"—I'm blessed, I realize that. I got to come home. But I'm not ashamed to say it sticks with me." Bruce was leaned back in his chair, his eyes far off, gazing in Dick's direction where the boy sat on the bench outside my restaurant, his sister in his lap. "When I close my eyes, I'm back there more often than not."

"So you came back and found Selina again?" I asked, rapt, my chin propped on my elbows at the table.

"Oh, I don't think he ever really lost me," Selina said, smirking in her husband's direction. "I always dreamed of marrying a war hero anyway."

Pam raised an incredulous eyebrow. "The husband of your dreams is irrevocably traumatized?"

Selina scoffed. "Show me a child of our generation who isn't traumatized someway, somehow."

"All joking aside," Bruce again inserted himself. "There are no heroes of that war."

"Cheers to that." Selina raised her water glass in solidarity.

There was silence for a moment. More reverent than awkward. Bruce's attention drifted from his son, to his wife, and eventually over to Pam and I.

I watched him glance between us. "When was the last time you two spoke?" he asked.

I blushed. Not sure why, but I did, and it rendered me voiceless. So Pam decided to answer that one. "Not since I left for school."

"Then you two have a lot to catch up on," Selina grinned, something teasing in her smile, leaning forward, her interest evidently piqued. "Pam and I talk on the first day of every summer, and I have two kids and she lives on the other side of the country. What's your excuse, Harl?"

"All the way across the—where do you live?" I'd wondered that for so long. Had been kept up by it so many late nights…the fact that I was about to get an answer from Pam's own lips was almost surreal.

"I split time between California, Oregon, and Washington, depending on the season," Pam divulged. "The nature of my research is climate and season specific."

I nodded like I perfectly understood all of this. There was something about this Pam that I found so intimidating…perhaps for the reasons Eddie had cited, but also she was now so…there. That sounds strange. I mean she was in her body, finally. Sure of herself. I supposed it probably helped that her body was now more comfortable to live in.

"Did you move straight there after school?"

"Well, no," Pam said. "Not exactly. I finished my undergrad at Wellesley, then went on to Colombia for my PhD. I moved to Seattle after being offered a teaching position at their university, before deciding that just wouldn't do."

"Teaching is a respectable profession," Bruce pointed out. "What about it did you not like?"

Pam's expression was borderline triumphant when she said, "I was locked away in a tiny room for the first 15 years of my existence, watching as others—you all, even—were allowed to experience life. I wasn't about to trap myself in a little room again. Science should be experienced, not simply relayed."

I cleared my throat. "So…what is it your do then, exactly? What sort of science?"

"Technically, I'm a botanical engineer." Pam explained. "But that means little to most people, so I'll just tell you I'm a chemist who focuses on the naturally-occurring medicinal advantages of the plant life we're blessed to be surrounded by."

"Wow…" I breathed, and I could faintly hear Selina snort to my left. It was only then I realized I was gazing at Pam like she was the goddess Demeter herself (Yeah, I sometimes read old books). "And is that—how did you fix your skin?" the question was out before I could stop it.

Pam's smile was tighter this time. More familiar. "I trust my scientific prowess enough to be my own guinea pig," she answered. "Eventually I found the answer, and wouldn't you know, the cure didn't require I sacrifice a single virgin, or that any demons be removed from my body, by exorcism or penetration."

I bit my tongue. Literally. It hurt.

Bruce shifted uncomfortably, appearing to experience every bit of pain that I was. But Selina chuckled, slapping her knee. "Amazing, the advancement of medical science."

Pam forced some air out of her nose in what was nearly a laugh, looking out the window for a moment before bringing her attention back to the table. "In any case…" she continued. "I truly thought I'd never come back here. But Harvey convinced me otherwise."

"I'm surprised it hit the national news," Selina admitted.

"I mean, he was on page 12. Unfortunately for me, I read my paper cover to cover."

"Well look at you," Selina teased, reaching across the table to 'boop' Pam's nose. "The Witch Child of Castle Rock, come back to make us all look like we've been twiddling our thumbs for the last 20 years."

"Oh, from what I hear, your activism has been rather effective, Cat," Pam smiled back. "I'm sure the kids from your foundation have far more regard for you than some scientist on the West Coast."

"But even I can admit I unfairly influenced them in that argument."

What in the world have I been doing? I couldn't help but think.

And, like we were of one mind, that was the moment Bruce decided to add, "No disrespect to Old Man Pennyworth, but you've really turned this place around, Harley. And the pancakes really were fantastic."

A scientist, a veteran, and a philanthropist. I brought the same 30 people their breakfasts every morning.

Bruce and Selina left after our plates had all been cleared away, tipping my cook a whopping 50%, which he was very grateful for. They hugged Pam and I, then told us they were taking Dick and Helena back to Bruce's parents' house and would see us tomorrow.

Pam and I didn't have much to say after we were left alone. I toed the dirt beneath our feet and she stared down the road, seeming to examine the dust kicked up by Bruce's Cadillac.

This silence was a bit uncomfortable. And Pam eventually broke it, saying, "I'm terribly jet-lagged. I think I'll check into my hotel and have a nap."

Have a nap…who still talks like that?

"Right, right, I understand." I nodded.

I was distracted the rest of the day at work. More than once a customer asked me what was wrong. They all wondered where my smile had gone.

She took it again, I wanted to say, but I realized that would sound ridiculous to anyone by myself.

Eddie came and checked back in on me after finishing his workday, which was nice, but I didn't have much to say to him.

I sent my cook and the other server home as soon as the sun went down, telling them I'd clean the place up myself tonight.

And so I was left alone.

At least, that's what I thought.

As I placed the last chair atop the last table, a floorboard creaked behind me, and when I turned, I found it was Pam Isley standing in the doorway, leaning coolly against the frame. Her hair was up now, piled high atop her head in a loose bun, her arms crossed over her chest, wearing high-waisted jeans and a t-shirt with a plunging zipper that she hadn't bothered to zip up.

"Oh, it's—it's you," I sputtered, halfway between relieved and terrified.

Without offering a verbal response, she pushed off the doorframe, crossing the room quickly, her platform heels thumping loudly on the wood beneath her feet.

I looked up from her shoes just in time to watch her wrap me in her arms and pull me into a kiss, her hands traveling up my waist until she cupped my face, her lips somehow softer than I remembered, but with far more purpose this time.

And I kissed her back. Of course I did. I'd been dreaming of this moment for 20 years and it was happening. By God's grace or fate's or maybe simply Pam's, I wasn't sure. But I wasn't about to let it pass me by.

She smiled when she pulled back, taking a good-long look at me—my undoubtably blushing cheeks and heaving chest—before leaning down to rest her forehead against mine.

"I thought you weren't this type of girl." She was relieved, that much was obvious, but there was also a certain satisfaction to her tone that brought back a heat in my gut I only faintly remembered.

"I think—you'll have to show me."