Dr. Leslie Thompkins is trying her hardest to enjoy a rare day off, and quite frankly, is failing miserably. It has never been in the good doctor's character to enjoy relaxing, or any variation thereof. However, thanks to the machinations of a certain meddling British manservant, she has been all but barred from the hospital, and her clinic. The official letter says something about blood pressure and insurance liabilities, requesting she take a "personal" week.
"Personal week?" Leslie huffs briefly. The indignity! All of the lectures she has given Bruce about over exerting himself are temporarily forgotten as the implications of the term "Personal week" fly through her mind. Personal weeks are what one takes after a third divorce, an overdose, or an arrest. Later, Leslie will vehemently deny thinking any of these thoughts, as they are biased and unprofessional. But for now, she is angry, and she will think what she pleases.
Right now she is thinking that Mr. Pennyworth has no desire to get anywhere that would even remotely classify as "Personal" with her ever again. She is also thinking that the next time Bruce needs patching up, she will be out of stock of everything but Superman-brand Band-Aids, even if she has to special order them extra-large.
Leslie's thoughts are interrupted by the sounds of quiet sobbing coming from the alleyway. It's soft enough to be missed by the general passer-by, but thirty-plus years of medicine have left her attuned to sounds of suffering. She walks quietly into the alley, hands firm on the tazer inside of her purse- Leslie is a soft touch, but not an idiot. She relaxes her hand when she sees that the sobbing is coming from a young girl hiding behind the trashcans.
The girl hears Leslie and turns around quickly, frozen. Her hands are clenched into tiny fists, rubbing at the wetness under her eyes. She looks more embarrassed than frightened, and the blush slowly reddening her cheeks is a testament to that fact. Her blonde ponytail is a mess, and her purple sweater is ripped. There's dirt on her face, and a rather nasty cut on her lip.
Day off be damned. Leslie kneels down so that she's eye level with the girl, and speaks gently. "That's quite a cut."
The girl stands there, slowly becoming less embarrassed, and more resentful. She quickly wipes away what she imagines to be all evidence of crying, and shoves her hands in her pockets. "Not Really."
It's a tough-girl voice that doesn't quite fit, but is still pretty convincing for an elementary schooler. Bruce used to give a similarly convincing performance.
"Well, would you mind if I took a look at it? I'm a Doctor." Leslie pulls out her wallet, showing her hospital I.D. The girl takes the I.D. and eyes it appraisingly.
"My mommy has one like this."
"Really? Does she work at Gotham General?"
The girl shrugs. Leslie suspects the young lady knows exactly where her mother works, but is afraid that she'll get in trouble for reasons yet unknown.
"My name is Leslie Thompkins. What's yours?"
The girl bites her lip, still hesitant. After a moment she says, "Steph."
"Well Steph, how about we go take at look at that cut? I've got a clinic just a few blocks over."
Steph hesitates, but to Leslie's surprise, agrees. Leslie reaches out with her hand, but the girl doesn't take it. Instead, she walks a few feet in front of Leslie, before turning around and asking, "Which way do we go?"
Leslie smiles. Tough guy routine. Dick used it too.
"Past Sal's Pizza. Do you know where that is?"
Stephanie looks at Leslie like she's just grown an extra head. "Of course I do." Any true Gothamite, born and bred, knows where to find Sal's Pizza.
"I do apologize" Leslie says, trying to hold back the amusement in her voice. "What's your favorite topping?"
"I like pepperoni and-" Steph pauses, remembering she's being tough. "I dunno. Whatever."
"I personally enjoy spinach and feta cheese."
Stephanie gapes at Leslie, absolutely abhorred. "That is not pizza. That is the single most disgusting thing I have ever heard."
Leslie smiles again. Not the first time she's heard that. "I take it you don't eat your vegetables."
The girl crosses her arms and looks down at the ground, and Leslie thinks she may have hit a sore spot.
"That's a lovely sweater. Shame it got ripped. Is purple your favorite color?"
Steph wiggles her finger through the hole and frowns. "It's not purple, it's eggplant. That's what Daddy said when he got it. He's gonna be mad."
"Because you were fighting?"
Again, Stephanie looks at her like she's crazy. "No, 'cause I ripped my sweater. He doesn't care about fighting, as long as I win."
Lovely. They turn the corner and arrive at the clinic. Leslie takes Steph's hand and breezes through the entrance, silently daring her colleagues to protest.
Steph looks around and makes a face. "Do I have to wear one of those gowns that show my butt? I don't wanna show my butt."
Leslie chuckles. "No dear, that won't be necessary. Just hop up on the table."
Leslie pulls up a stool as Steph sits down, and starts cleaning up a cut on her elbow first.
"Do you want to tell me why you were fighting?"
Apparently, Leslie has finally found a topic Stephanie actually wants to talk about, because the girl talks quickly, her previous hesitancy all but forgotten.
"We were talking about what we wanted to be when we grew up, and I said that I want to be Batman, and Billy Walker said that girls can't be Batman and that I would have to be Batwoman. And I said that's stupid because there is no Batwoman and Batwoman is a dumb name anyway, and he's dumb because he doesn't even want to be a superhero, he wants to be a CEO, whatever that is, so he can't even talk about superheroes in the first place. And then he said I couldn't even be Robin, so I called him a pants-wetter and kicked him in the knees, and then we got into a fight, and I totally won the fight and made him say that I could too be Robin."
Leslie sighs. Now Bruce and Dick are the focal point of schoolyard brawls.
Stephanie quickly adds, "But I still wanna be Batman. Robin's okay for a little bit though, if I can drive the car."
After a moment, she adds, "If my feet reach the pedals. I'm the shortest in my class."
"I suppose Batman probably has some phone books that you could borrow" Leslie offers, moving to the cut on Steph's lip.
Stephanie looks scandalized. "I wouldn't wanna cause an accident."
"Well that is very considerate of you, Steph. I'm sure Batman would be proud."
"Really?" Stephanie beams, and Leslie wonders if Bruce knows what a dedicated fanbase he has.
"Really." Leslie finishes her work, and looks Steph over with a clinical eye. "I think we're done here, Steph. But I want to keep an eye on that lip. I would like it if you came back in a week to see me."
Stephanie nods, and hops off the table. Leslie notices that the girl seems to do a great deal of hopping, even for a child, and wonders if her career plans may not be so far off.
Stephanie starts walking out the door, and pauses a moment. "Ms. Leslie?"
"Yes, Steph?"
"When I'm Batman, maybe you could be my doctor. If the bad guys ever give me fat lips or anything."
For a moment, Leslie is nervous, and has to remind herself that there is no way this child knows the connection she has with Bruce. Stephanie is just a nice girl, with some highly coincidental career plans.
"That is a nice offer Steph, but I sincerely hope that no one will be giving you fat lips in the future."
Steph nods as she considers Leslie's words. "Yeah, I'm probably too fast for them anyways. In gym class, I did the mile in under six minutes. Stupid Billy walked the whole thing 'cause he was too busy wetting his pants."
"That can be quite time consuming." Leslie says, holding back a smile.
"Yeah. Anyways, since I won't have any fat-lips to look at, you can still do my check ups. I wouldn't want you out of a job!"
Before Leslie can reply, Stephanie has shot out the door so quickly that Leslie can fully believe she's as a fast as she brags about. Leslie chuckles, and starts packing up her supplies.
"There are some jobs, my little girl wonder, that I would not mind being out of"