The Story of Dinah and Bruce
By Smitty

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever:
One foot in sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sighs of woe
Into Hey nonny, nonny

		Much Ado About Nothing 
		William Shakespeare



	Dinah Laurel Lance was in a hurry.  She ignored the door of her 
convertible, vaulting right over the back and jogging down the Graysons' 
front walk.  
	"Babs!" she called, tapping her palm against the door.  "I'm letting 
myself in!"  She pressed her magnetic key, which resembled a thick credit 
card, to the decorative little black metal box next to the door and dragged 
the door open when she heard the locks pop.  "Babs!  I'm here!  Where are 
you?"  Dinah poked her head in the kitchen to find Spud up to his elbows 
in ice cream and Jello. "Spud, where's Babs?"
	"Um, her computer room, I think," Spud said carefully, watching 
Dinah for signs of a grown-up reaction to his culinary genius.  Fortunately 
for him, Dinah was a little distracted.
	"Thanks!"  Dinah made a beeline for Babs' sanctuary and banged 
on that door, too.  "Babs, it's Dinah…I'm coming in!"  The door slid open 
for her, and she ran inside and threw herself at Barbara.
	"Dinah, what's wrong?" Babs asked in alarm, suddenly finding her 
arms full of Canary.
	"I threw up breakfast!"
	"You…"  Babs frowned as she patted Dinah's hair.  "What did I 
tell you about making sure the egg whites are—"
	"No…I was at the Manor."
	"Oh."  Babs was speechless.  "Maybe you have the flu?"
	"Maybe!"  Dinah sat up, her face glowing.  "You think?  Take my 
temperature!"  She offered Babs her forehead.
	"Dinah, what's wrong with you?" Babs asked, laying her cool hand 
on Dinah's head.  "You don't have a fever, but you're bouncing off the 
walls!"
	"I know," Dinah said softly, pulling back and pulling her knees up 
to her chin, sitting on the floor.  
	"I thought…"  Babs didn't finish the thought.
	"So did I."  Dinah's voice was hushed.  "The doctors told me…"  
She swallowed.
	"But we should check anyway…shouldn't we?  I mean, did you 
and Bruce…?"  Barbara wrinkled her nose.  "You know, I don't think I 
want to know."
	"No…" Dinah moaned.  "I'm such an after-school special!  
We…we're mutually exclusive and well…I mean for years I thought…"  
She trailed off, biting her lip and looking up at Babs like a little girl asking 
for forgiveness.
	"I know," Babs said softly, remembering the long talks they'd 
shared about never being able to bear children.  She felt a twinge of envy, 
but Dinah was so distraught she found herself more worried than jealous.
	"I don't know what to do," Dinah whispered.  "I *always* know 
what to do…but I don't know what to do this time.  How do I tell him?  
He's…he's Bruce…I mean…"
	"I know exactly what you mean," Barbara assured her.  "But are 
you absolutely sure?  I mean…have you been to the doctor or…"
	"No," Dinah answered, miserably.  "I haven't done anything but 
flip out.  I MUST be pregnant…all the wacko hormones are making me 
stupid."
	"You want to at least have a good idea…" Babs suggested.  "What 
about one of those home pregnancy kits?  What if you got one of those?  
You could do it over here, and I'd sit with you while you wait."
	"You would?" Dinah asked, brightening considerably.  "Should I 
go get one?"
	"Sure, or we could get the drugstore to deliver one…" Babs 
suggested, but Dinah was already out the door.  A second later, she heard 
the front door slam, and she sighed.  Dinah, Dinah, Dinah, she thought.  
What have you gotten yourself into this time?


	"Cass, did you circulate that memo yet?"
	Cassandra Cain tilted her head in puzzlement.
	Tim Drake sighed slowly, shoving a hand through his thick, dark 
hair.  "The Memo," he reminded her.  "The one I said was very important?  
The one that had to do with integrating the Powers middle-management 
with ours?"
	Cassandra shrugged.
	"Cass, I NEED that memo out today!  It goes straight to Bruce!"
	"You'll see him tonight."
	Tim rested his face in his palm and collapsed back in his leather 
swivel chair.  
	"Cass, the rest of the company doesn't need to know that I hang 
out with Bruce all night with our underwear outside our pajamas.  
Everyone else needs to know what I'm telling Bruce in the memo!"
	"Want me to send them a memo?"
	"NO!  I want you to send the original memo!"
	"But it's to Bruce.  You can see Bruce tonight."
	Tim groaned.


	"Hey, Tater Tot!" Dinah exclaimed, running into the Grayson's 
kitchen, a Kwik-E Mart bag tucked under her arm.
	Spud blanched, glancing between the advanced stages of his 
Jello/ice cream combination and Dinah, who poked her finger in the bowl 
and tasted his recipe.
	"Mmm, strawberry," she said thoughtfully.  "Needs pretzels."  And 
she was gone.  
	Spud just shook his head and returned the ingredients to their 
proper places.


	"I got it!" Dinah announced, slamming the door to Oracle's lair 
behind her.
	"Good grief, Dinah," Babs breathed, slapping a hand over her 
chest.  "You nearly scared the stuffing out of me!"
	"I got the fastest one I could find," Dinah said, ignoring the gentle 
jibe.  She sat down on the floor and tore the box open.
	"You can use James' chair," Barbara reminded her.
	"I know," Dinah said, obviously not hearing a single word Babs 
had said.  She unfolded the instructions and skimmed them eagerly.  As 
suddenly as she'd rushed in, she dropped the paper, her face deadly 
serious.  "Babs…What if…what if I'm *not* pregnant?"
	"Then there's nothing to worry about," Barbara said quietly.  
"You…just go on as usual."
	Dinah looked about ready to say something else, but then looked 
away.  "Ok, I'm going now," she said, disappearing into the bathroom.
	

	"I have a meeting in ten minutes," Tim told Cassandra, gathering 
up papers from his desk.  "When I get back, I want that memo to have hit 
every department in this building, got it?"
	"But it's to Bruce."
	"Yeah?  So, everyone else needs to see it, too."
	"But Bruce will be at meeting."
	"I know, and I'll tell him then, but he needs it in writing, and we 
need it circulated, as in, before I get out of the meeting, ok?"
	"Ok," Cassandra admitted grudgingly.  She leaned back in her 
chair and crossed her arms.  
	Tim switched his stack of papers into the crook of his other arm 
and scooped up his traveler coffee mug.  "Before I get out of the meeting," 
he reminded her.
	"Right."


Five minutes:
	"How long?" Babs asked when Dinah returned.
	"Five minutes."  Dinah sat down in the chair Spud used when he 
sat with Oracle in the early evenings and pulled her feet up to sit Indian 
style.  "I don't think things can go back to normal."
	"Huh?"
	"If I'm not…you know?  I—this just scares me, y'know?  I don't 
think…I just don't think I can go on the way…the way we've been going 
on."
	"Are you talking about leaving Bruce?"
	"No…I don't want to leave Bruce…but I don't know if I can just 
keep pretending we don't have anything.  I…I don't know what I want to 
do."

