Acknowledgement: A special thanks to Beth, Anna, and Char for have the Herculean patience to beta this monster!


Wish Upon a Star

By Syl Francis

Chapter Two


Dicky blinked, momentarily disoriented. Where was he? He looked around. He was standing in the deserted outskirts of the circus grounds. The chill wind he'd felt before started up again. It picked up debris from the circus and tossed it around the dusky grounds-empty wrappers, paper cups, and other miscellaneous rubbish.

What had happened? One minute he was talking to that strange man. What was his name again? Emrys? Funny...I don't remember any magician named Emrys at Haly's from before. Where'd he go? For that matter, what happened to his tent?

Shaking his head in confusion, Dicky started back. Probably a magic trick, he decided. I'll ask Pop. As he headed up the midway, he suddenly remembered why he'd taken off in such a careless, headlong flight. C.P.S. wanted to take him away from Bruce again. He felt the tears threaten once more, but angrily fought them off.

"Cut it out, Grayson!" he muttered. "You're not a little kid anymore. I'm big enough to take care of myself. I don't need anybody. Besides...I'm a superhero, right?" A single tear spilled of its own accord. "Some hero," he ground out in self-disgust.

Sadly, he trudged back to the main circus grounds. Turning the corner around the Big Top, Dicky was surprised by the frenzied activity around him. Off to his left, someone called, "There he is!" and "I've found him!" Others quickly chimed in:

"Where?"

"Is he all right?"

"Oh, thank goodness! I'd never have forgiven myself!"

As the voices gathered momentum, Dicky found himself surrounded by the circus performers. Family and friends gathered around him, each in turn taking him in their arms, hugging him in relief and then passing him off to someone else.

"Oh, Dicky, you gave us all such a fright!"

"What happened? Where have you been?"

Startled, Dicky realized that the others must have become worried about him when he'd disappeared. Feeling suddenly guilty over his rash actions, he apologized. The circus people were his family, after all. They loved him as much as he loved them and he'd caused them undue worry.

"I'm sorry, everybody. I guess I wasn't thinking."

"As long as you are safe, Master Richard," a cultured British voice intoned formally. "For that we are indeed very thankful."

Seeing Alfred, Dicky launched himself at the loyal family friend. "Alfred!" he cried, hugging Alfred from around the waist. "Am I glad to see you!"

"And I you, Master Dick," Alfred said, fondly stroking the boy's dark head.

"Me, too, Dick," another voice added. It was a much deeper voice whose hushed quality somehow imbued it with even greater emotion. Bruce. Dicky's eyes lit up when they alighted on his guardian.

He was instantly in Bruce's arms and felt himself being lifted up in the air. Strong, child-sized arms and legs quickly wrapped themselves around the billionaire's neck and waist respectively, and a small dark, head rested comfortably on his massive shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Bruce," Dicky said softly. "I promise I'll never do it again."

"It's okay, chum. Everything is going to be okay, I promise."

In all the excitement of being reunited with his guardian, Dicky forgot about his strange encounter with the magician.


"What are you doing?"

"Working on a case."

"What case?"

"The Joker."

"What's the Joker?"

"You mean, who's the Joker?"

"Oh." Pause. "So, who's the Joker?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out."

"Oh." Pause. "So, what are you doing?"

Sigh. The kid sure was a question-asker. Sometimes it was enough to make the Dark Knight want to crawl into a cave. Oh, wait. We are in a cave. Taking great care not to show his annoyance at the interruption, Batman turned a patient eye on his protégé.

Robin was currently hanging upside down (and quite perilously, Alfred would say) from one of the highest apparatuses in the cave gym. Batman knew that this particular position afforded the junior crimefighter-in-training the best view over his mentor's shoulders.

Giving Robin one of his rare half-smiles, he jerked his head towards himself.

"C'mere." Robin immediately flew off the high bar, flipping several times in midair and landing easily on his feet. Batman gave a mental headshake. The boy's moves were sheer poetry in motion.

Pulling a lab chair next to him, Batman padded the seat. Robin climbed on, perched at a crouch. He leaned in, resting his tiny chin on his gloved fist. "What are we doing?" Batman ruffled the boy's hair. The "we" hadn't escaped the Dark Knight's attention.

"'We' are attempting to make a DNA match on the physical evidence that this new perp left behind."

"What's DNA?"

"Deoxyribonucleic acid."

"Huh?"

"It's a sort of biological blueprint that makes up all living things. It's comprised of any of various nucleic acids that are usually the molecular basis of heredity. They are usually localized in cell nuclei and are constructed of a double helix held together by hydrogen bonds-" At Robin's glazed look, he stopped. "Let's just say that it's a kind of cellular fingerprint, unique to each individual."

"Oh."

"Do you understand?"

"Uh-huh."

"Really?"

"Sure. It's a new way for you to catch bad guys."

"Exactly," Batman said seriously. "That's exactly what I said."

"See? I get it," Robin said nonchalantly. "So, what are we doing?"

Mentally rolling his eyes, Batman tried another tack. "Let me see if I can make it easier," he said. "Here, take off your left glove." Robin did as asked. Taking the boy's diminutive hand in his, Bruce reached for a sterilized needle.

