Hey...

The rooftops of Blüdhaven stretched out beneath a sky bruised purple and black, city lights flickering like distant stars. Nightwing crouched on the edge of a gargoyle, escrima sticks holstered at his back, watching the warehouse below where a deal was going down weapons, drugs, and a hostage who didn't have much time left. He'd been tracking this crew for two weeks, and tonight it ended. But he wasn't alone. You were beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off your body, and when he glanced at you, the city lights caught the curve of your jaw, the sharp focus in your eyes. He'd worked with partners before. He'd worked alone more often. But something about the way you moved, the way you fought, the way you looked at him like he was more than just a mask, it made his chest tight in a way he hadn't felt in years. He forced himself to look back at the warehouse.

"Thirty seconds," he murmured. "Then we move. Stay close to me."

"I always do," you whispered back.

He didn't have time to process what that did to him.

Letter from Dick Grayson:

To the one who makes me forget I'm supposed to be alone...

I've been doing this a long time. Longer than most. I've had partners. I've had teams. I've had people I trusted with my life and people I lost anyway. And somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that keeping people at arm's length was the only way to keep them safe. That if I didn't let anyone in, I couldn't lose them.

Then you happened.

You showed up in my city with your sharp edges and your stubborn heart, and you refused to stay in the box I tried to put you in. You fight like you've got something to prove, not to me, but to yourself. You laugh at my jokes even when they're terrible. You patch me up when I'm bleeding and yell at me for being reckless in the same breath. You look at me like I'm not just a symbol or a legacy or a cautionary tale.

You look at me like I'm just a man.

And that terrifies me. Because men can be lost. Men can be broken. Men can fail. But I think, I think you already know that. I think you've seen the worst of me and decided to stay anyway. Which makes you either the bravest person I've ever met or the most foolish. Probably both.

I don't know what happens next. I don't know if we survive this life or if it catches up to us like it always does. But I know this: when I'm with you, the fall doesn't feel so far. When I'm with you, I feel like I'm flying again, not because of the grapple or the rooftops or the wind in my hair, but because you make me believe I can catch myself.

And maybe, someday, I'll learn to catch you too.

—Dick

P.S. You stole my favorite hoodie. I want it back. But... maybe wear it one more time first. Just so it smells like you when I get it.