Four minutes:
	"Dammit, that man needs to marry me."
	"Sure," Barbara said agreeably.  "I've been saying that for the last 
four and a half years."
	"Not five?"
	"I'd already lost my bet to Dick about how soon you'd break up, so 
I figured that if you lasted six months, then it must be for keeps."
	"You made a *bet*?"

Three minutes:
	"I'm gonna kill Wayne for doing this to me."
	"I hear he's not that bad a guy."
	"You've been hearing lies, sister."
	"My mistake."
	"First he gets me pregnant!  So I'm going to get FAT!"
	"If you *are* pregnant."
	"And then he doesn't show up to see if I'm pregnant or not."
	"You haven't told him you're worried."
	"Minor detail.  And *now* he's not marrying me."
	"He doesn't know he's supposed to."
	"Minor detail."

Two minutes:
	"I'm going to be a horrible mother."
	"You might not be pregnant."
	"I can't even boil water!  How am I going to feed it?"
	"Easy Mac?"
	"Oh my gosh, I'm going to screw this up.  This is horrible, how did 
this happen?"
	"If I have to explain it to you, I think we've got some problems."

One minute:
	"I don't want to know.  I'm not ready to find out.  Let's just throw 
the test away and forget about all this."
	"What if you are pregnant?"
	"I'll figure it out when the labor thing starts."
	"Bruce *is* the World's Greatest Detective.  He's gonna figure it 
out before that."
	"I'll deny everything."


	Tim walked into the executive conference room and set down his 
coffee.  He relieved his arm of his stack of papers and tried to shove them 
into some semblance of order.  Lucius Fox came in right behind him, 
followed by his own secretary, Rita.  
	"Tim, how's it going?" Lucius greeted his protégé.
	"Pretty good, Mr. Fox," Tim assured him, shaking his hand.  
"What's going on upstairs?"
	"More talk about the Powers merger," Lucius told him.  "Hey, I 
haven't seen anything about the middle management integration yet, 
how's that going?"
	Tim gritted his teeth and offered the most sincere smile he could 
under the circumstances.  "I've drafted a memo about it," he told Lucius.  
"Cassandra should be getting it out before the end of this meeting."
	"Great," Lucius assured him.  "Sounds like you've got it all under 
control."  Rita sat a steaming ceramic mug of coffee in front of Lucius and 
arranged his file folders, coded with colored tabs, in front of him.
	"Hey, guys," Bruce Wayne, boy billionaire, floated into the room 
and hopped into his chair at the end of the table.  He let the chair swing 
from side to side and Tim marveled over how flaky Bruce could appear.  
"How's stuff?"
	"The Powers merger is well underway, Bruce," Lucius told him.  
"It's the first thing on today's agenda."
	"Cool.  Hey, Tim," Bruce called, accepting a steaming mug of 
coffee from his secretary Maggie and ignoring the pile of neat files she 
stacked at his right elbow.  "How's that middle-management thingy 
going?"
	Tim smiled weakly.  I have the worst secretary in the world, he 
thought gloomily.


	"I don't want to look," Dinah said, covering her eyes.  "Tell me 
what color it is."
	"Are you sure?"  Barbara was holding the indicator with her eyes 
trained on Dinah.  "You don't want to check yourself?"
	"Yes.  No.  Wait…"
	Barbara waited patiently as Dinah agonized.
	"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter if I look or if you look, but if I 
*am* pregnant, and my kid wants to know when I found out and I can tell 
her that I found out with you, but do I want to remember that I was too 
chicken to look, or should I—you know, if you tell me and—how accurate 
is this thing anyway?  I mean, I know there's a failure rate for these things 
so even if—"
	"The stick is blue."
	"It is?"  Dinah's hand flew from her eyes to the stick in Babs' 
hand.  "Omigod, you're right!  It's blue!  I—Sweet Christmas!  What does 
blue mean?  I forgot what blue means!"
	"It's positive.  It means you're pregnant, Dinah."
	"I'm pregnant."  Dinah sat down slowly in Spud's chair, one hand 
held over her mouth.  "I'm pregnant."
	Babs watched a great gamut of emotions filter through her friend's 
face.  Finally, Dinah's mouth twitched and finally broke out into a broad 
grin.
	"I'm pregnant," she whispered, her voice giddy.  "Babs, I'm gonna 
have a baby!"


	Bruce Wayne's mind wasn't on his meeting.  While Lucius and 
Tim discussed some memo, he was wondering if Dinah was coming to the 
Manor that evening.  She'd been home for over a week, quite a stretch of 
down-time, and a fair part of it had been spent with him.  The evening 
before, they'd engaged in their usual comfortable routine.  They ate dinner 
together, Dinah's laughter echoing in the outlandishly large dining room. 
She liked to sit at the communications port or play checkers with Alfred as 
he made his nightly rounds.  He'd caught them one night when things had 
been quiet and he'd returned early without alerting them.  Dinah had 
replaced the one black chip—the one that Dick had lost long ago—with a 
Choco.  Then came a few hours to themselves before one of Alfred's 
extravagant breakfasts.  He couldn't help but smile at the thought.  With 
Dinah, even the food tasted sweeter.  And his usual protestations about 
distractions were naught…she did him more good on the line than not.  
Absently, he twirled a pencil around his fingers, smiling to himself.
	"Bruce?  Bruce, are you paying attention?" Lucius asked, knowing 
perfectly well that his boss was lost in his own thoughts.
	"Huh?  What?"
	Tim frowned.  Bruce really hadn't been paying attention.  That was 
unusual.  Feigning ignorance of a meeting was a daily occurrence, but true 
unawareness was something to be questioned later that evening.


