"I tell you, on the day of judgment men will render account for every careless word they utter; for by your words you will be justified, and by your words, you will be condemned." (Mat. 12:34-37)

"Hey, Alfred?" A young child, a few months shy of twelve, spoke softly. He was seated at a bar stool, overlooking the kitchen where the elderly man was working, busying himself with the makings of a meatloaf.

"Yes, Master Dick?" The butler replied, stopping his work on tonight's dinner. Master Dick had been unusually quiet these last few hours, but Alfred hadn't said anything. He wanted to give the lad enough time to build up the confidence to tell him what was wrong by himself. He'd done that plenty of times when Master Bruce was still young and unwilling to share at the first request. It always seemed to work, eventually.

The boy sighed deeply and looked out the window for a moment, resting his head on the counter, eyes cast downward. "I can't stop thinking about what would've been, Alfred." His voice cracked slightly, revealing how much this thought was distressing him. How much it meant to him.

Alfred hummed in response, moving over to the sink to wash his hands. He had a bad feeling about where this conversation was headed. Worried about the path his grandson was walking down. He was glad Dick brought it up to him, rather than Master Bruce, however sad that may sound. Bruce probably would have panicked and said the wrong thing, in turn hurting Master Dick. Alfred wasn't trying to trash Master Bruce, but the man had the emotional capacity of a banana, and a bruised one at that.

Getting back on track and mentally preparing himself for the conversation ahead, Alfred quickly dried his hands and took a seat on the empty stool next to Dick, thinking quietly for a few minutes, wondering how he was going to word things.

"My boy, what could you possibly mean by that?" This was not a time for titles, Alfred decided. Just an old man giving his two-cents to the younger generation. He rested a hand on Dick's shoulder, encouraging him to look towards him and speak. He wanted to let the boy know he was willing to listen.

"You know you can tell me anything," Alfred started, "In fact, I won't even tell Master Bruce about this conversation if you don't want me to," he offered. He needed to get the boy started. Once he did, Alfred knew Dick would tell him everything.

"I know," Dick sighed once more and wiped under his nose with the back of his hand. "I just can't stop thinking about it," he started, meekly at first, scared. "I mean, what if they hadn't died?" He asked, wringing his hands together tightly, still trying to put his thoughts into words, "Would I still be flying with them in the circus?" He trailed off, losing himself in memories.

Jolting back, he waved a hand for reassurance, "Don't get me wrong, I love it here with you and Bruce, and I can never thank you enough for taking me in, it's just that," he scrunched his face, trying to find a way to say this nicely, "Is it so wrong for me to wish I was still with them?" Small pools of water began to form in his eyes, not yet large enough to fall as tears.

Alfred thought for a moment, rubbing circles on Dick's back. He hadn't been prepared for Master Dick to feel this way. He'd always been such a happy child despite the tragedy that brought him here. Alfred could only pray the boy doesn't suffer from any severe depression in the near future. He was not naive enough to hold the belief that depression could be avoided altogether. So instead, he simply hopes it's not severe.

"Master Dick, I want you to listen to me very closely, can you do that?" Alfred spoke, finally deciding on what he was going to say.

Dick nodded, straightening his back and focusing all his attention onto his Grandfather figure.

"There will never be anything wrong with you wishing you were still with them. Master Bruce brought you here and is now trying to fill the roles of both parents, but I know he would never try to replace your father without you saying so. Nor your mother."

Dick nodded and a tear, finally heavy enough, rolled down the side of one cheek, "I know he wouldn't." It hurt him too much to think about replacing them. How could he make his parents proud if he forgot who they were?

"Good," Alfred began again, moving his hands from Dick's back and taking the boy's into his own, "You may feel like this for a while. You'll dream of being back home, at the circus. Of flying across the trapeze, you may even start to forget bits and pieces of them over time," Alfred paused, "It will hurt, and you'll want to cry, you'll want to scream, but make sure you know that there is nothing wrong with missing loved ones that have passed on before us. I know for a fact that Master Bruce misses his parents every day."

