Your mother's hand is a brand on your elbow, steering you through the crowd like a ship into harbor.

Cassandra stands near the grand piano, a slash of black velvet in a sea of pastel gowns. Her eyes are red-rimmed. Her hands are shaking.

Dick Grayson hovers at her elbow, his face carved from worry. Jason Todd is braced behind her like a guard dog, jaw clenched so tight it might crack. Stephanie Brown has her hand on Cass's lower back, whispering something fierce.

Cass looks up.

She meets your eyes.