Because Dick has issues with a capital I, and one day he's going to stop being nice and tell these peeps to stop their Bitchin' and deal.

also, a 161 iq is CRAZY high (like 30 points past genius), so it's probably unreasonable but . . . I wanted him to outsmart Spencer Reid :P

aaand I purposely had Dick refer to himself as he, rather than Dick or Nizghtiwng (wow I spelled it wrong, it looks cool tho) to add to the insanity factor *giggles manically*

darkish!fic, title stolen from lyrics to a PATD song, hallelujah

It happens when all his brothers are there.

Actually, it happens because all his brothers are there. They're fighting and screaming and yelling and Bruce is there too, only making everything worse, but maybe, maybe he wouldn't have done it Alfred had been there to salvage things, but the older man wasn't.

The arguments start out as subtly biting banter, but escalatesto a small squabble, but escalates to a fist fight, which escalates into a huge melting pot of ebverything they'd ever blamed each other for, every guilt, every flaw, every mistake, anything to give the person more leverage. There were no shortage.

He tries to break it up, and promptly gets . . . dismissed.

"Shut up Nightwing!"

(It's not that he likes talking, it's just better than silence.)

"Not everything's about you!"

(He knows, God, he knows, he wishes he could just disappear some days.)

"You don't get it, you circus freak!"

(He can feel this one chip at his insides, but he's proud of his circus.)

"You can't possibly understand!"

(Maybe his 161 IQ wasn't on Bruce's level, but he could relate to nearly every struggle they had.)

And then their attention is on him. Charity Case, Idiot, Man Whore are nothing new, however much they make him hurt, make him ache inside, but one sentences is stands out.

"Your people deserved what they got!"

No. Fuck, no, they didn't. He doesn't know if they're talking about his family or the Romany, but he can't decide which one would be worse, and they're practically one and the same.

Not even Deathstroke's techniques for hiding (not calming, nothing can calm it) his rage. And he's kept this bottled up for so long, for years and years and years he's dealt with their shit, with a smile and a hug, and kind words.

Because fuck, who was their for him when he needed it?

He's so tired of being the nice one, the optimistic one, the strong one, the confidant-

Who is he supposed to confide in?-

The one who laughs it off, who acts like the insults don't bother him, who had to become Batman at twenty one, who will take all their blame for everything and- no.

He laughs and he sees their startled faces but he doesn't care, he shouldn't have to care, it's not his job, at least not anymore - and guess what, he can't be fired this time because he quits! - so he lets the best feelings in the world wash over him; rage and power, and he knows once he's done he'll turn into a statue of total apathy but it feels good for once, to let go of his temper.

And they have issues? He laughs again, because he's been tortured and beaten and kidnapped and harassed and abandoned and fired and betrayed and replaced (Robin didn't belong to them!) and even raped so many times, and they haven't seen him take his problems out on them! Well, before tonight anyways.

Hell, nearly every single person he's cared about ever has been ripped away from him, killed or brainwashed or something.

A small part of him wants to understand, wants to calm them down and comfort them, tell them it's okay and to realize that they're all just stressed and haven't slept or eaten in days, but most of him is tired of being the one to always have to take the beatings.

He snaps. Explodes, really. For a moment he lets anger rise over apathy as he punches one of his 'brother's' - he's not sure who, because his vision is mostly red now, but he thinks it's Jason - but he hears the satisfying crack as one of the high-and-mighty replacements stumbles back. He wonders absently if it hurts as much as when Bruce slaps and punches him.

He hopes so.

"I understand a lot more than you think, replacement," he hisses, and then he's on his motorcycle, and then he's out of the cave, and then he's by himself in the cool evening air.

It's soothing, but this is still Gotham, and the stars are clouded over and dim. He misses being able to see as far into the sky as he wanted, the stars glowing and bright and everywhere. The nighttime used to be a place filled with stars, when did it become like this? Anger underneath a pitch black sky.

But it's fine, Nightwing's a solo hero for a reason.

And, to his credit, he only looked back once.