Note: Thanks for commenting, LlCS! Again, any name changes for any heroes are intentional. I like having them go back and forth with their emotions; trying to be gentle and help little Dick feel safe while also burning with anger but attempting to hold it back for the boy's sake. :-)

The next morning:

"That's horrible, Alfred! I didn't even…I should have thought to listen for him! Thanks for letting me know. They're here; I'll take good care of them. Yes, both of them," the man stated before hanging up the phone in his car and climbing out.

"Clark!" Bruce said in surprise as he and Dick exited the helicopter. "What are you doing here?"

"Checking on both of you, of course," the other man replied with a grin. "And to be your chauffeur for the day. Hey, Dick, how are you feeling?" he asked, his tone a little softer.

"Um…not great," the boy admitted, "but better than a few days ago."

"Sorry you had to go through that, Dick."

"What doesn't kill you makes you better at protecting yourself, right?"

Clark glanced at Bruce, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

"I think the end of that is 'makes you stronger'," Clark stated.

Dick shrugged and replied, "Close enough."

They were in the car now and Clark was heading toward the clinic.

"So, um, Dr. Thompkins really lied for us?" the ten-year-old asked.

"Yes, but we're going to have her look at the bullet wound, also, so it's not a complete lie," Bruce responded. "I guess."

"No matter what," Dick mumbled.

"What was that, chum?"

"Nothing," the boy answered.

Clark glanced back in the mirror but said nothing. He had no idea what the phrase meant but was sure that Batman, for some reason, wouldn't be happy if he had heard it.

"Here we are," Clark stated.

"You did pretty good," Bruce commented casually.

"Pretty good?!" Dick exclaimed. "I can't believe you put this together in only a few hours!"

"He is Superman," Bruce grumbled, and Clark grinned.

Doris was at the desk again and there was a real patient in the waiting room.

"I forgot to tell you," Clark whispered as they sat down as far from the man as they could. "Leslie, uh, opened her own practice. And I think part of it might be funded by you."

Bruce shook his head but stated, "That's the least I can do."

Clark nodded and glanced at Dick. The boy was standing straight as a board and the man grimaced. Obviously, everything was sore. Bruce noticed the look.

"Seventeen times," the millionaire whispered so softly that only Superman could hear it.

"You're not serious!" Clark exclaimed, almost as quietly.

"Would I joke about something like this?!"

"Can I kill him after you do?"

"Alfred made a good point about that," Bruce grumbled with a sigh. "Dick would blame himself for the rest of his life. He would think that it was his fault for telling us."

Superman mumbled something unintelligible. Batman had no idea what the other man had said but he nodded in agreement anyway.

"Dick Grayson?" Doris asked quietly.

The ten-year-old nodded and carefully walked to her desk.

"Dr. Thompkins is ready for you. Do you want the men to come back with you?"

"Um…" Dick paused then looked back. "Am I going to have to tell her every single thing?" he asked as he turned back to Doris.

"Just enough that she knows what she needs to do to treat you," Doris explained.

"Well, they don't know everything so maybe I should go by myself. They don't need to be more frustrated than they already are."

Doris nodded in agreement. She, like Dr. Thompkins, knew that Clark was Superman and had heard of Batman's temper.

"Do you want me to tell them?" the woman asked.

"Um, no, I'll do it. I don't want them to get mad at you," he said with a small grin.

She nodded again. Dick turned and walked back to the men.

"I'm going by myself," he declared softly.

"No, you're not," Bruce almost growled.

"Is it your choice?" Dick asked.

"I'm your guardian," the man retorted.

"And I'm in charge of my own body so if I say you can't go back then you can't go back."

Bruce had nothing to say to that.

"Go ahead, Dick, I'll take care of Bruce," Clark stated.

Dick nodded then turned to Doris and said, "I'm ready."

The woman stood up, walked behind her desk and opened the door between the waiting room and the patient rooms. Immediately, the man on the other side of the room jumped up.

"I was here first!" he exclaimed. "The kid can't go back until after I do!"

"Mr. Dimp, you are getting a flu shot," Doris replied calmly. "The nurse will be with you in a moment, as soon as she is done with her other patient."

