So i actually read and reviewed this chapter over the course of the week. I've pretty much been snowed in and haven't been able to do anything. Hopefully because I have had so much time to work on this, I hope it is better.

Also this chapter was really hard to write. I didn't know how to capture the grief and sadness that would accompany Jason's death, but I gave it my best shot.

Enjoy!

The silence that had descended upon the manner was suffocating. Dick Grayson had not made a sound since he had heard the news that right now Batman was bringing home the broken bird. Nightwing couldn't breathe, couldn't feel anything but the coldness that was suddenly emanating from his center. He knew the feeling. It was the mask to stop his feelings appearing in full force. Dick pushed the mask away. This was too deep of a cut not to let it be felt. He knew that the longer you didn't feel pain, the harder it was to hide.

Jason...His little Brother...The second Robin...The proud street rat...Jason

There was thundering in his ears. A storm raged across his mind, the chaos was one of the worst he had felt in a long time. The last time he had felt a storm in his mind like this was when he had quit being Robin. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to look up at the presence on his shoulder. He had in sometime when he was letting the storm rage on in his brain fallen to his knees. There was a slight throbbing in the base of his knees but it didn't really seem important at the moment.

The presence on his shoulder slowly lifted him up and onto the couch. The old man and the young red-head looked at each other worried. Nightwing had a special bond with every person he came in contact with. That was his thing, its why he was able to remain good friends with his exes, people knew that he could see the good and the bad in everyone. But Jason had especially become close with the older bird. It was a bond over hating and grousing about Bruce. Dick knew that Jason was a good person underneath his hard exterior, and Jason noticed the darkness that seemed to be hidden in Nightwing.

Dick removed his mask and the tears poured from his eyes and suddenly the storm broke in his mind. His silently tears became all out sobs, and yells of pain. It was one of the more horrifying sounds to ever come out and Barbara was next to him pulling him tight. He wasn't the only one who had a tear stained face. Then Nightwing started to compose himself. It wasn't easy but one thought rang out above the chaos of the storm in his head.

Bruce cannot become a killer.

Nighwing had become a killer because that's who he was. Nightwing had killed after years of therapy and a healthy life style and yet, Zucco was still dead. He was lying in the ground ten feet under by the former victim's hand.

But Bruce? No. Bruce wouldn't become the killer Nightwing was. His breathing slowed, his tears eventually faded away, and his voice gave no sound. He shoved Barbara away a little harder than he should have but at the current moment he didn't care. He replaced the mask on his face and stared Alfred down.

"Where is he?"

Alfred, for one of the first times that Dick could remember, showed emotion that could not be denied. He was worried and confused.

"He radioed about half an hour ago. He should be here any moment," the butler said cautiously. There were two angers brewing inside Dick and the butler spotted them from a mile away. The first anger had been wet and he had cared. This second anger was dry. There was no pity, no blame, and no fear. This was a dangerous type of anger. Something Dick had inherited from Bruce.

"Let me be the one to address him when he gets home. He won't even want to see me but at this moment Batman needs his the first spark of joy that kept him from the darkness," Dick said with a direct look at both of them. They nodded solemnly. Batman was going to go down a dark and dangerous road, and the only person who could pull him away from that path was a Robin.

Nightwing went to the office that he had played so much in as a child. Bruce had prohibited playing in his work space, but Dick had been born in a circus what did he know about rules? It had taken him two week of playing in the office to find the entrance to the batcave. It was embarrassing really. He had been on one of the book shelves and missed judged his landing. He had stumbled back after his landing and knocked the bust back. There was the button just waiting to be pressed.

Then his life had unfolded before him. He had adopted the mantle of Robin. He had trained with Bruce till his joints were sore. He had learned, fought, and enjoyed every moment of being Robin for the first four years. Then things changed. Then he changed. He was older, wiser, stronger. Bruce and he had started to disagree even more than usual. The arguments started out small but eventually graduated in to full blown feuds that hadn't been resolved for days. In these moments it was when Nightwing was born. Those silent moments when he realized how different Bruce and Dick are.

