Concussions and Cops

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This was written for  using a prompt given by them. So... send Blizz some love, she's amazing. 

Dick grimaced, sharp pain radiating through his skull as his eyes opened to blinding bursts of light. The noise alone was enough to make him feel nauseous, but combined with the light, it was all he could do not to roll to his side and vomit.

He gritted his teeth, squinting behind his mask as he sat up, head spinning. Standing was not going to be easy. In fact, if he could stay on the ground permanently, Dick would not be at all against it.

But no. Someone was yelling. Scratch that. Multiple people were yelling, the sound joining the sirens in making his head feeling like it was going to explode.

A hand touched his shoulder and Dick flinched away, scrambling back only to hit a wall. More hands were on him then, gripping his arms and hauling him upright.

A light shone directly in his eyes and that was all it took for the nausea to completely overtake him.

Dick lurched forward, vomiting onto the pavement. It was only once the urge to throw up had subsided that his vison cleared enough for him to see the now vomit covered boots in front of him.

A rough hand jerked him back, making him lose his footing and stumble, blurry vision barely managing to take in the fact that the people touching him were dressed in blue and wearing badges.

The police.

Why were the police here?

Batman.

Where was Batman?

Where was Bruce?

Dick was vaguely aware of being moved; of his gloves being removed and cold metal being secured around his wrists; of being roughly pushed into a car. But his mind was long gone, everything a blur to his eyes and a ringing in his ears.

He could only focus on one thing: that Bruce had left him to be taken away.

He was alone.

--

The boy looked so small and fragile, dwarfed by the hulking officers. Jim Gordon didn't even have to see the boy's eyes to judge how out of it he was. Just one look at him and he could tell that he had no clue what was going on, or probably even where he was.

There was blood matted in the kid's hair, not that any of the other officers listened to Gordon when he tried to point it out.

No, they were too focused on the fact that they had caught Batman's apparent sidekick. He'd only been spotted a handful of times and now they actually had him. They had leverage against the Bat.

Gordon hated it.

All he could see was his daughter in the kid's place, small and afraid, pushed around by adults who really should know better, treated like an adult when he couldn't possibly be older than ten.

He was so small.

So breakable.

Even the thought of Batman letting the kid fight made Gordon increasingly angry. Where were the kid's parents? Did he even have parents?

Better yet, what should Gordon do now? There was no way that he could let the police force go through with interrogating this child. Because that's what he was. A child.

But would notifying Batman really help anything?

Batman had left the kid behind.

Batman had let the police take him.

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