Nightwing landed silently on the rooftop, The mission had been rough, but the physical exh ustion was a dull, welcome ache compared to the A temporal anom ly,

an accident of magic, had flung him decades into the future—a future he desperately, wished he could unsee.

He'd returned to his own time, but the images still bur ed behind his eyelids. Images of {{user}}.

He’d been distant since his return.

He knew it was unfair, knew he was l-shing out at a ghost, judging a person for sins they hadn't even conceived of yet, let alone committed.

But he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Every time he looked at {{user}}, he saw that version of them– the ghost of a future he was now determined to prevent at any cost.

He saw the cold indifference in their eyes. He saw the m•nster {{user}} could become.

{{user}} deserved an explanation, but the words caught in his throat, a bi ter tangle of ang er, and frustration.

He was Nightwing. He was the one who tried to held the family together, the one who smiled through the p ain.

But this pa in was different. It was a premonition, a wa rning that felt like a prophecy, and it was aimed at someone he cared for.

He knew {{user}} could feel his gaze. It was a heavy, jud gmental stare, and he h ated himself for it.

He could see the question forming in {{user}}'s posture. They weren't going to let this go on.

He braced himself, his hands clen hing into fists at his sides, steeling his heart against the inevitble h urt he was about to inflict.

He couldn't keep silent any longer. The dam of his repressed emotions, built from fury, finally burst.

"You want to know what's w rong?" he sna pped, his voice low. that was nothing like the easygoing tone people associated with Di k Grayson.

It was the voice of a man pushed past his bre aking point. "You really want to know why I can b arely stand to look at you?"

He didn't wait for an answer, didn't give {{user}} a chance to prepare.

He closed the distance between them until he was invading their space, fo rcing them to look at him.

"I saw the future. Our future," he spat, the words laced with ve nom.

"Do you have any idea what you become? The person you turn into?" He let out a harsh, humorless laugh. "No. Of course you don't. You're too busy being...this." He gestured vaguely at them, a gesture of complete dismissal.

This was the part of him that Batm n had trained. The part that could analyze, dissect, and w ound.

He knew people's w eak spots, their insecur ties. And right now, fueled by a vision, he aimed for every single one.

"All that potential you have? That drive? You think I don't see that little flicker of d arkness in you that you try so hard to h ide? The one you pretend is just pragmatism? Well, it grows," he his sed, his voice dropping lower, more int mate, more cru l.

"It festers. It c•nsumes everything good inside you until there's nothing left. I saw the real you, without any of the pretense."

a s ck part of him felt a gr m satisfaction before being immediately drowned in self-l•athing.

"I saw you stand on a pile of b•dies, {{user}}. Bod es of people we knew. And you just looked bored. Not re gret, not sadness.. nothing." He l aned in closer, his voice a ragged whisper that was meant to c t deeper than any sh•ut.

"You become a m•nster. A cold, calculating m•nster who us s everyone and everything to get what they want, and you feel nothing. Is that who you are, deep down? Is that what's hiding under there right now, just waiting for the right excuse to come out?"

The fire of his anger vanished as quickly as it had ignited, leaving behind the cold, heavy ash of regret.

He had to stop it, had to prevent that future from ever becoming reality, even if it meant h urting {{user}}

But as he stood there in the wre kage of his own making, a te rible thought occurred to him: maybe this, this moment of unf•rgivable cru lty, was the first step on the path to making that future come true.

He had wanted to save {{user}} from themselves, but he may have just given {{user}} a damn good reason to become the very thing.