Author's Note: Not dead yet! "I'm not nearly done and I'm not giving up, no matter how long it takes to write." Famous last words, right? What I initially wrote to be chapter ten turned out to be a bit too much to publish all at once, so it'll be split into multiple chapters, which will give us a few regular updates. Thank you again to everyone who has read, reread, and reviewed since this journey began!
All named and recognizable characters used in this non-commercial work are the property of DC Comics.
'Finally!' I exclaim to myself in relief when Alfred brings the car to a stop. It was starting to feel like we'd never get home. I can still feel her eyes on me, though, so I keep my head down. Luckily, no one tries to say anything, so I can just wait in peace. As soon as Dad opens his door and gets out, I make a break for it.
I hear her calling my name just before I get to the door back up into the house, but ignore it and open and close the door quickly as I slip out of the garage. She can call for me all she wants—I don't care. I just want my life back. I want to go back to when it was just Daddy and me, and when I could focus in class, and when I could get good grades and feel proud of myself.
Tears fill the edges of my vision and I scowl while thinking about calling her out in front of Mr. Faas. It was stupid—so stupid—but hearing her beat around the bush about exiling me just made me so angry. After what she did to me, I don't need anyone knowing my mother was Wonder Woman and I especially don't need anyone knowing she stopped because of me. It's a thought that's crossed my mind dozens of times since Dad and I got back from her island.
I grab the end of the handrail in the foyer, swing myself around it to propel myself up the first few steps. At the same time, I think to myself that she might have been in the right, no matter how much I don't want to admit it, by talking about exiling me like tha—no, Dad was right. I shouldn't have said anything.
As I walk down the hallway toward my room, I reach up to the back of my head with both hands. With my left, I grab my elastic and pull it out while holding the base of my ponytail steady in my right. After getting the elastic into place on my left wrist, I spend the last few steps before I reach my door straightening my hair out with my fingers. To finish, I flip a few locks back behind my shoulders before reaching out for the doorknob.
For a brief moment, I feel guilty when the door closes a little louder than I meant, but as I look up to the rafters and platforms above, the extra noise doesn't seem to have been an issue. Putting the thought out of my mind, I kick my shoes off and leave them beside the door before crossing to my bed. With a little hop, I jump up onto my bed, landing across it on my stomach.
For a little while, I just lay there, my face buried in my lavender comforter, my legs straight and my arms at my sides. It isn't long before it gets uncomfortable having my legs hanging out past the edge of my bed, though. In one quick motion, I turn onto my right side, looking up towards my pillows as I curl up a bit. I close my eyes even before pulling my hair out of my face, and then let myself go and think.
My thoughts go back to her room in the palace, my cheeks burning in surprise and embarrassment when Daddy kissed her. I wish I'd heard more of what they said before she came back to talk to me. I wish I'd paid attention to Daddy's expression sooner. Maybe then she wouldn't have caught me so unprepared. I wish I hadn't understood—mostly—what she meant when she said it.
Word for word, action for action, the scene plays out. No variation, nothing better than it was, nothing worse. Looking back on it now, I can see how wildly different their expressions were, her sad, apologetic smile and the pain on Daddy's face. He kind of looked like she's exiled him instead of me.
The memory continues in my mind. I still don't hear what they said to each other, but I remember very distinctly the feel of Dad's arms wrapping around me as he picked me up. I remember being held upright against him as he carried me, and then I remember sitting in his lap in the plane. I still don't know how I managed to hold myself together before asking him what exile meant, but I know I let it all go because I knew I was safe with him.
My thoughts continue until I feel something tickle across my left index finger. My eyes flash open and I look down to see Tyger sniffing the end of my finger. The sight brings an immediate smile to my lips and I extend my finger. Immediately, the yellow tabby cat rubs his cheek across my finger, which I curl so I can rub behind his cheekbone. That only gets him to press his face harder against my finger.
"Did I really look that sad, Tyger?" I ask. Of course, he doesn't answer, only offering a little groan as I wrap my arms around him and pull him to my chest. After only a moment, he adjusts his legs, settling in and looking up at me as he begins to purr.
I can feel my smile growing bigger and move my left hand to the top of his head to begin petting him. As I do, I hear a quiet mrow and lift my head to see my other cat jumping up onto my bed beside my head. "Aww, don't be jealous, Whiskers…" I tell the almost entirely black cat as he approaches my face.
Whiskers extends his neck, bringing his nose in close towards my left eyebrow. I have a little trouble, but manage to keep from giggling as he sniffs his way up to my hairline and starts licking my hair away from my face. "I love you too," I assure him as I lift my hand from Tyger's head to rub my finger under Whiskers' chin.
As expected, he immediately lifts his chin in response, revealing the white patch on his chest and exposing his neck to give me better access. When my hand finally tires, I drop it back down to the bed, where Whiskers investigates with a sniff before I lift my hand once more to pet him on the head.
Whiskers, who has always liked company but, for the most part, has never really liked sitting on laps or being held, then retreats to the head of my bed. He sniffs around as he climbs up onto the lump that is one of my pillows. "Whiskers, no," I tell him softly when he starts to knead. "Alfred hates it when you do that."
I reach out and tap my fingers against his hip to distract him and he lets out a questioning mrow as he turns around to sniff at my hand. "Sit down," I command before petting him and then gently tapping my fingers against the pillow below him. Fortunately, he gets the hint and begins to settle, doing that funny little cat-thing where he bends his front paws underneath himself at the wrist.
Being here with Tyger and Whiskers puts me at ease. They spend a lot of time above, on the network, but they do like it when I play with them and it always makes me feel really good when they come down to sit with me. It's like they always know when I really need a friend.
For a while, it's just the three of us, relaxing in silence—aside from all the purring—but eventually, I can hear voices from the hallway. Curiosity gets the better of me and I get up, taking Tyger to the nearest ramp and sending him up. Whiskers follows him onto the network as I head to the door to try to find out what's going on.
I come to a stop in front of my bedroom door when I hear Dad's voice from the other side. "…and this room is Caitlyn's."
"Right next to yours, I see," I hear her respond and I can hear the self-assurance in her tone.
"What can I say? I like having her close. It was my room when I was a kid, so I thought it'd be the best room in the manor for her to have growing up. I didn't move into the master bedroom until I returned to Gotham after college. I may have inherited everything years before, but in my mind, it was still my parents' room. I knew it would help to keep up appearances, but I wasn't sure I'd earned the right to call it my own."
There's a little pause and, in the silence, I spin around on my heel and cross the room. It's muffled, but I hear my mother responding. Unfortunately, I can't make out what she says, but if they're going to continue talking outside my room, I'd rather not have to listen through the door.
I stop before the mirror on my dresser. My hair is only a little out of place from laying on the bed, so I lift my fingers to my head to make it a little worse. Once satisfied, I tip my head back and pull my fingers through my hair and away from my back, just to make it less obvious I did it all on purpose, then pick my paddle brush up from in front of the mirror.
Without hesitation, I march back across my room and quickly open my door. I see Dad opening the door to the guest bedroom across the hall from my room. Both of my parents turn at my unexpected arrival and the warmth that fills Dad's expression calms me, but the sudden surge of hope in my mother's eyes reminds me what I came out here for.
"Caitlyn, what're you up to? I was just showing your mother around the manor. It's been a while since she was last here and I thought it'd be good for her to know some of the things that have changed. I was about to show her to her room if you'd like to join us."
I decline with a shake of my head, then thrust my left hand out with my brush held firmly in my grip. "Mn!" I insist at the same time.