He'd forget bits and pieces of them? He would never! He'd always remember his mother's smile and how it reached to the edge of her ears. He'd remember his father's laugh and how he loved helping Dick pull pranks on his mother. He'd never forget, not in a million years would he ever forget.

"Bruce does?" Dick questioned, using Bruce as a topic to regain himself slightly.

Alfred nodded, "It's why he goes out every night. Deep down, Master Bruce is still that scared young child that saw his parents die, and he goes out every night trying to prevent that from happening to others."

Dick nodded again, "And I help him do it." My Little Robin, she would say.

Alfred smiled, "Yes you do Master Dick, and I must say you are the best thing that's ever happened to Master Bruce." He squeezed Dick's hands softly, "But I need you to promise me something," Alfred paused and looked into Dick's eyes, making sure he had the boy's full attention, "If the pain ever gets to be too much, if you don't think you can handle it on your own, come to me. If the pain ever makes you want to harm yourself or others, come to me," he said earnestly. Dick nodded but Alfred knew wasn't getting through to the boy.

"Master Dick, I will drop everything to come to your aid, all I need from you is a promise," He paused, "Can you promise me, that if you're ever thinking about hurting yourself, you'll come to me for help?" Alfred almost begged.

Dick was silent for a few moments, trying to figure out if he'd ever feel that way anyway. But when he looked to Alfred, into his eyes, they looked so sad. There wasn't anything wrong with Dick, so why would Alfred be so sad, so close to tears. He hadn't even done anything yet.

It was then that Dick decided. He would never make himself the reason for Alfred's tears. He wouldn't do the things Alfred said. He wouldn't let the pain beat him.

He looked into Alfred's face again, steely resolve showing on his own. He nodded.

"I promise."

======

It was another broken promise on Dick's part. He didn't know why the memory hit him so suddenly. Maybe it was just his brain trying to remind him of yet another failure. He'd broken his promise to Alfred, the man he thought of as a Grandfather. How could he do that to him? How could he be so selfish? Family, friends, hell, even his lovers. They all ended in a broken promise.

Dick hadn't really thought of his parents recently, but when he did, he couldn't remember his mother's smile or his father's laugh. He couldn't even remember the warmth of his Mother's hugs, nor the sound of his Father's voice. What kind of son was he? How could he forget the most important things about a person?

It's exactly like Tim said, what everyone said, and now that he thought about it, everyone would probably be better off without him. But he knew thinking like that was wrong. His brain was constantly buzzing in warning, trying to tell him that it wasn't okay. It was hurting and Dick kept ignoring it. How could he ever hope to feel better when his mind was always playing his failures on repeat.

It was pathetic. How would the Team ever accept any of his apologies if he couldn't accept them for himself? Practice what you preach is what he used to tell everyone. But look at him now. Alone and hurting, but unwilling to change or accept help. Pathetic.

Something shuffled next to him, breaking him out of his crushing thoughts. It was Wally. Dick had almost forgotten that Wally had stayed with him after his breakdown last night. His best and only friend at this point, holding and comforting him the whole time. It was something that Dick himself believed he didn't deserve, but for the first time in a long time, he had felt safe.

But Dick felt like a cigarette, always hurting the lives he came into, addicting people to his problems and never leaving them alone. Always wanting more.

Another wouldn't hurt, right?

Nobody ever had the willpower to leave him either. "This is the last time, Dick, I swear! After this, I never want to see you again!" But they always let him come back. He'd throw a half-hearted apology in and everything would be fine. Up until these last few months. But at the end of the day, Dick Grayson was a cigarette. Hell, he was a whole carton of cigarettes, killing the people he loved slowly, one day at a time.

But he had felt safe with Wally. Selfish, wasn't he?

Slowly, Dick sat up in bed, resting his back on the headboard while Wally woke up and maneuvered himself to look at him.

"Morning Dickiebird, how'd you sleep?" He asked, his voice rough from lack of use, a miracle. The only time Wally was ever quiet was when he slept.

Dick chuckled a little, "Well, I slept Wals, but I don't think you'd like to hear about how well it was," he joked, sadly. I promise, Alfred. I won't let you down.