	"You have to tell Bruce," Babs reminded Dinah.
	"I know," Dinah admitted.  "I don't know what he'll say."
	"He'll say—"  Barbara cut herself off.
	"What?" Dinah asked, lifting her head.  "What will he say?"
	"I—I don't know," Babs admitted.
	"Right…because he's Batman!"
	"Of course he is.  Because who else would he be?" Dick Grayson 
drawled, poking his head into the room.  
	"Dick!"
	"You!  Son of slime!"
	"Hey, ladies," Dick smiled, walking across the room to kiss 
Barbara on the mouth.  "Dinah, what's Bruce done this time—wait, never 
mind, I don't want to know.  Just keep in mind that I'm not a blood 
relation."  He leaned over to kiss Dinah on the cheek and pulled up a 
chair.  "Not to break up your little kaffeeklatch here, but has anyone been 
in the kitchen lately?"
	"Dinah?"
	"I'm pregnant."
	"Oh."  Dick blinked several times.  "Is this why Bruce is suddenly 
a bastard?"
	"Yes."
	"I see."  Dick nodded slowly.  "Does he know?"
	"Noooo," Dinah wailed.  "And I don't know how to tell him."
	Dick reached over to Babs and took her hand in his.  "That's a 
tough one," he said slowly.  "You're doing pretty good with that direct 
approach, but you might want to go a little easier on the big guy."
	"Do you have any suggestions for her, Dick?" Babs asked, not 
entirely sure this was a good idea.
	Dick sighed.  "It's going to shock him," he admitted.  "I'd tell him 
on his home turf.  Somewhere he feels secure."  Somewhere with Alfred, 
he didn't say.  He didn't want Dinah to think they needed a chaperone to 
this event.
	"Ok," Dinah said quietly.  "I'll try it.  I'll tell him tonight."
	"Ok."  Dick stood up and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead.  
"If you need anything at all, you know you can come to us, right?"
	Dinah nodded.  "You guys are great."
	"Of course we are," Dick told her with a grin.  "We're 
accumulating credit.  Sooner or later we'll have the entire superhero 
community owing us favors.  I'm going to go…in the kitchen.  Dinah, you 
want to stay for dinner?"
	Dinah suddenly brightened.  "Absolutely!" she exclaimed.  
"Spud's doing something amazing with strawberry Jello and Chunky 
Monkey."
	Dick shook his head.  "And pretzels," he mentioned.  "I'm afraid 
to even ask where he got that idea."
	Dinah shrugged, her eyes wide.  "I have no idea."


	Tim Drake left the meeting with a hankering for a cup of coffee 
and the sinking knowledge that his Memo had not yet been distributed.  
He checked the Memo board.  Nothing.  He took the long way back to his 
office, stopping to talk to a couple of division heads with whom he was 
friendly, hoping against hope that his worst fears would go unrealized.  
But Tim Drake was not a lucky man.
	He took a detour by the men's room to plot his plan of attack.  "I 
need to walk up to her and lay down the law," he told her mirror, doing the 
chin-jut at which Bruce excelled.  "Right, and watch her lay me out on the 
floor."  He paced back and forth a bit.  "Maybe if I went in and reasoned 
with her."  No, that was a laughable option, considering its past success.  
"Maybe if I *bribed* her!   Yes, that would work, but with what?"  He 
cupped his chin in his hand and continued to pace.  
	A toilet flushed and a stall opened.  Kevin Ormond, a young 
executive who worked in the advertising department, exited the stall to see 
his buddy Tim Drake pacing the lavatory, talking to himself.
	"Drake!" he called, heading for the sinks.  "The stress getting to 
you, man?"
	"Nah," Tim muttered back distractedly.  "Strategy."
	"Got it," Kevin acknowledged, washing his hands and shaking the 
water off.  "Hey, we need that memo about the middle-management 
integration before the end of the day, ok?"
	"Sure, no problem," Tim replied.  "I'll work on that world peace 
thing while I'm at it," he mumbled under his breath.
	"Stay cool, man," Kevin told him on his way out, shooting at Tim 
with his fingers.
	"Stay cool, stay cool," Tim muttered.  He dared a glance at the 
door.  What to say to Cass?  Bribe her…bribe her with what?  No, no, it 
was too horrible to contemplate.  No way would he go that far.  "Great 
Gravy!  I'm such a pansy!  I'm hiding in the restroom because I'm afraid 
of my secretary!"


	"Did Dinah call?" Bruce asked as he walked into Stately Wayne 
Manor, shrugging off his coat.
	"I'm afraid not, Master Bruce," Alfred replied, taking his coat.
	"Well."  Bruce tried his best to feign indifference.  He knew he 
wasn't fooling Alfred, but he hoped that maybe he could fool himself.  
"Dinner for one, then."
	"Of course, sir."  Alfred paused and looked shrewdly at his 
employer.  "Perhaps later."
	"Perhaps, Alfred."


	Dick inspected the jiggling substance in the refrigerator as he 
rummaged for the milk.  "Do you suppose it's more of a salad or a 
dessert?" he asked. 
	"Dessert," Babs replied. 
	"Salad," Dinah said in exactly the same moment. 
	Dick closed the fridge door and raised an eyebrow at the two 
women who were setting the table.  "Okay, we can tell which of you is the 
healthy eater." 
	Babs took the milk from his hands.  "Get the glasses, sweetheart.  
And why don't you ask Spud?  It's his creation." 
	"Pretzels defintely make it salad," Dinah pointed out, setting small 
bowls on the table to hold the jello-ice cream mixture.  "Where is Spud?" 
	"I sent him to wash up." 
	"Like five minutes ago," Dick pointed out.  "Spud's idea of 
washing up usually involves running his hands under the tap and wiping 
them on his jeans." 
	"Kid after my own heart," Dinah sighed. 
	"Spud?" Dick called. 
	"I'm right here," the boy replied, slowly entering the kitchen, his 
attention focused on something in his hand. 
	"What'cha got there?" Dick asked, walking over to Spud.  He didn't 
reach for the box the boy held, having already learned that it was best to 
let Spud hand over things voluntarily, but he recognized it just as Dinah let 
out a small groan. 
	Spud looked up from the box.  "Who's pregnant?" he asked. 
	Barbara froze, Dinah sank into a chair, and Dick burst out 
laughing.  Until he saw a hint of fear in Spud's face.  Then he knelt down 
beside him. 
	"Where'd you find that, Spud?" 
	"Next to Babs' computer.  Are you pregnant, Babs?" 
	There was a tiny pause before Barbara laughed.  "Not much chance 
of that, Spud." 
	Dick saw the relief in Spud's face as much as he heard the strain in 
Barbara's laugh.  He understood both reactions, and it pained him.  He 
tried to keep his tone light as well.  "Don't worry, Spud.  Even if Babs 
were pregnant, we'd still keep you." 
	"Yep," Barbara agreed, wheeling over to the table with a green 
salad.  "Afraid you're stuck with us, young man." 
	"So who's knocked up?"  Spud demanded, his eyes focusing on 
Dinah. 
	"Spud," Dick warned, once again forcibly reminded that this little 
boy had lived on the streets for a year and knew things - and slang - 
beyond his years. 
	The warning came as Dinah meekly raised her hand.  "That'd be 
me," she answered. 
	Spud studied her appraisingly.  Dick and Barbara looked at each 
other hopelessly across the table.  "Spud," Babs began gently, "it's not -" 
	Dinah waved off Babs' attempt to help.  "It's okay, Babs." She took 
a deep breath and accepted a glass of water that her friend silently offered 
her.  "It's kind of a secret right now, Spud," she explained. 
	Spud nodded knowingly.  Then three pairs of adult eyes tracked 
him as he crossed the kitchen to the trash compactor, opened it, and 
dropped the box in.  He inspected the trash level in the compactor with a 
critical expression, then closed it and turned it on. 
	"There," he said with satisfaction as the compactor rumbled to a 
stop.  "Now Batman will never know."


