Selina finally found a parking space, and neatly parallel-parked the rental car. She glanced up and down the street, wary as ever despite the fact that both she and her passenger were as close to incognito as they were ever going to get.
Said passenger was wearing a curly auburn wig and a shocking amount of makeup, skillfully applied to look like no makeup at all. The red hair kept making Selina's eye twitch, however. Her own wig was a short black number she'd worn for work before, but it wouldn't be recognizable here. In Brooklyn, no one knew Selina Kyle, and Catwoman was just a name on the news.
Harleen Quinzel, however, was notorious to a select few people. One of whom was just backing out of his driveway now. He passed their car without a second glance, and Harley whispered, "Putz."
"Hush," Selina scolded. "You still want me to go talk to her first?"
"Yeah," Harley muttered, scooting further down in her seat as a police car passed them. "She might not slam the door in your face right away." The cop never gave them a second glance, which was to be expected – it was a normal morning in a normal residential area of Prospect Heights, and they were just two normal-looking women in a perfectly normal sedan parked half a block up from the house where Harley Quinn's sister happened to live.
"All right. Don't get squirrelly, Harley. Just wait here." Harley nodded, reclining her seat and taking out a book, just in case someone noticed her. Selina patted her knee gently, checked traffic, and got out of the car. She walked up the sidewalk, looking at all the brownstone rowhouses with a professional eye; they'd be easy to scale, and she could slip from one window to the next all the way down the block.
She wasn't here to break in, though, and Selina mounted the steps to the address Harley had pointed out. David Southard had just left for work; he was an up and coming tax attorney with a firm in Manhattan, and his wife would be home with their two daughters. School was out for Christmas break, and Delia Southard was currently a stay-at-home mother. She did plenty of volunteer work, though; Selina had done her research. Delia's life was so squeaky-clean, it almost looked suspicious.
Selina wondered how much of that was secondhand atonement, then pushed the thought aside, ringing the bell.
She waited, her breath frosty, and finally a light came on in the hall. The door didn't open, but a woman's voice spoke clearly. "You see the sign that says 'No Solicitation', right? I promise it applies to you, too."
"I promise it doesn't," Selina replied. "Mrs. Southard? Could I have moment, please?"
A pause, and she could see the woman's form through the frosted glass, but not in any detail. Not enough to let her read her expression. "What's this about?"
"I'd rather explain inside, if I may," Selina said in her most conciliatory voice. "This isn't a sales pitch or any kind of religious proselytizing, I swear."
"Oh, then it's about my sister," Delia said coldly. "She's not here. And if you don't have a warrant, I suggest you get off my stoop. The police make regular patrols just in case she decides to visit."
Selina sighed, and listened to the other woman walk away from the door. Harley had warned her this would be hard, and she'd expected difficulty even before that, but not this.
Luckily she had her lock picks, and there wasn't a chain. The door was open before Delia even left the hallway. The woman whirled around, revealing brunette hair and a face with just enough family resemblance to make Selina's heart clench. "What … how … who are you?"
"You can call me Cat," Selina said, closing the door behind her and locking it. "Sorry about that, it's a professional skill. Listen, this is about your sister, but I just want to talk. I just need like ten minutes of your time."
A much younger voice floated up the hall. "Mom? Who's that?"
"Go upstairs," Delia said, her voice suddenly sharp.
"But Mom…"
"Upstairs. Now. You can watch TV if you're quiet." Selina heard the thumping of sneakers, and then Delia shoved her hands into the pockets of her sensible slacks, glaring at her. "Cat, huh? Last name Woman?"
"In a manner of speaking," Selina said, with a sheepish smile.
"Wonderful, it's not enough that Harley's gotten herself splashed across the news, now she brings her whole damn circus to town, too." Delia glowered at her, shoulders tense, and continued, "The FBI's already been here. I had a phone interview with someone from the Gotham City Police Department, too. If you're trying to find Harley, you're out of luck. She's not here, and she knows damn well she's not welcome here, either."
Selina held up her hands, startled by the vehemence. "Whoa, whoa, let's just calm down a minute, okay? I'm not 'her whole circus', I'm just one person."
The attempt fell flat, Delia's chin jutting forward, and she took her hands out of her pockets to reveal a small stun gun. "This is technically illegal, but a detective told me to keep it handy. I will use it, and my girls know that 'if you're quiet' is code for 'barricade the door and call 911 if you hear screams'. So don't make any sudden moves unless you'd really like to get arrested in a new city, hmm?"
Fighting the urge to bolt, Selina took a deep breath. "I'm not trying to find Harley. I'm here on her behalf. She asked me to talk to you."
"So talk," Delia said, her eyes narrowing. "Also, knowing where she is and not turning her in is not doing you any favors in my book."
That, finally, provoked Selina's temper. "Oh, you want me to turn her in? So she can be locked up in Arkham? They might as well gift-wrap her for Joker."
"Say that name in my house again, you get a hundred thousand volts right in the face," Delia spat.
