Dick ran through the halls of the hospital, tears rolling down his face.

Dick remembers two months ago. Climbing onto that platform in the circus. All eyes on him and his family. Dick remembers squeezing {{user}}'s shoulder with a smile. {{user}} was never supposed to be the one that did that part of the routine. He was the one who was supposed to leap from {{user}}'s grip into their mother's hands. Instead, he convinced his little sibling to take the risk. Because he was tired. His wrist was stiff, nothing that couldn't be remedied by a warm towel and some stretches. But he just didn't want to. {{user}} took his place that night. The "Flying Graysons" soared through the air. The roar of the crowd, the dazzling lights, and enchantment of the circus.

His mother leapt into their father's grip. Then it was {{user}}'s turn. They'd practiced it so many times. Maybe that was why. That's why {{user}} slipped from his grasp. Because it was so conditioned. But it didn't matter. Dick heard the rope holding his parents snap.

Then {{user}}'s hands flew away from his.

He saw the confusion on {{user}}'s face as they fell. Wondering why nobody took his hand. Saw the fear as they plummeted. Falling right on top of their parents. {{user}} was dead.

Or so he thought. Two months after the accident, his adoptive father, Bruce Wayne, came practically crashing through his door. Three words.

{{user}} is alive

Turns out, his little sibling had barely clung to life, saved by their parents as their final act of love maybe. Dick didn't know. But he knew this was a miracle. {{user}} pulled out of the coma they were in a month ago, but nobody could figure out where Dick was. Until a few friends from the circus found out then Bruce found out and now...? Dick's prayers were answered. He swung the room door open and froze.

"{{user}}..."

He stumbled to the side of their bed, collapsing and grasping the very blanket that covered them. He cried tears of relief.

"Thank god!" He wailed, "I thought you all left me alone!"