	"Cass!"
	"Go home, now!"  Cassandra had already turned her computer off 
and was sitting on her desk.
	"The memo never got out!" Tim told her.
	"See Bruce tonight."
	"Argh!"  Tim threw up his hands and stomped into his office, 
slamming the door.  He sat down at his computer, called up his word 
processing program, and typed up the memo as quickly as he could.
	Cassandra opened his door and walked in.
	"You have to knock," he reminded her.
	"I drive home."
	"You don't know how to drive."
	"I learn."
	"Not on the way home."
	"You don't go fast."
	"There's a speed limit."
	Cassandra crossed her arms and snorted.
	"Besides which, you were supposed to type this up and post it, and 
now I have to do it all myself."  With a grunt of satisfaction, Tim hit the 
print button and watched his memo spill from the printer.  He snatched it 
from the tray and stomped out to the photocopier.  Cassandra trailed 
behind him.  "I'm in trouble with Bruce, Lucius, and who knows who 
else!"
	"Bruce mad?"
	Tim fed the sheet through the photocopier and punched in the 
number of copies he needed.  "No," he finally answered.  "But he will be!"  
He took the waiting copies from the machine and walked over to the 
mailbox bank.  "You're supposed to be my secretary, remember?" he 
asked her as he slipped one sheet into each mailbox.  "You're supposed to 
do all this stuff, so we can go home *on time*."
	Cassandra sighed with the long-suffering air of one who has been 
forced to deal with a particularly stupid person.  "See Bruce TONIGHT," 
she insisted.
	Tim slammed the last piece of paper home and turned to her.  
"Office, here," he said tersely.  "Batman, home."  He walked back to his 
office to shut down his computer and grab his keys.
	"Just saw him at meeting," Cassandra grumbled, trailing Tim back 
to his office.
	Tim let it drop.


	"Eat up, Bird Babe!  There's plenty left."
	"Thanks, Tator Tot," Dinah replied, smiling sadly.  "Guess I'm not 
real hungry tonight.  The salad rocked though.  Thanks."
	Dick and Babs exchanged disgusted glances over Spud's head.
	"Thanks!  I was gonna use the green jello, but I figured the 
strawberry-banana jello and the banana ice cream would go better."	
	"I'm glad you used the pretzels.  They added a nice crunch."
	"That was all you," Spud said generously.


	"Go on and get your trains set up," Dick told Spud after Dinah had 
left.  You helped Babs cook tonight so I'll clean up and then we'll play, 
ok?"
	"Ok," Spud agreed cheerfully, already halfway out the door.
	"He loves those trains," Barbara observed as she watched him go.  
"That was a good choice."
	"Bruce had some trains that he set up when I was little," Dick 
mentioned, moving a stack of dishes to the sink.  "Haven't seen them in a 
few years.  Of course those were real antiques, not plastic toys."
	Babs opened the dishwasher and started rinsing the plates.
	"Maybe he'll get them out again when Dinah's baby is born."
	Babs looked up at him.  She'd heard the catch in his voice when he 
said that, and it worried her.
	"Dick, you know you're Bruce's son.  That's not ever going to 
change."
	Dick picked up a bowl with the remainder of Spud's salad clinging 
to the sides.
	"Can I just throw this out?" he wanted to know.
	"Please," Babs told him.  They shared a brief look that agreed it 
was absolutely the most vile dish Spud had come up with so far.  "This is 
bugging you," she said when the bowl had been scraped out.
	"Yeah," Dick admitted, leaning against the counter and tossing the 
dishtowel over his shoulder.  "I guess it is."
	"What part?"
	"I guess…Bruce is going to have a real family now.  The whole 
shebang.  It's…it's so normal.  It's so…not Bruce."
	"We haven't heard Bruce's reaction, yet," Babs reminded him.  "I 
have a feeling this is going to be a rocky road."
	"I know," Dick admitted.  "And as nervous as I am about him 
acting the way he did with me…I'm more nervous about the opposite."



	"Hi, my name is Dinah Lance, and I'll be having your baby this 
evening."
	Grrrr.
	"Hey, hey, baby!  I'm having your baby!"
	Yuck.
	Dinah Laurel Lance sighed and despite the fact she'd just eaten at 
the Graysons', went in search of food.
	"Can you please pass the salt?  Oh, did I tell you I'm pregnant?"
	Refrigerator:  One stick butter, one bottle ketchup, in the drawer: 
one package moldy cheese.  Dinah wrinkled her nose and left it where it 
was.  With luck, it would grow legs and walk out of there itself before she 
got back from her next mission.  She froze.  Next mission?  Babs wouldn't 
send her on another mission.  At least not until…Dinah turned away and 
started rooting through the cupboards.
	"Stop the presses!  I'm having a baby!"
	Sugar, flour, salt, really old corn flakes, colored sprinkles…aha!  
Fruit snacks.
	"You knocked me up, you bastard!"
	Dinah squeezed the bag of fruit snacks until it popped open. 
	There.  That seemed to work.