At first, they both seem surprised, but then understanding sweeps across Dad's expression. He reaches for my outstretched hand and takes the handle of my brush. "Sure," he answers with a smile. I relax and let go of my brush as he turns to my mother and invites, "Diana, if you'd like, you're welcome to join us."
"Of course," she replies after a pause, but even if she hadn't taken a moment to answer, I still wouldn't have missed the confusion.
I turn away at the same time and go back into my bedroom, Dad right behind me with my mother following him. I pull my rolling stool out from beside my dresser and roll it around in front of the mirror on top of it. Meanwhile, Dad picks up the chair on the other side of the dresser and, soon after, sets it down behind my stool. We take our seats and I look to Dad's reflection, awaiting his questions before he begins.
"Alright, Caitlyn. You want to keep it down, do a ponytail, or have you got something else in mind?"
"Ponytail," I answer softly.
"…And the usual, or something a little higher?" As Dad speaks, I spot my mother crossing behind us in the mirror and turn my head to my left, watching as she takes a seat on the end of my bed.
"Like you usually do," I try to say without being annoyed while quickly turning forward again.
Dad acknowledges my request and then, once I'm looking at our reflections again, I watch in the mirror as he lifts the brush to the top of my head. The first brushstroke pulls my head back a little and I tighten my grasp on the front edge of my stool to stay upright. That I may have overdone it when I mussed my hair crosses my mind. The second stroke of the brush is much smoother, as it follows the path of the first, going from the middle of my hairline, over the top of, and then down the back of my head.
From there he establishes a pattern, brushing a first pass through a new section of my hair, then following with a second, smoothing stroke. As he smooths more and more of my hair, I begin to relax, zoning out as I almost always do while he works. I can't help it, I love the feel of someone doing my hair for me. It's right up there with Dad's back scratches.
The more I relax, the less of a grasp I feel like I have on time. So, I'm not entirely sure if it's one minute later or ten when Dad starts brushing my hair back below my neck. I regain a bit of awareness as he works his way down along my back, focusing on smoothing my hair from the base of my neck down to the ends of my hair.
It isn't much longer before Dad starts gathering my hair together behind my head. He rests his left hand against the back of my neck and with each brushstroke, pulls it a little smoother and a little tighter against my head. "Caitlyn, do you have an elastic?" I hear him ask, but the words don't really register.
"Caitlyn?" he asks after another moment.
"Oh. Yeah, sorry about that, Dad," I quickly apologize as I snap out of my daze. I lift my hands and pull the elastic off my left wrist and reach back over my right shoulder to offer it to him.
I focus on the mirror again and watch as Dad pulls my hair through the elastic. I see him flip my hair back and from side to side before pulling it through again, but really I can feel what's going on better than I can see it. Before long, he finishes, lifting his hands to my shoulders. "Alright. Give it a turn," he requests.
After a quick little nod, I turn my head to my right, then back around to my left, keeping my eyes on the mirror the whole time. Dad put the ponytail right above my hairline, which is right where I wanted it, and I can see enough of it to be happy with the placement. After straightening my neck for a moment, I tip my head forward and then back before reaching back to the elastic with both hands to loosen it just a hair.
"Thanks, Dad!" I exclaim while spinning my stool back around. I put my hands on my knees as I push myself back to my feet, then give Dad a quick kiss while moving to put my head on his shoulder and hug him.
"You're welcome, Caitlyn," he replies while wrapping me up in a hug of his own.
"I have to say, Bruce, that's something I never thought I would see," my mother says with amusement, speaking up for the first time since entering my bedroom.
"What?" Dad asks as we pull apart and then turn to where she still sits by the foot of my bed.
"Well, I just never thought I'd see you styling a woman's hair. It clashes with your image—in and out of costume—don't you think, Bruce?"
"As I told you beforehand, Diana, a lot of things have changed," Dad answers as he stands. He sets my paddle brush back on top of my dresser, then pushes his chair and my stool back to their spots beside it. "Caitlyn means the world to me. I could never forgive myself for taking the easy route by passing her off to Alfred or some professional every time something comes up that doesn't necessarily fall within society's definition of a father.
"Besides, even ignoring the cape and cowl and even ignoring the fact that I'm Bruce Wayne, I am still, for all intents and purposes, a single father, no matter how much support I have here at home. There are millions like me—and more than you might think are men—taking care of their children in single parent households. We have to find some way to fill in the gaps. I choose to be involved, at least as much as possible, and I feel that Caitlyn and I are both better off for it."
The humor leaves her expression and her gaze falls to the floor. "I don't doubt that…" she mutters and, in the silence that follows, I sort of feel worse hearing the sadness as she speaks.
"Well, I'll tell you one thing it would have been nice to have had you around for: buying Caitlyn her first bras." I tense up and my cheeks burn with embarrassment despite knowing he is just trying to lighten the mood. "We learned together on that one," he continues, getting my mother to laugh.
To me, though, it's anything but funny. "Dad! No, don't tell her about that!" I finally cry, afraid he might say more if I don't interrupt him now.
He turns to look at me and the smile falls from his expression once he gets a good look at my own. "Sorry, Caitlyn. I didn't mean to embarrass you, I just remembered thinking about how helpful it would have been if we'd sat down with a catalog beforehand so we would have had a better idea of what we were getting ourselves into."
I respond with a signature groan of displeasure. In response, Dad pats me on the head. I can't help but relax at that, but then he distracts me as he changes subjects. "You know, Caitlyn, now that I'm thinking of it again, I think you got your hair from Diana."
The idea strikes me as somewhere between crazy and impossible. Sure, hers is black too, but that doesn't mean anything. Immediately, I turn away and head for my mother and my bed. "Caitlyn?" she asks as I move around behind her. Ignoring her, I get up onto my knees on the edge of the bed, then lean forward, putting my hands into her hair from behind.
The first thing I notice is that it's so soft, like mine and like Dad's. There's a waviness to it, too, unlike the straightness of my hair and Dad's. The realizations come as a bit of a shock and, before I know it, I'm putting words to my thoughts. "I always thought I got my dark hair from Dad, but…it is like yours, too…" I mutter while leaning a little closer as I tip my head forward, trying to figure out how I feel about that.
Being so close to her, it's not long before I notice how…oily her hair smells. Curiosity doesn't take much time to get the best of me. "Why does your hair smell like that?" I can't help asking.
"Like what?"
"Like…oily…"
She reaches up, taking my left hand before turning around to face me, gently holding on to my hand the whole time. "It's from my shampoo. For centuries, my people have used shampoos made with olive oil. My sisters learned how to make it from the Greeks before we separated ourselves from Man's World. Why do you ask?"
That certainly explains the smell. I think about it a little more, trying to place why it seems so familiar, before answering, "I was just wondering because it kind of smells like the kitchen when Alfred is cooking."
Dad starts laughing almost immediately and she makes a funny face before Dad puts his hand on my shoulder. I look up to him in surprise and by the time I turn, she starts laughing too. Maybe saying it like that wasn't my best idea—but it doesn't make it any less true!
I slipped beforehand. That's the only way to describe how I behaved. She was nice to me before and then she exiled me—I won't be taken in by her being nice to me again! …And that smell makes sense in a kitchen, but not in someone's hair!
"Hey, Caitlyn!" Tim calls as I enter the dining room. "Alfred laid out a fourth place setting tonight, but he wouldn't tell me why. Who's joining us for dinner?"
"Ask Dad," I reply curtly as I approach the table, knowing he and my mother aren't far behind.
