Authors note:

Disclaimer: Don't own nothing.

Chapter 4: Different

Amanda woke up lying on a strange large bed, disoriented, sad and confused. It took her a moment to remember where she was . . . and what had happened. Her chest became heavy with grief but she didn't feel as confused and messed up as she had before.

Her bed was crowded with cats, half a dozen in total. Four of them were curled up, fast asleep, another was busy licking itself but stopping frequently to swat at the other, which was sitting smugly beside Amanda's head, tickling her nose with his tail.

Amanda realised she was lying on top of the bed, still in her clothes, and someone had placed a blanket over her. Someone had also shut the door to the room – she wasn't sure whether it was for her privacy and so she could sleep undisturbed, or whether it was to keep the cats in. Either way, two of the other three cats seemed to be convinced that the door was there purely to antagonise them and were yowling at it, begging for it to be opened.

As Amanda came to her senses she realised she'd been hearing their noise for quite a while. She rolled onto her side and stared at the two cats. They were the two which she owned personally, and both were pacing back and forth and trying to best each other in a screaming contest. Amanda rolled off the bed and shuffled over to them, scooping them up, mumbling: "Oh, hush up you silly fur balls."

Before opening the door she glanced around to locate the last cat, finding it sitting on top of the cupboard like a bird on a perch. She left the room, shutting the door behind her, and wandered aimless down the huge, red-carpeted hallway.

She found her way to the living room, where Tim was planted firmly in front of the TV.

"Good morning." He said absently, his eyes not leaving the screen. The smaller cat in Amanda's arms – Ditz, she called it – squirmed free and ran to the couch, attempting three times to jump up before Tim picked it up. It promptly curled up on his lap and started purring proudly, pleased to have conquered this great being.

"Morning." Amanda mumbled and sat on the opposite side of the couch.

Tim glanced at her sideways, "I was just saying that 'cause I always do. It's actually after 1 o'clock, Bruce should be up soon."

"It's a Monday, why aren't you in school?" Amanda said.

"School's closed for today, some mobsters firebombed it last night – such a shame, I know. But, naturally, Alfred and Bruce have insisted I still do schoolwork at home. It's Tuesday, by the way."

Amanda glanced at him, then at the cartoon he was watching. "Yeah, this looks a lot like schoolwork. . ."

"Oh, I finished that this morning. Still sulking though." He grinned at her and focused back on the screen. "So, how are you?" he ventured.

Amanda's face fell. "Surviving, I s'pose. Haven't really had a chance today to think about it…" Her chest suddenly felt very heavy, and empty. Tim offered a reassuring smile and petted the kitten on his lap.

Bruce entered the room and smiled at them. "Afternoon." He said, and sat on an armchair. He glanced at Amanda, "How are you?"

"Doing fine."

He sat silently for a moment, before saying, "There aren't a dozen cats running around the house, are there?"

Amanda shook her head, "I locked them in my room, except for these two."

They sat in silence for a while, watching the stupid cartoon, until Tim tried to break the silence. "So…" He ventured, "How many cats have you got exactly?"

"Nine." Amanda answered. "Coco, Ditz, Vader, Sushi, Fang, Fuzzy, Uno, Buzz Lightyear and Mr Snookums."

"Wow." Tim mumbled.

"They're not all mine." Amanda said, she motioned to the very pregnant brown one on her lap. "This one's Coco, and that one's Ditz." She motioned to the grey tabby kitten who'd claimed Tim as a cushion. "They're mine. Vader, Sushi and Fang were Mom's. The rest belong to other people-"

One of Tim's eyebrows went up. "Do you mean to tell me Catwoman stole real cats as well?!"

Amanda gave him a funny look, but it faded into sadness. "No, she ran a cat-sitting program. This probably the most we've had at any one time. I should probably call their owners."

"Please tell me the pregnant cat is someone else's." Bruce said in what Amanda assumed was his form of a joking tone.

"No, that's Coco. She's mine, personally. Ditz was from her last litter."

Bruce didn't look very happy about that, but Tim was grinning.

"Are they fixed?" Bruce asked sternly.

"What?!" Amanda snapped, "Of course not!"

"You'll have to get them fixed." Bruce stated.

"No way! That's horrible! How could you suggest such a thing!"

Tim's eyebrows shot up and he smirked. Bruce sighed and opened a newspaper.

Amanda spent the day trying to ignore the pain inside her by sorting through all the stuff from the apartment, deciding what to keep and what to get rid of. She discarded some of her own clothes and kept some of her mother's that fit, but overall reduced the amount of clothes she had, despite the massive amount of closet space – most of her favourite clothes were still in Blüdhaven anyways. She kept some of the Catwoman costumes, ditching the more flamboyant ones as well as all the stiletto heels, and the entire arsenal stayed.

She was starting to get hungry when someone knocked on the door. She was about to tell them to come in when she noticed that three of the cats had their noses pressed against the door, ready to make a break for it and explore the mansion.

"Hold on," she called and scooped up the cats. "Come in."

The door opened a crack and Tim stood there. "Hey, Alfred says to tell you dinner's ready."

At his words, Amanda's kitten jumped off the bed and made a dash for the door. "No, Ditz." Amanda said sternly and put her foot in the way. The kitten skidded around the obstacle and bumped into the wall. "I'll be down in a tic." Amanda said to Tim, who smiled amusedly and shut the door. "Crazy fuzz-bucket." Amanda said to Ditz and scooped him up as well, before plonking all four cats on the bed and slipping out of the room, shutting them in.

Dinner was a simple, quiet affair that took place in a massive dining hall at a ridiculously long table. Tim was sitting at the head of the table as though he were a king, and on either side of him sat Bruce and Alfred. They were already helping themselves to food that was piled in the centre of the table like a mini-buffet. Feeling lost, Amanda sat down quietly next to Alfred.

It was a quiet meal, and was finished quickly. Amanda was headed up the stairs when the doorbell rang. She hardly heard it, and paid it no heed until she heard someone say her name. She headed to the front room and was intercepted by Alfred.

"Master Bruce wishes to see you."

He led the way to a room which could have been a study. Bruce sat on an ornate cushioned chair at one end of the room, across from him was a man Amanda did not recognise. At a gesture from Bruce, Amanda sat on another fancy chair next to his.

The man spoke, "Hello Amanda, Mr Wayne, I'm Sergeant Jack McGrath. The hospital has run tests on your DNA, and there's no doubt: Amanda, you are Mr Wayne's daughter."

It wasn't a shock. Amanda nodded. "Thank you, Sergeant McGrath." She said.

He shrugged, "You're welcome, but that's not the only reason why I'm here." He paused and took a breath, "We have found a man we suspect may be your mother's killer, and we would like you to come down to the station tomorrow to identify him."

Amanda nodded and agreed before leaving to go back to her room. She scowled, feeling miserable inside. They may have found a criminal, but he was certainly not the one who killed her mother.