A/N- I know I should be working on Hiding in Plain Sight...I recognize that. However, I still need to make it over this massive writers block that's blocking anything I try to get out. And I thought in the mean time, you might enjoy this piece. Chronologically, it actually goes before Hiding in Plain Sight, because Dick has just started at the precinct working as a cop. The song that prompted this is "Mother & Father" by Broods- definitely check it out. Hope you enjoy the insight into Dick's mind :)

Chris slapped him on the back, and he cringed slightly as the massive hand jarred the rough line of stitches that ran down Dick's shoulder. The flash of pain certainly served as a lesson to him that no matter how stupid the criminal that anyone could get lucky. And also that some pain meds would probably be much appreciated tonight, he thought as sharp ache remained in his shoulder.

His reaction was just what Chris was looking for. Every cringe, every wince he made had him waxing on about his old weightset and speaking about his religion—boxing—that he paid tribute to every night.

His booming laugh filled the bullpen right on cue, and several heads turned as they witnessed the insilencable giant that was Chris. Dick matched his smile tooth for tooth—even in pain his laughter was beyond infectious. Even if it was at his own expense.

"See Grayson, those pretty boy muscles are nothing against the real thing." He flashed another dazzler, and Dick knew he meant it in good fun. There weren't too many sides of Chris that didn't involve a beaming grin and laughter so deep it hurt to breath.

He punched Chris's arm in return—to his credit, it was nothing but solid, rock hard muscle. "You know, you keep saying that, but you have yet to put your money where your mouth is, Stevens. I'm beginning to think you just have a penchant for talking yourself up."

His eyebrows rose along his dark forehead. "Yeah, and who's responsible for that? I keep telling you, you and me, mano y mano, a friendly duel to put all this speculation to rest. Cole would pay good money to see it, ya know."

He couldn't help but roll his eyes at that one. "Cole is an idiot." A rich idiot, but hey, he didn't mind taking his money.

Blonde curls emerged from behind Chris's left elbow, and a pale heart shaped face followed close after. "You guys are the idiots. I swear, this whole jock tournament is ridiculous." Porcelain fingers wound their way around Chris's impressive tree trunk of an arm, and Stacy tossed an indulgent smile his way. Dick responded with one in kind.

Chris leaned to plan a light kiss on top of blonde, spastic curls. "Sure honey. No fighting. We got it."

They simultaneously rolled their eyes to him, unseen by the other, and he couldn't help but snort back laughter. They were so in sync, so in tune that it was almost like they were one person, just mirrored.

"See ya tomorrow Grayson?" Chris called on the way out.

Dick shouted after him, "Sure, somebody's gotta be here to deal with your ego." To which he received Chris's middle finger thrust into the air over his shoulder. He stood there for a moment watching their intertwined, retreating backs, until they had both clambered into their modest Honda Civic and drove off into the inky Bludhaven night.

He should've been clearing his stuff for the day, saying goodbye to the night shift. He should've been headed home, home to an apartment where he'd eat the last of my chow mein noodles and don his second uniform of the day and patrol the streets from a whole other plane. He could even make it in good time if he left now. Instead he was staring at a mostly empty parking lot.

Before Dick knew it, in what felt like the span of three heartbeats, he was shoving open the door to the rooftop of the police station. The cold air hit his face like wading into a dirty swimming pool, murky and toxic until you took in your first few breaths and you adjusted. Bludhaven was dirty like that. Like Gotham, the city had a different taste than other places. Residents and business owners had already resigned themselves to the fact that the 'Haven was a filthy place incapable of being rejuvenated, and so pollution was rank in the air, always sitting at the edge of every breath you took. It was everywhere, touched everything, and was only truly gone once you'd fully cleared the cities limits.

Unlike Gotham, police rooftops weren't the place for rendezvous and case briefings. In Dick's mind, he would always assimilate the tops of stations as the glare of a bat symbol, the smell of black coffee and cigarettes (it did have that in common), and the sounds of trenchcoats and capes whipping in the night air. It felt like he spent most of the nights of his teenage years on top of Gotham's police department roof, watching as Commissioner Gordon grew shorter and his ginger caterpillar grew flecked with white. He was always 'son' though. God how he missed it.

