Disclaimer: Several of the characters below belong to DC comics (AOL/Time Warner). I took them for a spin without permission, but not for profit. Spud (James Grayson) and Graham Filbert belong to Smitty. Harry Bolingbroke is mine. Special thanks to Darklady for the assist on adoptions and to Smitty, who made me write and got this for her birthday in return. Thanks, partner! All In The Family by Chicago (chicago_haven@yahoo.com) *** Harry Bolingbroke folded his newspaper with a sigh. The Whalers were continuing to embarrass themselves on the field, and although he was more of a football fan than a baseball fan, he still hated the idea that a Bludhaven team could fare so poorly. The rest of the paper was scarcely more cheerful. Murder-suicide over in Caernaervon, a rash of muggings in Mealtide Park. The freakish case of that body that surfaced in the Marsh over the weekend - who'd have guessed that a 45 year old corpse would look so freshly killed? Harry suspected that Bludhaven Mud would soon be on store shelves as a beauty restorative. The other main story, of course, was the continuing coverage of the Lance-Wayne honeymoon. The odd yet blissful couple of superhero and billionaire now frolicked in Hawaii, according to the papers. Harry knew differently, of course, but he was relieved to see the press hadn't caught Jon yet. The el creaked and lurched to a stop, settling with a sigh as the doors opened and admitted a blast of already hot summer air. Harry shook his head as he watched the exchange of people going out and coming in. It was a bad sign when it was already good and warm at 7:30 am. The oldsters in Harry's neighborhood were already comparing it to the heat of the summer that Bludhaven had suffered through when Harry was 13. Harry hoped they were wrong, but they had that unfailing knack for weather. The el rumbled forward again, and Harry tucked his paper into his brief bag, ready to stand and exit at the next stop. When he looked up, he realized that the man across the aisle was watching him. Harry expected him to flinch away when he met his eyes, but instead he smiled and nodded familiarly. Harry returned the smile uncertainly, then mercifully, the train stopped, the crowd shifted, and Harry made his way onto the platform with the rest of commuters heading for points downtown. Once free of the revolving gate and down to street level, Harry straightened his shoulders and breathed a sigh of release. He had ridden the el all his life, and he still felt like leaving the train was like diving underwater to emerge again on the street. The platforms and exits were tight presses of flesh and urgency, bottlenecks in the flow of humanity through the city. Strangely, surviving the crush each morning made him feel a little more alive. Of course, there was an added benefit to taking the el. The Honorable Harald Bolingbroke, dressed in casual clothes and eschewing his designated parking spot and the expected BMW in favor of Bludhaven's creaking public transportation system, became just another black man going to work. Even the reporters who routinely covered juvenile court frequently failed to see him among the office workers drifting into the courthouse every morning, their eyes sliding over and past him as they searched for someone "important." For the sake of his blood pressure, Harry decided to regard this as a blessing, and this morning it truly was. It was two blocks from the el to the courthouse, with a bagel shop exactly splitting the distance. Harry fished in his bag for his travel cup as he crossed the street, knowing Ismail would be behind the counter ready to pour. Dante's Bagels had a coffee club system; Harry sent in his check once a month and every morning, he only had to present his cup for his morning brew. The system worked because Ismail knew everyone, and Ismail never missed a day. Ever. Move over Cal Ripken, Jr. Harry stepped into the little shop and joined the usual line. He was vaguely surprised to see the man from the train right in front of him. Again the man smiled at him, and Harry felt a nagging sense of familiarity. "I'm sorry," he said, "have we met?" The man's smile widened a touch. "Just a couple times," he replied. "Name's John Jones. Been working on the Scranton file." "Oh! The detective. Right." Harry smiled sheepishly, taking the slightly taller man's proffered hand. "You on another case?" Jones shook his head. "Actually, the family