Memorium~Nightwing

GCPD

"Tonight a tragic accident claimed the lives of two acrobats at a traveling circus leaving a ten year old boy a orp-"

"Turn that blasted thing off, Lieutenant." Detective Walker snapped.

The screen snapped black and the Lieutenant set the remote onto his desk.

Detective Walker pulled his swivel chair over to where Dick Grayson sat, a dark blue blanket draped over his shoulders. "Dick?" she rested a hand on his shoulder.

His eyes flicked up to meet hers.

"Okay, a CPS agent is coming to talk to you. Do you know who they are?"

"Ch-child protective services." His eyes welled up with tears.

"Now normally under these circumstances CPS wouldn't be necessary, but if what you say is true-"

"Of course it's true! I was up there, and they always checked the ropes, multiple times, and-and they always taught me to check the ropes, and-" He hiccuped. "It wasn't an accident. Someone removed the nuts from the screws at the top of the pole." Dick wiped his nose on his sleeves.

"Dick, we need you to accept the possibility that this was just a mishap."

"It wasn't! I swear!" His hair flew out of his face, his eyes wild.

"Dick, calm down." Emily reassured him. "We are completely aware that it also could have been a- more purposeful occurrence. That's why we called in CPS. I requested the best, one of their specialists. She also is a trained youth psychologist, and happens to be my sister."

"Where am I supposed to go?" He pulled the blanket tighter around himself.

Emily hesitated. "We'll have to wait until CPS arrives to get all the information-but you might have to stay here tonight."

"In a cell?!" Dick's eyes widened.

"No, no." Emily shook her head. "You'll probably sleep in the Captain's office or at one of our desks. We have plenty of couches and someone can stay here with you. I'd be willing to stay here too."

He just gave a small nod.

Emily turned away from him to file the interview report on her laptop. With the light from her lamp, and the steady clack of the computer keys, the Gotham City Detective didn't notice when her coworkers left, or her phone buzzed with an apology of absence from her sister, or the sun set on the horizon. What jerked her out of her haze was the soft snoring from the asset chair next to her. 

She sat back and rubbed her eyes, they were sore from staring at the screen for too long. The boy looked almost at peace, his features softened in sleep.

A pang shot through her chest at the thought of her baby at home. She couldn't imagine putting him through the death of his mother, especially since she was in the police force. If he ever had to grow up with that...

Emily pressed her fingers to her temples, rubbing the thoughts from her head. Dick needed to sleep, but he was uncomfortably slumped in the metal chair. She stood and wrapped her arms around him, being careful not to wake him. Her shoulders tensed as she lifted him up into her arms. He was surprisingly light, probably a trait for an acrobat. 

She cradled him against her, thinking of her own child. Emily pushed the door open into the break room and set the young boy on one of the longest cushions. She grabbed another blanket from a small emergency kit and draped it over him. With a sigh, she poured a cup of stale bitter coffee and took a swig. Perfect.

Her eyes drooped as she watch his chest rise and fall. Despite the urges to stay awake, chin rested on her collarbone as she crossed her arms in front of her. The world faded to black.

~*~

Dick cradled his mothers face. "No! Please! Mama, wake up, please wake up, your not dead, no no no-"

Her head rolled to the side, Mary Grayson's dull eyes staring up to the center of the tent.

Dick clutched John's hand. "Dad! No, both of you, just wake up, come one-"

"Dick-"

"No!" He swatted them away with bloodstained hands. "They're not dead!"

"I'm sorry."

"I love you my little bird."

Dick awoke with a scream, throwing off his blankets, resting his bare feet on the stone floor. Stone? He glanced around. He was no longer in the GCPD precinct. The walls were gray stone, small stalactites grown from the ceiling. He was on a steel cot, but there was nothing else in the huge room. Absolutely nothing. No windows, one door with a huge lock.

"Hello?" He wrapped his blanket around his shoulders. He was wearing the GCPD shirt and sweatpants in the smallest size, but they still hung off him. His sneakers were gone, his toes curling at the cold. "Where am I?" His voice echoed.

"Richard Grayson." Someone with a deep throaty voice stepped through the door.

Dick squinted, his eyes adjusting to the sudden burst of light. "Who are you?!"

"My name is Slade Wilson, but you will call me Master Wilson." He leered at him through his one good eye. "You will do exactly as I tell you, or you're dead."