Epilogue

August in Gotham City was usually if anything more oppressively hot than July. This year was no exception, but Diana Lance, only a few days out of the hospital, was still feeling sensitive to cold. An old-fashioned standing fan, aimed away from her bundled up form, was the only concession to the room's other occupants.

Ten days or so had passed since the night of the big confrontation. The drama surrounding the unexpected arrest of one of the city's top theatrical mavens was still making front page news, and every night there was guaranteed to be some new development bandied about on television.

Diana herself was kept out of it. Her database, which had sparked so much trouble for all concerned, was rendered largely superfluous in light of the files recovered from the hidden room at the Byzantium. She'd had one or two conversations with the commissioner of police — who claimed some sort of prior acquaintanceship, although she couldn't remember him from Adam — but he didn't seem to think it was going to be necessary to subpoena the information or bring her into the business at all, more than likely.

Meanwhile, she and Dinah had been making slow and somewhat painful progress in the attempt to mend their relationship. At this point they were both sadly coming to the realisation that they were probably never going to live up to the ideal image of what a mother and daughter are supposed to be. A lot of water had gone under their proverbial bridge, and the gulf it formed couldn't simply be ignored. Hurtful words, once spoken, can't ever be taken back, and complicated relationships don't tend to resolve themselves neatly into nice pretty packages.

But...they were getting along better. Some of the mutual condescension had disappeared now that each knew a little more of the other's career, and for the first time in a very long time they were at least trying to stop and think before blurting out something spiteful.

Oliver had just returned from a week in New York, where he and Roy had chosen to mend their father-son relationship by pretending there was absolutely nothing to resolve. They had simply ignored any and all unpleasantness that had come between them in the last few years, and had a fantastic time together.

He and Dinah sat together on the end of the couch, trying in vain to cool their sweat-drenched bodies in the hot air of the fan. The sun had gone down hours before, but it didn't seem to be having much affect on the temperature of the room. Diana was curled up in the large armchair, wrapped in a cushy, long-sleeved bathrobe. She kept her slippered feet tucked carefully under her.

The other occupant of the room remained standing, dark cape wrapped around him, in a corner of the room where the dim light from the one floor lamp didn't penetrate.

"The commissioner said you had something for me?" The deep voice sounded gentle this time, not at all like the brusque tones his erstwhile associates had grown used to hearing.

Diana drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair and frowned. "It's not like it really matters at this point, but I suppose it's best to be rid of it."

She got slowly to her feet and padded into the kitchenette, where she retrieved a claw hammer from underneath the sink. Hooking the claw end around the side of the board that held the door frame in place, she began to pry at the wood. The attempt quickly proved just a little more than her strength could handle at the moment, and she leaned against the wall to take a break.

Oliver crossed the room hurriedly and took the hammer from her. "Sit down," he ordered gruffly, but the expression in his green eyes was kind. With a couple of tries he'd opened up a sizeable gap between the board and the wall, enough to see that there was a hole behind the wood. Something was hidden inside. He edged his hand gingerly into the tight space and grasped the small package. He tossed it neatly into Diana's lap. "This what you were after?"

"It's what everyone was after."

"You know, Mom, some people keep their important stuff in a safe deposit box," Dinah teased.

Oliver laughed. "Hands up anybody who's ever broken into one of those," he challenged, and raised the forefinger of his left hand. Diana extended her fingers slightly, and Batman, unwilling to stoop to the indignity, inclined his head. Dinah knew when she was beaten.

Diana undid the wrappings on the package and fingered the plastic CD case. She turned it over and over, inspecting it carefully, and then held it out to Batman. Her hands maintained their grip for just an instant before she relinquished it.

"A lot of my life went into this," she told him. "A lot of my father's life as well. It might seem extraneous now, but it never will be to me. I thought you might understand."

His eyes met hers. "I believe so, Mrs. Lance. I'll take good care of it."

Oliver dropped down heavily onto the end of the couch. "Well, I don't mind admitting I'll be glad to see the end of it, after all the trouble it's caused." Dinah nodded in agreement.

Batman paused with his hand on the doorknob. He couldn't resist one last parting shot at the grandstanding hero. "Now you see why it pays to be so 'anal' about guarding your identity," he pointed out.

Diana narrowed her eyes. She had been this city's protector when he'd been running around in short pants, and she wasn't about to have him casting aspersions on the kind of job she'd done, or on any member of her family.

"Good advice...Mr. Wayne," she said in her arch voice. Dinah's mouth dropped open. Oliver blinked in surprise and then doubled up with laughter.

A look of utter shock flickered across the billionaire's masked face before he managed to regain his composure. He turned around slowly, giving Diana a cold look. "You may have been a fine detective in your day, Mrs. Lance, but you can't prove every theory."

He wrenched open the front door and disappeared into the corridor outside, leaving the three of them alone to laugh at his discomfiture.

Laughing a little like a real family, in fact.

The End

7-7-02

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