He stepped into the Batcave his foots steps echoing off the high walls. He didn't care if his stealth needed some work, he wanted to be heard. He wanted to be known. Then his quick blue eyes found the the person who needed him most. Batman-no Bruce- was sitting on the floor cradling Jason's body in his arms. The sight made the original Robin flinch. The body wasn't pretty. There were tons of broken bones, bullet holes, bruises, and abrasions.

Bruce also looked like he had been beaten. His head was hung low and his shoulders heaved with silent cries. He crossed the floor quickly and knelt down in front of the bat. The bat looked up and stony gray eyes met sparkling blue. No words were exchanged, the words spoken between them would have been meaningless. And suddenly the blue bird had Jason's head in his lap, and a hand on Bruce's shoulder. Nightwing let the man cry, holding in these feelings would be the end of everything Bruce had built over the last twenty five years.

It had been a little over an hour of crying over the body, when Bruce finally straightened up. He was red in the face, his eyes were puffy, and he was tired. Nightwing could hear the elevator coming down the shaft and knew that this was the moment.

"Bruce."

Bruce's steely gray eyes glanced toward him then back to his second son.

"Bruce. I know this will be hard for your to hear right now, but you need to listen to me."

Bruce's eyes finally pulled away from his son and the desperation and disappointment had been replaced. It was small but every second the anger and hatred was growing stronger.

"Bruce. You need to feel the anger and hatred that is coming up. You need to feel hurt and feel the loss. But you must do it at Bruce Wayne. Go upstairs, go to sleep, and tomorrow you will smash everything in your office. You will break everything you come in contact with. You will train tomorrow harder than you have ever trained, but at the end of the day, you will not put on your cowl."

Nightwing paused a minute to let the information sink into Bruce. The anger had become worse with these words were spoken. He was going to kill the bastard that murdered his son. There was no way that he was going to let the Joker go this time.

"The Batman will grieve also. But he will do it in his way. He will not be seen for a couple of days, he will not be heard from for a couple of days, and when he comes back he will be angry with the scum of Gotham. But he will not kill. Because even in his lowest moments, Batman is not a killer. He is not as bad as the Gotham villains who will kill to release their feelings. You will be the Batman."

Dick heard the English Butler coming up from behind him.

"The Batman will not kill. Because you have never killed and you never will. You brought us into the manor, because you understood us. You understood the pain and suffering that each of us went through. Jason knew this and I know he respected you for it. So go and Grieve Bruce. But don't grieve as Batman for a while," Nightwing concluded as the Butler appeared behind the pair. Bruce nodded solemnly as Alfred picked up the body and Bruce rose with him.

Nightwing watched their backs retreat and his eyes narrowed. The Batman couldn't kill, but that didn't mean Nightwing couldn't.

He stood on the roof adjacent of the ice pick lounge. It was the only place in Gotham that was a reliable spot for criminal information, because every criminal in here was so drunk that they didn't realize they were giving away valuable information. He wouldn't go in, that was just plain stupidity. If Nightwing walked in there it would go batshit crazy. The villains would disappear before he could get to the person he needed.

So, what does a hero do when they can't enter a building? They watch the exit.

Dick's blue eyes were glued to the exit. Several people had come and go but he wanted none of them. He was waiting for the one person he knew to be in there. Joker?No. Joker would never be so stupid. He was waiting for the one person the Joker trusted to walk out that door. The one person in the world that would know where the joker was without having to think about it.

Then Nightwing saw her blonde head duck out of the door. He pink and blue make-up a little smeared and looking a bit tipsy.

Nightwing made his move. He sunk into the shadows and slid down to the alleyway that Harley Quinn was now walking out of. She loved the Joker with a strange passion that no one could quite understand. It was a crazy love that only those inside of it understood. But at least they had someone. She would never give the location of the Joker up; she was far too in love with the man. But she was tipsy, tired, and turned on. She would lead Nightwing right to the man that had killed his little brother.

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