Continued from Part One…


	"I don't understand how I got pregnant."
	Leslie raised an eyebrow as she released her rubber glove with a 
snap.  	"I'm sure it was the usual way."  The silver-haired doctor gave 
Dinah a curious look.  "Wasn't it, dear?"
	Dinah whimpered and clapped a hand over her eyes.
	"We weren't sleeping together," she protested weakly.
	"Of course you weren't, dear," Leslie agreed matter-of-factly.  
"Sleep is a rather rare occurrence in connection to these things.  Now if 
you'll just raise your knees so I can take a look.  Were you using *any* 
sort of birth control?"
	"No!  I mean--"  Dinah raised her knees, but struggled to sit 
upward.  Leslie took pity on her and deferred her examination long 
enough for Dinah to babble out her explanation.
	"I was told I couldn't have kids," Dinah burst out.  "I--we--didn't 
use birth control because we didn't know it would be an issue.  I tried 
before, I tried really hard, but I couldn't have kids and they told me it was 
me.  That I had gotten hurt and couldn't have children anymore." 
	Leslie nodded slowly.  "How about I have a look and then we'll 
talk about it?"  Dinah nodded, so Leslie adjusted the sheet and began her 
examination.
	"Find anything?" Dinah asked when her natural impatience forced 
her into vocalization.
	"There is some evidence of damage," Leslie said sympathetically.  
"Quite a bit of scar tissue.  If you were here asking me why you couldn't 
get pregnant despite multiple tries, I'd definitely blame it on that."  She 
smiled.  "But it seems your present friend has some pretty determined little 
guys.  They weren't about to let a little thing like scar tissue stop them."
	"I'd believe that," Dinah said dryly.  In a Gotham minute, she didn't 
say aloud.
	"I'd like to do an ultrasound, but I'm afraid that would keep you 
waiting around here for quite a while, considering you just ate.  Maybe we 
can schedule one for next week."  
	"You can tell I just ate looking at..."
	"You have ketchup on your mouth."  Leslie eyed her.  "It's almost 
certain that this baby would have to born by Caesarian section.  Because 
of your age and the extenuating circumstances, you're classified as a high-
risk pregnancy.  I'd like to keep a very close eye on you until you pick out 
a specialist.  I can recommend several good ones."
	"You can't do it?" Dinah asked, suddenly reluctant to give up this 
kind, quick-witted woman as her primary physician.  
	"Well, as long as things proceed normally, I'd be happy to work in 
conjunction with a specialist.  But with the possibilities for complications, 
I'd like for you to be familiar with someone who does this all day, every 
day."
	"Fair enough," Dinah sighed.  She winced slightly.  "I'm not going 
to have to spend the next nine months in bed, am I?"
	"Not at all," Leslie assured her matter-of-factly.  "As long as you 
stay healthy.  No champagne.  Drink apple juice instead.  You can keep up 
the level of your workouts until they become uncomfortable.  I'd advise 
against doing any abdominal exercises after the first trimester.  You'll 
want those muscles pliable, not tight.  And you should stop taking falls 
after the seventh month.  Maybe lay off the globetrotting while you're on 
it."  Leslie glanced up at Dinah's face, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
	"You--you know who I am?" Dinah faltered.
	"You came with Tim.  Of course I know."  Leslie straightened up, 
peeling her gloves off.  "My best guess would be that you're about two 
months along.  Sound right?"
	"Uh.  Sure."  Dinah thought back two months.  "Yeah, maybe.  I 
don't always get my period.  Especially if I'm working out hard."
	"Some women spot or even have full periods the first couple 
months of pregnancy," Leslie assured her.  "Of course," she added archly, 
tossing her gloves in the sanitary disposal, "most of those women are 
sleeping with someone."
	Dinah raised an eyebrow.  "Go figure.


	"I use dryer sheets to dust," Tim explained to the gaggle of 
housewives clustered around him.  "They catch up the dust and hold onto 
it, and they're cheaper than those special mops."
	Dinah shook her head as she walked up behind him and tapped him 
on the shoulder.
	Tim jumped about a foot in the air and fumbled to his feet, 
grabbing his suit jacket from the back of the hard plastic chair.  
	"You all done?" he asked hopefully.
	"Yep."  Dinah gave him an amused smile and glanced at his bevy 
of admirers.  "Just have to pay."
	"Ok, I'll be right here," Tim assured her as she walked over to the 
counter, keeping one ear on the conversation.  "She's just a friend," she 
heard him assuring the ladies.  "And Carla, you're going to call that 
number, right?"