I come up Tim's side of the table and take the seat to his right. "Ah… Aren't you going to sit where you usually do with Bruce? We're going to be bumping elbows all through dinner if you sit there," he asks with genuine concern.
"You mean you don't want me to sit by you?"
"Well, I never said that," Tim defends.
"Great Hera—Tim?" I hear my mother exclaim from the end of the dining room.
Tim turns immediately at the sound of her voice, standing up and looking past me toward the door to the hall, while I turn the other way, focusing in on the empty spot in my place setting where my plate will eventually go. "Dia—Wonder Woman! Wow, I had no idea you were our special guest!"
As he speaks, Tim moves out away from the table. I keep my head and my eyes down and content myself to listening as they greet one another. "Please, Tim, just call me Diana." She pauses, then shifts their conversation back to him. "And look at you! You've changed so much since we last met. You seem to have grown into quite the fine young man."
"What can I say? I've had some good role models. Especially so after this one turned his life around about ten, eleven years back."
"Tim," Dad interjects in a cautionary tone. A moment later, I look up when he puts his hands on my shoulders and I realize he's behind me. "Caitlyn," he adds much more affectionately before leaning down and planting a kiss on my forehead. After another moment, he's letting me go and walking around to the other side of the table. To my disappointment, he takes the seat opposite Tim—though it is at the head of the table, so I really shouldn't have expected anything else.
"So, Diana, what's with the outfit? I mean, I saw you in normal clothes when you were here back during the reconstruction, but those seem a little…out of season, I guess." He sounds apologetic as he finishes, trying to find the right phrase.
I guess my mother takes it the same way, as she assures in response, "It's alright, Tim. I know what you mean." After a pause, she continues, explaining, "I took some of my belongings with me as souvenirs of my time in Man's World when I left. These clothes were among my things. Unfortunately, I never packed any sort of winter outfit, but I'm glad Alfred was able to find me a jacket for the meeting with Caitlyn's teacher."
"Oh, that's right—that was this afternoon…" Tim responds. He comes around to take his seat beside me again and, soon after, I hear my mother pull out the chair across the table from me. "How'd that go, Caitlyn?"
I glance at my brother, level a look at him that I hope he'll understand means I want him drop it, but he seems determined to bring me into this discussion. "Fine," I eventually answer in a low voice, convinced he never forgot.
"Good, good!" he responds way too excitedly. "So, what's the plan for getting your grades back up?" he then fires at me without missing a beat, even though I'm sure he knows I don't want to talk about it. Actually, I'm pretty sure that's why he's asking.
"Pay…more attention in class?" I answer, hoping but doubtful that it's what he wants to hear.
"Well, that sounds like a good way to start." He puts a hand on my shoulder like Dad so often does before continuing, "That said, it is going to take more—"
"If you'll pardon the interruption, Master Timothy, dinner is served," Alfred cuts in.
I turn at the sound of his voice and the tension in my body instantly fades away. "Thank you!" I mouth silently to him and I see his smile brighten subtly in response.
"My apologies, Miss Diana, but our schedule this afternoon didn't leave much time to prepare a proper dinner to celebrate your overdue return to Wayne Manor. It's nothing too fancy, but it's the best I could come up with on such short notice," he says humbly as he walks around behind Dad to serve her first.
I recognize the lamb chops and the pearl couscous the moment the elderly man uncovers my mother's plate. Almost more apparent than the lamb itself or the raisins and sesame seeds around the meat is its aroma, all but defined by the scent of honey. In spite of his little disclaimer, this is definitely a fancy dinner. "I hope everything is to your liking, Madam. Of course, please let me know if there's anything else you require."
"You're too kind, Alfred. Thank you, but you know you don't need to go to so much trouble on my account."
"Nonsense! This meal marks a very special occasion. Now we only need wait until tomorrow evening for Master Richard to arrive from Blüdhaven and our little family will finally be whole."
The entire table very quickly falls silent, but I immediately celebrate the reminder. I don't know how, but I managed to forget that tomorrow is going to be Friday. 'I guess I really do need to pay more attention in school… How could I even lose track of what day it is?'
While I'm busy thinking, Alfred comes around to my right. "And for you, Miss Caitlyn," he says to capture my attention as he sets my plate down. Once he lifts the cover, I see he's already cut my lamb and made an addition for me that I'm really happy to see. "The baby carrots are steamed and I made sure to cook your lamb for just a touch longer than your father's, just as you prefer."
"Thank you, Alfred!" I respond happily, turning up from my food to look directly at him. Again, he smiles, glad to see my appreciation.
From across the table, my mother speaks up once Alfred finishes serving Dad and Tim. "Alfred, why don't you join us for dinner? We've hardly had a chance to catch up yet."
"I'm quite alright, Miss Diana. I've already eaten and there's still much to do. Dessert won't prepare itself, after all! Besides, with you a more permanent resident, I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to chat." I look up as he pauses and follow his gaze as he looks to Dad. "While we're on the topic, Master Bruce, have you and Miss Diana decided where she will be staying?"
"Yes, Alfred. Diana will be taking the guest room across from Caitlyn's."
"Very good, sir. I'll double-check the room to make sure everything is order later in the evening. Miss Diana, please feel free to let me know if you feel anything seems to be missing."
"Yes, of course. Thank you, Alfred," she responds.
With that, Alfred gathers the tray and covers and makes his way back into the kitchen, leaving us to our meals. I manage to get hold of the butter first and put some on my couscous and carrots, then pass it along to Tim. After spending a little time moving the carrots around with my fork to spread the butter over them, I start to eat.
"Ok, can I just get something off my chest?" Tim asks. I turn to him as he looks around the table at each of us. Dad asks him what he wants to say and he takes a quick breath before turning to my mother. "Diana, it isn't that I ever doubted Bruce when he said you're Caitlyn's mother, but… It's just still kind of amazing that you're really here, that after all this time you're actually back here and just sitting having dinner with us."
'Tim! Don't be so obviously excited about that!' I will him in my head. When he opens his mouth to say more, I lean back to look under the table, then grab the edge and step on his toes to get him to stop.
Tim jumps in response, pulling his foot out from under mine. A moment later, his knee crashes into the underside of the table, making him yelp in pain as Dad barely catches his full glass of water to keep it from tipping over. My cheeks burn with guilt and I shrink down into my seat as both of my parents look across the table.
"Tim…" Dad scolds in a tone that makes me feel half my age.
I turn to Tim, waiting for him to explain what really happened, but all he does is glance toward me before looking back at Dad. "Sorry."
A moment of silence passes, then my mother speaks up, finally responding to Tim as if he'd only just spoken. "I know, Tim. I wish that I'd come back sooner. I feel like an outsider." I begin to turn as she speaks, intent on telling her she is an outsider after she finishes, but I look up to find her staring back at me with a sort of melancholic longing that immediately has me darting my eyes and focus back to my plate.
For a little while, the only sounds are of the silver utensils on the porcelain plates. Of course, just when I start to relax, Dad tries to strike up conversation. "So, Diana, a while back, Caitlyn and I were talking about Amazon culture and we were both curious what a typical day looked like for you growing up on the island."
As soon as he says my name, I lift my head and when I hear what he's asking about, I start shaking my head defiantly. Without interrupting himself, he tips his head very subtly and flashes me a look that expects—all but demands—my cooperation. Without even trying to argue, I immediately shrink down into my seat in defeat. The last time he gave me a look like that was when we talked about personal responsibility after I tried asking him to have Alfred clean out Whiskers' and Tyger's litter boxes so I wouldn't have to.
