worth remembering. Then again, it wasn't like he could ever forget it.

February 3, 2011 22:16 – Gotham

"Easy enough," probably should not have been his choice words before he left the Bat Cave that evening. Yet, here he was, standing in Crime Alley—the biggest pit in Gotham City—freezing his tail feathers off. And, as if that weren't bad enough, he just mentally gave himself tail feathers. That's what he got for being a so-called robin. He really ought to just keep his beak shut.

Darn it! Stop. Focus.

With a newfound resolve, he pressed down on the com in his ear, willing his voice to stay steady. "Batman? Batman! …Great." Where was Miss M when he needed her? Rolling his eyes—invisible behind his domino mask—the Boy Wonder cursed his recent reliance on the team's preferred method of communication.

Not that he typically needed any method of communication with his mentor. Usually the pair could exchange whole conversations with a nod and a shrug. Batman had even perfected the art of giving Robin a full-out lecture with a simple lowering of his eyelids, and Robin had perfected the art of skirting around the lid-lecture with a grin. Nothing else was ever needed.

Now, though? Now would be a great time for the Dark Knight's terrifyingly gruff voice to bark in his ear. To tell him he was being reckless, to give him some absurd order, anything!

Okay, stay whelmed, Dick. Think.

Robin surveyed the area surrounding him: a myriad of broken bricks, trash, and filthy rags joined the piling snow already graying in the city smog. Winter in Gotham was like hell freezing over. And, no, it did not make for a winter wonderland. Rather, it created a near white-out (or gray-out), blinding the bird of his targets and, fifteen minutes ago, his mentor. More than his mentor. His pseudo-father… Okay, not now. He couldn't think about that now.

With one last survey of the area, he brought up his gauntlet computer and double-checked Batman's GPS coordinates. The red dot blinked a few blocks north, though it wasn't moving. No real concerns there. Batman was the most insufferably immovable person on the planet, especially during a stakeout. It was the flickering of Robin's screen and the lack of any other signals that threw him off. If there were ever a time to get sufferably moveable, it was now.

Unfortunately, Robin had been strictly told to wait for the man's signal, and warned about repercussions should he go against orders. It was rare when anything more stringent than a simple, "Stay put," had been uttered by Batman these days, but tonight had been different. Tonight, some of Two-Face's former two-bit thugs were getting in over their heads, and Batman suspected their involvement had less to do with city-wide politics and more to do with a certain world-wide organization. After all, what did small-time thugs need with shipments of enough radioactive substances to cause a World War III-style meltdown? More to the point, why them?

What the Light or Injustice League might desire from said thugs was beyond them, but Batman's orders were clear. They did not know what sorts of backup may be on the way within moments should their suspicions prove accurate, and Robin was still nursing a recent injury to his ribs. Heck, the only reason he had been allowed out so soon since the injury was due to the seriousness of the situation. The last thing he wanted to do was screw it up.

Then again, while Robin had no desire to have his wings clipped for a few weeks, he couldn't help but wonder if staying hidden was the best idea. Clearly the man had meant for him to stay out of sight as long as things were going as planned.

Too bad nothing ever went as planned.

Which is why the Boy Wonder felt completely justified in taking a running leap off the building and propelling himself through the alleyways in an aerial dance fitting for a life-long acrobat. The rush of crisp air bit into his lungs and burned his eyes, the snow whipping his face, but the sensation of flying let him forget about his discomfort. His nerves eased ever-so-slightly at the familiar sensation as he back flipped off a fire escape, landing on a low-rise next door. It was the only thing that kept him calm as a slew of curses sounded two stories below.

"What the heck is that?!" a voice yelled, deep and throaty like he smoked three-packs a day and ate another for breakfast for kicks. From the looks of him even this high up through the dingy skylight, tobacco was probably the only vegetable this guy was getting.

Next time Alfred made broccoli, Robin vowed he would clean his plate.