"Whoa!" Robin protested, jerking his hand back. "You didn't say anything about needles!"

"It won't hurt a bit," Batman promised.

"Oh, yeah? Let's see you do it, then."

"All right, you're on." Batman removed his heavy gauntlets and carefully pricked the middle finger of his left hand. Taking a thin glass tube, he quickly collected a blood sample and transferred it into a larger test tube. He repeated the process three more times. Finally, he applied a disinfectant to a cotton ball and lightly pressed it on his finger.

"See? It didn't hurt at all."

"Well...okay," Robin agreed reluctantly. Giving Robin an amused glance, Batman performed the same procedure on the boy. The Dark Knight experienced a moment of pride when Robin didn't so much as flinch at the admittedly sharp sting of the needle on his fingertip. After the test tubes were ready, Robin gave Batman a quizzical look. "Now what?"

"Now we will attempt to build a DNA profile on the two of us." At Robin's still blank look, he decided to show him rather than explain the process. "Dick, what is one of the first steps that a thorough investigator must do to solve a crime?"

"That's easy," Robin said confidently. "Eliminate all the possible suspects."

"That's right. And what is one of the ways that we do that?"

"By sifting through all the physical evidence." Robin's answers were quick and sure, a sign that he had been listening under his exacting mentor's tutelage.

"What then?"

"Then..." Robin paused, uncertainly. "Finding an M.O. that matches?"

"That's certainly one way," Batman conceded. "Another way is to find physical evidence that ties the suspect to the crime. We get that from fingerprints and from-"

"Blood type?"

"Good! What else?"

"Umm...maybe a physical description?"

"Yes, you get the picture." Batman held his hand up to indicate that Robin had answered sufficiently. "DNA profiling is nothing more than a new investigative tool to assist in identifying possible suspects, and hopefully eliminating them."

"You said it's like a fingerprint. Does that mean that everybody's DNA is different?"

"Now that's a good question, son." Batman gave Robin a proud look. The boy seemed to grow ten feet. "Each person's DNA profile is unique; however, each of us also carries the DNA profile of our parents. So, let's say we have a child that's been lost or kidnapped. A child is found who matches the description of the missing child. We then try to identify the child through not just his own DNA, but through that of one or both of his parents."

"I think I get it," Robin said. "Our DNA is unique to each of us, but just like hair and eye color, we get our DNA from our parents."

"Exactly!"

"So that's why I have blue eyes. 'Cause my mom had blue eyes."

"I think you've got it."

Giving Bruce a serious look, Robin added. "Funny, but my eyes didn't really match my mom's. We both had blue eyes, but hers were a different blue-with green specks. Mine are more like yours." Looking away, Robin turned pensive. "Funny how sometimes things happen like that, huh?"

"Yes, Dick," Bruce said, a lump in his throat. "Very funny."

"So, what do we do next?"


"But it's impossible, Bruce!" Leslie waved the test results she held in her hands. It was the third Saturday of the month, the busiest morning at her clinic. Bruce had called her and asked (No, demanded!) to see her ASAP. Leslie had been forced to leave her clinic, already understaffed on the one day of the month when she was needed the most. Exasperated, she insisted, "You must have made some mistake!"

Bruce stood up from behind his massive desk and walked around towards her. They were in the Wayne study, the wedding portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne looking down at them. (Was it accusingly? Leslie wondered.)

"I don't make mistakes, Leslie," Bruce said matter-of-factly. "But in the outside chance that perhaps I did, I want you to help verify the findings. I have a friend in Star Labs, Dr. Ray Palmer, who's an expert in molecular biology, among other fields." Bruce didn't add that in his spare time Dr. Palmer was also his fellow Justice Leaguer known as The Atom. "I've already called him and explained the situation. He's agreed to help."

"You told him?" Leslie was shocked. "An outsider?" Bruce rarely confided in even those closest to him, and never with anyone outside his inner circle.

"Ray isn't exactly an outsider, Leslie." Bruce paused, unwilling to betray his friend's secret. "I'm sorry, that's all I can say." Leslie nodded.

"Very well, Bruce. I'll go over to Star Labs first thing tomorrow-"

"Today," Bruce interrupted. "Ray's expecting you at three this afternoon." It was 2:30 pm already.

"I guess I'd better leave now, then," Leslie said. Walking over to Bruce she placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "Bruce...if these results are true, how are you going to explain them to Dicky? What are you going to say?"

Bruce took her hands in his and leaning over kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "I'll tell him the truth, Leslie. That he's my son and that no one will ever be able to take him away from me again."

Feeling her eyes tear up, Leslie broke away and headed towards the door to the study. Pausing at the entrance, she asked, "Have you told Alfred yet?" Bruce shook his head, 'no.' Leslie sighed. "When will you tell them?"

"Not yet. Not until the results are in. There's no point in getting their hopes up, especially if the tests come back negative."

Leslie nodded. "Of course. What will you do in the meantime?"

Bruce's countenance took on its normal, brooding expression. "Re-visit my past."

End of Part 2