In Bludhaven there was no symbiotic relationship between the cops and Nightwing. Dick suspected this for a few reasons—for one, it was still early on in the vigiliant's career. It was understandable that while Nightwing was still in his infancy and continued to show what he stood for, a more universal opinion of him had yet to be formed. He was still working on that, but he was confident. He just needed to show Bludhaven the good he could do, and the changes that would happen, and they would come to trust him. He could be patient until then. He had nothing but time.

His eyes moved back to the nearly vacant parking lot, ghosting over where Chris and Stacy had once walked. His throat tightened almost imperceptibly when he remembered the easy way the two touched, the familiar way they interacted. It looked as easy as breathing.

Don't get me wrong—he was beyond happy for them. He'd only worked with Chris for a short time since he'd started with the precinct, but they'd grown close after a ride along that involved a drunk Santa, an electric reindeer, and a mountain of chocolate covered peanut butter M&M's. Since then Chris and Dick were inseparable, and Chris wasted no time in showing Dick all he needed to know about working at Bludhaven. It certainly helped that he and Chris shared many of the same views about some of the more questionable but popular police practices, including under the table trading and arrest quotas. Both Dick and Chris had pledged themselves to stay above the dishonesty, and Dick found himself that much more impressed with his fellow cop.

Chris had met Stacy shortly after, and Dick had seen the difference in his friend instantly. She was his partner, his best friend, and his lover rolled into one, and he couldn't wait to see them make it.

Dick wasn't a jealous person. He knew how to appreciate the good things in life and make the most out of what he had. He wasn't an ungrateful person. But as happy as it made him to see them together, it still hurt. Not because of what it was, but because of what it stood for and all that it represented. For them? A lifetime of happiness. For him? A reminder that he came home to an empty apartment and hadn't held a conversation with someone that knew every angle of his life in months.

Sure, he wasn't worse for wear. He had a job, had friends, even had a purpose. Those were the things that kept him going, helped him get up in the morning and do what he needed to do.

But as much as he'd been trying to make Bludhaven his home, it still didn't feel like it. The cities foreign streets and people and gangs weren't the Gotham he was used to.

But you can't go back to that.

He'd tried his best to integrate into the city, become one with its ways and comings and goings, tried to become as unified and inseparable from it as Batman was to Gotham. He'd became a police officer to help people during the day, and also to have an inside on the criminal activities that the cops tried to keep under wraps from the public. He'd done good work. He'd traversed the city at night, becoming the name that started to slip from thieving, treacherous tongues when they spoke haltingly, afraid. With good reason—the first night out, with surprise on his side, he'd caught an unprecedented amount of criminals. He'd done great work.

Everything else though…he wasn't so sure. He could sympathize with the lone puzzle piece. Everything else fit right into place, slid in without any struggle. But there was one piece out of place. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't complete.

He wasn't complete. Not like he used to be.

But you can't go back to that.

He was 20 years old. 20 years and at what some would argue the prime of his life. But he couldn't feel any of that. All he felt was the conflict raging inside of him, ignoring the peaceful, chilly night with a hint of stars. How was he supposed to live his life here when all he needed was home?

It felt like forever ago, a whole other lifetime, that he'd returned to a secret mountain base to be clapped on the back and congratulated. It felt like a different person had trusted their life implicitly to five other people and had no doubts or reservations. It felt like a million years since he'd seen his family.

But you can't go back to that.

You made sure of that.

Because what you did…can't ever be forgotten.

The floodgates closed with a slam, and Dick numbly turned to go. He had patrol to do. Why he wasted time on the roof, he didn't know.

"I don't want to wake up lonely,

I don't want to just be fine.

I don't want to keep on hoping,

Forget what I had in mind…

I remember the time when a kiss on the hand was enough

Cause we knew we were free

And we knew what it meant to be loved."

Just a little short I decided to churn out while it was on my mind. Thanks for reading all! And thank you in advance to those who review, favorite, and follow. It is very much appreciated. And off to HiPS I go...