Wally sat up, focusing on his friend, suddenly serious despite the early hour. "Dick, I want to know. Humor me if you must, but know that I asked with an honest want of knowing," He looked into Dick's eyes, searching for something, "Now Dick, how did you sleep?" He tried again, still smiling softly.

Dick's mouth was agape for all of six seconds, Wally never ceased to amaze him. His friend really did care. "I slept for a few hours, but then I started dreaming about an old promise I made a while ago," He glanced at Wally, who already looked like he was ready to spew out questions, "It's not that big of a deal now, I guess it kind of just hit me by surprise?" Dick squeaked out, voice rising near the end, and shrugged his shoulders, already moving to leave the bed. He was doing his best to act casual.

Even though the memory pained him, Dick was just grateful that he had this to distract Wally away from last night's events. It wasn't something he wanted to talk about and he was too embarrassed to even bring it up.

Wally rolled over and watched as Dick got out of the bed and began his hunt for clean clothes, a question already burning in his mind. "If you don't mind me asking, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but what was the promise?"

Dick made sure he didn't hesitate in his actions as he answered, hoping it would push Wally to believe that it wasn't bothering him as much as it was. "Just a conversation Alfred and I had when I was a bit younger," he began, finally finding a clean shirt, "It was nothing big. Alfred just wanted me to promise that I'd talk to him if I ever needed to." Dick finished, walking towards the bedroom door. He turned around when he made it halfway into the hallway.

"You want to go get some breakfast?"

Wally smiled, getting up, "You sure do know the way to a man's heart don't you? Bribing me with food?" He joked, walking beside Dick as they left the room and made their way down the hall, "I'll let this slide for now, but next time, you better watch out." Wally added lightly, softly chuckling.

======

"Robin, you are just a human!"

There it was. They had finally said it. He was just a human, a seventeen-year-old. But that didn't make it sting any less. He's been doing this hero gig longer than some members of the League, and they go try to pull the human card on him? What about Batman, Green Arrow, and Artemis? What about them?

"You can't keep running around and recklessly allowing yourself to get hurt!"

Robin's body shook in anger, his friends really weren't pulling any punches today. "It wasn't reckless! I already knew where the bullet would hit. I jumped in front of it to save Artemis!" He yelled back, but the Team just stared at him, no sympathy in their eyes. "I'm going to be fine! This isn't the first time I've been shot, and it certainly won't be the last!" He tried to reason.

That only earned him pitiful glances, "That is the point we are trying to make Robin. It won't be the last, and next time, it could be your death." The Team looked at each other and nodded, "It's why we've all decided to bench you."

What?

"Robin, until further notice, you are hereby benched from the Team, permanently."

Tears welled up behind his mask. Dick couldn't believe what his friends were doing. "What about Artemis? If you're benching me because I'm human, then why is she still there?" He argued back, looking towards Artemis who bit her lip and looked down, guilty. Why? They couldn't do this to him. They couldn't take this away from him.

Not like Bruce.

"Artemis has proven herself to be more capable of preventing injury, which goes to show that she can handle herself without bringing the childlike recklessness that you still seem to posses."

That stung. It hurt like hell. He, who was trained by the Bat, was reckless. It's absurd. It may seem reckless to those less skilled or experienced than him, but it was always calculated. All of it. Recklessness is what got people killed. Like Artemis had almost been tonight. Recklessness is why his parents were dead.

Dick felt betrayed, but more than anything, he felt helpless. Unsure of what to do. He was one of the founding members of this Team. He had more experience than all of them combined, and they went behind his back to bench him? Where they really even his friends? Did they even care about how he felt?

"If it wasn't for me, Artemis would be dead right now!" Robin yelled, throwing his hand up to point at her, "And I want you to remember that." He spat, "But you're right, of course, you always are," He looked into their eyes, sneering, "I am too childish, I do tell too many jokes," he continued, his voice laced with venom.

"Maybe it is time I grew up."

======

Dick was in his costume for the first time in a few weeks. It felt almost foreign to him now, the bright blue symbol screaming something undeserving at him. He wanted to rip it off, tear the tight spandex and throw it away. Burn it. This name, this costume, Nightwing, has caused more pain and suffering to everyone than it has ever helped. But he had to wear it today. Just today.