"You are?" she asks as she turns from Dad to me, pleasantly surprised. With that look Dad gave me fresh in my mind, I quickly straighten in my chair to appear more attentive.
"Well, it wasn't anything too weird," she begins, turning her eyes to the ceiling as she thinks back. I remember the fact that there's absolutely no modern technology to speak of on Themyscira and I can't help but think that everything she's about to say will be exclusively weird.
"For as far back as I can remember, Mother and I always started each day at sunrise. We ate breakfast together and she and her aides laid out her schedule and my own. Each day was a new learning experience and I spent a portion of it preparing for the day I might succeed my mother and I spent the rest of each day readying myself should I ever be called to defend Themyscira and my sisters.
"Most of my mornings were spent with scholars and historians. I learned to read and write, was taught our history, and about the gods and goddesses of Olympus, who I occasionally had opportunities to meet. I was taught mathematics, and as soon as I was able, statecraft. When I was old enough, I began observing my mother in action, so I could see for myself the sort of duties and challenges that I would one day be expected to perform and overcome.
"When I was much younger, my afternoons were spent studying military tactics and strategy. Over time as I grew stronger, I began to train with weapon masters, learning to put my tactical training into practice. I was taught to attack and defend with every type of weapon we had at our disposal and, when necessary, how to fight without the aid of weapons.
"Evenings, on the other hand, were spent in relaxation and reflection. After dinner, I often found myself on Themyscira's shores, contemplating the day that had passed and determining where I could improve the next," she explains nostalgically.
"Eventually, I began to feel that there was another reason I went to the shore to relax. For a time, I felt that the sea was calling to me, but as I learned to read the omens from beyond the barrier that hides and protects Themyscira from Man's World, I eventually came to realize that the Fates were calling me to action even before I was ready to heed their call."
"Sounds like you had a lot of teachers, but didn't you have any friends?" Tim asks and I feel like I know what her answer is going to be and I'm also pretty sure Dad never told Tim she brought me to Dad in Gotham so I'd have friends growing up.
"Yes, I did have friends," my mother responds—to my surprise—and I turn abruptly back to her from Tim. "I considered myself friends with all of my sisters, but I also had a few close companions. When I was older, I trained alongside a girl my age from Man's World who had arrived on our shores after her ship was sunk.
"Her name was Aresia. She was a good friend and we taught her what it was to be an Amazon. After I left Themyscira to help Man's World against the Imperium and we formed the Justice League, she…twisted our teachings and set out to bring peace to Man's World. From her experiences growing up, she saw men as the sole source of the world's problems and sought to wipe the world clean of them. Even J'onn and Kal were not immune to her plans."
'Kal?' I ask myself, unintentionally distracting myself from being outraged that the Amazons' teachings could justify wiping out all men. I can't shake that the name Kal sounds sort of familiar, like maybe I'd heard it in school, but I can't remember the context. A glance around the table seems to tell me that Tim and Dad both know who she means. I almost think to ask aloud when my mother continues.
"For as close as I was with my sisters, I was still their princess, a title which granted me a measure of inherent respect…and isolation. My closest companion was actually not human at all. That honor went to Selene, a beautiful white horse my mother gave to me as a child. She was born a year to the day after me and Mother named her after Selene, Goddess of the Moon.
"We grew up together and I learned to care for her as she grew. When the time came and we were both old enough and strong enough, I was the first to ride her. We developed a special bond from all the time we shared. By the time Aresia arrived, Selene and I practically needed no words, we always knew what the other needed or where we wanted to go."
I can't help but think of myself and my cats. I've had the same sort of realizations about me and Tyger and Whiskers. Just like earlier, it's like they always know how I'm feeling. If I'm sad or angry, they always come to me. Actually, they usually come say hi whenever I go to my room or just…well…all the time, really, but when I'm in a bad mood, they act differently.
When I'm upset, they're quiet. They jump up on my bed with me, jump up on my dresser if I'm sitting in front of my mirror—wherever I am, they come to visit me. It's always meant a lot to me. Just sitting with them, petting them, holding them…it always makes me feel better.
"I…you know, I kind of hate to ask, but you didn't leave her behind on the island, did you?" Tim asks cautiously.
"Yes and no," my mother says guiltily and I feel my heart sink at the answer. "She passed from old age after I was exiled. We were all so caught up in what happened, I never thought to see her after Faust's attack and after that…it was too late," she explains disappointedly.
Again, we all fall silent. This time, my mother changes the subject. "But that was all a long time ago!" she declares with a smile that doesn't come close to reaching her eyes. "I'm much more interested in recent events." She turns to Dad to ask, "You dropped quite a few bombshells when I asked you about the League, Bruce. Care to elaborate?"
"About the other Founders?" Dad responds and my mother confirms with a nod. "I got kicked out of the League, only Zatanna and J'onn really ever visited before you brought Caitlyn to Gotham. After, Zatanna got most of the Founders to come here to meet her. Wally got married and had kids, John and Shayera got married and had a son. That what you're after, or did you want to talk about how they pay their bills these days?"
"Is that really as much of an explanation as you're going to give me?" my mother asks after an exasperated sigh. She sounds even more upset when she adds after a moment of silence, "I'm more interested in the people than the finances."
Dad waits before answering. "Alright. Well, I've got a people question of my own. Did Shayera have anything to do with you stopping by the manor before leaving for Themyscira? She's let slip a few things over the years that've got me thinking, but she won't explain herself when I confront her."
Dad's question piques my interest. I don't think he's ever said anything about this to me and nothing about my mother comes to mind from all the time I've spent with Aunt Shay. I look up from my plate just in time for my mother to answer, "Yes. I said my goodbyes to people aboard the Watchtower. I intended to leave straight from there, but Shayera convinced me to see you. I agreed, but I'd always planned it to be for the last time."
"Wow. I guess I'll have to thank her next time I see her," Tim says from my right to fill the dead air.
"What are you going to thank Shayera for?" Dad asks.
"Isn't it obvious, Bruce? Thanks to her—" He pauses, reaching for me with both arms, stretching his right arm to my far shoulder. Once he's got a grip on both my shoulders, he gently rocks me side-to-side. "—I've got the best little sister I could ever ask for!" He turns to me with a bright smile on his face that I can't help but return. "All we've got to do now is get Dick to stop showering you with gifts so I've got a fair chance at being the favorite big brother."
"Tim! You know I love you both!" I assure him…as soon as he stops shaking me. "It's just that I don't get to see Dick every day since he lives in Blüdhaven and you're here with us."
"Speaking of which, Dick moved out after he graduated. How much longer after you get your Master's are you sticking around, Tim?"
"Ahh…"
"Master of what?" my mother asks, saving him from Dad's question.
At that, Tim goes from nervous to confident in an instant. "I'm studying for a Master's of Science in Telecommunications Engineering at Gotham University. Honestly, it's something that's interested me for a long time."
"Now you've done it," I hear Dad mutter to my mother.
She looks to him curiously, but before she can say anything, Tim continues, "I guess I've always been kind of tech savvy, but what really got me into the field was looking at the communications network Bruce set up for us to use. Later, I got to see a lot of the work he did setting up the Justice League's communication network pretty early in my career as Robin—and did you know he actually let me help assemble some of the new communicators back when the League expanded?"
