Title: Firsts
Author: Me
Spoilers: General knowledge of Batgirl's origin and the fact that Leslie 
Thompkins knew Bruce Wayne's parents.  This can fit into nearly any DC canon, 
but was written as a "Potatoverse" backstory.  Other "Potatoverse" stories 
can be found at http://www.off-panel.net/potatoverse/
Rating: PG

Summary: Shortly after becoming Batgirl, Barbara Gordon meets her new doctor.

***

Firsts
By A.j.

***

"Hello, mademoiselle, my name is Deiter and I will be your server tonight.  
Is there anything I can get you from the bar while you await your companion?"

Barbara Gordon had absolutely no idea what she was doing.  It was becoming 
something of habit.

For example, at the moment she was sitting at one of the choicest tables Chez 
Joel could offer.  This wasn't entirely foreign as her father had brought her 
here once or twice.  Jim Gordon, being Gotham's newest commissioner and one 
of the city's most eligible bachelors, often found himself invited to 
important parties.  And being a bachelor with absolutely no time to date due 
to his new position, Barbara - as escort - often found herself at this or 
that party hob-nobbing with Gotham's brainless elite.  Just the previous 
month, she'd knocked a flute of champagne down the sweater vest of one 
Richard Grayson.  In this very room.

But today...  Today was very different.  Her father was in his office, far, 
far away from Chez Joel's lush upholstery.  And Barbara?  Barbara was waiting 
for a mystery guest.  One who, apparently, knew quite a bit more than she 
cared them knowing.

The note had come with the previous day's post.  A plain, white envelope, the 
writing inside precise and almost clinical with its exactness.  It had been 
blunt and to the point.

"Batgirl - Come to Chez Joel's at 2pm on the 12th.  Reservations for 
Thompkins.  Be there, or be square.  Bat-Doctor"

So here she was.  Sitting at a table for two, waiting for her mysterious note 
writer to appear.  Scared stupid.  Batman had told her that keeping her 
identity completely secret was one of the requirements of her remaining on 
his team rather than splattered across the heartland.  It was Vital to the 
Safety of Yourself and Others.  He should really hand out a handbook with all 
this cloak and dagger stuff.  But someone knew.  Someone who was apparently a 
doctor.

Someone who wanted to eat lunch at Chez Joel.  Someone who could probably 
read the menu.  Admittedly, she should be a little more worried about the 
identity of the person she was meeting, but Barbara's brain had a tendency to 
latch onto odd things when she was nervous.  And cursing herself for not 
taking French seemed a little less frightening than planning her possible  
funeral.

The quiet clearing of a very high class throat to her left reminded her that 
there was someone else still in this equation.  "Um, no.  Water's fine for 
now."

Damn, stupid secret identity.  Damn it.  And waiters.  They sucked too.

"Very, good miss," Deiter smiled in a way that it clearly *wasn't* very good.

Barbara resisted the urge to chuck her now full water glass at the back of 
his head.  Focus, Babs.  Breathe.  And fromage means cheese.  And WHY was she 
being so cranky?  Oh, right.  Batgirl.

Not for the first time that week, Barbara questioned her intelligence.  Why 
*was* she doing this?  To help people?  She poked her linen napkin for lack 
of something better to do.  Well, sure.  Helping people was good.  Muggers 
were bad.  And bank robbers.  And stuff.  But she also helped lots of people 
when she found them books in the stacks.  Plus, in her nice shiny library, 
she wasn't breaking the law.  And threatening her father's job.  Or risking 
her life learning how to jump off build-

"Hello, dear.  You must be Barbara."  Startled green eyes landed on the short 
woman who'd suddenly appeared in the chair across from her.  Hair that was a 
light honey, graying slightly at the temples, was drawn up and away from 
sharp, patrician features only minorly softened with age.  The older woman 
was dressed in a professional-looking blue pantsuit that emphasized her small 
stature in a rather advantageous way.  Overall, she presented the picture of 
a successful, rather well-off, professional.  A FAMILIAR successful, rather 
well-off, professional.

"Thompkins!" It came out as a gasp.  "You're Leslie Thompkins!"