"I don't like him either," Selina snapped back, and got control of her anger. "Look, Delia, I finally convinced Harley to leave the country. She's just not safe without an ocean between her and him. But she won't go until she talks to you, so here I am. She's my friend, dammit."
"You need better friends, lady," Delia replied. "You think I haven't seen this coming? Ever since that freak landed in the hospital – she would've been better off if she'd killed him. I'm lucky I've got friends in the right places, or I'd have reporters camped out on my doorstep all day and night, trying to get that exclusive interview."
"Okay, I can't argue with most of that," Selina said in conciliatory tones. "Especially the part about killing him. But I've got a bad feeling about all this, and I'd rather see her leave than try to fight it out."
She tried to suppress the shiver that ran down her spine, mentioning that bad feeling. It had been more than that; Miss Kitty had come into the living room and sat on the coffee table, staring at her, until Selina turned off the television and looked back at her.
Selina maintained to everyone that she wasn't a metahuman, that she was a perfectly ordinary master thief with a background in gymnastics and martial arts, who also happened to be fairly lucky on occasion and to have acquired certain skills with a bullwhip. She played into the feline aesthetic and the cat myths, joking about having nine lives, but even if pressed, she never claimed to be anything but human.
No one ever asked what Miss Kitty was. Not even Selina.
The cat had stared at her, and Selina had stared back, the hair on the back of her neck slowly rising. A hunch had formed, growing like a cancer between her shoulder-blades, wrapping around her spine and sending icy tendrils into her heart. Harley was in danger. Not immediate, she never got premonitions that useful, but looking into those green-gold eyes Selina had felt her stomach drop with the horrible certainty that if Harley stayed in Gotham, she was going to die, and badly.
She'd gone to the girls the same night and handed over her share of the bank job, on the condition that they run for it. Selina couldn't explain her insistence, but neither of them had questioned her. Pam already wanted to be gone; just a few days ago Joker had killed two women, a redhead and a blonde. No connection to any kind of crime, he'd literally picked two victims for their hair color, then shot them both in the head, gutted them, and left their bodies behind a florist's shop that Pam had once briefly worked at, long ago before she became Poison Ivy. Selina knew the Bats were getting antsy about it; there were other signs she wasn't privy to, but the murders had made the news. The sheer randomness of it was concerning, and Harley had finally let herself be persuaded to let someone else kill Joker. She needed to get out, while she still could.
And it all would've gone just fine except that Harley insisted on seeing her sister first. And Selina couldn't blame Harley for wanting to see her family before she left the country, but damn, this whole situation was dicey as hell. Every minute they spent in the open was dangerous, and if they screwed up and got arrested, Joker would know exactly where to find Harley.
Delia must've heard some kind of sincerity in her voice, because she lowered the taser. A little. "Leaving the country, huh? I've heard that before. Usually right before she went back to him."
Selina clenched her jaw angrily. "This isn't the same. She's left him for good."
"Lady, she's left him for good a dozen times," Delia said, and her voice was tired.
She wasn't the only one. Frustration bubbled over into honesty. "Stop with the 'lady' crap, all right? My name is Selina." That earned her a pause, Delia blinking; she had to know that Catwoman didn't just go around handing out her real name. Selina continued, "And I know, okay? I've been her friend for long enough, I've seen Harley leave him and go back and get the hell beaten out of her more times than I like to think about. This is different. She's never beaten him into a coma with a chair before. His skull was fractured, Delia. You don't get it; no one in Gotham messes with Joker. Not more than once. Every scary psychotic bastard in town treads carefully around him. And Harley came within a hair's breadth of killing him. She's not going back; she can't. Even she knows that he'll kill her if he catches her, and probably mail identifiable pieces of her to every precinct in town."
"All right," Delia said roughly, her brows furrowed. "God, you don't have to… She's still my sister."
"She has to get out," Selina said, conviction trembling in her tone. "I just gave her a quarter of a million dollars to help her, and trust me, I don't usually do the Robin Hood thing like that. Poison Ivy's already packed her bags – he's gunning for her, too, and frankly I'd bet on her in a fight, but I'm trying to help them disappear. And the only way I can convince Harley to go is if she sees you first. So turn the defensiveness down a bit, all right?"
Delia bit her lip, and the expression on her face said she was still thinking about the whole 'pieces in the mail' bit. Which had been melodramatic, yes, but not inaccurate. "Okay, I just … look, you don't know what it's like. I married a lawyer. I've tried to have a safe, sane, stable life, mostly for those girls. I love my sister, I always have – she's been a pain in the ass her whole life, but I love her. Watching her do this, it's like … watching someone cut my own arm off, bit by bit."
Selina could sympathize with that more than she wanted to. "You have to keep her at a distance, because if you don't, you get hurt. And it's worse for you, you've got a husband and two daughters to worry about. I understand, you have to protect them."
"Yeah," Delia said shakily. "Look, I … I want to believe she means it this time. Nothing would make me happier. I just … it's hard. I've learned not to trust anything, where she's concerned. It's like having a junkie in the family, they always say they're getting clean, and they always relapse. And there's nothing you can do for them, until they wanna quit."
