"So far you haven't said anything that convinces me beyond a shadow of a doubt," Batman growled. 'Dick' looked up at him with wide, hurt eyes.
Again, Batman found himself hesitating. "But there may be a way to prove your story," he added reluctantly, surprising both himself and the waiflike girl sitting in front of him.
"How?" she asked.
"DNA," Batman said succinctly. "If you are Dick Grayson, then your DNA signature should prove it."
"But it'll only show that I'm a girl," 'Dick' protested. "How will it prove that I'm me?"
"You said you wanted my help," Batman replied. "This is it."
His bearing appeared aloof as he closely studied the girl's reactions. Her lovely, oval face reflected her emotional turmoil: Expressive, dark blue eyes instantly flashed hope, despair, resignation, and then hope again.
Batman noted how a stubborn lock of hair kept falling over her eyes, refusing to obey her impatient gestures to push it back. He felt his throat catch. How often had he seen Dick perform that exact mannerism?
The Batcave's indeterminate lighting threw odd shadows and angles at the girl's delicate features. While she sat facing away from him, her soft curves blurred momentarily, and for a fleeting moment Batman saw a familiar boy of thirteen stubbornly jutting his chin out, disappointed yet again that he wouldn't be allowed to join him on that night's patrol.
Batman clenched his fist. No! This was impossible, and he was going to prove it. What's more, once he proved that she was an imposter, he'd force her to tell him what happened to Dick.
A throat being cleared tactfully from behind caused the both of them to turn. Hiding in the gloom afforded by the shadows, Dick watched nervously as Alfred made his way silently across the Cave carrying a breakfast tray.
"I'm quite sorry, sir," Alfred said. "I didn't know Master Dick was here. Would you care for any breakfast, young sir?"
"Sure, Alf," Dick said without thinking. "How about some of your chocolate chip pancakes?"
Alfred turned slowly and stared at Dick. "Master Dick?" He blinked and shook his head. "I beg your pardon, Miss--? My word! If I didn't know better, I'd swear that you--" He stopped, and glanced apologetically at Batman.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have interrupted." The usually urbane butler stared long and hard at the petite brunette, still not quite believing what he saw, or thought he saw. Then, without another word, he turned to go.
"No! Stay, Alfred," Batman said. "This concerns you, too." He indicated the young girl sitting huddled on one of the padded chairs. She was wrapped up in the familiar, well-worn Gotham Knights jacket. Batman clinically noted that Alfred immediately recognized the leather jacket, but didn't volunteer any further information, instead preferring that Alfred draw his own conclusions.
The girl stared at Alfred with those expressively wide blue eyes, which at this moment were peeking out from behind a curtain of raven-black bangs. She nervously pushed the forelock out of her eyes, but it fell back of its own accord. Finally, she offered a weak, embarrassed grin.
"Hi, Alfred," she said, attempting to keep her voice light. "I guess I'm not exactly myself today, am I?" Unable to keep up her brave front, her face suddenly scrunched, looking stricken. Ashamed, she covered her eyes, quickly wiping. "But, as they say--" She managed to get out. "--I-I'll be getting better soon."
"Master Bruce, is this--?" Alfred began, not taking his eyes off the young woman. Swallowing several times, he tried again. "Sir, is this Master Dick?"
At his question, the dark head rose slowly, a tremulous smile transforming her lost-little girl features to one of a stunningly beautiful young woman.
"Alfred? You recognize me?" she asked, hope dawning on her lovely face. It was quickly dashed by Batman's next words.
"No. He doesn't," Batman answered harshly. He turned to the girl and using minimal gestures pointed her towards the forensics lab. "Let's go," he said. "Alfred, contact Leslie. We may need her medical expertise."
"Yes, sir," Alfred said dazedly. "Excuse me, sir, but should we contact Ms. Oracle? I'm certain that--"
"No!" Alfred and Batman whirled around. The petite brunette, looking lost in Dick's Gotham Knights jacket, came stomping back to them. "No! You're not calling Oracle. I won't let her see me like this! Not now--not ever!"
"But--" Alfred began.
"No 'buts'! If you call Oracle this whole deal's off. I'll leave now and you'll never hear from me again. You get it? No Oracle! Under any circumstances!"
Batman and Alfred exchanged neutral glances. Finally, Batman turned to his uninvited guest and nodded.
"It's your choice," he said. "For the moment, at least." Without further comment, he led his female visitor to the lab.
Dick watched Bruce pace in front of him. Once the Dark Knight studied the irrefutable results of the DNA tests, he'd removed his cowl and changed into a pair of sweats.
"It's medically and scientifically impossible!" Bruce muttered. "A person's DNA cannot be affected by a sex change. If you were Dick Grayson somewhat surgically altered to resemble a woman, your DNA results should unequivocally show that you were a male who outwardly looked female. But--"
"But the results show unequivocally that I'm female," Dick finished, looking crestfallen.
"Yes," Bruce said finally looking Dick directly in the eyes. "According to the tests, whatever has been done to you is at the genetic level--not to mention the sub-atomic level. You are a female, but--" He paused and took a step forward, tentatively pushing that stubborn lock of hair out of Dick's eyes. "--but you are just as unequivocally Dick Grayson. Or, at least, if Dick Grayson had been born a girl, he would have been you."
The right corner of Bruce's mouth quirked up fleetingly. "Gobbledygook, I know. But the best way I can explain it at the moment. "
The barest ghost of a smile broke through Dick's otherwise serious expression. "Curiouser and curiouser!" he said, and then fell into pensive silence, weighing his options. At last he looked up and nodded as if arriving at a decision.
Again Dick's expressive eyes revealed the conflicting emotions warring inside him. Somehow he managed to look both vulnerable and determined. Locking eyes with his mentor, he asked the question they'd both avoided for the past hour.
"So, how do we fix the problem?"