	Tim nearly fell in the apartment door, his arms overflowing with 
groceries.  He staggered to the kitchen, crashing against the light switch on 
the way in.  The kitchen flooded with light and he managed to aim his 
bags for the table.  Cassandra strolled in behind him, a bag of groceries 
tucked under one arm and a gallon of milk in her other hand.
	"Thanks for the help," Tim growled as he yanked open the 
refrigerator and dumped an armful of fruit haphazardly into the crisping 
drawer.
	Cassandra didn't answer, but started stacking cans of soup and 
boxes of cereal in the cupboard.
	"What is this?" Tim asked, pulling a square white package out of 
the drawer where it had gone with all the fruit.  "Tofu?  Is this for Kon?  
Please tell me we're not still buying tofu for Kon."
	"Go with Bruce tonight?"
	"No, I'm not going with Bruce, tonight," Tim snapped.  "I 
promised Dick I'd come down to Blüdhaven for a while.  Which, by the 
way, means that I *wouldn't* be able to tell Bruce about the memo 
tonight."
	"You worry much," Cassandra informed him, poking him in the 
nose.  
	"Of course I worry!  I have a real job!  A job I know how to do!  
And what is this?  Tofu?  I'm not going to eat this!  Why do we have this?"
	"I have job."
	"Yeah, when you feel like doing it."  Disgusted, Tim tossed the 
tofu back in the fridge.  He was tired, he was crabby and he still hadn't had 
a cup of coffee.  His back hurt, his nose hurt where his glasses slid down 
the bridge, and his head hurt.  "Why can't you just follow directions?"
	"I follow!"
	"Why can't you follow *my* directions?"
	"You have stupid directions."
	"But…but…"
	"You not the boss of me!"
	Tim rolled his eyes and rued the day he introduced her to Kon-El.  
"I *am* the boss of you," he pointed out acidly.  "That's why *I* have an 
office and you have a desk outside of *my* office."
	"Silly Tim.  Everyone knows secretaries do all work."
	The fridge door slammed.  Tim Drake carefully removed his 
glasses.
	"Look," he said testily.  "All you have to do is wake up, sit in a 
chair all day, go home and put on your Batgirl suit.  And then you can go 
have fun.  Because you're perfect.  I'm not perfect.  I can't do all that.  I 
have to work hard at every single thing I do and you don't have to work at 
all!"
	"I work!" Cassandra protested.  "Work hard!  You never see!"
	"I see plenty," Tim growled.  "I see you sit around all day with 
your feet up on the desk, I see you out on patrol having a blast busting up 
punks who would eat me for breakfast and I see that all my friends think 
you're the greatest thing since sliced bread two minutes after meeting 
you."
	"Not…know…not…fair," Cassandra stumbled, anger forcing 
words to her mouth faster than she could concentrate on how to form 
them.
	Tim lifted a hand to shove his hair back and suddenly found his 
arms full of Cassandra Cain.  His back hit the wall as her mouth crushed 
against his, and before he even knew what was going on, he knew he was 
returning her kiss.  She tasted sweet, some part of his brain told him as he 
tangled his hands through her thick, silky hair.  She tasted like apples and 
vanilla, and her hair smelled like lilies.  Suddenly the tension was gone 
from his body and his only concern was tasting her some more.  He 
reached for her as she pulled away, reluctantly opening his eyes.
	He was sorry when he did.  Her shocked face and the disarray of 
the kitchen reminded him of the situation, of the fight, of the fact that 
kissing was not something that went on in their apartment on a regular 
basis.  He tried to say something and couldn't find the words.  Instead, he 
watched as Cassandra turned woodenly and walked to her bedroom, 
closing the door behind her.  He decided that was  very wise course of 
action and went directly to his own room.  His tie must be on a little too 
tight.



	"Hey there, Tall, Dark and Studly."
	"Black Canary."  He'd heard her coming; known it was her by the 
scent of her perfume.
	"You and that gargoyle getting cozy there?" Dinah asked, scuffing 
the toes of her boots on the roof as she wandered up to him.
	"I can think of more favorable alternatives."
	They paused for a beat, a beat during which each knew exactly 
what the other was thinking, and then it was gone.
	"Why are you out here?  Is there something wrong?"
	"Wrong?  Why would anything be wrong?"  Dinah hooked her 
hands in her belt and peered over the side of the building.
	"You're not usually a fan of my rooftops."
	"Oh, well, you know…I was thinking maybe there was something 
kinky about gargoyles and I should go…see for myself."
	His mouth twitched, that slight tic that she knew well enough to 
know that he was humored.
	"What's the verdict?" he asked, leaning slightly on the gargoyle in 
question.
	"I'm pregnant," she blurted out.
	He immediately straightened, but his face did not change.
	"I checked.  Babs and I checked.  We did the home test."
	Nothing.
	"I didn't think I could, either.  I—"  She stopped.  
	He continued to stare at her…almost through her…
"It's your turn," she reminded him in a voice much smaller than 
she had hoped for.
	He regarded her for another few seconds, then shot a jumpline out 
into nowhere and swung away, off the building, away from her, and out of 
her life.
	Dinah watched him go, feeling anger and sadness and despair roil 
up inside of her.  "YOU BASTARD!" she screamed after him, but her 
words were swallowed by the night, making her feel even more impotent.  
She slid down the smirking gargoyle and folded her arms around her 
knees.  "Just wait," she whispered.  "We'll show him.  We'll be just fine 
without him.  Won't we?"



	Robin closed his eyes against the warm wind in his face as he 
swung across Gotham.  He'd begged out of his Blüdhaven excursion and 
left via the bedroom window to avoid encountering Cassandra again that 
evening.  Dick hadn't seemed too upset about his backing out—in fact the 
older man had seemed distracted.  Tim hoped Spud hadn't disappeared 
again.
	But it wasn't Spud who was occupying Tim's thoughts at the 
moment.  No, Cassandra had made certain of that.  What was she doing 
kissing him?  Where had she learned that?  Yeah, Tim thought, realizing 
how good the kiss had actually been.  Where DID she learn that?


	Tim was in Blüdhaven so she went to the Batcave.  Bruce would 
be there.  Bruce would understand. 
Bruce was not there.  Alfred said he went out.  So she went out. 


	Tim opened his eyes in time to keep from becoming street pizza 
and landed gracefully on the top of the building across from Wayne 
Towers.  His sharp eyes caught sight of something—what was it?—on the 
roof of Wayne Towers.  Shooting a jumpline over to the other building, 
Tim went to investigate.
	"Dinah?"  He recognized the mop of blonde hair even before he'd 
touched down.
	"Tim?"  She lifted her head.  Her eyes looked red but she hadn't 
been crying.
	"Are you ok?" Tim asked with concern, dropping to one knee.
	Dinah nodded wordlessly.
	"What are you doing up here?" Tim asked, putting an arm around 
her.  "What's the matter?"
	"I'm pregnant," she told him hollowly.
	"You're pregnant?" Tim echoed, staring disbelievingly at Dinah.
	Dinah groaned.
	"Who's the father?" he asked, eyes still wide.
	Dinah stared at him in confused scorn.  "Aquaman," she snapped 
sarcastically.  "Aquaman is the father."
	"Really?" Tim asked, his nose wrinkling.  "Ew."


	Cassandra found Bruce perched on a gargoyle.  He was in a Mood.  
That was fine with her.  She was in a Mood, too.  She perched next to him.  
He didn't acknowledge her.  She didn't acknowledge him.  They worked 
well together.


	"You should get inside," Tim suggested to Dinah.  "As much fun 
as sitting on rooftops is, it probably isn't very good for the baby."
	"Yeah, I guess you're right," she agreed reluctantly.
	"Do you want me to take you to your apartment or to Babs' place?" 
Tim asked.
	Dinah gave him a pitying look.  And he was supposed to be the 
brainy one, she asked herself.
	"My place is fine," she told him, unwilling to face Babs and Dick 
after Bruce's reaction.  They'd find out soon enough.  
	"In that case," Tim said, offering her his arm.  "Shall we?"
	She smiled sadly at the man who was now taller than she.
	"Let us, Sir Robin."
	Tim wrapped an arm around her waist and shot a jumpline to a 
contact in the direction of Dinah's apartment building.  He lifted her easily 
and left the rooftop of Wayne Towers behind them.


	Batman and Batgirl sat side by side, staring out into the night.
	Neither said a word.
	The night darkened around them, the deep black pitch of the sky 
that signaled the coming of the new dawn.
	Batman, lost in reverie, almost missed the light snort.
	"Men."  The word was laced with disdain.
	Batman didn't waste the energy wondering at the origin of the 
sentiment.  Instead, he responded with his own snort.
	"Women," he grunted.
	They sat side by side, staring out into the night.
	And once again, neither said a word.