	"Sure will.  And thanks for the advice on the newspaper.  Always 
used paper towels myself."
	"Newspaper keeps streaks off mirrors," Tim reminded her.  "See 
you around."
	Dinah wrote out a check that was significantly too large and 
pushed it across the counter to the cashier.
	"Let's go, Timmy," she pleaded, hooking her arm in his and 
dragging him out the door.
	"So you're definitely pregnant?" Tim asked when they got outside 
and Dinah had released his arm.
	"Yup.  About two months," Dinah told him glumly.  
	"Two months?  Two months and you didn't *notice*?" Tim asked 
in disbelief.
	"I...noticed.  I just didn't think anything of it."  Dinah sighed.  "So 
you're picking up pregnant women at Dr. Leslie's clinic now?"
	"Huh?  Oh, Carla.  She's looking for a job.  I gave her Kevin 
Ormond's number.  He's looking for a secretary."
	"Kevin Ormond?  Have I met him?  Does he have a secret ID?"
	"Nah, he works in PR."
	"Oh, ok.  Too bad you already have a secretary, huh?"
	Tim whimpered.
	"I'm sorry," Dinah said, puzzled.  "I don't think I caught that."
	Tim stopped walking and turned to Dinah.
	"Dinah, I did something awful and I have to tell someone."
	Dinah blinked and peered into Tim's pained face.  "Tim, I'm not 
sure you're capable of doing something awful," she said, sticking her 
hands in the pockets of her windbreaker.  "What happened?"
	"I...I took advantage of Cassandra."
	Dinah sighed.  "Did you tell her that the upside-down letters in 
alphabet soup were a whole new set of sounds to learn, again?" she asked.
	"No!" Tim protested, beginning to walk slowly down the street.  
"She's wise to that one now."
	"Yeah, so what'd you do?"
	"I...I kissed her."
	"You kissed her?"  Dinah reached out and grabbed Tim's elbow 
and swung up around to face her again.  "You kissed Cassandra?"
	"I was totally out of control," Tim babbled.  "I was angry and she 
was being...Cass...and I just snapped and grabbed her and...I'm so 
ashamed."
	Dinah studied Tim carefully. "She jumped you, didn't she?"
	"Like a horny monkey."
	"Ah, Tim," Dinah sighed.  She linked her arm in his and they 
wandered down the street towards the lot where Tim had parked his 
minivan.  "What happened?"
	"We were fighting and then suddenly she was kissing me," Tim 
explained.  "I don't know how it happened.  Next thing I know, she was 
locking herself in her room, so I suited up and went on patrol."
	"Hmm, that sounds familiar," Dinah murmured.  "Timmy," she 
said louder, "don't worry about it.  If you like her and she likes you, it'll all 
work out.  I promise."
	"But I don't even know if I do like her.  Or if she likes me," Tim 
bemoaned.  "This is all so sudden."
	"You've had a crush on her for years," Dinah told him matter-of-
factly.
	"I have not," Tim protested, the very soul of besmirched 
innocence.
	"You have too," Dinah assured him.  "You just didn't know it 
before now."
	"I'd like to think that I still don't know it," Tim admitted.  "I'm 
thinking I definitely don't want to go home tonight.  You wanna go invade 
Dick and Babs' place with me?"
	"Huh?  Oh, no." Dinah smiled slightly at the ground.  "I think I'm 
just going to go home, hang out...maybe Bruce left a message on my 
machine.  Think he's ready to grovel yet?"
	"I hope so," Tim told her, squeezing her hand.  "I hope so."


	Leslie made a few notes on her pad and waited for the inevitable 
phone call.  She had several patients backing up in the waiting room.  She 
hated to keep them waiting but she would hate even more to have to 
excuse herself in the middle of an exam.  
	As if in sync with her thoughts, the phone rang.  Leslie let it ring 
twice before placing her pen on the desk and reaching for the receiver.  
The expected number appeared on the Caller ID.  Leslie lifted the handset 
as the third ring ended.
	"Hello, Bruce."
	"How is she?"
	"Doctor-patient confidentiality," Leslie reminded him.  "I can't tell 
you a thing."
	"I just wanted to know if she's all right," Bruce said after a long 
silence.
	It was the Batman voice, Leslie noted with a measure of distaste.
	"Then maybe this isn't the number you should be calling."  Leslie 
hung up the receiver with a decisive flip of her wrist.  She frowned at the 
silent appliance for a long moment, then stood and walked out of her 
office.