"Really? No, I didn't know that," she replies, surprised and impressed. Admittedly, I'm surprised, too. I'd asked him what got him interested in communications once before and all he told me was about some of the stuff he saw at WayneTech. I guess he just couldn't tell me about being Robin or Dad being Batman and everything else the whole truth would have led to.
"As interesting as that is, Tim, I think there are other, more important things that we all need to discuss," Dad interrupts. I get this really foreboding feeling when he turns to me as he finishes.
"What?"
"We need to have a serious talk about getting your grades up, more so than we really did this afternoon with Mister Faas," Dad explains.
"Dad, please, no! Can't we talk about it after dinner?" I really don't want to talk about it in front of Tim or my mother and I can't keep the displeasure from my face. 'And talking about grades is so much worse than letting Tim get on a roll about networks!'
My response surprises him, but I'm not sure if he's pausing to really consider it or if he's trying to decide what to talk about to keep Tim from running away with our dinner conversation. Dad is the only one who really understands what I've been going through—well, Dad and Whiskers and Tyger, really—and I really don't want to have to share it all with anyone else.
Finally—to my relief—Dad gives in, sighing before speaking. "Alright, it can wait, but we are going to talk about it before you go to bed, Caitlyn." Relaxing, I answer with an appreciative thanks, which he's quick to accept. "In any case, there's still another topic we need to discuss," he begins again, this time sweeping his gaze from Tim, to me, and finally stopping when he's looking to his left at my mother. "We need to start thinking about your public identity, Diana."
Curiosity fills her expression before Dad continues, "Caitlyn and I talked about it a little earlier and neither of us think it'd be a good idea to broadcast that her mother was Wonder Woman." I guess we did talk about it, but it's kind of a stretch to describe it that way, since I didn't really say anything about it—I mean, I thought about it a little, but, at that point, I really just didn't want her involved. Not that it isn't true.
"Why not?" she quickly responds and I'm struck by how clearly upset—angry, even—she is.
"Joker kidnapped Caitlyn for a quick payday, Diana. That was just for being Bruce Wayne's daughter," Dad explains, his expression gravely serious. The reminder doesn't help my mood at all, but he's not done speaking yet. "I've gone to great lengths to separate Bruce Wayne from Batman to protect her. I will not have you exposing Caitlyn to danger by telling anyone who might be holding on to a grudge against you that Wonder Woman has a family."
For almost a minute, they just glare at one another. It's kind of amazing to see them silently challenging one another. Dad eventually wins—or at least…I think he does—and my mother then asks in a calmer voice, "And what exactly are you suggesting I do instead?"
"You need a civilian identity. As chance would have it, I've already given you a last name," Dad answers.
"Already? How'd you manage that?" she asks and she still sounds annoyed.
"After you and Caitlyn went back out to Alfred and the car, Mister Faas and I spent some time talking. You came up. He was prompting me for a last name, looking for a more polite name to refer to you by, and I almost let an old nickname slip out. So, congratulations, Miss Prince, all we have to do now is establish the rest of your identity."
"Prince, eh? Wonder where you got that from…" my mother replies, her earlier anger replaced by this knowing smugness that just irks me. "So, Diana Prince… Diana Prince…" she says to herself, trying the name out for herself. "I like it."
"Good, because you don't have a choice on it at this point," Dad says, drawing our attention back to him. He then points, first at my mother, then across the table at Tim. "We'll work out the details later, which you'll need to familiarize yourselves with."
As he then returns his hands to his utensils, Dad continues, addressing me, "Caitlyn, I don't want you worrying too much about it, at least for the time being. For most of your life, I did limit myself to telling you only as much about your mother as you asked. So for now, all you'll need to know is that her civilian name will be Diana Prince as well as a quick overview of what she's been doing all this time."
"And what have I been doing all this time, oh thorough one?"
"How should I know? Just don't use the truth and don't make anything up that contradicts what you've already said," Dad answers.
Aside from Tim and me working on eating our dinners, the table is pretty quiet for a little while. Eventually, Dad and then my mother begin eating as well. I look up every once in a while, catching my father's eye every so often but surprised to always see my mother so deep in thought. Finally, she turns to Dad and asks, "How's Audrey doing these days?
"Audrey…"
"Paris, Kasnia…"
"Queen Audrey. Right," Dad answers. "Still in power. Last I heard, she's remarried now—new husband. Why?"
"Well, she might be able to help me out. I need to establish where I've been. I can't say I spent the whole time in this country, nor can I say I spent the time as queen of Themyscira. Maybe I'll be able to say I spent the time working for Audrey."
"And why is she going to do a favor like that for one Diana Prince?" The question catches my mother off guard and she stops. "Was I unclear when I said I won't have you making Caitlyn a target by revealing who you are?"
"No, but did you have something better in mind?" Dad takes a turn, looking to me, then to his food as he lets the silence drag out. She soon continues, "Bruce, you and I both know how much what happened with Savage changed her. Maybe you could dig deep enough to find the spoiled rotten princess we both first met, but she knows the value of a secret. If I can't trust Audrey with who I am, I might as well not trust anyone outside this house.
"Wait," Tim interrupts. "Kasnia or Themyscira, no matter where you say Diana is from, wouldn't that put Caitlyn's citizenship into question?"
"No," Dad answers before I can even figure out exactly what Tim is getting at. "I made absolutely sure that Caitlyn's citizenship would never be questioned shortly after she was born. Technically speaking, she acquired her citizenship at birth, but there was some legwork I needed to do before it was made official. I had bloodwork done by more than one lab to prove that Caitlyn and I are daughter and father. From there, it was easy to secure her citizenship since I've been a citizen my whole life and lived right here in Gotham for most of it.
"Beyond what the law requires, I made sure she'll never want for money, setting up trusts in her name. With all that, my own history, and the tests providing genetic evidence, all I really had to do was get the paperwork in order, acknowledging in writing and under oath that I'm her father and that I would provide for her." Dad pauses, turns to my mother again. "Oh, and so you're aware, Diana, your name doesn't appear anywhere on Caitlyn's paperwork. I'm still not entirely sure how everything went through without that, but Caitlyn is definitely a citizen, with her own birth certificate and social security card to prove it."
"Wow. Thanks, Bruce."
"Well, would you have preferred to be listed as 'Diana of Themyscira' or 'Wonder Woman'?" he shoots back sarcastically. "Either way, it would have led to the same problem. As I said, you didn't give me any reason to expect you'd return, so I did what I felt was necessary in order to protect my daughter."
My mother positively bristles at that statement. "So you protected her by denying that I exist?"
"I lied about myself to protect her from Batman, but I never lied to Caitlyn about who you were," Dad says with a venom to match my mother's.
Their every word just keeps adding to my discomfort. "Oh, so you just didn't tell her? A lie of omission is still a lie, Bruce," my mother continues, growing more and more agitated.
I can't let this go on any longer or let it get any more painful. Compelled to interrupt, I raise my hand like I'm at school and before anyone can call on me, I point out in a low voice, "To be fair, I never asked…"
They both turn and they're silent as their anger toward each other cools. In the short silence, I take notice of their differing expressions. Dad quickly deflates, his eyes widening for a moment while he grows quiet. At the same time, my mother's anger is replaced by sadness and hurt. "You never asked about me? Why not?" she asks
While I'm glad they're not arguing anymore, having their attention on me isn't any better when what I really want to do is finish dinner, skip dessert, and go back to my room. "Well, I wanted to, but I was happy when it was just Dad and me and asking him about you made him sad and I didn't want him to be sad…" I eventually answer.