His name was announced loudly as he arrived, echoing throughout the large cavern once again. It was almost eerie how similar this situation was compared to the last time he visited the cave. Just like last time, there was no one there to greet him. Just like last time, he would wait and watch as his former friends judged and ridiculed him. Just like last time, no matter what he tried, everything would go wrong.

Nobody knew he was there. He'd managed to sneak out of the manor under the pretense of needing some air in the garden. It wasn't entirely too difficult now that he thought about it. Maybe Bruce let him out. Or maybe Bruce didn't care about Dick enough to worry about where he was going. Of course he didn't, you're a failure. He never did.

He'd made it to the living area before anyone showed up, and decided to snoop around a bit. His findings only made him feel worse. Nothing had changed since his absence, save for the few photos that he was in were no longer on display. They were really trying to forget him.

Conner was the first to arrive, just like last time, followed closely by M'gann, who floated slightly behind him. That's when Dick began to doubt his plan. Was it really worth it? He could've been gone by now.

Slowly, a few more people began to trickle in. Kaldur, Artemis, Lagoon Boy, even little Timmy. The newer members popped their heads into the room but quickly left. Not wanting to be around for the shitshow that was about to happen. He couldn't blame them.

It made Dick feel uneasy, how quiet everyone was being. Nobody had said anything yet, and Dick didn't know if they were waiting for him to speak first. How would they react to his apologies? Would he be rejected and not heard again? Anxiety settled into his stomach, leaving a deep pit of uncertainty in his mind.

How was he going to get through this?

"Hey guys," Dick started hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck. It was now or never.

"Nightwing," Conner spoke curtly, taking charge of the conversation, "Why'd you come back here?"

It was awkward for the Team, seeing Nightwing again. They hadn't really planned on talking to him again, and ever since Wally had yelled at them, they'd all been having mixed feelings about the former hero. Were they in the right for pushing all their hatred onto him?

Dick breathed in deeply and let out a nervous breath. "I want a chance to explain, this will be the last time, I promise." Dick hurriedly spoke, "After this, none of you will have to see me again." It wasn't like he was necessarily lying to them. He just wouldn't be seeing anyone after this. Everyone will be free of you.

Everyone looked at each other, hurt expressions crossing their faces, and whispered to each other. Dick waited patiently, trembling slightly. What would they decide? The last time something like this happened, he got kicked off the Team. Years ago. You deserved it just as much back then as you do now.

"You have five minutes to explain. After that, you need to leave," Artemis announced after everyone agreed, moving in closer and crossing her arms. "But say anything we don't like, lie to us, and I'll have Superboy throw you out."

Okay. Dick could work with that. Five minutes was plenty of time. Getting kicked out of the cave afterward was something he already expected. But would Conner really do that to him? Would he hurt Dick?

The air in the mountain was heavy, filled with tense anger. No one was sitting, choosing to stand instead, crowding around Nightwing, waiting to hear his excuses. Their friends were dead, nothing he could say would fix that. There was nothing he could do to fix it. Except for one thing. I'm sorry.

"So," Nightwing began, clapping his hands together, awkwardly, despite the tense atmosphere. He didn't really know what to do with them right now. "I guess I'll just start from the beginning, right? I didn't tell anyone because I needed your emotions to be real." Conner growled and M'gann placed a hand on his shoulder, calming him, but Dick pushed on.

"I know it makes me sound cold, heartless even, but," Dick's voice began to crack, "What I was doing to all of you hurt me more than anything I've ever done." He spoke truthfully. "Out of everything I say tonight, at least believe me when I say that I never wanted to hurt any of you the way I did." Dick looked at Tim, doing his best to make eye contact. That was probably the closest thing to an apology he'd get to tonight.

"Three minutes left, Nightwing," Lagoon Boy sneered. What a waste of time.

Dick frowned, holding back his emotions for now. "For my plan to work, I needed everyone not to question Kaldur going dark. I needed everyone to believe that Artemis was actually dead," He looked to each as he mentioned them. They were all angry, glaring at him. That was the only look Dick ever got from people nowadays. At least he didn't have to live with it much longer.