"Nothing!" another yelled, this one more nasal, the accent indicative of a life-long, inner-city Gothamite. "I'll take care of it."

"You better! If it's that damn kid... Last thing we need to be worrying about is some brat's daddy issues."

Wait, had they spotted him? That was impossible! Okay maybe possible… he probably should have toned down the flipping a bit. Crime Alley got dark, but not so dark people couldn't see some insane kid doing layouts and somersaults from building to building. He could hear his pulse in his ears as his eyes scanned the area, the boy pressing himself low and hoping they merely had a general idea of his whereabouts. That would buy him a few minutes to gain his bearings.

The low-rise looked to be some sort of storage facility, long-since defunct thanks to the downturn of proper business in this part of town. Now, every other building in a twenty-block radius, it was used primarily for illicit activities. It was like it became mandatory for three-fourths of these buildings to have a seedy old sign, chains, and a few chairs just in case some poor schmuck needed a good torture.

He just hoped the next victim wasn't himself or, especially, Batman. They needed to regroup and find out what in the world was going on with their signals. Provided Batman was still functioning, of course, and not currently tied-up thanks to the selection of chains from Street Lackey R Us.

Robin watched as Idiot Thug Two growled at his partner, storming toward a side door. Oh…kay. Totally the wrong direction if they were looking for him. He couldn't see who the lackey was looking at through the door, but he could gather a few hints about the person based on the gangster's stance. The visitor was shorter judging on the downturn of the moron's neck, probably from the area based on their earlier exchange and the body language, and—

Clearly whoever it was had a bone to pick. Something flew through the air, hitting the thug sharply in the nose. Before the Tweedle Dee could help Tweedle Dum, a more familiar sight flashed through the air, tackling the thug to the ground.

Batman. A sigh of relief Robin didn't even know he was holding escaped his lungs, lessening the pressure in his tightened chest. He didn't take too long to bask in the realization that his mentor was, indeed, alive. Instead, he took the cue and crashed through the skylight, using the metal bars to swing himself onto the second-story balcony and down onto Idiot Thug One. Hey, out of all of the things he had been taught, sometimes it was how to make an entrance he liked the most. A performer through and through.

Now, this was more familiar. Strangely comforting, even, considering they were punching the living daylights out of someone. No weird tech readings, no radio silence, no unseen threats. Just plain old butt kicking. Dick let out a laugh as he struck Tweedle Dee in the jaw, sending him flying.

Of course, one glance at Batman told him this was no laughing matter. Lowered lids and a scowl gave him all he needed. You should have stayed put, was written all over his cowl.

But something was wrong, he tried to gesture, though who the heck knew how it came out. Dick was pretty sure his expression of eyebrow knitting and a half-cocked frown could also be read as teenage angst.

Later, his mentor silently told him, then went back to the matter at hand. Or hands, considering the one-two punch he just gave his current punching bag. When Tweedle Dum was just the right amount of dazed, the Dark Knight pulled him up by his collar so the man's nose was two inches from his own.

"Who are you working for?!" he growled.

"I ain't telling!"

Dick rolled his eyes as the man played the stereotypical tough guy act, though the man's legs were shaking and he seemed two steps from pissing himself. Not that he could blame the guy too much. Batman was terrifying enough from afar. Having the bat punch you square in the face repeatedly while snarling in that gravelly voice he had must have been downright terrifying.

The Boy Wonder shook off the thought and busied himself with retraining the man's partner. He looked a little worse for wear, but not nearly in the same condition as the other one. Maybe he could get some answers, prove to Batman his interrogation skills were improving.

Too bad he never got the chance. His gauntlet computer suddenly activated and an alarm in his mask screamed an alert. Apparently he wasn't the only one suffering from the interruption, either. Batman's own bad cop routine was cut short as the sensors in his cowl flashed warnings behind his eyelets.

Someone was attacking the Batmobile.

Hope everyone enjoyed! Here's hoping I get back into the swing of fan fiction writing and can keep this up!

-Defective