Comparing Harley's relationship with Joker to a drug addiction was surprisingly accurate. "Trust me, she's quit now. There's a price on her head in Gotham that makes everyone nervous." Selina shivered; she didn't even dare go to the Iceberg now. Everyone knew the girls were her friends, and that bounty was very tempting.
Delia sighed. "What made it different, this time? What finally made her snap?"
A deep breath, and Selina told her, "Harley's protective, too. Must run in the family. The bastard shot one of her hyenas. If she hadn't needed to get her baby to the hospital, she would've finished the job right then."
Something shadowy crossed Delia's eyes. "There is that. Harley might not be within shouting distance of sane, but at least she knows that monster isn't father material."
Selina started to nod, and then stopped abruptly. Things suddenly made sense: Harley's insistence on coming here, Delia's fierce protectiveness, the fact that she hadn't seen either of the girls. A certain period of time where Harley had been absent from Gotham for over six months. And the fact that Delia's two daughters were named Rachel and Lucy. Selina had only skimmed the information she could find on the family, but she was willing to bet Lucy's legal name was Lucille, after Lucille Ball. The same way Bud and Lou were named for Bud Abbott and Lou Costello. "Oh my God," she whispered, eyes going wide. "Lucy's her daughter?"
Delia scowled. "I thought you already knew. You said she was your friend."
"She is, but I'll bet no one knows. Maybe Ivy, but no one else. That's something she hid deep; the fewer people know, the safer the girl is. If no one else knows, no one can point him at Lucy, not even under torture." Selina shuddered; she didn't like carrying dangerous knowledge, and this was worse than the nuclear codes.
At last, Delia gave a stern nod. "I'm not surprised she sent you in here to negotiate without telling you. It's just like Harley. All right, fine, if she's serious about leaving the country, I'm sure she wants to see the girls, too. My husband can't know – he'll have a fit and tip off the police – but we can make arrangements somehow. The girls are both on winter break, we can come to Gotham, or maybe all meet in Metropolis."
Selina winced again. "Delia … she wanted to talk to you today. Harley's waiting in the car half a block away."
Oh, the cold glare that got her! "You left my unstable, unpredictable idiot of a sister alone in a car for this long? There's police patrols every half hour! We're lucky she hasn't gotten nervous and blown something up out of sheer stress!"
"We would've heard an explosion," Selina replied.
"You should've led with the fact that she was here," Delia hissed. "God, I can't have her spotted near the house. Please tell me she's disguised enough to pass for an ordinary Brooklynite?"
"You don't see me wearing cat ears, do you?" Selina shot back. "Come on. We had to go through toll booths to get here."
"Fine, fine. Meet us in the park in twenty minutes, at Ambergill Falls," Delia said hurriedly. "And tell her not to say a word to Lucy, okay? She's six. She doesn't need to know she's adopted until she's old enough to handle all the rest of the baggage that comes with it. I'll tell her, when it's time, but she doesn't need this now."
Selina nodded; she was getting a little nervous about leaving Harley alone this long, too. "I'll see you in twenty," she said, and let herself out as Delia headed upstairs to collect her girls.
…
Dinah couldn't help it; when the doorbell buzzed at Clock Tower in the middle of the day, she had her escrima sticks in her hands before she even looked at the cameras. And her throat was humming, which was even more concerning. She never used the canary-cry as a first line defense. It had too much potential for collateral damage, and besides, keeping it as a reserve last-ditch weapon meant that people tended to forget she even had it. Most enemies didn't plan on defending themselves against it.
But Joker was out, and while Dinah enjoyed a good fight, nothing Joker was involved in ever turned out good. So she was ready for the bad kind of fight, and grateful that Babs was actually deeply asleep for once. The bell would wake her if it rang again, and if Joker was on the camera footage Dinah would hit the red-alert lockdown and that would wake her.
She knew the security system well enough to bring up the camera feed, and saw two people standing outside. Dinah cursed under her breath, stowing the sticks, and hurriedly buzzed them in. Still not waking Babs – this was the first time in a week she'd slept more than three hours at a stretch – Dinah went to meet them at the elevator, her mouth turned down in a disapproving scowl and her blue eyes flinty.
The doors dinged open softly, and a high voice cried out, "Di! Hi hi hi!"
At the same time, Roy Harper grinned at her, both hands on his daughter's shoulders. "Hi, Mom."
He let Lian go, and she swarmed Dinah, who picked her up out of reflex. She kissed the little girl's jet-black hair, giving her a big hug. "Hey, sweetheart," Dinah said, her voice softening. Her eyes didn't, though, and she glared at Roy. "I told you it wasn't safe to come, this year."
"Yeah, well, you should know by now I don't listen real well," he replied. "All those years of not listening to Ollie, I just automatically tune out parental instructions. I must get that from you."