What he didn't understand was why Kaldur and Artemis weren't helping him with this. Why they hadn't tried defending him when the Team kicked him off. Again. They had agreed to the plan right alongside him. They were just as guilty.

So why was he the only one suffering?

"I understand the need for it to seem real, but you let us believe our friends betrayed and murdered one another! You could have told us before, we could have pretended!" Lagoon Boy yelled out suddenly, always one wanting to be heard. "Maybe if you had, M'gann wouldn't have hurt Kaldur!" He heaved, "Maybe Wally wouldn't have died!"

Dick's breath hitched and he felt helpless inside. They weren't listening. They weren't understanding. They were so caught up in what they wanted to believe, that no matter what Dick said, nothing would change. It frustrated him, everything he was trying to do was pointless.

"I couldn't though!" He yelled, shocking his audience. They'd never heard Nightwing yell like that before. Not even during the argument he had with Batman after he found out that Jason had died.

"We were up against fucking Deathstroke!" Dick seethed, voice cracking in anger, "What did you expect me to do? I certainly didn't see any of you coming up with a plan!" He waved his hands wildly, "That man has been in my life since I started out as Robin! He knows me well enough to know when I'm planning something! I had to make it realistic!" Nightwing tried to reason. He had no other choice. Slade could read him like a book. "I had to make it believable," he whispered near the end. Losing his anger with everyone and instead, directing it at himself. They don't care.

"Then you should have told us about him," Conner interjected, "We've fought him before, Nightwing, we could've figured something out. You didn't have to pull a Batman on us!" He yelled at Dick, stomping forward to get into his face.

It was then, when he'd been compared to Batman, that something broke inside Dick. He was just done. They don't understand.

"Conner, It's wasn't that simple," Dick tried, small tears forming behind his mask, but he could tell the clone wasn't listening anymore, "Please just-" He was abruptly interrupted as a hand grabbed at the collar of his suit.

"Con-"

"Shut up!" Conner growled, lifting Dick up so his feet hovered off the ground. Instinctively, Dick's hands came to rest on Conner's arms, trying to pull the clone off, but to no avail.

"Conner! What are you doing?" M'gann shouted, rushing forward, "You're hurting him!"

Everyone was shocked. They hadn't expected Superboy to attack Nightwing.

"Stay back, M'gann." Superboy spoke lowly, "I have a few things to say to Nightwing."

Nightwing looked back towards the Team that stood hidden behind Conner for help, surprised that the clone was going this far, but no one could meet his eye. M'gann had retreated to her earlier spot, guilt crossing her face. Tim's mouth was agape, as though he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. His brother had abandoned him.

Dick trembled inside. This whole thing was a bad idea. Why did he even bother coming here? He knew when he wasn't wanted. Why did he try to seek their forgiveness? Why? Things were always better when he didn't intervene. You had to try.

Dick looked back into Conner's eyes and saw a burning fire of hate and rage, all of it, directed right at him. He needed help. Nightwing searched through his former friends, his eyes falling on Kaldur. Surely the man wouldn't let things continue like this?

"Kaldur, please," Dick pleaded, voice sounding rough from the tight grip on his collar.

His long-time friend just shook his head, "I'm sorry my friend, I am afraid I cannot help you," he finished, a sad tone in his voice. "It is not my place."

Dick wanted to scream. There was nothing stopping Kaldur from helping him! All he had to do was yell at Conner. Why wasn't he helping Dick? Why was nobody helping Dick? They had to at least see that the clone was going too far.

Tim. Maybe Timmy would help him? His little brother had to care about him. Even after everything Dick did, his little brother had to care. He had too. But he doesn't.

"Timmy," Nightwing squirmed in his friend's grip, begging, but Conner only tightened it, raising him up further.

"Don't talk to him," the clone growled, Sparing a glance back to Tim as he spoke to Nightwing, "You've already caused enough damage."

Nightwing let out a strange gurgle and squirmed more desperately than before.

Tim didn't know what to do. He knew he should be helping his brother, especially after what he'd caused, but how? Conner was immensely stronger than him, there wasn't anything he could do. But he did try, "Con, come on," Tim interrupted, "That's enough. Put him down."

