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He showered in the dark. He couldn't bear to look at himself--to look at her! He'd forced himself to submit to a full medical exam conducted by Doc Leslie. She'd been his personal physician since he was nine and he trusted her implicitly, but this was different. He'd never been examined as a woman before.

Through the ordeal, Dick had tried to pretend he was somewhere else. He kept telling himself that it was all a nightmare that if he tried hard enough and put forth sufficient effort, he'd wake up. Finally, he closed his eyes tightly and heard himself reciting:

"The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts,
All on a summer day:
The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts,
And took them quite away!"

Where'd that come from, he wondered. Doesn't matter. Takes my mind off what's happening. What about country capitals, he thought and then started repeating from memory:

"London is the capital of Paris, and Paris is the capital of Rome, and Rome--no, that's all wrong," he muttered, feeling slightly muddled. "What's the matter with me?"

You're a girl, Einstein, he reminded himself harshly. Okay, so I'm a girl, he conceded. But that doesn't explain why I suddenly can't do Geography.

"I hope this nightmare ends soon," he muttered out loud. Dick went perfectly still. Nightmare, he wondered again? Could this be nothing but a bad dream--?

He cried out sudden pain, despite his best efforts to stoically submit to the exam.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," Leslie chastised a bit harshly, "a great girl like you...to go on crying in this way!"

"What?" Dick gasped in surprise, completely caught off guard. He gritted his teeth at the unexpected pain, trying to keep the unbidden tears from spilling.

"I said, all done, sweetheart," Leslie said, smiling kindly. "You've been very brave, dear. A pelvic exam is no fun, no matter how often we have to go through it." She stood over Dick who'd determinedly turned away. Very gently, Leslie ran her hand through his hair and then leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

"Everything's going to be fine, sweetheart," she said. "You'll see."

Dick turned reluctantly and looked up at her, blinking rapidly. He was living a nightmare. He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to hold on to his sanity.

"Dick, why don't you call Oracle?" she asked gently. "With her skills, she might be able to help us find a solution to your current...situation."

Dick started to say 'no' automatically, but stopped. Maybe Leslie was right. Oracle did have the necessary skills to maybe help find a solution to his problem. But he couldn't bear to have her see him like this. Not as a woman. Intellectually, he knew that he was no different on the inside that he'd ever been, that he loved her as much now as he did yesterday.

But his 'situation'--as Leslie put it--did indeed alter circumstances. If Oracle was reticent about a relationship between them, afraid of tying him down to her, because of her 'condition,' by the same token, there was no way that Dick would tie her down to a relationship with him in his 'condition.'

But shouldn't he allow her the chance to make up her own mind, he reasoned? Did he believe her so shallow that she wouldn't be able to love him for who he was inside? Unsure, he looked up at Leslie about to ask for her advice, when abruptly a feeling of anger washed over him.

"No!" he shouted, jumping up. "I won't call her! I don't want her help! Can't I make you people understand? Oracle is off limits!"

With that he'd rushed into the showers located in the Batcave and locked the doors. An overwhelming need to wash himself consumed him. He stepped into a stream of hot water and ruthlessly scrubbed as if trying to rub off the outer skin. After several minutes, the dark tides finally ebbed. Dick turned off the water and vigorously toweled himself dry.

Automatically, he went to the lockers located in the showers and pulled out a fresh set of clean underwear and a sweat suit. He sighed when after cinching the sweatpants as tightly as possible, he still had to roll them several times in order to keep them on.

He caught his reflection in the darkened mirrors. In the gloom, he could almost convince himself that it had all been his imagination. That he was the same Dick Grayson he'd always been. He glanced at the reflection over his shoulder. The wall-mounted chronometer numbers glowed in the low illumination.

The numerals were reflected in reverse--60:01. Mentally, he corrected, 10:06.

Dick's eyes narrowed slightly and he turned quickly to look directly at the wall-mounted digital clock. 7:30. Dick closed his eyes.

"I'm going mental," he muttered. "Okay, Grayson, get a grip. You're a girl. Fifty percent of the population is female--get over it!" He stared steadily at the clock.

"Like hell I will!"

……………………………………………………………………………..

Dick raided Alfred's neatly maintained storage bins. Clothes lay strewn everywhere covering every inch of floor space. He stood knee deep in what had been precisely folded and stored clothing that he had long outgrown.

"There has to be something here that'll fit me!" he said, annoyed.

He grabbed something and was about to toss it aside, when he paused momentarily, holding it out to study it carefully. He sat back on his heels. The small item of clothing brought back a flood of memories.

He smiled, feeling oddly touched by Alfred's decision to keep certain items rather than discard them: His favorite Gotham Griffins sweatshirt now torn and faded with age; a long-forgotten Green Lantern T-shirt in which he'd seemingly spent an entire summer; and--he grinned broadly holding out the small item that had given him pause--his Superman pajamas.

Dick shook his head smiling at the memory. Bruce had tried everything possible to interest him in something else. In all fairness, he'd even suggested other JLA heroes, not just Batman, but Dick wouldn't hear of it. It was the Man of Steel or no one.

"I must've been a little pain in the butt," he said.

Putting them aside, he finally found items he thought he could use, clothing he'd worn when he was in his early and mid teens. He tried them on, but found that the T-shirts were either a little too tight around the chest or too baggy. Furthermore, the jeans didn't fit quite right either around the hips or the waist.

Dick sighed. He'd figured that all he had to do was find clothing that was smaller than what he'd found in his own closet in Bludhaven, but apparently there was more to women's clothing sizes than he'd given thought to before. And shoes? Nothing seemed to fit properly. His feet were just too narrow.

"God, don't tell me that I'm gonna have to shop!" Dick brought his knees up and dropped his head down on them. He hated to shop for clothes. Alfred always made sure he had decent looking stuff and Dick rarely noticed what he had in his closet. He thought about having to try things on and groaned.

Dick next thought about underclothes. He couldn't bear the thought of shopping for ladies' lingerie, but...No!

"I'll cross that bridge when--if--I have to," he said.

………………………………………………………………………………..

Dick forced himself to look at his reflection in the mirror. He stood slowly and stared at the girl who stared back. He blushed. Before him stood a girl who looked oddly familiar and yet was not. He saw long forgotten echoes of his petite mother--same wide blue eyes framed by long, dark lashes; the same oval, softly rounded facial features highlighted with a wide, generous mouth and high cheekbones.

The whole effect was topped off with the familiar raven-black hair, styled in a short, boyish haircut. He impatiently pushed back the forelock that at times seemed to have a mind of its own. It stubbornly fell over his eyes once again.

"My sister," he said. "You would've been my sister, the one Mom promised she'd give me one day, but never had a chance to." The backs of Dick's eyes began to sting slightly. "Did you know that we would've named you 'Mary'? After Mom? I always wanted to meet you," he said. "But this?"

Swallowing, he jutted his delicate chin in a determined line. "I'm sorry, Mary, but fate never meant for you to be born into this world. I can't let you take my place." He stood to his full height. "I'm a man," he said, a note of steel in his voice. "I'm Dick Grayson. And when I find whoever did this to me, I swear I'll make them pay!"