	All too early the next morning, Dinah opened her eyes to the beep 
of her communicator.
	"Urngh?" she mumbled, pulling the communicator into the bed 
with her.
	"Dinah?  It's Babs."
	"Babs."  Dinah sat up.  And changed her mind.  "Hold on."
	The communicator did not go to the bathroom with her, but the 
phone was ringing when she came out.
	"Dinah!"
	"Urngh."
	"Morning sick again?" Babs asked sympathetically.  "I'm sorry to 
bother you so early."
	"No you're not," Dinah grumbled.  "You like it.  Let me puke 
again, this time with the mike on, so you can really *feel* what I'm going 
through."
	"I'll pass, thanks," Babs said quickly.  "So how did it go?"
	"How did what go?"
	"Dinah…"
	The silence on the other end told Babs all she needed to know.  
	"Oh, sweetie..."
	"Don't worry about it," Dinah interrupted her, pushing her hair out 
of her face and wandering into the kitchen with the cordless phone still 
tucked under her ear.  "I mean…it's Bruce."
	"Yeah."  Barbara fell into a sympathetic silence.
	"No worries," Dinah told her airily.  "It's not like I'm sleeping with 
him anyway, right?"
	"Dinah—"
	The doorbell echoed behind Babs' voice, giving Dinah the perfect 
out.
	"Babs, that's the door.  I'll call you later."  
	Dinah punched the off button on the phone and set it on the 
counter.  She tightened the tie on her robe and ran her hands through her 
hair before checking the peephole.  The sight of her visitor brought a smile 
to her face as she hurried to unlock and open her door.
	"Tim!"
	"Hey Dinah."  Tim Drake stepped inside to catch her in a quick 
hug.
	"Don't you have work?" Dinah asked, hanging on Tim's neck.
	"I went," Tim admitted, drawing away.  "But I wasn't getting much 
done and I was worried about you.  So I told Cass I had a meeting across 
town and took the rest of the day off.  I figured maybe we could get some 
lunch and I made an appointment with a family friend for a checkup for 
you."
	"A checkup?  Tim—"
	"I know, I should have asked first.  I mean you probably already 
had one, right?  But I thought maybe Dr. Leslie should look at you.  Bruce 
won't trust anyone else so I figure she can keep everything on the 
downlow.  Besides," Tim added hurriedly, "you never have any food in 
this place and I figure the baby needs some proper nutrition, right?  So I'm 
going to take you out to brunch.  Or lunch.  Go get dressed."
	Dinah smiled at Tim's awkward directives and leaned up to kiss 
him on the cheek.
	"On my way," she assured him.


	Cassandra Cain had a problem.  Actually, she  had several.  The 
first, and not least important, was that Kevin Ormond was leaning on her 
desk again.
	"So you have NO idea where Drake is?"
	"Meeting.  Across town."  Didn't he ever listen?
	"Yeah, but where across town?"
	"Didn't say."
	"Well, how can I contact him?  I'm working with HR to get word 
of the next job fair in the papers and that ad needs approval sooner, rather 
than later.  I'd rather not wait the entire weekend for him to wander back 
to his chair."
	"Is important?"  Cass raised a skeptical eyebrow.
	Kevin shrugged.  "Well, it's not going in the paper earlier than 
Wednesday, but--"
	"Is not important," Cassandra declared.
	"Well…"  Kevin grinned.  "No, I guess not really.  Still, does 
Drake have a cell phone or something?"
	"Has cell phone.  Has pager.  Has email.  Also has home phone, 
office phone, car phone and personal email.  Also Palm Pilot."
	"Uh…"


	"So how long have you known?" Tim asked, watching Dinah 
shovel in a forkful of scrambled eggs.
	"Just since yesterday," she admitted.  "I mean, I guess I should 
have known earlier, but I just never thought it was possible."
	Tim nodded.  "Not going to get much help from the father, either."
	Dinah shook her head.  "Not a chance."
	Tim reached across the table and took her hand.  "Don't worry," he 
assured her.  "I'll be here if you need me.  And you know Babs and Dick 
are there for you."  He grinned.  "And hey, you and Bruce are pretty good 
friends.  Maybe you can even get Alfred to babysit for you."
	"Maybe--"  Dinah blinked confusedly at Tim as the cell phone in 
her bag started beeping.  "Hold that thought," she told him, emphasizing 
her directive with one finger pointed at him.  She dug around in her bag 
until she unearthed the phone and took it over to the restroom hallway to 
answer.
	"Hello?"
	"Dinah, thank goodness I caught you."  It was Babs again.  "So can 
you talk for a minute?"
	"Sure.  What's up?"
	"Well…I'm not really sure how to tell you this, but…um, you 
haven't told Tim about you and Bruce, have you?"
	"Of course not!  There IS no me and Bruce!"
	"I hate to tell you this, but I don't think you can say that with a 
straight face anymore."
	"Trust me," Dinah sighed.  "There really IS no me and Bruce 
anymore."
	"Well, I think maybe you should tell Tim that there WAS a you 
and Bruce."
	"You do?"
	"We got a call from Wally West."
	"What'd Wally want?"
	"He wanted to know when you hooked up with Aquaman."


	Having sent Kevin Ormond off with a batch of possibilities for 
contacting Tim, Cassandra Cain was back to her original problem.  The 
problem of what to do about accidentally kissing her currently absent boss 
the night before.  She couldn't exactly ask Tim now, could she?  It was 
time to call in the big guns.
	"Hello?"
	"Is Batgirl.  Need Arrowette."
	"Sure, one sec."
	Cass frowned as she was put on hold.  The melodious strains of 
"Karma Chameleon" from the Titans Tower's all-80s-all-the-time station 
entertained her as she waited for Cissie.  Bored, she sang along, oblivious 
of the curious glances she was receiving.
	"Cass, that you?"
	"I'm maaan, without conviction--oh, hi Cissie."
	"'Karma Chameleon'?"
	"Is good song."
	"You know it.  What's up?"
	"Have problem.  Need advice."
	"Ok, shoot."
	There was silence on the other end of the line.
	"Uh, go ahead.  Tell me."
	"Kissed Tim."
	"You did?  Did he kiss you back?"
	"Yes."
	"Cass!  That's great."  Cissie paused.  "Is that great?  Was Tim ok 
with it?  Are you guys going to start dating now?"
	"I…Tim not say."
	"Oh."  Cissie mulled this information.  "So you guys haven't talked 
about it?"
	"Haven't talked at all."
	"Really?  That's weird.  Tim's usually all about talking things 
over."
	"I know.  Was accident."
	"You kissed him by accident?"
	"No, kissed him on purpose.  Liked it by accident."
	"Oh, well, you would date Tim, right?  He's a total bohunk and you 
aren't dating Kon anymore."
	"Tim is peanut butter head."