"I don't care!" the man yelled.

Dick shuddered at the sound and Doris gently pushed him behind her. Bruce stood up and walked over to the man, Clark following behind, just in case.

"The lady just told you that you are not going back yet," Bruce said in an imposing voice. "Therefore, you aren't going back yet."

"Who are you to tell me what to do?!" the man shouted.

Clark saw the change in Bruce's demeanor so he stepped in front of his friend.

"I'm Clark Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet," he said evenly. "Do you want your face plastered on the front page because you yelled at a nice woman who is just doing her job? If she says the boy needs to go back first because he needs to see the doctor while you need the nurse, then she obviously knows more about the situation than you do."

"You think I'm going to back down because of a freaking reporter?!" Mr. Dimp screamed.

"No," Clark replied, his tone still calm, "I think you're going to back down because it's the right thing to do. Do you have children, Mr. Dimp?"

"What does that matter?" the man mumbled.

"If one of your kids was injured and I needed a flu shot, who would you want the woman to call back first?"

"Whoever was here first."

"Let's say it was me and I had been waiting for fifteen minutes."

"Still…"

"What if your child came in limping because of a sprained ankle?"

"I'm not a doctor! How would I know it was sprained?!"

"Exactly, Mr. Dimp."

A lightbulb went off in the man's head and he sat down. Doris and Dick had already disappeared, leaving the men to take care of the situation. Clark turned around and pushed Bruce back to their chairs.

"Nothing would have been gained by the way you were about to do it," Clark stated.

Bruce, who had been tense and ready to put the man in his place, released a frustrated breath and sat down.

"Shut up," he mumbled rudely and Clark smirked.

Dr. Thompkins' office:

"Good morning, Dick, I'm Dr. Thompkins," Leslie said kindly as they sat across from each other at her desk.

"Hi," Dick said timidly.

"Do you want to go into a patient room or do you want to do everything right here?"

"Um, I don't know," he replied softly.

"I think you will be more comfortable if we talk in here."

"Okay," he shrugged.

"So, let's start at the beginning. You can tell me whatever you want. I might need more details about some things but if you don't want to tell me then we can move on to the next subject. Is that okay?"

"Sure."

"Whenever you want to take a break, we can take a break. If you want Bruce to come back here at any time, just let me know and I'll send for him."

Dick nodded but remained silent.

"Take your time and start when you're ready. I have no other appointments and Doris knows that I'm booked for the day."

"The whole day?!" Dick exclaimed. "For me?!"

"Yes," Leslie replied, "the whole day. But you don't have to stay the whole day, of course. When you want to be done, we're done."

"Um, maybe you should look at my shoulder first? Since, you know, you lied for me and everything. Bruce said if you do that then you wouldn't have been completely lying, right?"

"It's true, I did tell a lot of lies," Leslie admitted. "But I would do anything for a certain hero out there, which means I would do anything for that hero's best friend who also happens to be a hero."

She smiled and Dick grinned back. He rolled up the left sleeve of his shirt and waited.

"How about if we go sit on the couch? Then I can check you without either of us walking around my desk all the time."

Dick agreed and they moved to the couch. Leslie put on some gloves and gently probed the wound that was almost completely healed.

"Clark told me the butler did this for you."

The boy nodded and Leslie murmured, "He did a good job."

"Alfred's a pretty amazing man," Dick responded.

"Sounds like you live with two pretty amazing men," the woman remarked. "Your shoulder looks good, Dick. Can we talk about what happened during the last five or so days?"

"Yes," Dick replied softly. "I'll start at the very beginning."

The story poured from his mouth for the second time in two days. Leslie stopped him often, asking for more details, and he readily complied. Everyone had told him that the more she knew the better she could help with the pain.

The woman was horrified at what she was hearing, but she kept her face completely neutral. Dick recalled the exact amount of weed patches and knew exactly how long he had been outside painting the fence. He gave her an approximate number of hours of sleep he had been able to get and an estimate of how many meals he had actually eaten.

Dick didn't know how many hours he had been outside when weeding or when chained to the waterspout. However, he told her where the sun had started and ended so together they made an educated guess.

