Yeah, so this is basically me finally publishing this fic... it's been done for months now but I kept on looking at and wondering "what if it's not? what if there's more to add? what about the bad guys?" Then I realized that the story I wanted to tell was already told, and what happened to the bad guys wasn't part of the story... so here I am. This is based off of a creative writing club prompt, so thank the club's presidents for this...

Anyway, I do not own Young Justice, or Batman, or just DC in general...

I hope you all enjoy!

WARNINGS: honestly not really any, but for anyone who's observing Ramadan, there is both blood and violence

If Anyone Had Told Him

No matter how cliché it may seem, if anyone had told Dick a few hours ago that he would be watching Bruce - not Batman, but Bruce - fall off the top of Wayne Tower, he would have punched them. He would have claimed that they were joking, that there was no way they had that much precognition, that Bruce wouldn't fall because he was Bruce. The punch would have knocked all of their teeth out and broken their nose at the same time, because everyone knew that joking about falling and heights with Dick Grayson was a bad idea.

If anyone had told Dick a few hours ago that he would be watching Bruce fall off the top of Wayne Tower, he would have clutched onto the man's pant leg, dug his head into Bruce's side where at least one eye would be shielded from the world, and never let the other superhero leave the manor.

If anyone had told Dick a few hours ago that he would be watching Bruce fall off the top of Wayne Tower, he would have gone with his mentor as Robin instead of Dick Grayson.

Instead, an explosion knocked the CEO of Wayne Industries off the top of his own building, and Dick was left behind to watch him fall, screaming at the top of his lungs for Superman.

It wasn't like watching his mentor dive off a building was anything new to him; the two did it multiple times every night. The problem was that this wasn't just any night. It was day, and Batman was Bruce and Robin was Dick, and Bruce didn't have his grappling hook on him because his utility belt was in his briefcase, the square object scorched on the side of the roof, and Dick could only scramble for his own. It was hidden under his sweatshirt, literally right there, but his fingers were fumbling, slick with nervousness, and he knew that by the time he got it out, Bruce would already rest on the concrete below, with his neck snapped and blood pooling around them and people screaming and Dick crying their names from high above the circus floor and Mr. Haley trying to calm everyone down and clowns with their makeup trailing down their cheeks, following the tears, and "SUPERMAN!"

With a jerk, Dick jolted from the past, his own screams still echoing in his ears, from then and from now, but with one more person filling his thoughts. "Superman, please! Please, please, please, I can't lose Bruce, I can't lose him, not now-"

"Hey, Dickie, so I bet you're wondering why I've brought you up here, hmmm?" Bruce smiled down at the young gymnast, who grinned back up, blue eyes shining.

"You wouldn't tell me anything!" Dick complained. "And Alfie wouldn't tell me anything! And neither would Barry, or Clark, or Selina, or anyone! And I wanna know!"

"No worries there, Dick," Bruce said, ruffling his charge's hair. "So guess what?"

The younger male hurriedly swiped his hair back into place, simultaneously rocking back and forth in anticipation as Bruce squatted on the balls of his feet. "What?!"

"Well, your social worker and I talked, and we agreed that it was about time that I signed some forms."

Dick's breath caught in his throat when he realized what forms Bruce was talking about. "Those forms?" He asked breathlessly. "Those forms?!"

Bruce nodded, the grin that he saved specially for Dick brightening his face. "Those forms," he promised. "Dickie, you're going to be my son."

"Superman!" Dick cried, tears already sliding down his face. "Clark, please," he whispered.

Dick cheered as Bruce swung him up into a hug, the two meeting each other's eyes.

"I won't ever let you go," Bruce promised solemnly. "Never."

Dick stared at him and then tightened his arms around Batman's alter-ego, resting his cheek on Bruce's suit-clad shoulder.

"Thank you, Bruce."

"You're welcome, Dickie."

Bruce turned to pick up his briefcase, one arm still holding his soon-to-be adopted son, and then the door behind them exploded outward.

A whoosh of air sounded from behind the ten year-old, who ducked his head into his arms, creating a smaller angle for Superman to maneuver around. As soon as the breeze passed, Dick's head popped up again, sapphire eyes tracking the red and blue blur as it barrelled down the side of Wayne Tower.

"Please, Superman," Dick whispered again, watching as the meta superhero caught up to Bruce with a few tens of feet left.

Somehow, someway, Bruce managed to both shield Dick and drop him when the explosion's force wasn't as strong as it had been initially. Dick fell to the rooftop, feeling overheated and scared, but physically okay.

Bruce flew over the edge.

Dick imagined Superman's arms closing around Bruce's waist but not pulling him upward, and then watched as the other superhero gently corrected Bruce's trajectory millisecond by millisecond until they were flying horizontally,* a scarlet cape the only thing marking their position.

"Thank you," Dick cried, tears only now blurring his vision, and he let his head drop to the edge of the tower, allowing the sounds of Gotham to soothe him, caressing his ears and tickling the tips of his gelled hair. He lifted his head back up to reassure himself that it was Bruce, flying, in his line of sight instead of his parents, dead on the sandy floor of a circus tent.

A/N:

* Thank you, physics...

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed, and please review!

Also, my tumblr is bookdancerfics, feel free to drop by! :)