Roy stepped forward to hug her, too, and Lian giggled at being squeezed between them. Dinah huffed, but put her free arm around her adopted son. "You're incorrigible. And no one listens to Ollie because he's Ollie. I have better sense. Roy, I told you to wait it out, I'd come to you as soon as I could. Now you're here a day early? With the baby?"
"Not a baby," Lian grumbled, scowling at her, and Dinah kissed her forehead to mollify her.
"Look, Dinah," Roy sighed. "You know I've been through enough, I don't scare easy. I'm not worried about the situation here. There's a whole flock of Bats and Birds, we've got a Wonder coming in any day now, and rumor has it Gotham finally earned its own Super. Plus, now you've got me, and I'm not exactly a civilian. I haven't seen you in almost a year, I'm not gonna stay away for Christmas."
"You're a stubborn … butthead," Dinah said, changing her phrasing at the last minute for Lian's ears. "You'd think you were genetically a Queen."
Roy crossed his arms, putting on an air of offense. "More like a Lance, thank you very much. Also, where's my stepmother? I would've thought she'd be the first one yelling."
"Babs is asleep, for the first time in a while, and I'm not waking her for anything short of alien invasion or volcanic eruption," Dinah replied, raising her eyebrows. They both knew why Babs was under stress, right now.
"I wanna see Barb'ra," Lian said, frowning.
"Let her rest, squeaker, she works hard," Roy murmured, stroking her dark hair. "Barbara will be thrilled to see you later, okay? It's not like she's gonna be able to hide from you forever. She knows you'll track her down." With that, he winked at Lian, getting another giggle.
Dinah shifted Lian to her hip, and finally let herself smile at Roy. Catching him by the nape of the neck, she tugged him down and kissed the top of his head. "All right, my stubborn child. Despite everything, I'm glad you're here."
"Glad to be here," Roy said with a warm smile.
"Let me see what we have in the way of lunch, and I'll bring you up to date," Dinah replied. "God knows Bruce isn't going to part with any more information than he has to."
…
Harley shoved her hands in her pockets, staring at the waterfall. She'd felt far too exposed walking into the park; despite her wig and makeup, and a wool cap and sunglasses too, she couldn't shake the feeling that people were staring at her. Selina, at her side, had looked perfectly at home strolling along the street, and Harley had taken a measure of comfort from that.
Now she was here, hyper-aware of every jogger that passed them, trying to focus instead on a handful of chilly-looking starlings stopping in to drink from the pool kept open by the moving water. Selina stood close enough that their elbows touched, eyeing the birds, and Harley leaned into her gratefully. "This's real nice, now," Harley said. "It was a swamp, when I was a kid. The water didn't even really flow, and people left trash on the trails. The big restoration project hadn't gotten here yet. But now? It's real pretty. Like the mountains upstate."
"It is nice," Selina agreed. This part of the park felt like being in the deep woods, someplace entirely wild. There were trees around them older than the park itself, and Harley thought Ivy would've loved the place. She hadn't come along, thinking the three of them together would be too risky. Ivy was the hardest to hide. Harley still missed her; Selina was a good friend, but Ivy was her security, right now.
A nervous silence passed, and then Selina spoke again, in a soothing murmur. "They'll be here."
"Or the cops will," Harley replied dolefully.
Selina shook her head. "She knows that calling them would be risking your life. Relax, Harley. I think she wants to see you, too."
Harley gave a jagged laugh, a little too loud, and clamped a hand over her mouth until it passed. "Yeah, no. She doesn't want anything to do with me. She's made that very clear."
"She has the girls to protect," Selina pointed out. "I get the feeling she loves you, Harley. She just doesn't live in our world."
"She shouldn't have to. Delia didn't ask for this. I shouldn't have come here, I shoulda left them alone." Harley shivered, hunching her shoulders inside her coat. It was selfish of her to want this, but damn, she didn't know when she'd be able to come back. If she'd be able to come back. If she'd even make it out in the first place. She loved Lucy with all her broken messed-up heart, and knew that the best thing she could do for her daughter was stay away. That was its own special kind of hell, right there.
Selina wrapped an arm around her, chafing her shoulder lightly. "Well, you're here now. Pull it together, Harls. They'll be here any minute." Harley turned and leaned her forehead against Selina's shoulder, silently grateful. She hadn't even said anything about the secret Delia had revealed, and Harley had expected a freakout over that. Selina was taking it very well, and being a really supportive friend about the whole crazy situation. Harley couldn't help feeling like she didn't deserve it.
Each minute stretched into hours, until Harley heard a familiar voice on the Esdale bridge, headed their way. "No, the carousel's closed, girls. We're going for a walk. We can stop for lunch on the way home."
Her stomach swooped like she was on the Cyclone, her very first adrenaline rush, and Harley turned hopeful eyes toward the three coming toward them. Delia, God, Delia looked just the same as ever, and Rachel was getting so tall, look at the leg on that kid! She must've been almost ten by now. And…
Harley shivered. Lucy looked like her, like a photo from her past come to life, right down to the way she hooked her thumbs into the loose fabric of her coat. Her blonde hair spilled out from beneath her hat in the same golden fall that Harley remembered from her youth, and she had the same bouncy energetic walk.