My mother's expression softens, then warms as I finish answering. She turns to Dad and stares at him without saying a word. For his part, Dad is still looking at me. He looks apologetic and I remember when he told me I didn't need to worry about making him sad. Before long, he realizes he's being stared at, furrows his brow as he turns, and asks my mother in a really even tone, "What?"
Things pretty much quieted down after that. I was the first to finish eating and Dad excused me so I could take my dishes to Alfred in the kitchen so he could clean them. I told him I was going to skip dessert—even though I could smell it in the oven, nearly done cooking—and headed back up to my room. Twenty minutes later, he came up to my room with a tray and a plate of little brownies. Somehow, that softened the blow when Dad came up to talk about my grades.
Our conversation about my grades winds down—finally—before Dad and I both stand up. We move away from my desk and move to sit on the side of my bed after he gestures for me to lead the way over. Once we're both sitting, he wraps his right arm around behind me and hugs me to his side.
"I'm sorry, Caitlyn," he tells me in a low voice.
I draw a blank at first and can only think to ask, "Sorry about what?"
"For the argument at dinner. It was a mistake. I should have known better than to let that happen when it did."
"Oh…yeah…" I reply, turning my head to look at the floor beside my bed. The events return unbidden to my thoughts.
"Thank you for speaking up when you did. That was very brave of you. I'm sorry for putting you in that situation in the first place, but I'm proud of you for stepping in like that." I turn back to Dad at that, feeling proud of myself at his praise. "Did you want to talk about it?" he then asks, unintentionally bringing me back down to Earth.
At first, I don't want to talk and I'd have preferred if he'd never brought it up, but then I stop myself, thinking again about the questions I'd had before the conversation had turned into an argument. I still don't want to talk about the argument itself, but he's opened the door for another conversation. "What paperwork were you talking about?"
He takes a deep breath before answering. "Well, when a person is born, there's a lot of paperwork that needs to be filled out. Among the most important is your birth certificate, which is a vital record of your birth."
I'm pretty sure he can see the confusion in my expression. "Why?" I soon ask in response. Before Daddy can answer, I add, "I mean, doesn't just being here prove it? Why would you need a record to say that I was born?"
"Well, it's not just 'vital' because it's important, Caitlyn. A vital record is a type of official document. Your birth certificate includes information about how you were born and is pretty much the cornerstone of your legal identity. It stays with you throughout your life."
The idea of it containing information about when I was born bounces around in my head for a few moments before I think about what he told my mother. "Is mine wrong?"
Daddy pauses before answering. "Well, it says you were born in Gotham, but it doesn't really matter where it says you were born. Adopted children often have their birth certificates changed when they're adopted to change their names and who their parents are and, in some cases, might never find out the truth.
"You know who you are, Caitlyn. You know your family. You don't need a piece of paper telling you about yourself," he finishes convincingly. He seals the argument with a reminder, "It's like you said, you don't need a piece of paper to say you were born when you're living proof of it."
His words set my mind to work thinking about who I am. 'My name is Caitlyn Wayne. My Daddy's name is Bruce Wayne and I'm his only daughter. And my big brothers, Dick Grayson and Tim Drake, aren't really my brothers but they still are my brothers. And even though I haven't known for long, my mother is—or at least was—Wonder Woman. And most of my aunts and uncles…' the thought stops me.
Daddy took Dick and Tim in long before I was born. He might not really be their father, but they've been part of my family so long they really are my brothers. My aunts and uncles—all of them, really—I've always thought of them as my aunts and uncles, but… The thought of considering Uncle Wally anyone else but Uncle Wally just seems weird. The same goes for Aunt Zatanna, Aunt Shay, Uncle Jim and Uncle J'onn.
Again, my thoughts stop. Reminding myself about Uncle J'onn brings another part of the dinner discussions to mind. This time it's what happened when my mother was talking about living on her island. "Who was she talking about?" I ask.
"Who?" Dad replies.
"My mother, at dinner. She mentioned Uncle J'onn and a…Kal?"
It's clear as day to me when Dad tenses at the name. "Kal." He sighs, forcing himself to relax. "Kal-El, the Last Son of Krypton, the Man of Tomorrow. On Earth, he's known by many names, but the most famous is Superman."
My eyes widen as it all clicks into place. 'Now I know why the name sounded familiar…' I note to myself, realizing that it was History class that I'd recognized the name from. At the same time, I notice the deepening frown on Dad's lips. "Why does she call him 'Kal'?" I ask, kind of hoping to distract him from whatever is bothering him.
"It's his real name."
"Did you ever call him 'Kal'?"
"No."
"Then why does she?"
"They've been good friends since the League was first formed. I guess she just wanted to call him something other than 'Superman'."
"What do you call him?"
At first, he doesn't answer. "Kal-El is the name his birth parents gave him when he was born. The parents who raised him on Earth gave him a new name. That's the name I used."
I can't help bringing things back around. "Is that the name on his birth certificate?" He nods in response, piquing my curiosity. "What name was that, Daddy?"
"Sorry, Caitlyn. That secret isn't mine to give up."
'Well, that didn't work…' I think to myself before moving on to my next question. "Why don't you like him?"
He scoffs quietly in response. "That obvious?" he asks and I nod in response. "Like I said at dinner, he kicked me out of the League after your mother left. While in many respects we often led by committee, in that he was within his rights—rights I wrote for him—but…" Dad shakes his head. "In the end, he really did me a favor. I'd always kept myself busy, but without having to worry about the League, I could give more focus to Gotham and my own problems again. Once you arrived, I could give you the focus and the attention that you needed and deserved from me, but…at the time, when he kicked me out, emotions were still…raw."
"Is that why I've never met him? I mean, you told me who all my other aunts and uncles are, but you never mentioned any of them being Superman."
"Largely. And I told you about them because they were and are a part of your life. He and I resented one another after your mother left. He resented me for my selfishness, for pushing Diana away and making him lose a friend, and for robbing the League and the world of one of its strongest women. At first, I just wanted to cling to what I'd already lost and feel sorry for myself, but after, I grew to resent him for cutting me out of every aspect of his life and then finding his own happiness."
"What do you mean, Dad?"
"Well," he begins before pulling me into his lap and falling with me in his arms back and onto my bed. He puts his left hand up behind his head and looks up toward the ceiling before continuing his answer. "He ended up getting married. I don't know too much more beyond that, but I still think I got the better deal," he explains, turning his head to give me a warm smile after he finishes.
There's no question about what he means and a giggle escapes me. "I love you too, Dad!" I tell him while wrapping my arms around him to hug him tighter.
"And I love you, Caitlyn," Dad whispers in response while hugging me back just as tight.
Dad relaxes soon after and I tuck in my arms and turn a little in his grip so I'm facing him before following suit. It's not long before I start thinking about falling asleep like this in my Daddy's embrace. Just as quickly, I remember that my bed isn't long enough for him to lay down on, so I realize it wouldn't be comfortable for him. With my next thoughts, I remember what he's going to do after wishing me a good night.
The words slip from my mouth almost without me thinking about them. "Why can't we just be a normal family?"
"Aren't we?" Dad answers after a short pause.
"Most dads aren't Batman," I respond, earning another pause before he says anything more.
"Still and so, everyone leads separate lives. Some people have hobbies, others are consumed by their work. I fight criminals. Being a family just means sharing those lives."
"You didn't share being Batman with me…"
I can tell that my response makes him stop and rethink before answering. "It's not about sharing everything, Caitlyn. Even family keep secrets from family. You just need to find a good balance between being yourself as an individual and being yourself as part of our family. For me, I always tried to keep Batman and Bruce Wayne apart. That way, I could be your father and still protect you from Batman's enemies. Being Batman is just something else that I am."
