Diana set the groceries down in the kitchen as if she'd done it a thousand times before. Truth was—she had. Over the years, ever since my parents disappeared, she'd come by unannounced to check in, bringing supplies, and make sure I was eating well, and that I wasn't living like some brooding cave-dwelling teen.
By sixteen, I'd proven I could handle myself finances, food, training, everything. I'd made it clear I didn't need a babysitter. But that never stopped her. In her own way, Diana had always been persistent.
I shut the door behind us, dropped my bag by the couch, and called out, "You want some tea?"
She was already unpacking the bags, sorting the produce and meat into the fridge. "Yes," she called over her shoulder. "Vanilla and chamomile, if you have it."
I smirked, already pulling out the tea kettle. "With those little cinnamon sticks?"
"Of course," she said, a soft smile in her voice.
As she sorted the last of the groceries, I got to work—measured out the loose tea leaves, lit the stove, and set the kettle down. "So what's the dish this time? You're not going to try another 'twist' on lamb, are you?"
Diana turned toward me, holding a vacuum-sealed package of lamb. "Actually, I was thinking". I stepped forward and took the package from her hands with a look. "Nope. Absolutely not." Her eyebrows lifted in amusement. "You haven't even heard the idea."
"You promised," I reminded her, pointing at her like a disappointed teacher. "I cook the lamb and the steak. You almost killed me last year with that... what was it? The 'Spartan warrior's cutlet?'" She gave a small laugh. "It was experimental."
"It was criminal," I corrected. "Go sit at the counter. I'll handle this." Diana raised her hands in surrender. "Fine. But I've been getting better at cooking." "You probably have. And when I'm a guest at your place, you're free to poison me all you want," I said with a grin. "But right now, you're in my house, and you're my guest. Sit."
She settled onto the stool at the kitchen counter, that same small smile still on her face—tinged with pride, and a little joy, and that ancient warmth she rarely let others see.
I took of my jacket and got to work. The lamb needed time to marinate, so I grabbed garlic, oregano, lemon, and olive oil. Then the vegetables—potatoes, onions, and tomatoes—went into a ceramic baking dish lined with parchment paper. A little sprinkle of sea salt, cracked pepper, and the marinade poured over it all.
"Greek lamb Kleftiko," I muttered, tying the parchment closed and placing the dish into the oven. Diana's voice was soft. "Your mother's favorite." I paused, then nodded. "Yeah. I'm hoping mine turns out half as good as hers."
The oven ticked softly as it warmed the house with the scent of seasoned lamb and roasted lemon. I returned to the counter and poured our tea, sliding one of the mugs toward Diana. She wrapped her fingers around it, savoring the warmth.
For a long moment, we sat in silence. The kind of silence only family can share it was comforting, a little heavy, but not strained. Then Diana spoke. "I heard about the surveillance," she said quietly. "About what Batman's been doing. If I knew Bruce was going that far... I would've stopped him."
I said nothing. Just kept sipping my tea.
She continued. "I know you have a lot of questions about your parents. About what happened. It's been years, and I know no one tells you anything." Her hand settled gently on my shoulder. "Just know it's for a good reason."
I looked at her. Cold. Stoic. "Diana, the day I lost my parents—and the day I almost killed Mark—I haven't had a full night's sleep since. If I don't wake up in a cold sweat dreaming about that day, I wake up seeing the faces of the people I did kill when he blitzed me into them. Titans I knew my friends, I admired. And none of you will tell me why who died because of me."
Diana looked down, guilt tightening her jaw. "We didn't want the burden to fall on your shoulders. It wasn't your fault." She reached for something else to say, then quietly added, "You should talk to someone. A therapist. Dina's still". "No," I cut her off. "I'm going nowhere near Dina."
"She's sorry," Diana said firmly. "She knows she went too far. She'd like to make amends. We were all in fight or flight mode that day. We couldn't take chances. I know it's not fair—". "Then save it," I snapped.
She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry." She stood up slowly, setting her tea aside. "I know this is rich coming from me, but... would you please consider going back to Titans Tower?"
I raised an eyebrow. "What for? Only Nightwing's still there full time with Aqualad and Tempest, trying to train new recruits who started like a year ago. Raven and Kori quit and disappeared. Garfield's dead. Artemis left after Speedy died. Wonder Girl and Kid Flash show up three times a month at most after Jason's died (2nd Robin) ." Conner is always on missions for the league after he found out that Lex Luthor was his other DNA donor. So he's rarely there besides when he's not on mission.
Diana looked up sharply. "How do you know about all that and about Jason?" I smirked. "You all have your secrets, Diana. I have mine as well." The oven chimed. I turned back to it, pulled the lamb out, and let it rest. "You want some wine?" I asked.
"Yes, please," she said, settling back onto the stool. I poured her a generous glass of red. I stuck to tea (Still Physically 19).
We ate together in silence. The food turned out damn good. Almost like Mom used to make. Diana seemed to enjoy it too, chewing quietly, eyes soft but unreadable. When she finished, she stood and grabbed her coat.
"Donna misses you," she said at the door. "You should reach out. She'd like to hear from you." I nodded slowly. "I'll think about it." "Good night, Cain."
"Night, Diana."
She flew off into the night. I closed the door and leaned against it in silence.