let me know today was the big day, and I wanted to be around, support the kid. He's a real scrapper." "Yeah," Harry agreed, thinking about the thick file waiting in his chambers. James Scranton was definitely a scrapper. And these Graysons actually seemed like they were going to make great parents for the boy, despite Harry's deep reservations when he realized he was dealing with Wayne money and a tangled set of personal histories. "NEXT!" Ismail yelled impatiently, brandishing a fresh coffee pot. Harry winced and held out his cup apologetically, waiting until it was full and then moving aside to put the cover back on it. Jones stood waiting for him, an amused smirk playing on his features. "Get your coffee and get out, eh?" he remarked, sipping at his own purchased cup. "And be quick about it," Harry agreed, slurping off a tiny sip of the scalding beverage. "You mind some company to the courthouse?" Harry gave Jones a sideways look. "You sure you're not still on the payroll?" Jones chuckled. "Strictly personal interest," he assured. "It was one of those cases that gets to you, y'know? Where you want to see the ending." Harry led the way back to the street. "Like a Chandler novel, eh?" "Yeah, except the beautiful woman has too much class for a Denver gumshoe. And maybe a little less cloak-and-dagger." Harry smiled appreciatively. Jones had done an incredibly thorough job in the search for James Scranton's next of kin, leaving no stone unturned. Backed by Wayne dollars, he had criss-crossed the country, finding Tricia Scranton's brother in Joliet serving five to ten, locating the bitterly abusive grandfather in a nursing home in Florida, tracing every lead until the state was able to declare James eligible for adoption. Harry still wasn't sure if he was saddened or relieved that the few blood relatives they had found wanted nothing to do with Tricia's little boy. He took another swallow of his coffee as they approached the courthouse plaza, then found himself unconsciously slowing his pace. They were there. Every effort at subterfuge was wasted in Bludhaven - the press knew *something* was going down, even if they didn't know what. Vultures, Harry thought bitterly. Jones let himself hang back with Harry, his eyes scanning the plaza, taking in the news vans and camera crews. He blew out a low whistle. "Isn't there a rule about staking out juvenile court?" he asked. Harry tightened his jaw. "Rules are a bit lost on the media." "Yeah. Looks like the police are kinda keeping an eye on things though," Jones nodded toward squad cars and small knots of officers that were around the plaza with an air of forced casualness. "Think you'll get a hassle?" "One way to find out," Harry decided, squaring his shoulders. The two men strode toward the courthouse. Suddenly, Jones touched Harry's arm, halting him. "Look!" he said, a little louder than necessary. His hand pointed upward. "Up in the sky!" Startled, Harry glanced up to see a distinctive blue and red clad figure literally *flying* across the Bludhaven sky. Around them, other's followed Jones' pointing hand and took up his cry, attracting the attention of the press. The slam of van doors and the squeals of departing tires rose above the buzz of the crowd, and Jones effortlessly led Harry into the building through the distracted citizens of Bludhaven. John Jones sat in the courthouse cafeteria, nursing his now hour old cup of coffee. He actually rather liked it, but more than a sip or two did not agree with his Martian physiology. Caffeine jitters and telepathy just did not mix. "John Jones!" a familiar voice cried, and he smiled before he turned. The smile only broadened when he caught sight of the brunette at his elbow. "It's been a dog's age!" she exclaimed. "If it isn't my favorite florist," John replied, motioning to the seat beside him. "Long time, no see. You still hanging out with that cop you used to fancy?" Dinah snorted. "Nah. I'm movin' up." John quirked an eyebrow. "Looks like you developed his taste for doughnuts, though," he kidded. Dinah punched him in the arm. "You always had a way with the ladies," she remarked sarcastically, settling down beside him. Then she lowered her voice. "It's not too obvious, is it? I've had to let out everything I own to hide it, but I swear this kid must be a linebacker waiting to be born." "Don't worry," John reassured. "I wouldn't, but I don't want any rumors too close to