"Quite right, young lady."  A grin stretched across the woman's features.  It 
gave her a rather more approachable feel.  "And you are Barbara Gordon."

"Um, yes.  How did you-"

"Know about your new job?"

"Right."

"A lady must have her secrets.  You'd do well to remember that.  Deiter!"

"Yes, ma'am?"  Deiter was suddenly at her elbow.  Barbara started, nearly 
knocking her water glass off the table and all over the waiter.  Only the 
certain knowledge that people didn't scream in Chez Joel closed her throat 
and stopped her screaming bloody murder. Plus the woman across from her knew 
she was Batgirl.  Sure she hadn't been doing it long, but the Bat title 
demanded something like dignity, and shrieking your head off in one of the 
most expensive restaurants in Gotham didn't really inspire that impression.  
Right.  That was it.

If Doctor Thompkins noticed the choked squeak, she was polite enough not to 
mention it.  "Water, lots of it.  Ms. Gordon and I are going to chat a bit 
before lunch.  And if I see you within ten feet of our table until we're good 
and ready to order, you're getting pennies in the water pitcher again."

"Shall I bring the bell?"

"Good man."  Leslie grinned unrepentantly at the man's retreating back.  "I 
always request Deiter when I come here.  Puts up with a lot, but won't spit 
in your food for it.  Gotta appreciate that in waitstaff."

Rather unsure, Barbara nodded.

"So, young lady, let me be the first to welcome you to the rather anemic 
branch of this knotty little Joshua tree."

"Excuse me?"

Leslie smiled before taking a long sip of water.  The cut crystal glass 
caught the shine of the recessed lighting and sparkled expensively before it 
was set precisely at the tip of Leslie's knife.  "We're the girls in a rather 
exclusive testosterone-driven boys club.  It's worse than the Masons but with 
better toys.  And you, my dear, are in a rather worse position than I.  My 
role is rather specific, but you're the one that's going to be out in the 
glare of the world, as much as you-know-who allows that.  Females in your new 
profession are rather short in the brush, and even more so here in Gotham."

"I noticed that."  Barbara couldn't keep the exasperation out of her voice.  
Yes, Black Canary, Wonder Woman, and a few precious others were fighting the 
good fight, but it wasn't like she'd been invited to bounce off to JLA 
meetings.  "Is that why did you invite me here?"

"Not entirely.  As you well know, my chosen profession is that of a 
physician.  I just thought you'd like to meet your new HMO."  Leslie smiled 
and took another sip of water.  It was a sad smile.  Almost wistful.  But it 
vanished almost as quickly as it appeared.  "After all, with the line of work 
you've just entered, medical help is something of a must."

Barbara had the grace to blush.  "Yeah... about that."

"How exactly did I end up in a position to know as much as I do?"  The older 
woman settled back in her chair when Barbara nodded.  She then picked up one 
of the salad forks - there were three - and started to shift it back and 
forth between her index fingers.  "Let's just say that the night crew and I 
had some mutual acquaintances a long, long time ago.  Saying anything else 
would put certain information in your hands that some people don't think 
you're ready for."

Barbara nodded and reached for her own water.  "Understandable.  He must have 
a lot on the line to do what he's doing."

The sad smile returned.  Barbara got the feeling that it was a rather common 
reaction to the subject matter.  The whole thing drew the doctor's face down, 
dimming some of the woman's natural vitality.  It wasn't a surprise when 
Leslie reached for the small server's bell and rang it for all it was worth.  
Deiter nearly sprained something on the home stretch.

After the water glasses had been refilled, the lunch orders taken, and 
Deiter's silent departure, Leslie turned her attention back to the young 
woman across from her.  "He does what he thinks is best, Barbara.  Don't ever 
convince yourself that he's always right.  He can be, but he's not.  The 
sooner you learn that lesson, the sooner you'll find your own stride."

Her eyes large, Barbara nodded.  She seemed to be doing a lot of that lately 
too.

"Okay then."  Leslie's smile grew.  "Let's talk shop.  Where did you get 
those shoes?"

-fin-