Leslie was very surprised at his strength. Most people would be in the hospital right now, suffering from malnutrition and lack of sleep and heatstroke and dehydration and pain. But here was a ten-year-old child, talking about some of the most terrible things she had ever heard, and willingly telling her every tiny detail she needed that he could remember.

It took two hours. Dick took one five-minute break, during which Leslie gave him a water bottle, and several short pauses to gather his emotions. He never asked for Bruce or Clark and only hesitated with answers a few times. But, even after hesitating, he still answered.

After the explanation, Leslie asked if she could look at his injuries. She reminded him that he could have someone in here if he wanted to and he thanked her but refused.

"Do you need help taking your shirt off?" she asked quietly.

Dick nodded without a second thought. He had discovered that the pain was easier to bear when someone assisted him. Alfred had helped him figure that out. Leslie gently eased the shirt up and over his head then heard a relieved sigh when she was done.

Being a doctor, Leslie Thompkins had seen many things in her life. Fatal bullet wounds, victims covered in stab wounds, broken and sometimes shattered bones, people that didn't get out of their burning houses quick enough to avoid deep burns, and other horrible things.

But never in her entire career had she seen so many raw, ugly welts and bruises all over a person's back and bottom. Never had she seen bruises on someone's wrists that were in the distinct shape of the links of a chain. And never had she seen multiple spider bites on a scalp.

Dick hadn't said anything about those so it was obviously a harmless spider. But she decided to ask, just in case.

"Have you had any itching on your head, Dick? Any pain at all?"

"No, why?"

"Well, you have several spider bites. But if you didn't even know they were there then we'll just put a little cream on them. They'll be healed in no time."

Leslie went to her desk, retrieved the cream she was looking for, and returned. She liberally applied the white lotion all over the top of his head.

"Bruce did find a spider web."

"That makes sense, since you were under the porch for so long."

"It was hot."

"I'm sure it was, Dick."

"That's a lot of cream."

"There are a lot of bites.

"Okay."

Leslie began to examine his back, carefully running the tips of her fingers along the edges of each stripe.

"Hmmm," she suddenly murmured as she gently probed one of the wounds.

Dick was doing his best to stay silent but the pain was almost overwhelming.

"Can we," he gasped, "take a…a break?"

"Sure we can, Dick," she replied, immediately removing her hand off his back. "Do you want anyone to come in?"

"No," he wheezed, "because then we won't be able to get them to leave."

"You're probably right," she agreed with a small smile.

She walked in front of him and sat down, hoping to keep him as calm as possible.

"I know…Bruce. I know…I'm right."

She could hear a smirk through the pain in his voice and she chuckled quietly.

It took him ten minutes to calm down enough to allow her to begin examining him again. He had asked if Leslie would hold his hand and she had immediately done it. She was a little surprised at the request; Clark had told her that the boy was very shy around strangers.

Dick stared at the ground for the entire ten minutes. Sometimes he would squeeze his eyes shut and his hand would clutch Leslie's as if it was his lifeline to safety. The woman whispered soothing words and the boy allowed her to wipe away any tears she saw before they fell.

Finally, he lifted his head.

"I think you can start again," he whispered.

"Okay, but I need to tell you something first," she responded. "Some of your wounds are infected. I'm going to have to use some topical antibiotic treatment as well as prescribe some medicine. It's going to hurt, Dick."

"Is it the last thing?" he asked, fear in his voice. "Or is there more after it?"

"It's the last thing for today. I'll need you to come back in a week so I can check them again. After I apply this, you can go home. I'll have Clark pick up the prescription and get it to you as soon as possible. He can travel pretty quickly."

He grinned and then sobered.

"Um, how bad will it hurt?"

"Everybody has a different level of pain tolerance, Dick. I can tell you are extremely strong, but I don't know your level."

"Bruce and Alfred said it's high. I went for a month without them knowing about a nearly fractured rib and a bunch of bruises."

"When was that?" Leslie asked in confusion.

"Last year, when I first came here, um, I mean, to Gotham City. Obviously not here."

"Obviously," Leslie replied with a grin of her own.

"I also had some other, um, accidents but you can ask Bruce about those. Or Clark. He knows some of them."