I think I understand what he means. Then again, I really don't have much that I keep to myself. I talk to Dad about almost everything. There's also what I talk to Tyger and Whiskers about, but… My mother, on the other hand…well, I guess she kept everything from me. She hasn't really shared much since returning, but then I guess I haven't really talked to her.
Either way, it's not something I really want to think about right now. "How much longer can you stay?" I eventually ask, distracting myself and moving on.
Dad responds by tightening his grip on me. He turns a little and pulls me into a hug before giving my forehead a kiss. "If you want to go get ready for bed, I promise to be here when you get back. If you'd like, we can even do some reading before I tuck you in and turn out the lights."
I look up from his chest into the familiar blue eyes I've looked up to all my life. "Do you promise to be here when I wake up, too?"
"Caitlyn…" He brings his left arm up over my head. His thumb comes down on my forehead and the rest of his hand covers the top of my head. "I thought you agreed that what we do is for the best. Weren't you going to let it go?"
I remember what he's talking about, what he and Dick said about helping people. Before I can say anything, he adds, "What if there's someone out there right now that needs help? Barbara can help. Tim can help. Dick can help…I can help."
It's unmistakable, the feeling of tears beginning to form in my eyes. I can feel the pull in my heart and all I want is for Dad to understand, for the words to express what's in my mind and in my heart. "It's too dangerous… You could get hurt… What if I wake up and you're not there?" is all that comes out. I hate feeling like this, feeling so selfish, but the further we go down this path, the more I want my old life back, my normal family and my regular Daddy.
At the same time, I understand that I can never go back to the way things were. As Daddy sweeps my hair back and out of my face, then kisses my forehead again while cradling my head in his hand and telling me not to worry, I know that that may be the most upsetting part. I can't pretend Daddy isn't Batman or that I don't know. I can't make myself believe the rest of my family don't also lead double lives. I wouldn't be here and safe if not for those double lives. I'd never have been born if not for everything.
Maybe the weight of all that knowledge is why I finally begin to cry.
Things were easy at first, but that was because I was really focused on acting like things were still normal while I was at school. I made myself think all that changed was that I knew a little more about my family. The more I thought about it, though, the harder it made pretending. Things were different and no amount of pretending could change that. Now, I don't know how to accept everything…or if I'm even willing to.
I can feel my ponytail swinging back and forth as I run and I think to myself that that's a really random observation to make and this is definitely not the time to be thinking about it. Risking being caught while trying to figure out what to do, I turn to my left and duck into Daddy's bedroom. After stopping a few steps past the door, I quickly scan the room, spotting Alfred almost immediately.
The elderly butler stops what he's doing and looks at me with confusion. I don't have time to explain myself as I dash past him, pick up the laundry basket piled high with suit shirts and pants, and dump it over myself as I drop down and curl up on my side against the wall. With no idea how much longer I have, I push the basket away and pull my arms in after making sure that I'm completely covered in clothing.
Laying still on my side, I wait in silence. I hear Alfred's shoes as he approaches, but before he speaks, I hear the voice of my pursuer. "Caitl—Oh…Alfred, I didn't realize you were in here. Have you seen Caitlyn recently? I'm sure I saw her come upstairs…"
"…I haven't the foggiest what's going on, Miss Diana. Was there something you needed?"
My mother sighs in disappointment. "No, thank you, Alfred. I was just hoping to talk with her." There's a short pause and I pay attention to make sure my breathing stays quiet. "She and I haven't yet had a chance to sit down privately since I arrived."
'Please, Alfred! Please don't tell her I'm here!'
"Surely you've had opportunity to talk with one another in all this time."
"Not…nearly as much as I'd like…" my mother responds dejectedly. Another sigh before she continues, "Every once in a while, I can get a few words out of her, but our…'conversations'—if you can even call them that—are pretty one-sided. And her tone…it's clear she doesn't enjoy talking to me. That's the hardest part, especially considering how much she seemed to like me when we first met."
For a brief few seconds, I nearly break cover to remind her how hard it was for me when she exiled me and how hard it was for me when she came to Gotham and told me and Daddy that I had to stay exiled to protect them. 'What did I ever do to them? All they had to do was wait for me to go back home—I'd have gone home with Daddy even if no one had asked me to! Why do they have to hate me so much?'
"Surely it can't be all bad," Alfred says before I can move.
"No, no! Not at all!" she quickly defends. "As disheartening as things have been for the most part, there have been some absolutely wonderful moments as well." She interrupts herself to chuckle melodiously. "If you don't mind me asking, Alfred, what do you think of Bruce doing Caitlyn's hair? I had a hard time keeping from laughing aloud. It was not something I was prepared for, but it was absolutely fascinating to watch."
"Indeed it is, Miss Diana. Master Bruce does occasionally take Miss Caitlyn to a hairdresser, but for everyday maintenance, Miss Caitlyn quite prefers her father's work or to handle it herself. Yet amateur cosmetology is by no means the extent of how far Master Bruce has expanded his horizons."
My mother prompts Alfred to continue with a questioning hum. "Perhaps the most illustrative example is the shock he gave me shortly after Miss Caitlyn's arrival. He asked to be taught to cook."
"Bruce did?" she asks. After a short pause, she adds, "Wow."
"When I asked him why, he explained that he wanted most to be the one caring for his own daughter—or cooking, as in that particular case. Though he hasn't done much to clear my plate in the process, I believe it's a sentiment that has guided many of his actions and decisions over the past decade."
There's a short silence before my mother speaks again. "It's clear it paid off." Another chuckle. "I have to admit I'm surprised by how close they are, how natural and how relaxed their relationship is. Truth be told, I'm envious of him for that."
"It's never too late to start, Miss Diana."
"I hope you're right, Alfred. It's why I'm looking for her. I just want to talk, but…it's not just bad timing. She's been avoiding me, I can feel it."
"Don't lose heart. I'm sure Miss Caitlyn will come around before too long."
"I hope you're right, Alfred." She waits a moment before continuing again, completely shifting topics. "I'm sorry to take so much of your time. I hope I'm not keeping you from anything."
Alfred scoffs dismissively in response. "Nonsense, Miss Diana! You know as well as I that I very much enjoy your company. You've provided me with quite the distraction from Master Bruce's dirty laundry."
"You know, I'd never have taken Bruce for the type of person to just leave dirty clothes in a pile against the wall like that. I'd be happy to help you straighten things up if you'd like."
My eyes widen and I freeze. She'll find me for sure if she comes over here and starts picking up the shirts over me. There's nowhere else for me to hide, not even a way to escape. 'I should have gone under Daddy's bed…' I think to myself while trying not to make any noises.
"Please," Alfred quickly insists, continuing to answer more calmly, "let me worry about Master Bruce's laundry, Miss Diana. I believe you have something far more important for you to be doing: finding your daughter." I begin to breathe again amidst a wave of relief.
"Yes. Yes, I should be. Thank you very much, Alfred!" my mother replies, growing more excited with each word. I can hear her as she practically bounds out of the room afterward.
Things go quiet for a little bit, then I hear the door close. Very briefly, I think I'm alone, but then I jump when the shirt over my face is pulled away. A yelp escapes me before I realize it's just Alfred and calm down again. "As they say, Miss Caitlyn, I believe the coast is clear. You can come out now."
