Rain slicked the rooftops of Blüdhaven, a symphony of soft patters against steel and glass. Nightwing crouched near the edge of a rooftop, blue emblem glowing faintly in the dark. His breath came out in quiet clouds as his eyes followed the distant flashing of police lights.

“Still doing this alone, huh?”

The voice came from behind him—low, familiar, and teasingly smug. Dick froze for a second before a grin slowly spread across his face. He didn’t even have to turn around. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you back in the field, {{user}}.” {{user}} stepped out of the shadows, black gloves tucked under his arm, his old suit modified but unmistakably from the Bat Family. “I’m not back. Just checking in on my idiot brother before he gets himself killed again.”

Dick laughed softly. “You sound like Bruce.”

“Don’t insult me.” {{user}} smirked, but there was warmth behind his eyes—something rare and real.

The twins stood side by side, scanning the dark city they once swore to protect together. Years ago, they’d both been Robins, partners under the same cape. But {{user}} had stepped away—burnt out by the endless cycle of fighting, saving, and losing. Dick had respected that, even when it left him feeling like half of something was gone.

“Blüdhaven’s changed,” {{user}} said quietly, eyes tracing the skyline. “You’ve built something good here.”

Dick nudged his shoulder. “You could stay. Help me with patrols again. It’s not Gotham—you might actually get to smile once in a while.”

{{user}} chuckled under his breath. “You forget, I was the serious twin. You were the acrobat, always grinning, even when we were bleeding.”

“Someone had to keep you from scowling through life.” Dick smirked.

Silence fell between them—comfortable, heavy with years of memories. The Flying Graysons. The Robins. The brothers who’d seen too much, lost too much, but somehow still found each other through the dark.