Author's Note: This is a short little piece inspired by the African proverb 'when elephants battle, it is the grass the suffers.' Happy reading!

It had been a real battle for the ages, Robin thought smugly as he climbed a pile of ash towards the solitary figure at the top. He wasn't usually one to hyperbolize like that, but no one who had been present at the Watchtower or on the field during the three solid days of fighting that had just ended would have argued with the sentiment. They wouldn't have objected had he gone so far as to state that the fate of the world had been at stake, either, and that was why he'd been smirking ever since their opponents had given in an hour before.

Life as they knew it had been on the line, and his was the winning side. Victory was sweet.

What he couldn't fathom was why no one else seemed to be pleased with the outcome. Yes, some of their allies had been killed or injured, but so had many of their foes. His small circle had come through relatively unscathed, so he didn't feel any particular pain over the casualties on either side, but he supposed he understood why some of the others might be in shock. Still, though, where were the joyous celebrations, the rousing speeches, and the triumphant cheers that were supposed to accompany the great watershed moments in history? He'd waged war for the past seventy-two hours, damn it, and while justice was a decent enough reward in the ephemeral sense he wanted something solid, something real, to carry with him to the end of his days.

So he ascended the smoldering ridge of debris towards the only person he knew wouldn't despise him for being happy when everyone else was wallowing in some inexplicable depression. "...Nightwing?" he asked as he drew up to the seated figure.

"Hey," a whisper replied. "What's up? You okay?"

"I'm fine. It's everyone else who's lost it." He frowned as he realized that the man was facing away from the procession of prisoners below. "What are you even looking at? Don't you want to see our enemies led away in defeat?" Beginning to feel as if he was, in fact, missing something, he let an angry tsk escape him. "This is what we worked for, isn't it?!"

"It is," Nightwing agreed without turning from his vigil. "You're right. I guess I'm just distracted."

"By what?! What's more important than the fact that we won?"

"...Have you ever seen elephants battle, Robin?"

For a moment all he could do was blink in consternation. "What?" he spat finally.

"Bull elephants," the older male mused aloud, "fight for dominance and breeding rights. Genetic control, so to speak. A lot of what you could term 'fighting' is more like scuffling or pushing; there are conflicts, but neither party is really hurt. Sometimes, though...sometimes, things get intense. Sometimes the two sides get so into it that they don't realize what's going on around them, or how much damage they're causing. When it comes down to who will be in control of the next generation, they put blinders on, and nothing else matters until it's over."

The boy gathered that there was an analogy at play, but he didn't see the point. "What's wrong with that?" he crossed his arms. "If the elephant loses, it doesn't get to breed, to be 'in control.' How can you blame it for dedicating itself to its entire reason for existing?"

"I'm not blaming it. I'm not saying that it's a non-essential struggle, either, or even that there's a better or more effective way for things to be done. All I'm trying to say is that there are unintended consequences." He sighed. "...Here. Sit next to me for a minute, okay?"

"...Fine." Grudgingly, he dropped onto the twisted steel beam his brother was using as a seat. "Now what?"

"Now look out there," Nightwing nodded forward, "and tell me what you see."

"A shit hole. Obviously." What had until only a few sunrises before been a nondescript, middling-sized city lay in pieces, its streets smashed, its river polluted, its buildings cracked and crumbling. There were another half a hundred identical communities scattered across the face of the Earth this morning, he knew, smoking, charred, ruined. "Why does it matter?"

The figure beside him twitched at the question. "It matters because these people didn't have anything to do with our quarrel," came slowly. "They didn't know anything about it, but they had to host the final showdown. We literally crashed into their lives without warning, and for what? Sure, they'll understand the buzzwords in the TV and radio reports – liberty, justice, the good of all mankind, etc., etc. – but words don't mean much when you're busy digging through rubble for friends and family whom you no longer have the ability to feed, clothe, and protect."

It was unfortunate, Robin admitted, and he felt some sympathy for the faceless millions who had suffered simply because they had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. In the same breath, though, he was beginning to wonder if Nightwing's apparent rambling was a sign of a head injury. "And that has what to do with elephants, exactly?"

"Only this, little brother; that when elephants battle, it's the grass that suffers."

Something shifted in his brain as those words sunk in. The streets, the river, and the buildings faded, and the people who had relied on those things in their everyday lives came into focus. A woman knelt beside an open fissure with her head in her hands, crying over nothing; a man stood with his hands stuffed in his torn pockets and stared blankly at the space where a house had stood in the painfully recent past. A few blocks away grim, grimy-faced emergency personnel were tying ropes around each others' waists and preparing to enter a multistory structure that had been compressed to a single level. They were all, he saw now, blades of grass whose soil had been violently turned over and broken up. Even if they were replanted before they withered away, he had to wonder how many would go on to thrive after such abuse.

"You know I love elephants," the now-standing Nightwing spoke again, "but today...today I'm going to focus on the grass." For the first time in their conversation, the lenses that covered their eyes met. "...You can come with me if you want. I don't mind." He tilted his head towards the shattered town. "They won't, either."

Robin watched him for a long second, then glanced back over his shoulder at the orderly comings and goings of captives, medical personnel, and other heroes. Their quiet desperation didn't seem so alien anymore, but he couldn't bear the thought of joining them in it, as he had never been one to pine. He preferred to be a man of action, and the action among the elephants had ceased. Out in the grass, though, the fight for life was just beginning; how could he turn down the chance to be part of another victory, even if the second one was destined to look smaller in the grand scheme of things? "...Yeah," he nodded finally, rising to his feet. "Okay. Let's go."