	"Rosa?" she asked the nurse at the desk, closing the door firmly 
behind her.  "Who's up next?"
	"Ms. Harris," Rosa told her, handing her a chart.
	"Thank you."  Leslie flipped open the front flap of the file and 
glanced at the first page before tucking the whole thing under her arm.  
"Carla?  Are you ready?" she asked with a warm smile, herding Carla and 
her two boys into an examining room.
	Behind the closed door of her office, Leslie's phone rang.  
	One ring.
	Two rings.
	Three.
	Four.
	And then silence.


	"Babs."
	"Spud."
	"We gotta talk."
	Babs raised an eyebrow at the serious little boy in front of her.  She 
was glad for the lull in superhero action.  She hated putting Spud off, even 
when he was asking questions she didn't want to answer.  
	"What's up, Potato Boy?" Babs asked, trying to sound concerned 
and motherly.  Even after a year of practice, she was relatively sure she 
still sounded like a cross between Will Mye, the Science Guy, and Mrs. 
Biederman, her first grade teacher, who insisted six-year-olds could not 
read.
	"I've been thinking," Spud announced portentously.
	"So how do you like it?"
	"Like what?" Spud asked, confused.  "Thinking?"
	"Yeah."
	"It's pretty cool," he admitted.
	"So what grand leaps of logic have you made?" Babs asked with a 
sigh, resting her chin on her palm.
	"Well, Dinah's gonna have a baby, right?"
	"Right," Babs affirmed, secretly hoping he wasn't asking for *that* 
explanation.
	"Right.  So she's going to get big and fat, right?"
	"I hope so," Barbara sighed.  After all, it wasn't fair that Black 
Canary lived off Cheez Doodles and Ring Dings and stayed a size four, 
was it?
	"So she won't fit in her costume anymore, right?"
	Barbara raised an eyebrow, immediately seeing where this was 
going.
	"Spud--"
	"So Gotham's DOWN by one protector, right?"
	"Spud, Dinah doesn't protect Gotham.  Not usually, at least.  She 
goes on missions."
	"Well, who's going to go on missions if she's fat and can't wear her 
costume?"
	"Who's going to believe a nine-year-old boy is traveling to 
Rheelasia to investigate insurance fraud?"
	"It could happen."
	"Right.  And I'm the Dahli Lama."
	"What's the Dolly Llama?"
	Babs couldn't help but grin.  In a few short months, Dinah would 
share her pain.  Oh yes, she would.


	"That's my phone," Tim announced as the digital strains of "The 
1812 Overture" filled the minivan.  "Can you grab it for me?"
	Dinah dug around in Tim's glove compartment as he carefully 
navigated a side street, both hands planted firmly on the wheel.  A tan 
Volvo eventually got annoyed with Tim's strict adherence to the posted 
speed limit and passed them on the shoulder.  Tim squinted at the 
misanthropic coupe and muttered a few choice phrases.
	"Tim, such language," Dinah mocked, extracting the phone from 
its neat little holster attached to the interior of the perfectly organized 
glove compartment.  Flashlight held by an elastic strap to the top.  First aid 
kit to the right.  Stack of maps in a clear plastic bag next to the kit.  
Insurance, registration and owner's manual tucked against the left wall.  
Ice scraper against the back wall, despite the hot June sun.  And oddly...
	"What's this?  Coupons?  You have fast food coupons in your 
glove compartment?"  Dinah waved the slips of paper in Tim's face's as 
she punched the power button on the phone.  Tim squinted around the 
distraction and studied the road.  "Hello, Tim Drake's phone.  Talk to me." 
	"Hi," said a tinny, slightly bewildered voice from the speaker.  "I'm 
looking for Tim.  My name's Kevin Ormond.  We work together."
	"Yeah, sure," Dinah agreed.  Ormond, Ormond, she'd heard that 
name before?  "Hold on a sec."  She covered the mouthpiece with her hand 
and looked at Tim, bent over the wheel in concentration.  "Timmy, it's 
some guy from work."
	"Lucius?"
	"No, Kevin Ormond.  The one looking for a secretary?"
	"Shoot, yeah.  Tell him to hold on a sec.  I need to talk to him."
	"Can you hold for a moment?"  Dinah glanced at her friend.  
"Tim's...driving."
	"Uh, yeah, sure."  
	Dinah waited patiently for Tim to pull over to the side of the road 
and turn the blinkers on and the engine off before taking the phone.