Delia was leading the girls along the path to the falls, and she clearly saw both of them waiting for her. She'd seen Selina less than half an hour ago, she'd be looking for the long black coat that draped her elegantly. Harley saw her eyes light on Selina, assessing, then flick to Harley.
She slowed down, looking, and Harley looked back, feeling awkward. Too young and too loud and too smart and too everything, the way she always did around Delia. There were only two years between them, but somehow Delia had always managed to be practical and poised, while Harley was … neither of those things. Ever.
Delia stopped a little distance away. Both girls looked at them curiously; it had been years since Harley saw them last. Rachel might remember her, vaguely, but the hat and glasses and wig would stump her. Lucy couldn't possibly remember. She was only six; her last meeting with her mother had been half her lifetime ago.
"Fancy meeting you here," Selina said, breaking the silence.
"Who're you?" Rachel asked.
"Girls, that's the lady who came to see us a little while ago," Delia said, her voice controlled and calm, her eyes fixed on Harley. "And that's your Aunt Harleen."
Oh, right. As if everything else wasn't turning her world upside down, she had to be Harleen again, too. "Hey, Delia," she said, her voice sounding rusty. "Long time no see."
Rachel frowned, glancing from one to the other. "I thought Dad said we couldn't talk to Aunt Harleen. Or about her."
"Yeah, Dad did say that," Delia sighed. "But she's my sister, not his. We might not be able to see her again for a while, so I figured we'd have a visit, while we can."
A pause, and then Rachel asked, "Do we have to keep this a secret?"
"No. No secrets. Daddy will be mad at me, though, not you," Delia immediately replied.
"I don't want Daddy to be mad at you, Mom," Lucy said, and she even sounded like Harley. The only thing that was different was her eyes, a bright jewel green, and Harley knew exactly where she'd gotten that color. Please God let that be the only thing she'd gotten from him.
Delia heaved a sigh. "Some things are worth getting mad about, sweetheart. Don't worry, it's grownup business. And you never have to worry about grownup things until you are a grownup. That's my job."
"You're a better mom than ours ever was," Harley said, smiling shyly.
"Yeah, that's not saying much," Delia laughed. "Come on, let's walk. These two need the exercise."
"But Mom, it's cold," Rachel said.
"So walk faster, you'll get warm," Delia replied. And then despite insisting on keeping this meeting in motion, she crossed to Harley and wrapped her in a firm hug.
Harley threw her arms around her sister, and she was still wearing that same perfume David had gotten her years ago for Christmas, she still smelled the same and felt the same and for one heartbreaking moment Harley wanted to spin the clock back and never go to Gotham, never take that internship, never cross paths with madness. She choked back a sob, squeezing Delia tight.
"You can't cry, all the makeup will come off," Delia scolded, and God that was so her, practical as ever. Harley found herself laughing instead.
They got moving, the girls bouncing around the path slightly ahead of them, Selina fading back to one side. "Thanks for coming," Harley said quietly.
"How could I not? You're mishpocha, Harleen." Delia glanced at her sideways, and smiled a little sadly. "Your feline friend there says you're leaving the country."
"Yeah, I think I'm gonna hafta," Harley admitted. "I literally can't show my face in Gotham right now. Too many people after me. And for doing something good, for once."
Delia huffed a breath out of her nose. "You got a weird definition of good, Harleen. But we're not talking about that in front of the girls."
Harley glanced at them carefully; Rachel and Lucy weren't paying much attention to the conversation, but she understood Delia's reluctance. They shouldn't have to worry about grownup things. "I wish I'd finished it. You tryin' to tell me that wouldn't be a good thing?"
Surprise bloomed on Delia's face, and Harley's mouth twisted into a rueful smile. She'd never been quite this adamant; tearful, heartbroken, frightened, sure, but never this angry. Never this cold. Delia finally said, "I can't say that, Harleen. C'mon, what we're talking about? You'd be better off, yeah, maybe a whole lot of other people would be better off too, but I can't say that's a good thing."
Harley nodded slowly, understanding. Delia couldn't conscience murder. And she knew how much blood was already on Harley's hands. That was why she'd been rude to Selina, who'd gotten in the car muttering about what a bitch Harley's sister was. Harley disagreed; Delia was a real balabusta, a woman who took care of what was hers, and made sure everyone knew it. Harley had given Lucy to Delia not just because she was her only remaining family. She'd done it because she'd known Delia would love Lucy fiercely, and protect her from everything and anything, and make sure she never turned out like Harley.
Bittersweet, to know her daughter was being raised to be everything she hadn't been, but maybe that gave Lucy a better chance in life. Any chance to escape what her parents were, Harley would have given her.
"I brought Chanukah presents and gelt," Harley said, changing the subject before she got maudlin. "They're in the trunk. I didn't want to carry bags through the park though."