At first I just nod in acknowledgment, and then sit up. My thoughts go back over the conversation I probably wasn't meant to hear—at least so far as my mother would be concerned. Eventually, Alfred interrupts me to ask, "If I may be so bold, Miss Caitlyn, what's on your mind?"
I lift my gaze from the floor just past the clothing around me to his face. At first, my mind is a complete blank, but the details of his previous conversation slowly come back to me. "Why didn't you tell her I was here?"
"That's easy, Miss Caitlyn. I wanted to talk to you before your mother does."
"Why?"
"Because it seems very clear to me that your mother has made choices she regrets and, come tomorrow, I don't want to see you regretting the choices you make today."
I can't think of anything to say in response, so I just hold my silence. Eventually, Alfred decides not to wait any longer, but that doesn't mean he gives up. "Very well, then. It's perfectly alright if you don't want to talk at the moment. I ask only for you to listen and consider.
"Have you put much thought into why your mother is here in Gotham? More importantly: why did she instead spend the last decade with her people? From everything I've heard, it sounds like she stayed away because she felt she needed to and she returned because she wanted to.
"Miss Caitlyn, do you remember what she said in the car of your grandmother, the late Queen Hippolyta?" I nod in response. "I believe she tried to impress upon your mother the importance of family and I believe that that message was ignored until you and your mother finally met face-to-face."
"Well, if she knew that this whole time, why didn't she figure that out before meeting me and Daddy?" I frown at myself realizing the slip—I'm supposed to be more mature, I'm not supposed to be a little kid anymore, not after what's happened. I'm supposed to call Daddy 'Dad' when it's not just him and me from now on. It's what I decided.
"Routines and old habits die hard, Miss Caitlyn." He smiles knowingly. "Wouldn't you agree?"
It's like everyone around me wants what's best for me without even trying to understand what I want or how I feel, how I feel about her, why I'm acting the way I am. No one will say anything bad about my mother—like she's perfect. All I get is excuses for why she is the way she is or for what she's done, even from Daddy. I'm beginning to feel like I'm alone, like no one understands me anymore. I hate feeling like this.
I put my science worksheet back into my binder and close it up before putting it back on the pile in the corner of my desk with my other homework, done at last for the evening. "Alright, now that that's all out of the way, you said you wanted to talk about something. What's on your mind?" Daddy asks as he leans back in his chair.
I've been thinking about this for days. Sometimes I thought I shouldn't say anything, at other times I felt I needed to. Even after deciding to ask about it, I had to figure out what to ask. The most straightforward question, I decided, would probably be best, or at least the best place to start.
While I knew what to ask, I still worried about how Daddy would respond. I kept asking myself what I would do if he brushed me off or scolded me. "Why don't you ever say anything bad about my mother? You don't even try to agree or disagree when we talk about her, you just try explaining things in a way I wasn't thinking."
He starts with a sigh before uncrossing his legs. At the same time, he picks Tyger up off his lap to set him back on the floor. He then comes around the corner of my desk to sit beside me. "I can't answer any other way when you say me things like that. I won't." He guesses that I'm going to ask why—which I would have—and answers for me. "How you feel about your mother isn't for me to decide, Caitlyn. I don't want you to judge her on my feelings just the same way I don't want you to judge me on hers. That isn't fair to anyone, least of all you.
"The best thing I think I have to offer is perspective. You'll come across situations that are more than they seem all throughout your life. Sometimes, you need to be able to get outside of your own head to see the bigger picture. I'm not trying to change your mind, Caitlyn. I just want to help you make the most informed decisions you can."
I sink down into my chair and turn away, not feeling any better about being the only one talking and thinking about my mother like this. That's when Daddy fills the silence with a question I'm weirdly glad to be asked. "Why are you avoiding Diana?"
Even as glad as I am that Daddy asked, I still hesitate to answer. "I don't want her to hurt me again." I still kind of feel alone in my feelings on the whole thing, so I don't know how he'll react. How he reacts is to pull me out of my chair and sit me in his lap. "Daddy!" I exclaim in surprise while turning back to him.
"I'll always do my best to keep anyone from hurting you, even Diana, but I know I haven't always succeeded. I'm sorry, Caitlyn, I have no excuses for the times I've failed you." He pauses, lifting his hand from my back to my shoulder.
"But no matter how I feel about what she's done, I do hope you'll try to have some sort of relationship with your mother. I asked J'onn to show Diana how you felt because I didn't want the day you met to be your first and last memory of her." He lets me think for a few moments, then asks a question I'm less enthusiastic about answering. "Let me ask you this, Caitlyn: have you forgiven your mother?"
I turn away, looking towards the windows past my desk, out over the view of our backyard and Gotham across the water beyond it, visible more from the city lights than the evening sunlight. "I don't know…" I eventually answer.
"Could you? If you absolutely had to, I mean."
"I guess."
"Do you want to forgive her?"
'I don't know!' crosses my thoughts, carrying with it a mix of anger and sadness. Tears well in the corners of my eyes and I try not to cry, even though I don't know why I'm doing that either. It's not long before I lose it, looking up to my father as the words spill out almost faster than I can think them. "This is what I was talking about!" I exclaim with more anger than I meant to as the tears begin to fall against my will. "Why are you always taking her side?" I demand, this time sounding just as hurt as I feel.
"Caitlyn…" Daddy says, catching me off guard. I find myself calming, as if the gentle tone of his voice is bringing me back down to Earth. Once I have relaxed, he continues, "I will always be on your side. You're my one and only daughter and I love you with all my heart—I always have and I always will. All I ask—what I really want more than anything—is for you to be happy with who you are and the life you lead.
"Your arrival in my life marked a turning point for me, a change in who I am and what I live and strive for that not even your mother could bring about. The thing is, no matter how you feel about it, you aren't just my child, you're Diana's, too.
"I fell in love with her once, long before you were born—long before we were even together, if I'm being totally honest with myself. I said before that she's a remarkable woman. She is. She does have great qualities and I'd like for you to see them too. You might even learn a little more about yourself in the process. Who knows?"
Still unsure, I sit in silence as my father's words sink in. He gives a little pull on my shoulder and I react by leaning against him, letting my shoulder hit his chest and the right side of my head rest on his left shoulder. He clasps his hands together against my left side, relaxedly hugging me while I leave my hands clasped in my lap. Thankfully, he gives me a little more quiet before saying anything else.
"I know you don't want her to hurt you, but don't forget that here, she's our guest. She can't exile anyone here. Your mother might still disappoint you—and deciding if she does is entirely up to you. Still, while she might never disappoint you if you don't give her a chance, she'll also never have the opportunity to impress you."
I think I get it now. It always hurt when Daddy tried to explain away what my mother had done. I never had trouble understanding what he was trying to get me to see, but it didn't help that nagging feeling in the back of my mind. It was the same with Tim and Alfred, and even Dick once I brought it up after Uncle Wally left. I felt like they'd all turned against me, but now…I think I get it…
Author's Note: This chapter title has a few meanings. The most obvious is the departure from Bruce's perspective. It's been a long time coming and I expect quite a few readers have been looking forward to it. I wanted to keep the dialogue appropriate for each character—as always—but also needed it to feel different for the new perspective. At the same time, it needed to retain the writing style of previous chapters.
It is also connected to one of Alfred's lines. "I hope the change in Bruce between this chapter and the last isn't too much to believe" from the ending note for chapter four comes back to haunt us. This chapter illustrates a continuation of what we saw earlier in the story. A lot of it was already in mind at the time. Will we see more changes in the future? That would be telling.