	"Drake."  
	She watched Tim's brow furrow deeper than it had been when he'd 
actually been forced to pass another car.
	"Yeah, I'll be there in about twenty minutes.  Yeah.  Yeah.  Not 
without my signature it can't.  Yeah, ok, see you then."  Tim snapped the 
phone shut.  "Put the coupons back," he requested, handing Dinah the 
phone.  "I need them to bribe Cass."
	Dinah glanced at him questioningly.  "You bribe Cass?"
	"It's not something I like to advertise."
	Dinah shuffled through the coupons.  "Dough-nutty's?"
	"She likes the glazed."
	"O'Shaugnessey's?"
	"The apple pies."
	"Range Rovers'?"
	"Turnovers.  And the beef and cheddar sandwiches."
	"Girl's got taste," Dinah agreed.
	"Like a trash compactor."  Tim flicked on his left signal and 
entered the stream of traffic slowly.  "I've got to get back into work for a 
bit.  You want to go home or hit the mall?"
	"Home, if you don't mind.  Shopping's losing its appeal now that I 
know the next things I have to buy are fat clothes."
	"When Dana was pregnant with Bert, she didn't swell up until the 
last couple months," Tim told her encouragingly.  
	Dinah just whimpered.
	Tim glanced over worriedly and reached awkwardly to pat her 
hand.  She squeezed it gratefully and sat up straighter.
	"You can just drop me off in front," she offered, seeing her 
building loom in the windshield.
	"All right," Tim said.  "If you're sure.  Call me if you need 
anything?"
	"You're on the speed dial."  Dinah leaned up and kissed Tim's 
cheek before sliding out of the car.  "Thanks for lunch, Tim!  I'll see you 
soon."
	Tim waved and smiled at her, then began his careful re-entry to the 
traffic flow.
	Dinah shook her head at him and used her key to let herself into 
her building.  She decided to take the stairs to the second floor.  Maybe, 
just maybe, she reasoned with herself as she fumbled with the sticky lock 
on the door, maybe Bruce will have sat around sulking in the Cave long 
enough and he'll have called...
	She kicked the door behind her and walked over to the answering 
machine, dribbling keys, jacket and purse along the way.
	A red light!
	Dinah grinned to herself, please with this new development and 
pressed the button to replay the message.
	"...it's Roy.  Gimme call."
	Dinah rolled her eyes and hit delete.


	Tim rolled back into the 32nd floor shortly after three o'clock and 
headed straight for Kevin Ormond's cubicle.  Kevin wasn't there and 
everyone who sat around him seemed to be on break.  He shrugged and 
headed back to Finance to hide in his office until Kevin showed up.  He 
skidded to a halt when he saw Kevin and Cassandra huddling outside his 
door.
	"Um, hi," he said cautiously.
	"Timbo," Kevin greeted him blandly.  "Cass was just about to 
forge your John Hancock for me."
	"Gee.  Lucky I happened by," Tim said dryly, pulling a pen from 
his shirt pocket as he stepped around the side of Cassandra's desk.  "What 
do we have here?"
	"No big deal," Cass informed him breezily.  "Press released."
	"Releases," Tim corrected automatically, raising his eyebrow in 
surprise when Cass scowled fiercely at him.  She usually waved off his 
corrections, but rarely made the same mistake again.  He signed off on the 
information dispersion and handed the pages back to Kevin.  "Here you 
go."
	"Thanks, man.  See you around."
	"Sure."  Tim pocketed his pen and looked at Cass, who was now 
sitting at her desk, arms crossed, staring moodily at her computer screen.  
She didn't even have a solitaire game up, Tim noted.  "I'm going to beg a 
dinner invite to Dick and Babs'," he ventured cautiously.  "Want to 
come?"
	He was waiting for her to say no and was relieved when she shook 
her head.  Good.  He needed a night to sort this all out.  Kissing Cass was 
just too weird.



	Two Battlestar Galactica reruns later, Dinah had eaten a grilled 
cheese sandwich and a pint of Ben and Jerry's and was starting to feel a 
little better.  Better enough to at least try to explain things to Roy.  One 
could only hold off a curious archer for so long before he resorted to 
breaking and entering.
	She curled up on the couch with her cordless phone and punched in 
the number of Roy's cell.  She wasn't in the mood to go through the Titans 
communications center.
	"Roy Harper's phone, Lian speaking."
	Dinah smiled at the confident voice of Roy's eleven-year-old 
daughter.  "Hi Lian.  It's Dinah."
