Identity

Safe, not sound

When we got back to the house, Dad herded me into the library. To my surprise, Mom was already back. "I came as soon as I was told," she said, hugging me tightly before reluctantly loosening her grip and installing me on a sofa, shaking out a throw for my legs, and pulling up an ottoman. She sat beside me, holding my hand until Alan brought me some coffee. It was cafe au lait, actually, there was so much milk, but it tasted good. Dad pulled up a chair on my other side as I settled against the arm, grateful for the nest-like feeling. Then the others started to arrive, but fortunately not too many. There was Uncle Richard, Uncle Tony, who'd stopped by the pharmacy to pick up the supplements for me, and a man who Uncle Richard introduced as Captain Gordon.

"We're here to get your statement, Ms Wayne, and to tell you what we've discovered to this point," the Captain said. He was a tired looking man, but seemed really sharp. He was Returned, and had been a cop for a long time. "So let's get your statement." I took his through what happened at the school, the van, waking up in the office building, seeing Harley and the Joker. What happened later. I said what had been done to me, but not my reaction, and Captain Gordon didn't push. The arrival of the Penguin, how we all got out.

"When my team got to the office building the Joker was using, we found a shorted-out wheelchair but no Joker. It had been recording. We know that the Joker likes to have a record of times like these, and we looked for it specifically. It recorded up to the time it was shorted out. So I've got to ask, what did you do to Harley? It can't be what it looked like."

"What did it look like?" I asked cagily, and Mom took the empty cup from me and held my hand again.

"Like fire erupted out of your hands," he said baldly.

"That's pretty much what happened," I said.

"Mutation or superpower?" he asked briskly.

"God-touched." He looked puzzled, and I looked at Mom.

"I am Greek, from an antique and distinguished lineage," she said carefully. "The old gods have long taken an interest in my family. When Lys was born, she was blessed by Athena and Hestia." The Captain looked skeptical.

"Until recently it was thought that I had the gift that Athena gave me, which is to be able to see who is god-touched. That's what I call it, anyway, people who have been granted some kind of favor from a god. I see it as a kind of light. And that was my big party trick. But then I found out that I also had a gift from Hestia, which is to create a home. And that's been nice, it makes me good at interior decorating, I think. But when Harley walked toward me, my mind cleared--it was a little fuzzy from what happened before--really abruptly and I was told to ask for sanctuary. So I did, why not, and Harley refused. My hands and arms started to tingle, then a gold flame erupted out of them. So I know that it was a gift from the gods." Captain Gordon looked at Uncle Richard, who nodded, and he made a note on his pad.

"So Athena spoke to you, dearest?" Mom asked. "She told me to go home, which is why I am here in a timely manner." Captain Gordon's eyebrows jumped toward his receding hairline.

"No, it was Hestia," I said wearily.

"I thought Hestia was... nice," Uncle Tony said guardedly.

"She is," I defended her. "She gave up the possibility of her own home, marriage to Poseidon or Apollo, to tend the hearth of the gods, and by extension, all hearths. Although I don't really blame her, she probably escaped a lot of drudgery that way and had control over herself. It's thought that the state is a larger extension of the home, so she has an influence on statecraft as well as families. And the thing is that she's really serious about it. Her image is that of gentleness, someone easily overlooked, non-judgmental, modest, forgiving, light-hearted. And she is all of that, but also more. But this image dates back to antiquity where women were systematically marginalized, so it only tells part of the story. It was her habit to offer strangers shelter and protection. She didn't have temples, still doesn't. What she gets are sanctuaries in every city where the Olympians are worshiped. They're all public, open-air spaces with an eternal flame on the hearth, and people who need help come there. There's a small one here in New York, in Central Park. It looks like a white marble folly but for the flame, which is attended constantly by one of her followers, who is also there to offer aid when requested."