"Dick, you look sick." Bruce said, looking at his son with concern in his eyes. Dick looked incredibly pale, haggard, and exhausted, as well as slightly sick.
"'m fine, Bruce..." Dick said hoarsely.
Bruce shook his head. "Son, you've been looking sick for a couple days now. I'm going to call Leslie."
"Fine. 'M gonna go take a nap..." Dick mumbled, trudging upstairs. That really set off the alarm bells is Bruce's mind- his son NEVER slept during the day.
Of course, he knew Leslie would come for a house call...
"Definitely a nasty cold. Bruce, mind if I speak to you... outside?" Leslie asked, darting a glance over at Dick. The normally curious boy was listless, and he didn't even care that they were going out of his earshot. His throat, head, and ears really hurt, and he just really wanted to sleep...
Bruce, on the other hand, knew something was wrong when Leslie stepped outside with him.
"He has incredibly swollen tonsils, Bruce." she said, looking concerned. "Has he been sick a lot this year?"
"Yes, he's had a hoarse voice a lot..."
"I don't normally recommend this, Bruce, but I'd recommend you get his tonsils out. They're swollen enough to make me be concerned that hey might get in the way of his breathing..."
That made Bruce's heart skip a beat. But his training allowed him to remain calm.
"Alright. When should we come in?" he asked.
"The sooner the better. Meet me at pre-op division of Gotham Central tomorrow, ten in the morning, and we'll get him into surgery the next day after that..."
"Of course. Is it high risk?" he asked, feeling his worry evolve slightly.
"No, definitely not. He's a strong kid, Bruce, he'll be fine- trust me." she places a reassuring hand on his shoulder, smiling.
"Your father was the same way when you had to have your appendix out." she said, the wrinkles around her eyes crinkling as she smiled.
Bruce stared, slightly shocked. He'd never really thought of himself like his father, never remembered much about having his appendix out except the pain. But it felt right, somehow... Him acting like his father. He hoped he could be like that for Dick...
"I'll see you tomorrow, Bruce." she gave him hat warm, motherly smile before leaving, and Bruce ducked back into Dick's room.
The boy gave a weak cough before laying back, eyes closed.
"How're you feeling, Dick?" he asked, trying to sound cheerful.
"Sick." Dick admitted, head lolling to the side. "Did she give you medicine or something?"
"No, she thinks it's your tonsils. We're going to have to go to the hospital for some tests tomorrow, and then they'll take out your tonsils and you should feel better..."
"Whatever- I'll do anything to feel better." Dick said, sighing and rolling over.
Bruce nodded. "Need anything?" he asked, hoping his son would at least eat or drink SOMETHING.
"Just a blanket, thanks." Dick said, curling up under his blankets, looking a lot smaller than Bruce remembered.
The next day he dragged Dick out of bed, The boy looked slightly better, but Bruce knew he wouldn't be completely relaxed until he knew his son's tonsils were gone and wouldn't interfere with his breathing. Dick was surprisingly cooperative, which only succeeded in worrying Bruce more. The kid must really be miserable to comply...
"Alright, we'll put him on liquid lorotab afterwards to manage the pain as well as Motrin and Tylenol if he needs it, and he'll have to stick to soft foods for a few days. He's still running a slight fever, but that's to be expected, and everything else is good to go. I'll see you tomorrow, alright, Dick?"
"Uh-huh." Dick nodded, getting off the exam table. Bruce still had tons of worries and questions, but Dick was looking exhausted, and he definitely wanted the boy to be rested for surgery tomorrow...
Leslie handed him a pamphlet on the surgery, and he gave her a grateful smile before leaving.
"Dickey, you know what's happening tomorrow?" Bruce asked, wondering if his son actually understood.
"Yeah. They're going to put me to sleep and take my tonsils out." Dick said. He didn't seem bothered by this at all.
Bruce was so focused on his son he didn't noticed the small gasp or Scarlet listening from the doorway. She was scared. She was only six, but tonsils sounded pretty important...
"Are you nervous at all?" Bruce asked, curious.
"No. I just want them OUT, they hurt a ton..." Dick said, and Bruce chuckled.
From where she'd been hiding in the hall the piece began to come together for Scarlet. So Dick's tonsils were broken... That was why he was getting rid of them. But still, maybe he'd need new tonsils...
She padded down the hall, determined to find her brother new tonsils.
That night, Bruce entered with a bowl of chicken soup. "Dick, you need to eat something. You're not going to be able to eat for the next twelve hours, and I want you to have something in your stomach..."
Dick sighed. "Fine..." He drank some broth just to please Bruce before falling asleep. Bruce looked down at the boy, feeling both fear and tenderness wash over him. He really just wanted his son to feel well again- this was so different than the normal happy-go-lucky Dick he knew. He was just hoping everything would be alright...
Scarlet crawled around under Bruce's bed, finding nothing. She wasn't giving up, though- she was going to find Dick new tonsils.