Although I want it to happen with every ounce of my short being, I know Nightwing isn't going to go and kick Jaime's moded beetle shell. For one, being a civvie, Dick isn't near strong enough even if he can punch dents in concrete walls and snap birdarangs. Two, Jaime took down a team of his friends in a matter of seconds, and those friends had a mass majority of superhuman abilities, none of which Dick has if you don't include the power of dat ass. Three, Dick isn't an idiot! He's going to tell the League and they'll all handle it carefully. My feelings vented into… this.

Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice or the related characters.

#006: General: Lonely

Fate is a tricky thing to deal with, even if you find yourself not believing in it, because even after it's been set in the firmest of stone, there are always people who try and deny it. They wickedly swing their pickaxes, aggressively pound their drills, ruthlessly fire their ammunition and thoughtlessly try and waste it with explosions that do no more than make it hard to breathe for a few seconds. There's no changing it. There are no exceptions.

Dick knew that right from the beginning, yet he refused to let himself believe it as he slowly built up a façade that he wore more than the domino mask that people easily tied in towards his role as a 'hero'. He couldn't call it that anymore, seeing that he did more harm than prevent it, but there were still a choice [very] few that might try and argue with him. Their voices were always under-weighted compared to those at the back of his mind though, so no argument would last long.

The most common argument he had built up with himself, the one that had kept him up almost all nights clutching his spare pillow to his chest like it was the only thing anchoring him to this planet, was the one where he tried to convince himself he had a chance at having a family that would actually last. It didn't have to be a big family, and they didn't have to be in the slightest blood. They could argue all night until their faces turned blue and fight until there was nothing left to hit at. He just wanted someone there when he came home.

As he sits there though, alone in the warehouse where he found himself shivering at how off-setting the feeling of being alone was to him after all these years he had taken for granted, he feels the façade break down from over his eyes and shatter out on his lap. The shards cut into his skin, but the pain from it was dulled out as the thoughts began racing back and forth between his eyes like an aggravated game of ping pong that would never quite end.

He should've realized it the first time he lost everything, one of the thoughts kept rebounding with a passion. All he seemed able to do was endanger the lives of anyone he drew close to, more so the ones he found himself holding a special sort of love for. Jason was dead. Bruce was on trial halfway across the galaxy. Tim was kidnapped. Babs was no doubt next on fate's hit list, and Alfred was getting to the end of the line. Destruction had a vessel, and he was it.

That had to be the gunpowder with the way those thoughts continued to stack up, refusing to let up until they were finely settled in the barrel. It wasn't until the news report that his gun fired and the birdarang clutched tight in his hands split. His eyes remained tightened into the relentless glare until a new thought came into play like a swift blow to the gun's tip that cleared off the smoke easily.

Dick could save this one. Nobody had to die this time.

But as he sat there, his eyebrows furrowed deeper and deeper until he had to cover the domino mask resting atop them with his gloved hands to keep the realization from bruising any more of what he had left of his ego. It still managed to creep between his fingers though, battering his skull until he stood up with enough force to throw his chair back, chucking the birdarang pieces with all the strength the anger gave him towards the cement wall. The larger one sunk in half an inch and stayed while the other just shattered again.

"I'm just one person," he pushed his hair up off his forehead with a forced slow exhale until his lungs ached and he had to scramble for breath, "Blue managed to take down a team of supers, an Arrow and a Bat in a matter of seconds. I can't do this one alone…"

In a second, his hair was back down dangerously close to his eyes, messed up from the angry tug it had received before dropping back down, the teen aggressively pacing up and down within a few feet. The harder his feet struck the ground, the better he felt. In the painful process though, a thought dislodged and widened his eyes before throwing him back into his seat with flying fingers searing the keyboard.

One ring. He didn't have any other options. Two rings. There wasn't history on a Justice League computer, was there? Three rings. Of course there wouldn't be. Four rings. What if Blue hacked in and found out? Five rings. He should just hang up right now. Six rings. This suicide mission didn't sound half bad. Seven rings. He was going to hang up now. Eight rings. He was going to do it. Nine rings. He had to do it. Ten rings. Pick up. Eleven rings. Please, please pick up. Twelve rings. I need you; please answer. Thirteen rings. If anything goes right tonight, let it be this. Fourteen rings. I'll do anything. Fifteen—

"Master R… Nightwing?"

Dick looked up and the biggest grin spread out over his cheeks, the relief flooding out happily over his features, a hidden sparkle darting over his hidden eyes.

"How… how are things faring?"

The man on the other end bore a smile as well, though his wasn't so large. In fact, his seemed a bit pained if anything, exhaustion filling the remaining gaps, the bags under his eyes a bit heavy for comfort. He still dutifully bore the professional tuxedo, what remained of his hair well-kept. As the ebony studied him across the screen, the first thing that stood out was how lost he seemed to be.

"Not… not so good, Alfred," he admitted, leaning back in the seat and resting his feet to the flat of the desk he was working on it, "But… you first. You holding up okay?"

The butler lost the smile and took a faint seat, moving the camera with him before letting it rest on what was presumably the coffee table from the magazine stacks just barely blurred on the edge of the camera's vision. The sigh that slipped out was one that sounded like it had been building up for years now, one that seemed to know everything that was and ever will be.

"I'll manage, Nightwing. You shouldn't be worrying about an old 'coot' like me. Don't you have a world to save?" the ashen-haired man teased with the slightest of an honest smile.

Dick shook his head, looking down at the desk for a second before looking back up at the other end.