Spud's big day. Y'know, I've seen pictures of my mom when she was seven months along with me, and you could barely tell she was pregnant. Why couldn't I be so lucky?" John smiled enigmatically. No sense giving anything away if Dinah didn't know yet. "Nice wig," he commented. Dinah reached self-consciously to her head. "Y'know, you wouldn't think adding a few pounds and changing your hair would make a girl so invisible." "Hardly invisible. Bruce's idea, I take it?" "Yeah. And right now, Matches Malone is bullying his way through security. It's kinda fun, actually, playing cat and mouse with the press." John motioned toward the paper. "I see they still have you in Hawaii." "Body doubles on a secluded beach well protected by Wayne bodyguards. No one can get close enough to figure out they aren't us, and those kids feel like they hit the lottery. I haven't been able to wear a bikini for two weeks." Dinah's tone was complaining, but there was a definite undercurrent of pride in the remark. "So how is our little Tater?" "Gauging by how long it took Barbara to coax him out of her workstation last night?" "He was hovering for a while, huh?" "I could feel his nervousness and excitement on the moon." Dinah chuckled. "I'll bet. I'm glad Dick and Babs decided to go ahead with a formal court hearing rather than taking advantage of Bruce's lawyers to get it done all hush hush." Something on Dinah's person beeped. "Oops, that's my cue. Thanks a million, John, for all your help with this." John smiled. "Hey, that's what family is for." Dinah slipped unobserved into the ladies' room closest to the courtroom designated for Spud's adoption hearing. It was happily empty as she disappeared into a stall to slip off her wig and snake off the mid calf length skirt she had worn over the top of the tailored skirt that matched her suit coat. The abandoned skirt and wig fit comfortably in the oversized bag she carried. A moment in front of the mirror to fix her hair, and she was comfortably herself again, albeit a tad conservative. She shot herself a grin and made her way back out to the hallway. "There you are, darling!" Bruce called from the courtroom door. She wondered how he'd dispensed with Matches Malone so quickly, then shrugged the thought off. After all, he was Batman. "Did you think I'd abandon you?" Dinah teased, tiptoeing to kiss him. "Well, I hear Superman's in town. Maybe the world needs saving," he breezed, wrapping his arm across her shoulders as he opened the courtroom door. "Silly. The boys can save the world once in a while without me." Bruce briefly tightened his arm, a squeeze that was less part of the Brucie act and more a real hug. She couldn't tell if it was a gesture of comfort or of pride in her abilities, but it pleased her nonetheless. They made their way to the second row of the gallery where Alfred already sat. Stephanie Brown was also already there, seated up front across from the seats clearly reserved for the Graysons. Even knowing this hearing was only a formality, Dinah couldn't help feeling that Steph was a wild card. When Stephanie seemed to pointedly avoid making eye contact with her, that feeling intensified. She leaned into Bruce. "This is going to go through, right? Ironclad?" Bruce followed her gaze, his eyes settling on Steph. Dinah could see her almost hunch her shoulders under Bruce's stare, but she didn't turn. "I don't see any reason why not," he said mildly. He again gave her shoulders a comforting squeeze, although she could feel a tension in his arm that hadn't been there before. The courtroom door opened again, and Dinah craned around, expecting to see Dick and Babs and Spud. Instead, an older man entered and walked purposefully to Stephanie. He slid into a seat beside her and they began speaking in whispers. At one point, the conversation seemed to get heated, then calmed again. Dinah gave Bruce a curious look. "One of yours?" she asked. Bruce shook his head. "That, I believe, is Dr. Kramer," Alfred interjected, leaning over to whisper the information. "Bludhaven's chief placement officer in CWS." "Right," Dinah agreed, remembering Babs' stories about Dr. Kramer. He seemed to be on the Graysons' side, and he was Steph's boss. She relaxed a little. When the door opened again, it was to admit John Jones and an older, rather heavy set man wearing a Bludhaven PD polo shirt. Filb, Dinah realized, matching the man to dozens of stories and to