	Dinah returned to the table and silently handed the phone to Tim.  
Tim looked at her questioningly, but took the compact receiver.  Dinah 
settled back in her seat to watch the exchange.
	"Oh, hi Babs," Tim greeted the caller.  "Yeah, sure."  He listened 
intently for a moment.  "Well, sometimes.  I mean, I haven't exactly been 
around the Manor a lot, but she's been there once or twice when I dropped 
by."
	Dinah watched him put on his "thinking" face.
	"Yeah, yeah, the big storm when we all ended up at the 
Clocktower."
	Dinah leaned on her palm and waited for the clues to sink in.
	"No, we were there for 12 hours and I thought they were going to 
kill each other and I'd have to explain it to the--"
	Dinah watched his eyes close and his face crumple slightly.  She 
decided that if ever there was an example of a "pained expression" Tim 
would be wearing it.
	"You're going to tell me something that will make me feel like a 
complete and total ass, aren't you?"
	Three…two…one…
	Tim's head hit the table with a bang.  "I am a complete and total 
ass," he announced to his eggs.  He reached across the table and handed 
the phone to Dinah.
	"Is he ok?" Babs asked Dinah, barely holding in a laugh.
	"He's got his head on the table and he's making little whimpering 
noises," Dinah observed.
	"Hmm, sounds serious," Babs commented.  "But you can handle it.  
Later, kid."
	Dinah rolled her eyes as the dial tone buzzed in her ear.  She 
snapped the phone shut and dumped it back in her bag.  "Tim, snap out of 
it," she instructed.  "Bruce and I went to great lengths to keep what went 
on under the covers…undercover."
	"What?" Tim asked, lifting his head to glare at her.  "Was I the 
only one not to walk in on you in flagrante delicto or something?"
	"Actually…"  Dinah grinned and coughed into her hand to hide it.  
"You were the only one who did."
	"What?"
	"Well, the Clocktower--"
	"No!  No, no, no," Tim protested, covering his ears.  "I don't want 
to know."
	"Ok," Dinah agreed, amused.  
	"I thought we were friends," Tim frowned at her.  "I thought you'd 
be able to tell me something like this."
	Dinah had the good grace to look guilty.  "I know," she said softly.  
"See, when it started, it was supposed to be a one-night thing.  No one was 
supposed to know.  But then it happened again.  And again.  And then 
Dick and Babs found out and started teasing us.  So it just kind of became 
reflex to say, 'I'm not sleeping with Bruce.'"
	"Was I the only one not to know?"
	Dinah blushed.  "Pretty much."
	"God, I'm such an idiot."  Tim turned moodily to stare out the front 
window of the diner.  "And Aquaman?"
	"I was being sarcastic.  I…didn't think you'd taken me seriously."
	"Thought wrong, didn't you?"
	"Yeah."  Dinah hung her head.  "Um, Tim?  You didn't tell anyone 
about this, did you?"
	This time, Tim looked guilty.  "Well, I was talking to Kon this 
morning.  I wanted to know if he'd heard anything about you and 
Aquaman from Big Blue.  But just him."
	"Just him?"
	This time it was Dinah's head hitting the table.


	"You should probably call Kon," Cissie suggested.  "Y'know, see 
how he feels about it?  You don't want bad juju between them or anything.  
And hey, Kon and Tim are pretty good friends, right?  Maybe he'll have 
some advice."
	"Good idea!"
	"Just don't call when Tim can overhear you."
	"Tim not here.  Had meeting.  Left no work for me."
	"Oh, so you're just sitting around?"
	"Yup.  Have good gossip?"
	"Actually, I did hear something today.  But you probably already 
know about Black Canary, right?  Since she hangs with you guys."
	"No.  What?"
	"Aquaman got her pregnant."
	"Aquaman?"
	"Yep.  Kon told me.  And he heard it from Tim.  Didn't Tim tell 
you?"
	"No.  Not talking to Tim."
	"Oh, well, I guess that's why you didn't know.  I didn't even know 
she and Aquaman had a thing."
	"Don't.  She and Batman have thing.  Not know she was pregnant."
	"Batman?  Do you think, y'know, Tim made a mistake?"
	"Tim is peanut butter head.  Is secret.  No tell."
	"I won't tell a soul," Cissie promised.


	"This is Dinah Lance!  Please leave a message at the beep."
	"DINAH LAUREL LANCE, pick up the phone RIGHT NOW!  I 
know you can hear me!  Pick up the phone!  I'm waiting!"  A long pause 
ensued.  "Uh, I guess you're not home.  It's Roy.  Gimme call."


	"Um.  Are you ok?"  Tim regarded the tousle of blonde hair on the 
table anxiously.  
	"Nooooo," Dinah moaned from somewhere under the pile of hair.  
She sounded muffled because her face was hidden in her arms.  "You told 
Kon?"
	"It's ok," Tim offered awkwardly, patting her shoulder.  "There 
shouldn't be any problem.  Kon can keep a secret."


	"Li'l buddy!  Haven't talked to you in forever!"
	"Tuesday!"
	"Tuesday?  Really.  Huh.  Well, it seemed like forever."
	"Have problem."
	"I have a solution.  That's why they call me The Problem Solver!"
	"Who call you that?"
	"Uh, no one.  So what's the problem?"
	"Kissed Tim."
	"No I didn't."
	"Not you, me."
	"You kissed Tim?  Drake?  Timbo?"
	"Yes."
	"Oh."  Kon paused.  "That's a problem?"
	"And LIKED it."
	"Ohhhhh.  That IS a problem."  Kon thought for a  moment.  "Hey, 
which reminds me.  Did you hear about Black Canary?"
	Cassandra frowned.  "Not Aquaman's baby.  Is Batman's baby."
	"No WAY."
	Cassandra nodded.  "Way."
	"Aw man, and here I thought I actually had some gossip before Big 
Blue did."


	"No problem, Superman," Tempest assured the leader of the JLA, 
using his free hand to scribble on the message pad near the 
communications board.  "I'll let him know you called as soon as he gets 
back."  He broke the connection and thoughtfully set Superman's message 
on top of the other six he'd already collected this morning.
	When Arthur got back, he and Garth were going to have a very 
long talk about Black Canary.