Delia nodded. "We still celebrate both. I was worried they'd be confused, with a Christmas tree and a menorah, but they're young enough they just like the presents. Besides, the school's really diverse, they've got friends from all over the place."
"That's good," Harley murmured, and they fell silent again. They were walking up toward Sullivan Hill, the girls still ahead of them.
"So where are you going?" Delia asked.
Harley shook her head. "I can't tell you. Besides, we're not even sure. It's got to be a long way away, and we've gotta hide deep. He'll be looking for me."
Delia kicked through a pile of wet leaves, and asked reluctantly, "I understand. Just … does he know you have a sister?"
That brought Harley to a dead halt, and she felt like the whole world had just dropped right on top of her chest. "Oh, God. I don't … I never told him, but it's not like… People forget how smart he is. Shit, Delia, he might know. He might find out."
"Then it's a good thing no one knows we're here," Selina said from right beside her. She glanced between the two women, then looked at the girls, frowning. "You've got police protection, right, Delia?"
"Yeah, but it didn't stop you," Delia pointed out.
Harley started to rake her hands through her hair, remembered she was wearing a wig, and just clutched a handful of it worriedly. "Ah, shit, Selina, we gotta get them outta town too. We're gonna hafta hit another bank…"
"No," Selina said, even as Delia shook her head at the notion. "Harley, we can't. We only got away with the first one because they weren't expecting it. Batman's watching the banks, I'm sure, and no one in town will launder the money. Penguin did us a favor, but his starting price was fifty percent – where we are now, he wouldn't touch it even for that much."
Scowling, Harley told her, "Then we get Delia and the kids out, and Pam and I make a run for it. We can do it without the startup, just hit a bank someplace they don't expect us…"
"And leave a trail for him to follow? No, Harley. Look, I'll get my boyfriend on it."
"Which one?" Harley asked, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud. She knew who she'd sound like. Bruce Wayne might have enough money to hand over, but he wasn't good for much else. And Batman … well, shit, if Batman could stop Joker, he would've done it already.
"Both of them," Selina said, and she and Harley ignored Delia's skeptical look. "Look, the playboy's got property all over the place. I'm sure I can find a house somewhere safe. And the Bat can make sure they disappear without a trace."
"Hold on," Delia said. "You want me to pick up my whole family, including my husband who doesn't even know we're talking about this, and move them into … off-brand witness protection? A week before Christmas? Are you serious?"
Selina was the one who rounded on her, glancing ahead to make sure the girls were out of earshot. "When Joker realizes that Harley isn't in town, he's going to be furious. You don't understand, his reputation took a major hit. His freakin' sidekick damn near took him out. He has to kill her, or the rest of them will tear him apart. And sooner or later, he's going to think of you."
"He's gonna think of you, too, Selina," Harley whispered, shivering. She hadn't thought far enough ahead.
"Yeah, but I've got nine lives," Selina said breezily. "I'm a little freaked out, yeah, but look who I run with. I've got the whole bunch of Bats – and Hood's more than a match for him. Hell, if it comes down to it, I'm pretty sure Blur would punch his clock. I heard a different version of how it went down at the school, Harley."
"Do I even want to know about a school?" Delia asked sharply.
"Considering I dimed him out when I realized he was going after kids, no," Harley shot back, and saw Selina's eyebrows go up. Hadn't admitted to that one yet, either. All of her secrets were coming out, and that was just another reason to skip town and go someplace greener. "You should come with us, Selina. We make a good team. And I'm worried about you, staying in town. This is gonna put him way over the top."
"We always knew it would," Selina replied. "I've got it, Harley. If push comes to shove, I'll call B-man's other woman and ask her to take out your ex. She'd love for me to owe her that big. Having the Queen of Assassins for a rival has to be useful for something."
Harley winced a little, and Delia sighed. "For my own mental health, I'm gonna forget like half of this conversation. Oy vey, Harleen, could you be any more complicated?"
"Look, I didn't mean to get this far into it," Harley said. "I just … fell in love with the wrong guy."
"At least you fell in love with the right girl, eventually," Selina said, with a small smile.
Delia shook her head again, holding her hands out. "Still a super-villain, but okay. It's an improvement. She's not Jewish though, is she?"
Harley scoffed. "Like you can talk. You married a goy! Just being named David doesn't make him Jewish."
"And I heard about it from Mom every single time we spoke, right up until she got sick, even though we're raising the girls interfaith," Delia said. "I was just kidding, anyway. You're all talking about assassins, I needed to lighten it up."
"Speaking of which, Selina, will you get in touch with Floyd? Tell him I miss him?" Harley smirked, and added, "I know he misses me, and he better keep missing me."
"Don't want to know," Delia sighed, and realized the girls were almost out of sight. She set out after them, walking briskly. "Come on, enough of this. I'll talk to David tonight. We can probably get out on our own."
"I'll be in touch, just in case," Selina said.
Harley caught her hand, and smiled. "You're a damn good friend, you know that?"
"I try to be," Selina said.
"Come on," Delia said again, more gently this time. "You wanted to talk to the girls, I know. We'll deal with grownup stuff later."
