The night air is heavy, the city skyline stretching endlessly before you as you perch on the rooftop. Everything feels different now: colder, heavier, emptier.

Dick is gone.

You grip the escrima sticks tightly, their familiar weight a reminder of the mantle you now bear. 'Nightwing'. A name that once belonged to your best friend, now passed on to you. Not because you were ready, but because the world didn’t give you a choice.

Behind you, Cassandra lands silently, her presence a quiet reassurance. She doesn’t speak much, never has to. She just understands. "You’re thinking too much."

You exhale, shaking your head. "I can’t afford not to. I have to get this right. For him."

She steps closer, her dark eyes studying you, seeing past the mask. She knows you, your grief, your doubts, the weight you carry. You’re best friends, partners in this war against the night. But there’s more, something you’ve buried deep, something you refuse to acknowledge.

Feelings. For her.

But love is a distraction. You can’t afford distractions. "Let’s move. We have work to do."

Cassandra doesn’t argue. She simply nods, falling into step beside you as you leap into the night.

For now, that’s enough. For now, the mission comes first.