Warnings: contain severe suicidal ideation if this bothers you or will trigger you please don't read.

He's been imagining it again and again. Several times a day but it doesn't bring the fear it did when he was a child, the grief. It brings something else now. The sound, the sound it would make is something he knows. Something he has heard in his dreams, in his memories. The smell, the look, the end result. But he still keeps imagining it. Again and again but this time he wonders what it would be like to actually do it.

He's standing on a rooftop looking over the edge into the dark street below. Where he was before that he can't remember, it doesn't seem to matter. All that matters is the slightly chilly air, that autumn that's fading into winter brings, the darkness of the night and the thoughts that are swimming in his head.

There was a short wall, that came about to his knees that was the only thing from keeping him from the edge. In seconds, as though he's in a trance, he makes his way up the wall easily balancing on the somewhat narrow ledge making him that much closer.

One step. One push. That was all it would take. Then he would fly, only gravity would finally win.

Dick could make it look like an accident like he went for his grapple but it jammed. He had already easily jammed it. He was ten stories up, his body from this height would be completely destroyed upon impact. No one but those who knew was under the Nightwing mask would know his identity. That way, in death, he wouldn't fail as well. It's a four AM and no one is out but the bats, not that he can see on his little corner so he doesn't have to worry about anyone being caught underneath him.

It would really be simple. One push, one push and it would all be over. No more nightmares of rooftops like this one, of blockbuster and Tarantula. No more pretending to be happy all the time. No more worrying about his vigilante family and teams, no more trying and failing to be a good example and big brother. No more thoughts about how he failed everyone in Bludhaven. Of how he continually just seemed to fail everyone. Just one last flight into oblivion. He took one foot off the wall.

"Nightwing check-in," He jumped slightly at the voice but managed to remain on the wall, this time with both feet. Barbara, Barbara was doing her nightly check-in. Dick blinked as the night started coming back to him.

Tonight had been a bust, a nightmare come to life, he hadn't been able to save innocent people. It happened in moments, not even enough time to ask for backup. So instead of saving them, he had watched them die, just standing there. He had gone into what he assumed was a fugue state after that because he had no idea what happened between being spattered in their blood and coming to this rooftop.

Dick blinked as he realized what he had been so close to doing was still so close to doing. The pull of gravity still beckoned to him in an alluring way. The call of peace, of an end, still beckoning him into the darkness.

"Nightwing?" Barbara repeated with a little more concern in her voice. Barbara, Dick focused on her voice, her concern. He hadn't thought about those he would be leaving behind, in fact, Dick was pretty sure he had been actively not trying to think about them. A part of him argued that they would all be better off without him, without Dick ruining everything.

The other part wasn't so sure. Even if they weren't together now, he still loved her. Dick was pretty sure a part of him would always love her. Imagining her being sad or even just unhappy ripped his heart apart. Imagining Dami or any of his brothers being sad only made that heart throb worse.

The darkness just over the edge still beckoned to him waiting with open arms but the more he thought about his family the less he felt like he could do it. Bruce, Jason, Tim, Damian, Barbara, their faces flashed in his mind.

"Nightwing?!" Barbara seemed even more worried now. It seemed like ages ago she had last spoken but he knew it probably had only been a few moments. The worry seemed genuine and if this what she felt just having to repeat his name a few times then if he were to die...

If his death hurt her, hurt any of the people he cared about... well, then he couldn't do it.

Not today at least.

Dick stepped down off the ledge and unjammed his grapple.

"Patrol's over, heading home now."