	"So where is this place?" Dinah asked, stepping into the sunlight 
and squinting at the sky.  
	"Um, a few blocks up," Tim mumbled, his fingers busy with his 
palm pilot, trying to figure out if he'd overtipped the waitress at the diner.  
"And some over."  He checked his cell phone and grimaced to see he'd 
missed a call from the office.  He decided he didn't want it anyway, and 
shoved the cell phone back into his pocket.  "We can walk it."
	"Walk it?  Are you insane?  I'm pregnant!  I want to ride in the 
luxury minivan."
	Tim snorted.  "You were pregnant yesterday," he pointed out.  
"Would you have walked it yesterday?"
	"Well…"  Dinah considered this.  "Yeah.  But I didn't know I was 
pregnant then!" she called, trotting to catch up with Tim, who had started 
walking ahead.
	"Right, and you found out you were pregnant on the rooftop last 
night?" Tim queried, masterfully disguising a smile.
	"Urgh."  Dinah rolled her eyes and punched Tim in the arm.  "Fine.  
You win, genius-boy.  So why don't we get to ride in the Soccer-Mom-
Mobile?  You love that thing."
	"Walking saves gas."
	"You make six figures!"  Dinah hit Tim again.  "And Bruce pays 
your rent!"
	"Hey," Tim protested, throwing up an arm in self-defense.  "It 
never hurts to be frugal."


	"Tim is cheapskate!  And drives like grandmother!"
	"He's not too snappy a dresser, either," Kon admitted.  "But he's a 
pretty decent friend to have."
	Cassandra huffed into her end of the phone.
	"Ok, ok," Kon laughed. "Look, take some advice from your 
favorite ex-boyfriend, ok?"
	"ONLY ex-boyfriend!"
	"Uh, yeah, that too.  Anyway, what I was going to say was that he's 
not going to buy the cow if he can get the milk for—no, wait, that was the 
advice I was going to give the *other* Cassie I went out with.  What was I 
going to tell you?"
	"Kon!"
	"Right, right, I got it now.  Tim may not be the life of the party, 
you know?  He's kinda cheap, a little dull, worries too much, swigs more 
Maalox than Max Mercury, drives like Guardian and spazzes over the 
least speck of dust, but—uh, I think I forgot what I was going to say."
	Cass sighed.  Did she have to do everything for the men in her life?
	"Tim is hottie," she finished.  "And kisses like sex machine."
	"And who wouldn't want that in their life?"


	"I'll be right here if you need me," Tim promised Dinah as she 
stood to go into the examining room.
	"Tim, she'll be fine," Leslie admonished.  "It's not like you're 
sending her off with a quack, after all."  She raised an eyebrow at Tim, 
who grinned sheepishly.
	"Sorry, Leslie," he apologized.
	"I swear," Leslie muttered to Dinah, ushering her through the door.  
"You'd think he was the father."
	"He's not," Dinah assured her immediately.  No more Aquaman 
disasters, she promised herself.
	"Oh, I know," Leslie said mildly, without asking for further 
information.  "I'm just going to take your vitals and then have you get up 
on the bed for a thorough examination.  Do you have any idea how far you 
might be along?"
	"Less than nine months," Dinah suggested, kicking off her shoes to 
step onto the scale.  "Probably more than one."
	"Sounds about right," Leslie agreed, deadpan.  "Is this what you 
usually weigh?"
	Dinah squinted at the scale.  "I don't think I recognize these 
numbers," she muttered.	
	"Are you exaggerating?"
	"Terribly."
	"How much?"
	"About five pounds I guess.  But that might be because people 
keep feeding me."
	"Nothing wrong with that," Leslie decided.  "Fruits and 
vegetables?"
	"Um…yes," Dinah fibbed, thinking of the banana ice cream and 
strawberry jello.
	"Good."  Leslie made a note on her chart and smiled sweetly at 
Dinah.
	Dinah felt a sudden flash of guilt.
	Leslie brandished a thermometer.
	"Open up, please!"


	Tim looked nervously around the waiting room of Leslie's clinic.  
He'd been here before, of course, but he'd never had to sit around waiting 
for someone.  At least not during the day.  
	At the moment, the only other patients were a teenaged girl and a 
very pregnant woman with a small baby in a carrier beside her and two 
other children playing at her feet.  One of them was about Bert's age, Tim 
thought with a grin.  His baby brother, a prime example of what happens 
when middle-aged men marry personal trainers half their age, was 
counting down the days to the first day of kindergarten, despite the two 
month wait.  The kid on the floor even had a Crocky toy that reminded 
Tim of Bert's smugly grinning Gator.  The other child, Tim was sorry to 
say, was around eight and was torturing his brother in a style very 
reminiscent of Spud.
	Particularly when the older boy hijacked Crocky.
	Tim watched in dread as the younger one's face crumbled in 
preparation for a world-class whine.  He quickly surveyed the mother, 
who was too busy with the baby to head off the impending disaster, and 
made a command decision.
	"Uh oh," he said, leaning over.  "This looks like a job 
for…Batman!"
	Much to Jack Drake's chagrin, Bert had spent his formative years 
firmly convinced that he was indeed the Dark Knight and that his trusty 
stuffed sidekick and confidant, Gator, was none other than the Son of 
Krypton himself.  It had been suggested that such delusions were a 
product of living with a Robin whose knowledge of childhood 
developmental timelines--particularly those relating to recognition 
abilities--was somewhat deficient.  Tim disagreed.
	"Batman's just pretend," the older kid jeered.
	"No, he's not," Tim said casually, moving down to the floor.  "I've 
seen him.  Do you want to be the bad guy who kidnaps Crocky?"
	The older kid looked intrigued.
	"And you," in reference to the younger boy, "if you're going to be 
Batman, you'll have to do detective work to find out where the bad guy hid 
Crocky."
	Inspired, the younger boy started examining the floor as the older 
kid started looking for an appropriate hiding place to stash Crocky.
	With a sigh of relief, Tim moved back up to his seat and caught the 
boys' mother watching him.
	"I'm uh, my name's Tim Drake," Tim introduced himself 
awkwardly.  "Your boys remind me of my brother and my uh, nephew."
	The woman nodded.  "Thanks.  They're enough to make you run 
screaming out the door.  I'm Carla Harris."
	"I'm Tim Drake," Tim said again, shaking her hand.
	"What are you doing here, Tim Drake?  You're dressed too nice to 
need a free clinic."
	"I brought a friend," Tim explained.  He hadn't really thought 
about going to another doctor.  He wasn't even sure Dinah had medical 
insurance although he was sure either Barbara or Bruce could cover 
whatever bill she might incur.  He wasn't even sure anyone would insure 
her, what with the amount of damage she managed to bring on herself.  
"Dr. Thompson is an old family friend.  She's the best there is.  We 
wouldn't go to anyone else.  Besides," he added as the thought occurred to 
him, "the company I work for donates a lot of money to the clinic."
	"What company is that?" Carla asked, rocking the baby's seat.  
"Looks like the pay well."
	"Wayne Enterprises."  Tim nodded.  "It's a great place to work."
	"You need a secretary, Tim Drake?"  The woman grinned wearily.  
"I might happen to be free."
	Tim was so tempted, he nearly whimpered.
	"Thanks," he said wistfully.  "But I already have one."

TO BE CONTINUED