"You still don't get it, do you? You're part of my world Alfred, so I'm going to worry about you. I haven't been without a family that long; I remember how it works. That also means I remember what it looks like when someone's not on top of their game. You okay?" he returned the smile, almost shyly with a quiet laugh behind his words.

Alfred held a look that questioned the kid he had come to consider his grandson for the longest time until he saw that the honesty was either just that or well faked. He couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Forgot how much of a pain you were. I'm fine; just having a bit of empty nest syndrome. Now, you called me for a reason, so I recommend you start talking. I have a roast on for a Wayne Tech banquet in a few hours, and I have to turn it over pretty soon."

The mother of the nest had spoken. The ebony swallowed down a snicker at the thought before the grimness set in, the reality of the situation helping to usher the happiness back to its seat.

"I'll try and make it quick. You have a strong heart today, Alfie?" he rubbed nervously at his neck, a bad habit he picked up from Wally over the years.

At the suspicious nod, he continued.

"I was… well, I sat back and let the team go check out the War World in the atmosphere because… I don't know what I was thinking… and Blue Beetle went dark side," he began slowly, trying to avoid the point the best he could but knowing it was inevitable once Alfred commented he had been watching the news report before he got the call, "He… he attacked the team… Tim included… and now… they're all… gone."

The butler blinked.

"They're gone," he repeated incredulously.

Dick nodded, running a hand through his hair with another discrete tug.

"Blue took 'em off and… and hid them somewhere. Boom tube radiation all over the place, but I can't track the source. The only proof I have is that there's some of the scarab's DNA on a birdarang I found hidden around the corner. They… they took my brother… what… what do I do?"

For once, the omniscient man had not an answer to offer, eyes wide with hopelessness and he seemed to search the universe.

"First off," he copied the pace his 'grandson' had used, "You can't blame yourself. There was no way you could've known that he would… go… 'dark side'."

"I wasn't going to-," the ebony began to argue.

"Yes you were. I know you, boy, and you blame yourself for everything bad that happens on this green earth. This isn't your fault though. If the Reach's effect is strong enough to bring a boy back from the future to stop it, then it couldn't have been stopped. You would've been taken too if you had been there."

"I wasn't going to blame myself."

Alfred gave him a look that stopped him right there, one that cleanly said he had no reason to go off lying like that, causing his shoulders to slump. His façade was broken enough that even a screen and thousands of miles of separation failed to stop the old man.

"Alright, I might have been tempted, but not for the reason you're thinking," he caved in.

Alfred's eyebrows furrowed after his smirk came and went, arms folding over his chest firmly, "And what was it that I was thinking, Mast- Nightwing?"

Dick drummed his fingertips against each other, the glove's padding giving it a very dull thud sound that calmed him softly.

"All those kids…. They have families, Alfred. Maybe not picture perfect ones, but they have people waiting at home for them to return and I… I forget that when I recklessly send them into a ship we call the War World. I just immediately think they're like any other League member who is dedicated enough to this… war… for justice that they're willing to die for it. Those kids never asked for this! They wanted to protect the world, but they also want to protect the people they have back home."

The ashen-haired man opened his mouth to argue, but he closed his lips, knowing that this was just venting and he was willing to listen if it'd ease that boy's pain. He lifted the camera and carried it with him to the kitchen, sensing this would be a while.

"I just got so used to my history… I mean, I know I have you all, but I'm more than willing to die to keep even one of you safe because I know when I pass, another member will step up in my place. They weren't pressed with this… burden though… the empathy I can offer to those who lost everything… I just assume every body has that! I forget that not everyone… not everyone's like me. A civvie with a past like his mentor…

"Alfred… poor Bart… He sacrificed everything to get back here, to keep Blue on our side, and for what? Everything he gave is still sacrificed, and now he has to live out this failure! And Tim… Tim didn't… he didn't deserve any of this… He's got the best heart… It should've been the original team going topside. Megan, Conner, Artemis, Kaldur, Zatanna, Wa… Wally… We could've handled this. Blue shouldn't have been there in the first place!

"If I hadn't jacked things up in the first place, we'd all still be together and… I'd have all my friends back. I've ruined them all. That part is my fault. I had something great… and…"

A groan of dread bubbled up out of his throat, pressing tight to the panes in his mask until it forced his eyes to stay shut, the darkness just a little bit easier to take.

"Bruce… he's going to kick me out when he hears. Wally sure did! I've destroyed everything. The team, the hall, the cave… who knows what I'll take out next? That's all I ever do! I just… I take. I keep taking and taking… and then there's nothing… but I just keep grabbing…" he pulled hard at his hair, the pain blotting out the ache in his heart but not Alfred's quiet little cough.

It was enough to raise his gaze in surprise, following where Alfred gestured to until it had him turned around, gasping at the figure standing in the doorway.

"Thanks… I'll call you back, you old coot," he murmured, shutting the computer off before he bound across the room in a near blink, snatching the figure safely away from the entrance. "Arsenal!"

The redhead looked down at the hand on his arm like it was a bug just asking to be smashed, quickly drawing back Dick's hand.

"You're… you're alive," he murmured in amazement, the relief flooding back over his features.

Maybe he hadn't failed entirely quite yet with that thin glimmer of hope that the survivor of the attack had brought back with him. There was still that chance that Dick wouldn't be forced into a solo flock by the end of the day, and that chance was what sobered him up into the man he needed to be. He had a team to find.

I don't know why I love making my baby depressed or angsty. It makes me feel better, I guess? Then I finish it though, and it's like, please stop. Oh well, I'll get a hang of this eventually.

-F.J. III