Harley reached out, and took Delia's hand, feeling for a second like she was bridged between her two lives, half Harleen and half Harley, with her sister on one side and Catwoman on the other. "Thanks for letting me see them," she murmured.
Delia's eyes softened. "I know you love them both. I know you love her. It's just … we don't talk about it, much. The whole situation. I don't want her to know anything until she's old enough to understand. Mostly 'cause I don't want her to hate you, or something. She's still your baby, Harleen."
The last was said so softly that Selina probably didn't even hear it, but it broke Harley's heart nonetheless. Lucy was Delia's daughter, she'd known the moment she handed the girl over that it had to be that way. For Delia to acknowledge this now … it validated how much Harley loved her little girl.
And she was only going to get an hour or so with her, before they left. Harley steeled herself, knowing she was going to cry later, probably have a full-on breakdown. Talking to her daughter, not telling her the truth, just pretending to be her aunt, would hurt almost as much as giving her up in the first place. At least Delia gave her this much.
It was worth it, though, for something good to have come out of all the pain and madness.
…
Mid-week was not a busy time for this particular restaurant; they did most of their trade on the weekends, but there were enough regulars in on weeknights to keep them afloat. Like many other establishments in downtown Gotham, they paid a premium for doing business. For the last six months, that premium had been paid to two men in suits who came in, stopped at the hostess stand, received an unmarked envelope full of cash, and then left. The owner assumed they were Falcone's men; the masks were more ostentatious.
The owner had made another assumption, and that was that paying the ten percent premium acted as a kind of insurance. Normally that would be the case, but these days in Gotham, the rules were changing.
The dishwasher, Paul, had just taken out the used fryer oil, lugging the heavy tray back inside, and the first indication anyone had that something wasn't right was the fact that the door failed to close behind him. He balanced the tray on the edge of an empty sink, and turned with a sigh to yank the heavy door closed.
Like a magic trick, three men had appeared in the washroom behind him. Two of them might as well have been invisible, because the one in the middle was the Joker.
The dishwasher was twenty-two, fresh out of prison on drug and assault charges, and his employment options were limited, so he'd taken this dirty and exhausting job. He expected a certain amount of grinding at lower levels, until he could show a solid work history and get something else, something better. Looking into the Joker's eyes, he suddenly realized that this might become his last job.
"Hi there," Joker said cheerfully. "Sorry to burst in on you like this, but I have an urgent meeting with your manager in five minutes. Didn't want to be late, going through the front. Besides, starting a riot is bad for custom." He smiled, and the smile went way too far back, like his face was about to peel back from his teeth.
Paul felt his knees getting loose, and his bladder was suddenly heavy, throbbing. "Manager's not in," he managed to say.
"Oh, now that's too bad. I hate to be kept waiting. Who's in charge? Maitre d'? Head chef? Someone like that?" Joker's voice was still perfectly calm and level, but the two guys with him had their hands on their guns. Somehow Joker was scarier, for not being armed at all. Paul's throat had gone dry, and worse, his mind had gone blank. He knew the names of everyone who bossed him around, but at the moment, he couldn't remember them. Then Joker took a long step forward, and suddenly he was much closer to the dishwasher than he had been before, too close.
Before he could think about scrambling backward, there was a knife under his chin, one he hadn't even seen Joker draw. "What's wrong, cat got your tongue?" he asked silkily, and then something changed in Joker's eyes. "Nasty little thieving animals, cats, aren't they? But like the adage says, there's more than one way to skin one. And I find a nice fluffy rug helps a lot, on those cold winter mornings. But listen, pal, if you don't cough up a name, I'm going to have to check on the state of your tongue myself. A little cut riiiiight here–" The knife pressed in, hard, under the shelf of his jaw– "and it just flops right down to your collar. Not exactly fashionable anymore, red ties are out this season, but functional."
"Pleasedon'tkillme," Paul whispered, and the name arrived in his mind then, just as Joker increased the pressure. "Anton, the maitre d' is in charge when the manager's out. He's in the office. Please don't kill me, Mr. Joker, sir."
That won him a horrifying smile, and Joker withdrew the knife, clapping him on the shoulder in a friendly way. "And where's the office, my fine young friend?"
Paul's teeth were chattering, but he managed to point. "That hall. Second door."
"Thank you very much," Joker said politely, and turned away. The two men with him glanced at him, then dismissed him and followed their boss. A moment later, he heard a door kicked in, the cut-off beginnings of a shout, and then a lot of thumping and scuffling. Paul had both administered and received beatings, he knew what he was hearing, but what undid him was the whimpering. Anton was a cold-hearted bastard, he'd dismissed Paul's prison ink with barely a glance, and not even the head chef – six-five with biceps like a power lifter – intimidated him. If that was Anton whimpering as they did whatever they were doing…
It was five minutes later, still standing rooted to the spot and shivering as if the back washroom was freezing instead of uncomfortably warm with steam from the big dishwashing machine, that Paul realized he'd pissed himself. And he didn't even know when.