Spud's Little League team. For as much time as they both spent at the Graysons, Dinah mused, she figured she and Filb would have met a long time ago. No time like the present, she decided. Smiling at Bruce, she stood and slipped by him to walk to the back of the courtroom where John and Filb had taken seats. "Hey, John," she greeted. "It's been a while." Then she stuck out her hand. "You're Filb, right? I'm Dinah." The gruffness around Filb's edges faded as he gave her a curious look and accepted her handshake. "Pleased t'finally meetcha, Dinah," he acknowledged. "I've been wonderin' about the person who's been teachin' my rookie left fielder songs about conjunctions and adverbs." Dinah met Filb's playfully challenging tone. "Yeah, well, that kid was supposed to grow up to be a Knights fan, you know." Filb made a face. "Someone had to save him. Only worse thing you can do to a kid is make 'em a Cubs fan." "Hey," John broke in warningly. "It's true," Filb defended. "You can't tell me it's not. Man just wasn't made for that kind of heart break year after year." "It builds character," John insisted, but his tone conceded the point. "Speakin' of characters," Filb began, "where's the stars of this show?" Dinah glanced at her watch. The Graysons weren't late yet, but it was getting awfully close to start time. The courtroom door opened again, and this time everyone turned expectantly. Tim Drake paused at the sudden attention. "Uh, hi everyone," he said. When the others, Dinah excepted, turned back around, Tim entered, Cassandra in tow. "Hey, Tim, Cass!" Dinah greeted. "The old slave master let you out of Wayne Towers for a day?" "A morning," Tim corrected. "How are you, Dinah? Filb, John." The men nodded in greeting, unable to say anything before Dinah was speaking again. "Cassandra, you couldn' t wrangle a whole day for Mr. Junior Executive here?" Cassandra shrugged. "He boss. I just work for him." As she spoke, she made a quick gesture with her hand, briefly revealing a wire in her hand. Dinah carefully hid a smile and noticed John was doing the same. Tim's minivan was staying parked, it seemed. "We wanted to be here earlier, but would you believe there's a gapers delay three miles long out there? The radio said Superman was in town fighting someone, but we didn't see anything." Dinah started. "Superman? In Bludhaven? Weird. I hope Babs and Dick didn't get caught in that." "Where's the delay, Tim?" Filb asked, and Dinah could see the wheels turning in the cop's mind. "All up and down the Midtown Exchange and all the side streets west of the courthouse." Filb stood, his hand reaching to the cell phone on his belt. "'M gonna check it out," he explained. "I'll be back." Dinah watched Filb walk out the door and shook her head. "That'd take the cake," she said to no one in particular. "Stuck in your own diversionary tactic." "They'll make it," John reassured. Filb flipped open his phone as he walked over to the windowed end of the hallway. His fingers tapped out a well practiced number and he hit send, putting the phone to his ear. "Rohrbach," Amy's voice came through after two rings. "Hey, Amy," Filb greeted. "We're gettin' a little worried about my partner over here. Grayson's slept through an alarm or two in his life, but -" Amy's laughter interrupted him. "Hey, Spud," he heard her say off to the side. "Your old man sleep through his alarm again?" There was a muffled response as Filb asked, "You got 'em?" "They're with me," Amy confirmed. "In fact -" "Filb!" Spud yelled, darting out of the elevator to grab Filb's hand. "Did you know SUPERMAN is here?" "Shh, Spud," Babs cautioned, although she was laughing. Dick looked vaguely chagrined as he followed his wife and Amy from the elevator. "Yer kiddin'!" Filb exclaimed, closing his phone and smiling down at the boy. "Heck, I've been here all my life and I never saw Superman." Spud was well scrubbed, dressed in well creased khakis and a sharply pressed oxford. He even had on leather shoes. "Never?" Spud asked incredulously. "Well, I didn't exactly see him either, but he made traffic real bad." Now Dick was chuckling. Filb noticed that he and Spud were dressed nearly the same, except that Dick was wearing the tie Spud had given him on Father's Day. "The traffic guys've gotta be having fits over this one. Superhero delay. We aren't that late, are we?" "Grayson, I told you I'd get you here on time," Amy pointed out impatiently. "You've