"I'll look at your paperwork later and then call Bruce if I have any questions. I'm sorry you've been through so much, Dick. Gotham City hasn't been very kind to you."

"Well, Gotham does need Batman a lot so I guess it's not very kind to a lot of people."

That was an astute observation, especially for a ten-year-old.

"Has anybody ever told you that you're smart?" Leslie asked.

"Well, I passed out of two math books and Bruce sometimes says I say things that are a little too wise for my age. Is that what you mean?"

"That's exactly what I mean. Is there anything else you enjoy doing?"

Leslie was behind him again, still gently examining his back.

"I like to read and tumble."

"Clark has told me about your acrobatic abilities. I've always wanted to fly through the air and tumble my way through life."

"Yeah, it's pretty fun. Oh, and now Bruce and I are painting a wall. Alfred drew a giant picture of a jungle – to hide the blood when she came – so now we're painting it. Well, we were, before all this happened. But we'll probably start again soon."

"I'm sure you will. Why did you have to hide blood?"

"Oh, she came a couple of days after I was, um, my shoulder, you know?"

"Yes."

"And we couldn't let her know because then she would take me away. So I didn't wear the sling to school and a little girl squeezed my arm on the bus and that really hurt. But we decided to use a lot of red on the picture because when kids paint they get stuff on their shirt. So we put some red paint on my shirt and she didn't even know it was a little bloody. Bruce and Alfred are pretty smart. Well, it was Alfred's idea but Bruce added stuff."

The boy's explanation was all over the place but Leslie understood most of it. She was grateful that he was talking so much that he wasn't paying attention to what she was doing. Talking was always a good distraction, she had discovered over the years.

"And she was mean when she talked to me and tried to make Bruce sound horrible but I told her not to do that and she slapped me."

"What?!" Leslie exclaimed.

"Yeah, and because of that Mr. Makov came over and that was the night Bruce and I had an argument about, um, a certain hero, and Mr. Makov didn't care. He just took me away without even talking to us about it. And then all of this and now I'm here."

"Wow, you really have had it rough. Thank you for telling me all of that. And I'm done."

"What?" Dick asked.

"I'm done, Dick. The cream is on your back and you're ready to go. You'll start to feel it soon; I can't do anything to numb it. But the medicine that Clark brings you will help with the pain. I'll get him on that as soon as possible."

And then it registered. Dick tried to hold everything in but the tears started streaming down his cheeks. It hurt, almost more than the injuries themselves. Almost.

"I'll get Bruce," Leslie whispered and Dick nodded.

The action was almost frantic so the woman brought both men back as quickly as she could. As they walked – nearly ran – down the back hall, she told them how she had treated him and what to do next. Clark grabbed the prescription she was holding and left while Bruce raced into Leslie's office.

Dick was hunched over on the couch, attempting to calm down so Bruce wouldn't get too worried. His back was covered in white cream, as was his head, and his arms were folded across his stomach.

"Dick, kiddo, I'm so sorry," the man whispered as he sat down and rubbed the boy's arms. "Dr. Thompkins, what can I do right now to help?"

Shaking her head, Leslie said, "Get him home and hope that Superman is there before you. I can't do anything else to help with the pain."

"I can't carry you, chum," Bruce stated softly. "There's no place for me to…"

Dick nodded and slowly stood up.

"Doris can drive you to wherever your helicopter is parked. I'm going to get a towel to cover his back. The material on any seats, as well as the wind, will negate everything I've just done so keep the towel on until you get home. The cream that Clark will be bringing to you can be applied whenever it's needed."

"But it…hurts."

"I know, Dick," Leslie responded gently. "But it will keep you from having to go to the hospital, which I'm sure you don't want to do."

"Yeah," the boy whispered.

"We'll go out the back?" Bruce asked.

Leslie nodded and Doris appeared at the office door. She had her keys in her hand and was ready to go.

"I'll see you next week, okay?"

"O…okay. Thanks."

"You're welcome, Dick. I need you to be brave and let Bruce put that cream on you every day."

"Okay," he whispered.

They walked out the door, climbed in Doris' car, and drove away. And Leslie, for only the third time in her career, cried.