Bruce Wayne and Emily Walker stood close to each other outside of the hospital room. Emily had quickley found a babysitter for her kid, and hurried to Gotham Memorial just to be told Dick was in surgery.
She was in the hallway now, gnawing at her fingernails. "How do you know Richard? I saw you at his funeral..."
Bruce rubbed his hands on his pants. "I knew his parents." In truth, Bruce felt a tug deep in his chest whenever he thought of the boy, his parents savagely murdered. Tony Zucco had been arrested and tried for their deaths, including Dicks. "It's been a while, he won't remember me."
"I was the detective when his parents passed away. I-" a tear slid down her face as she paused. "I was the one who let him be taken."
"That wasn't your fault." He softened. "He was taken out of a police precinct without anyone noticing, including police cameras. Don't beat yourself up about it."
She nodded numbly, not noticing that he had stated need-to-know facts.
"Mr. Wayne? Ms. Walker?" A doctor in sickly green scrubs glanced at them. "I was told you were his only guardians."
"Detective Walker, GCPD. Mr. Wayne is just a friend." She flashed her badge, correcting him.
"Good news. Richard is stable and we managed to remove the obstruction. I don't know if its vital to the investigation, but he had 7 broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a hairline fracture in his jaw, sprained ankle, a gash across his back, then there were his previous injuries."
"What previous injuries?" The billionaire and detective said at the same time.
The doctor hesitated. "He has had his fingernails ripped off several times, but they regrew though. He also has countless scars across his body, the most significant being burns on his wrists and ankles. As far as I can tell he has been electrocuted."
Bruce felt ill at the thought of Deathstroke torturing him. A child, no more than 15 years old, scarred mentally and physically for life.
"Has he told you who did this to him?"
"He hasn't woken up yet. You can go in and wait for him though."
"Thank you doctor." Bruce straightened his jacket. "We'll see him now."
The doctor stood to the side and Bruce and Emily stepped inside the sterile hospital room. In between the white sheets was Dick, a NG tube in his nose and more tubes down his throat. He was wearing a hospital gown, his dark hair like a stain on his pillow. His skin was still pale as death, bruises and cuts splashes of color.
"He really is alive." Emily's voice cracked. "He's so small, doesn't look different."
Bruce nodded mutely. Dick was incredibly thin, his body carved from bone and skinny muscle.
"I don't think he's eaten well in a while. Jesus, its all my fault. Don't tell me it isn't!" Emily snapped fiercely.
Her eyes welled with tears as she pulled up wasa chair next to him. Her shaking hand reached up to stroke his head, brushing his hair back. "Oh, Dick. Where have you been?" She whispered softly.
Bruce rubbed a hand through his hair. "The kidnapper must have found a body like his and dressed it in the clothes you gave him. Then he mutilated it so you couldn't tell it wasn't him. He must have wanted the police to stop looking."
"He? Do you know who took him?"
He groaned. "I have a theory. A criminal mastermind named Slade Wilson, goes by the name Deathstroke, must have been watching him. Dick was strong, part of an acrobatic family, Slade must have thought he was perfect. I don't know any more than that."
"Perfect for what? He's just a boy."
"I don't know." Bruce sunk into one of the chairs, a thundering pounding running through him; a bitter anger towards Deathstroke.
"I already texted my sister. She said that according to local law and such, that since Dick has no other relatives, he'll be put up for a sort of protective adoption. I want to, but I have a kid already and can't afford another." She tightened her ponytail.
Adoption.
Bruce rubbed his jaw. He was exhausted, he hadn't slept since the night before last.
A strangled sound interupted his thoughts. He ran over to the bedside and leaned down. Dicks eyes were wide open, the pupils dilated in a sea of brilliant blue. He was pulling at his IV and the pipes in his airways, his face full of panick.
"Dick!" Emily grabbed his hand. "You're safe calm down!"
The heart monitor was beeping off the charts, an alarm going off in the hallway.
"Dick! Calm down!" Bruce tried to hold him down, but his panick rose at the contact.
A doctor burst in and grabbed a needle from a tray and stuck it into Dick's IV. Bruce and Emily were pinning Dick to the bed, but he calmed and stilled.
"Oh thank god." Emily breathed.
The doctor sighed as well. "Must've panicked. Batman said he was a victim of a gang hit."
Emily nodded. "What are we supposed to do?"
"Keep him sedated until we can take his NG and feeding tubes out so we can converse with him. That's my recommendation."
Bruce nodded. "That sounds good. I need to go home and get some rest, please call me. Anything at all."
"Of course." Emily agreed. "You look exhausted. Have a good night, and thanks for being here."
>>>------>
Bruce Wayne stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. He was drained, but he couldn't sleep; Dick was on his mind. He would be terrified when he woke up. The years in his life where he was supposed to be developing social skills and making lifelong friends, were spent locked God knows where being tortured by a psychopath.
Emily would be there for him, but she had her own child. He had only known her for a day or two, so he wouldn't trust her, especially if her face reminded him of the day he was taken.
Dick needed someone.
Bruce rolled out of bed and pulled a shirt over his head. A quick glance at the clock confirmed his suspicions: it was 1:00 am.
Bruce skidded down the staircase in Wayneinformationinto his home office. The computer monitor lit up the shallows in Bruce's face as he opened the browser.
adoption
He typed and hit the enter button. His eyes scanned pages full of information.
how to know if your ready to have a kid
teenager adoption
child post traumatic stress
The billionaire soaked in the information throughout the night.
"Master Bruce?"
Bruce turned to see Alfred standing in the doorway in his suit.
"What on earth are you doing up?"
Bruce gave him a tired smile. "I think I'm going to adopt a kid."
YOU ARE READING
Memorium~Nightwing
Fanfiction"And now," Haly annoced, flourishing his hands, "The Flying Grayson's!" In this story, Dick is ten when his parents are brutally murdered by Tony Zucco. Taken from police custody, Dick is the captive of the supervillain Deathstroke. Renamed Renegade...