got ten whole minutes to get in that courtroom." "Thank you, Amy," Babs cut in graciously. "And thank Officer Heredia for me." "Heredia? What'd that no-account do?" Filb puzzled. Dick grinned. "He's sitting in traffic with my car. Amy transferred us to a squaddie and -" "She ran all the red lights!" Spud marvelled. Filb laughed, swinging Spud's hand in his. "I taught her that, y'know." "Good thing we decided to let Tim teach Spud how to drive," Dick commented, causing Babs to chuckle. "Seven minutes, Grayson," Amy interrupted. "I didn't get you all the way here to have you be late because you're out here jawin' with your partner." "Aye, aye, captain!" Dick saluted, his eyes twinkling. "Ready, Spud?" The question seemed to dampen Spud's spirits slightly, and he released Filb's hand to walk to Dick. "Are you sure I don't need a tie?" he asked anxiously. Dick knelt to Spud's eye level, straightening the boy's collar and setting his hands on his foster son's shoulders. "You look just fine, James. The judge doesn't want a fashion show; he just wants to see that you're healthy and happy." Spud looked seriously into Dick's eyes for a moment, then glanced to Babs. "Really?" Babs smiled. "Really. I just made Dick wear a tie to remind him who's in charge." "Hey, I like this tie!" Dick protested, bringing a not-unnoticed gap-toothed grin to Spud's face. "Five minutes," Amy prodded, walking ahead of them toward the courthouse door. "We're coming, we're coming," Dick replied, taking Spud's hand. They let Babs wheel ahead of them, then followed her, Filb bringing up the rear. Dick tightened his grip on Spud's hand reassuringly as they walked to the front of the courtroom. He and Babs had talked long and hard about this court date, knowing they had the luxury of bringing the lawyers to their home to finish the paperwork in this adoption. In the end, they decided that Spud needed the ceremony of something more formal. The poor kid seemed increasingly nerve-wracked as the date approached, but the courthouse would make everything seem more real to him. Dick didn't want his son to once question that he was firmly, fully, and finally adopted *for real*, as he put it. His son. He'd thought of Spud in those terms for over a year, but he had to confess that even he felt a thrill of excitement about today. He couldn't imagine he could love Spud more, even if he were his biological son, and to have a formal acknowledgment of that - his stomach tightened happily at the prospect. He sat down at his place in the front of the courtroom, letting Spud scrunch onto the bench next to him. Babs maneuvered her chair into place and set her brakes. This put Spud firmly between his foster-soon-to-be-adoptive parents, creating a unified family front. Dick shot Babs a glance over Spud's head and saw that she also looked nervously excited. This was right, he thought with satisfaction. "Please rise for the Honorable Harald Bolingbroke," the bailiff was saying, and Dick stood, urging Spud to do the same. He needn't have bothered; the boy found his feet quickly enough. His eyes were wide and he seemed to be sucking in every detail, checking himself against the grown ups to make sure he was behaving correctly. The judge walked in, a thick file folder in his hands. Dick knew that file - the story of Spud's young life. It had grown significantly over the past year, stuffed with copious notes from Stephanie Brown and various reports to Bludhaven's Child Welfare Services. After today, it would be sealed as the State relinquished their claim on one James Scranton. The hard memories would remain, of course, but at least that file wouldn't be haunting monthly meetings with Steph anymore. "Please be seated." Dick could hear the assembled family behind him obeying as he sat. He was delighted to see that Bruce and Dinah had made it - embarrassed that he had confessed to Babs last night that he worried that Bruce would not show. Babs had been sweetly reassuring - and right. She usually was, but Bruce was ... Bruce. Even if he was showing a more human side lately. Filb would never miss this, of course, and Amy's presence was a pleasant bonus. They were in the small circle of grown-ups whom Spud trusted, along with Tim and Cassandra and Alfred. And J'onn, although Dick never did quite figure out how Spud had managed to spend so much time talking to the Martian. Babs teased that she was going to have to put an