Conner whipped his head around to face Tim, his grip not letting up on Nightwing, whose face had turned an unhealthy shade of red. "You, out of everyone here," he waved his free hand to gesture at everyone else, "Should be hurting the most. Do you even remember what we talked about?" He questioned angrily.

"Of course I do," Tim cried back, "But he's my brother, Con, he's family. He deserves another chance."

Lagoon Boy butted in again, "Tim please just let Conner finish. He deserves to say his piece to Nightwing, just like everyone else had their chance to."

Tim pushed him away, "But this isn't talking," he shouted, "It's bullying! You're fucking chocking him, Con, and I won't be part of it anymore." He began to walk towards the zeta tubes, "I'm getting Batman."

He left, Dick thought. Tim just left the mountain. He left to go get Bruce. That wasn't part of his plan. This was bad. Bruce wasn't supposed to know Dick came here. But he needed help.

Would Conner kill him?

His vision was starting to get hazy.

Would Conner kill him?

"This is why you shouldn't be here Nightwing," Conner broke the silence, "You're poison, ruining friendships, hurting people." Conner's hand crept up his throat, further crushing Dick's windpipe, forcing him to take small gasps for air.

"No matter how much you'd like to believe that you and Bruce are different, Richard Grayson," he hissed, pointing a finger harshly in Dick's face, "You're exactly the same, inside and out."

"You turned into the man you swore you'd never be."

======

"When I'm older, I want to be just like you!" A little Robin, only ten, yelled excitedly at Bruce, bouncing around the Batcave after an easy night of crime-fighting. He'd finally been allowed to fight Two-Face, and the adult had been surprised by his small attacker.

"Oh really," Bruce said with a smile, sitting down to write up the reports, "And why is that?" He questioned, eyes tracking the boy as he flung himself around the Cave. He'd have to remind Alfred to child-proof some of the sharper stalagmites.

Dick cartwheeled to a stop, hopping onto Bruce's shoulders and laying his small arms on his head, "Because you're strong and brave!" He chirped, smiling brightly, "I wish I could always be brave like you. Nothing scares the Batman!" Dick giggled, patting Bruce's head.

But something does, Bruce thought to himself. Losing Dick, losing his son, scares the Batman more than anything. "You're right Dickie, nothing scares Batman, but Bruce gets scared all the time." Scared of losing the boy that made his whole crusade worth it.

Dick paused, stilling himself on Bruce's shoulders, surprised, "What are you scared of?" He questioned, playing with a strand of Bruce's hair while he waited for the man to respond. It hadn't taken him long to learn that Bruce didn't like to talk much.

"Losing you Dickie, That's what I'm scared of," Bruce sighed, putting down his pen and pushing aside the half-filled out report. It could wait until tomorrow.

"But why?" Dick asked honestly, bending over Bruce's head to look him in the eyes. "I'm not going anywhere. You're not sending me anywhere, are you Bruce?"

"Of course not Dickie," Bruce patted his leg, "You're not going anywhere," he paused, a sly grin crept across his face, "Except to bed!" He roared, grabbing Dick from his shoulders and trapping him in his arms.

Dick squealed with laughter, squirming and twisting in Bruce's arms, trying to break free, "No Bruce! I'm not tired yet!" He giggled.

Bruce laughed, making his way up the Batcave stairs as Dick continued to squirm. "Don't make me do it," he threatened, smirking again as he adjusted his grip to Dick's constant movement, not wanting to drop the boy.

"Do what?" Dick paused momentarily, giving Bruce his chance to strike, quick and brutal.

"This!"

Dick roared with laughter as Bruce's fingers assaulted his sides, tickling him with no mercy. His ribs heaved as he laughed, forcing him to beg for Bruce to stop.

"Please!" he giggled, "Stop!"

"Dad, please!"

======

Boom. I did it. After way too long, a new chapter has appeared.

It's a miracle.

What did you think? Leave a comment! If you had a favorite part, leave a comment! Honestly, just comment. lol.

Til next time,

Rachel

PS, I know, shit escalated quickly.

Also. The Batman banana is the first piece of fan art I've gotten for my story. It's awesome isn't it!