	"Gramma Canary!" Lian exclaimed delightedly.  "What did you 
do?"
	"What did I do?" Dinah repeated automatically.  Well, everyone 
else seemed to know; no reason Lian wouldn't either.  "Um, well, honey, 
I'm..." she swallowed and steeled herself, "going to have a baby."
	"I know *that*," Lian assured her impatiently.  "But Dad's been 
walking around here with that panicked look on his face.  You know, the 
one he got when the guy with the blue hair came to pick up Cissie."
	"Great."  Dinah pulled her knees up to her chest.  "Can I talk to 
him?  Your dad I mean, not the guy with the blue hair."
	"Good thing.  Cissie's not dating him anymore.  The guy with the 
blue hair I mean, not my dad."
	"She's not?"
	"Nope, she kicked him to curb!" Lian told her gleefully.
	"Really?"
	"Well, that's what she told me to say."
	"Ah."  That said a lot.  "Tell her I can sympathize.  I really do need 
to talk to your dad, though."
	"Oh, he's hiding behind the door listening to see if I say anything 
else about Cissie and the guy with the blue hair.  DAD!" Lian shouted.  
"Come talk to Gramma Canary."
	"Sheesh."
	Dinah grinned as she caught Roy's muttered grump through the 
phone.
	"Ok, he's here," Lian reported.  "But don't keep him too long.  He 
wants to go back to cheering up Cissie!"
	"Give me that!  Dinah?"
	"Cheering up Cissie, huh?"
	"No, shut up.  No, wait."  
	Dinah heard him cover the receiver with his hand and a muffled 
directive for Lian to get herself out of the room.
	"Now.  You.  Spill.  What's this I hear about Aquaman?"
	"Aquaman?  You heard the Aquaman thing, too?"  Dinah slumped 
further into the couch cushions and wished she hadn't eaten so much ice 
cream.
	"Say it ain't so," Roy threatened.  "Tell me you didn't have sex with 
Aquaman."
	"I didn't have sex with Aquaman," Dinah assured him.  "I had sex 
with Batman."
	"GAH!  I didn't need to hear that!"
	"Oh, come on.  You knew that."
	"That didn't mean I wanted to hear it."  Roy was quiet for a minute.  
"So it's true?  You're pregnant?"
	"Seems so."
	"No chance it's just gas?"
	"Roy!"
	"Hey, you can't blame a guy for making sure!"
	"Roy!"
	"Look, I just…"  Roy paused for a moment.  "Look, I know this 
isn't really maybe any of my business, but Ollie told me once that well, 
you two couldn't have any kids…"
	"Yeah, I know."  Dinah shifted uncomfortably on the couch.  "Can 
we not talk about it right now?"
	"Sure."  Roy paused.  "So, Bats.  He's doing the right thing, right?"
	"The right thing?"
	"Yeah, you know…big diamond ring, pretty white dress?"
	Dinah groaned.  "Roy.  You of all people should know that 
marriage isn't the right thing for everybody."
	"Look, all I'm saying is that it's not like you just met him and it's 
not like he doesn't have enough money to keep you and this kid set up for 
life.  Tell me he's at least going to support his own kid financially."
	"I don't know," Dinah said testily.  "We haven't talked about it."
	"Have you told him?"
	"Yes, I told him and--"
	"And the first words out of his mouth weren't, don't worry about a 
thing, I'll take care of it?  Do you want me to kill him?"
	"No!  And there were no first words!  I'm still waiting for him to 
say anything!"
	"What?"
	"He just…he just jumped off the roof and left and he didn't say 
anything, Roy.  You don't have to kill him.  Because I'm going to."  Dinah 
turned on her side and squeezed her eyes closed.  She hadn't really gone 
into detail about Bruce's abandonment to anyone yet and she hated the 
way it made her feel.  I am a strong, liberated woman, she reminded 
herself.  Men do not make me curl up on couches in tears.  She really did 
have to put "Kill Batman" on her to-do list.  Really.  Right after she slept 
for a really long time and maybe had some more ice cream.
	"You want me to come over?" Roy asked quietly.
	Dinah sniffed and nodded, then remembered Roy couldn't hear 
head movements.
	"Please?"
	"Sure thing.  Let me hijack a transporter and I'll be there in ten 
minutes."
	"Ok."
	"Stay strong."
	Dinah sniffed and punched the off button.  She laid the handset on 
the floor and wrapped her arms around herself.  The cavalry was on its 
way.


TO BE CONTINUED