Oracle chat extension on her system if J'onn and Spud didn't let her get on with her work. "So we're here today to formalize an adoption," Judge Bolingbroke was saying. He had a warmly inviting face, and his attention was focused on Spud. Dick had spoken to him a week earlier about this court date and had been greatly impressed by the older man. He understood about children and had supported what another judge might have dismissed as a whim in allowing the Graysons time in his court. "Mr. Scranton," the judge said solemnly. Spud shot to his feet. "Yes, sir." Judge Bolingbroke chuckled. "That sir isn't necessary in my courtroom, young man. I understand you're looking to be adopted?" Spud nodded. "Yes, uh, Mr. Judge." "And these fine people seated beside you, the Graysons? They seem to think that you'll make a good little boy for them." "I will!" Spud declared. "I don't doubt that, Mr. Scranton. The question is, do you think they'll be all right as parents?" Spud paused, turning his head to look first at Babs and then at Dick. Dick gave him an encouraging smile. Spud looked back at the judge, and his voice seemed to falter a little. "Yes, please." Judge Bolingbroke nodded thoughtfully. "Well, then. It looks like everything is in order -" "Excuse me, your honor," a voice interrupted, and all heads swiveled to stare at Stephanie Brown. Steph swallowed hard as Judge Bolingbroke raised an eyebrow at her. She knew she was out of line, but the judge did not tell her to sit down. Instead he said, "Go ahead, Ms. Brown." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see worried expressions flit across the faces of the Graysons. Her nerve almost failed her. But she had got this far, and she was going to give her carefully rehearsed speech. "I'm sorry to be so unorthodox," she apologized, "but I've been James' caseworker over the past year and three months, and there is something I need to say." She could *feel* Bruce Wayne - the Batman - boring holes into her back with his eyes. She didn't doubt she was getting similar looks from Tim. "You know from that file that I've been against James' placement with the Graysons from the start," she began. "The Graysons are lovely people, but I felt that they might unintentionally push Sp - James too hard, draw him into demanding social circles where he might not feel comfortable." Circles where she had not felt comfortable, she reminded herself. Circles where family loyalty - and disloyalty - carried high costs. "I know my reports, among other things, have held up this adoption. And I want everyone here to trust that I honestly cared about what happened to James. But I also want them to know I was wrong." A sense of confusion and relief rippled silently through the courtroom, palpable to Steph as she continued. "I have watched James with Richard and Barbara, probably as closely as I have watched any family. Over the past several months, I have seen James open up as a person, learn to trust again. But I have also seen what has happened with Richard as he learned to place a son's needs ahead of his own. I have watched Barbara develop the kind of patience and caring that everyone wants from a mother." On the bench across the aisle, Dick leaned across to set a hand on his wife's shoulder. His other hand laced around Spud's fingers comfortingly as it had since Steph stood up. Spud still stood, his eyes wide and a bit glassy. "I owe the Graysons - all three of them - an apology. I didn't want to believe that the son of some rich diletante and an overworked librarian could pull together for a child and give him the kind of family that he needed after such a rough start." She turned now, facing the Graysons. "I'm sorry." She didn't wait for their reactions, instead sitting down and staring straight ahead into the middle distance. A long silence hung in the air before Judge Bolingbroke spoke again. "Well, that seems clear enough." There was a scratching sound of a pen. "Ladies and gentlemen, as there is no legal or other reason to halt these proceedings, I hearby declare that from this date forth, that James shall be regarded as the true and legal child of Richard John and Barbara Gordon Grayson. His state records will be sealed, and he shall henceforth be known as James Grayson. You can pick up your paperwork with the clerk on your way out." He struck his gavel and stood, exiting the courtroom to his chambers. Spud stood stunned for a long