Still don't own Nightwing, or DC Comics. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

/\-n-/\

Bruce climbed the iron steps silently. On the roof he saw his son.

Dick stood with his forehead rested against the brick wall. The rain plastered his hair down and darkened his sweatshirt. Bruce stayed back, waited to see what Dick would do.

"I'm sorry." Dick's voice broke, he thought he was alone. "I'm sorry!" He punched the wall and ignored the pain it caused.

Bruce winced at the sharp sound of impact. Dick leaned heavily against the wall, his forehead rested on his arm. Blood ran from his hand and dripped onto the ground.

"I tried." He hit the wall again. "I'm sorry." He kept repeating those simple words in an attempt to make himself believe it, to stop the guilt that burned within him. With every word he punched the unforgiving brick.

Bruce rushed forward and wrapped his arms around his son, stopping him.

"Let me go." Dick was too weak to fight, but he still tried.

Dick sunk to his knees with Bruce's arms still around his own. Bruce could feel the heat of the fever and the shaking from exhaustion. Dick looked down at the blood that covered his hand and instantly remembered the girl's blood on his hands. He struggled to get away again.

"You're okay." Bruce's voice controlled. "You'll be all right."

Dick let the weariness take hold over what little strength he had left. "When did you get back?"

"Not too long ago."

"Who called you?" He coughed and struggled to draw breath for a few minutes.

"Let's go inside." Bruce stood and pulled Dick to his feet.

Dick was too tired to fight for independence and let himself be led from the roof. Bruce guided him down the stairs and through the window. Dick sat heavily on the edge of his bed. He shivered so hard that his breathing was shallow and ragged.

Bruce turned to Barbara in the doorway. "Something to clean up his hand and some water, please."

She stepped out. Bruce pulled a chair up and sat facing Dick. The young man's eyes were focused on the ground, his hands shook.

"I'm sorry, Dick." Bruce's voice was low.

"For what?" He whispered.

"I'm sorry that you couldn't save them."

Dick looked up for a moment and accidentally caught Bruce's eyes. "What do you know about it?"

Barbara came back into the room with the first aid kit and a glass of water.

"Thank you." Bruce smiled up at her.

Bruce carefully wiped the blood from Dick's hand. "I remember one case, I'll always remember this case." He taped up Dick's hand. "Two kids were taken by their father, he didn't have rights to see them."

Dick tired to pull away as the pain sharpened. Bruce held him still.

"The mother went on the news and personally asked me, well Batman, to find her children. I looked everywhere. Finally I found them in a warehouse by the docks. I was too late. He had killed himself and his children, locked them in the car and let it run."

Dick looked down at his hand and gently touched the tape. He wanted to run, but was too weary to move.

"It me took me along time to get through that. Their mother didn't blame me, and I couldn't understand how she couldn't." He took a breath. "I don't remember many of the people I save, but I remember every one I lost."

"She died while I was holding her." Dick whispered. "One of the kids in that apartment."

Bruce wasn't expecting that. He gripped Dick's wrists. "You can't save everyone, you've known that from the start, but you can try. You can't tear yourself apart, that's what all the evil in the world wants you to do."

"I can't make it stop."

"Make what stop?"

Dick looked up, agony spilled from his blue eyes. "Their voices when I sleep, their eyes begging me. I can feel their hands on my arms, their fear-" He took a shuddering breath.

"You didn't hurt them, Dick."

He stood suddenly, wavered. Bruce stood and took Dick's arm, he pulled away.

"But I didn't stop that man from hurting them." His words were hard, angry. "I'm no better than he is. No better than-"

Bruce grabbed Dick's arm and cupped his son's chin with the other hand. "You didn't stand idly by. You're one man trying to bring light to a city of darkness, and that is the most honorable thing you could ever try to do. You did everything in your power to save them, I don't doubt that for a second. I know that this is killing you, but you can't let it."

Dick stopped trying to fight. Bruce guided him back to the bed.

"When will it get easier?" Dick whispered.

"I can't give you a specific day, but it will. And next time, whether you're officer Grayson or Nightwing, you'll do everything that you can, because you always do."

"What if it's not enough?"

"Then you keep fighting until it is." Bruce gripped Dick's shoulder. "Don't let this stop you or break you, because then you will have let it win."

Dick nodded and Bruce could see his weariness. Bruce dumped out a few aspirins and placed them next to the glass of water.

"Take those and get some rest."

Dick did as he was told and pulled the blankets around himself. "Going back to the house?"

Bruce let a ghost of a smile appear. "Not right now."

"Good." He sighed and let sleep pull him under.

Bruce stood in the doorway for a few minutes. Barbara came up behind him and he glanced back at her.

"I'm glad you came." She whispered.

"I wish there was more I could tell him, but…"

"He just needed to hear it from you, he needed you to tell him that he'll be okay."

He turned to her. "Sometimes I wonder how any of us are strong enough for this."

She shrugged. "Because we have to be, we chose to be."

Bruce and Barbara retired to the living room and Dick slipped into the first dreamless sleep he'd had in days.

-/\-N-/\-

Dick woke hours later. His head felt clear for the first time since the case and he felt slightly better, weak, but better. He sat up and slipped out of bed. He appeared in the living room, Bruce and Barbara were halfway through a game of chess.

She looked up and smiled. "How are you feeling?"

Bruce turned.

"All right. Better." His voice was still rough, but his eyes met Bruce's. "You stayed. Thanks."

"How's your hand?" Bruce stood.

Dick glanced down. "Sorta hurts." He managed a smile.

Bruce inspected the injury. "That's why I usually stick to punching bad guys, brick walls just don't know when to give up."

"That's good advice." Dick coughed.

Bruce's phone rang and he checked the number.

"Go on." Dick smiled a little. "I'm all right, really."

"Back to work." Bruce grabbed his coat from the back of a chair. "Stop by the house for dinner tomorrow tonight, both of you. I'm sure Alfred would like to see you."

"Sure." Dick eased himself into a chair. "Good luck."

Bruce nodded once before he slipped out.

Barbara sat on the arm of the chair and rested her hand on Dick's forehead. "Fever's down. How about some tea and toast."

"That sounds great." She stood and went into the kitchen. "Thanks, for everything."

She leaned around the wall and smiled. "Anything for you. I'd call Roy and Tim, they were pretty worried."

"I will."

She ducked back into the kitchen. "So, you're really okay?"

Dick took a slow breath. "Getting there. I can at least see the light at the end, you know?"

Barbara smiled as she poured the tea and brought it in to him. "Yeah, I know."

She squeezed into the chair with him. He leaned into the touch some and she took his hand. He'd be all right, they both knew that now. There was no doubt that the case would always stay with him, but it wasn't crippling him and he could live with the idea that sometimes you can't save everyone. Sometimes you had to know when to let go of the dark things and when to hold on tighter to the bright ones.