moment. James Grayson! It was real. He was afraid if he moved, he would wake up and find out it was a dream. Then he felt Babs hand on his shoulder and he looked up into Dick's happy smile. His *father's* happy smile. With a sudden surge of irrepressible joy, he threw himself at Dick, hugging him tightly around his neck. This gesture seemed to shake the room from its silence, and he heard Dinah whoop, "Woo HOO! I got me a grandtater!" There was laughter and a buzz of conversation as everyone moved forward to hug and congratulate the Grayson clan. Spud paid little attention to the hand pats and hair rufflings he received - he only clung to Dick, relishing the strong arms holding him almost as tightly as he was holding on. Finally! He didn't have to worry anymore that someone would take him away from Dick and Babs. And they wanted him! He knew that, of course, but he was *their* little boy now. For real! "Congratulations," he heard Bruce saying warmly, and he could feel Dick's smile growing from the way his neck muscles moved under Spud's cheek. Spud couldn't stop tears from trickling down his cheeks. He felt Dick's hand rub his back comfortingly. "You okay there, buddy?" Dick asked. Spud nodded against Dick's neck, rubbing his face against the shoulder of Dick's shirt to dry his tears before he loosened his hold on Dick and looked up. "You're stuck with me now, Dick," he said, drawing delighted laughter and another hug. "That goes both ways, kid," Dick replied, releasing Spud finally and letting him stand on the bench. Spud scrubbed his sleeve across his still running nose and turned to face Babs. She looked so beautiful with her smile and her hair framing her face and somehow the hint of tears in her eyes made them more green. Spud bent at the waist and wrapped his arms around her. "I love you, Babs," he whispered. "Oh, Spud!" Her arms came around him, and he heard her sniffle a bit. "I love you, too," she murmured. "First I can't get you into the courtroom, now I can't get you out of it," Amy's voice complained, and Spud pulled back from Babs. "Sorry," Amy apologized, "but they do have another case today." Dick laughed and took Spud's hand. "Well, then, I guess we better go get your birth certificate, Spud." Spud wrinkled his nose. "Birth certificate?" He hopped off the bench, still holding Dick's hand. "Yep," Babs confirmed. "They made you a new one showing that you belong to me and Dick now." Spud hesitated. "Does that mean I can count today as an extra birthday?" he asked. "I don't see why not," Dick agreed cheerfully. "Sweet!" Spud gave a little skip, then paused. The shuffle of people had parted to show him Stephanie Brown still sitting on her bench. He squeezed Dick's hand. "Hold on a second," he ordered. Dick released him and Spud walked up to Steph. "Hi," he said. She looked up, and he could see she had been crying, too. Except her tears didn't look happy. "Umm," he began. "I wanted to say thank you." Steph nodded. "You're welcome. You make a great Grayson." "I know. But not just for today. I mean, I wanted to say thank you about your job. I know you didn't mean anything mean. You just wanted me to be okay. And I'm going to be okay, really." "I know." "But anyway, I'm glad you wanted to make sure." Steph smiled bravely at Spud. "Thank you," she said softly, her eyes drifting back to stare into space. Then she shook herself. "Well, go along with your family. I'll miss you, James." She began to pack her briefcase. Spud dashed back to Dick's side, oblivious to the adult scrutiny this exchange had received. "Let's go get my new birthday certificate!" He was on cloud nine, floating down the hall with a gaggle of noisy grown ups, all laughing and talking at once (even Bruce, who was acting kind of flaky after they got into the hallway). Dick's hand directed him subtly, steering him toward the clerk's office. When they entered, a woman at the desk looked up disapprovingly, quieting their conversation. Dick knelt by Spud's side. "You want to get it yourself?" he asked. "I can do that?" "Well, Babs and I are right here if they've got any questions," Dick pointed out. "Right." Spud squared his shoulders and approached the desk. "Have you got my birthday certificate, please?" he asked. The stern looking woman seemed to soften at his words. "I might. Can you tell me your name?" Spud threw back his shoulders proudly. "My name," he announced, "is James Grayson." End