…
Jay woke up, slapping at his phone until the alarm stopped beeping and buzzing, and laid in bed for a few minutes. He just wanted to go back to sleep … but he'd stayed at the Manor, and he didn't want to miss breakfast. Not as if Alfred wouldn't make another plate just for him; he hated to put the butler to that much trouble. And if he was honest with himself, he liked eating in company with the rest of the family, however many of them happened to be here. Around the holidays everyone tended to drift in and out anyway, and right now there was the added concern of Joker being loose in the city. Everyone was on edge; Joker was trying to make some kind of statement, and apparently trying to lure Harley out of hiding, too.
There'd been those two murdered women, and then a sudden change in the gang situation. A whole ten blocks that used to pay up to the Falcones now paid Joker instead. More recently, a car bomb at a police station. The car had been loaded with fireworks in addition to barrels of ANFO and diesel fuel mixture, so the resulting explosion was surreal and macabre. The hood of the car had been recovered almost intact, blown off in a single large piece. Despite the charring, the police had been able to discern the leering face painted on the inside of the hood – one of Joker's trademarks. Several boxes of playing cards in the trunk hadn't survived so well, raining down like confetti while the fireworks whistled and boomed.
What chilled Jay the most was when they recovered the car's VIN, and found it that Dick had owned it briefly. He'd needed a vehicle that fit with the Wayne playboy image at the time, and had sold it six months after he bought it, finding it too small to comfortably drive. That had been years ago, and the Porsche coupe was eventually traced to the junkyard it had landed in after the fourth owner totaled it. Joker had somehow acquired that specific car – there was no bill of sale at the junkyard, no explanation for why it was missing from their inventory – and it might have been a coincidence. Joker liked sports cars, too.
None of the Bats believed in coincidence. Not when Joker had also set fire to a library Babs had worked at. Was he aiming at the commissioner's daughter and an officer of the Blüdhaven PD, or did he know more? Not knowing was making Jay antsy.
It made all of them antsy. Selina was disappearing at odd times, going off the radar entirely for days at a time, and they all knew she was in regular contact with Harley and Ivy. Jay wondered if Bruce couldn't track her, or if he was letting her act unhindered because she had a chance of keeping Harley away from Joker.
Word on the street was that the bounty on Harley's head was now over ten million. Twenty, if she was brought in alive. Jay hoped like hell she was taking Selina's advice, and getting the hell out of Gotham.
And all of those dark speculations would curdle the rest of his day, if he let them. Fortunately his phone chirped, and he opened it to a text from Kala. God, she was literally a ray of sunshine in his life right now, even if she couldn't physically be here. Not yet, anyway.
The text was another in a series they'd started after his last nightmare. It had been hard on the both of them, being separated this much at a time like this. The first had been a bit of a joke, being able to see each other first thing in the morning, but it was comforting in its way. Even if they weren't together, it did make a difference to know that they were both a text away. Morning, Red, Kala had sent, with a photo of herself. It was earlier in California, and she was still in bed, snuggled up all cute and drowsy-looking, her wavy hair all over the place. The duvet was tugged up to her chin, but what he could see of her shoulder implied that she'd slept topless.
Well, hell, so had he. Jay raked a hand through his hair until it looked a little less disheveled, and rolled over, snapping a couple photos before he found one that looked sleepy and sexy. He sent it to her with a smile on his face. Morning to you too. Thinking about just staying in bed.
Imagining Kala laughing at him – or biting her lip looking at that picture, and what had she done to him that he was willingly and enthusiastically sending lewds for God's sake – was better for his mental health than contemplating the same things that had kept him up late last night.
Evil. Wish I was there. You'd mention that when I'm how far away? Her reply made him snicker, and then she sent another photo of herself. On her side this time, the duvet pulled down, but she'd tugged the pillow to her and wrapped her arm around it as if was him, snuggling her face against the fabric. She was definitely topless, though nothing scandalous was on view; they never sent anything too racy, especially not with their faces in frame. It didn't matter, he knew the view very well. The message accompanying that shot was simply, Is it the 25th yet?
The date was getting closer, and Jay knew she only had a couple more shows left. Some promotional stuff and business stuff for the label after, though. Another week before she was free. Not yet, Princess. You have to wait for your present, he sent back. And then, laughing, he threw the covers back, sat up, and took a shot of the overhead view, making sure his boxers covered everything. Wish you were *right here*, he sent with that one, knowing she'd know he meant in his lap.
You are the worst kind of fucking tease, she sent back, and Jay laughed. A few minutes later, she sent him another photo, taken over her shoulder in the mirror. Her hair spilled down her back like a midnight waterfall, and she was looking over her shoulder with that wicked expression he knew so well.
She was only wearing a pair of panties, bright green with red trim, and 'Sleighin' It' written across her butt in large silver letters.
Jay stopped laughing; the damn joke panties had no right to be that damn sexy. Kala had never sent a photo with that much skin and her eyes in the same shot. It was too risky, for a celebrity. You win, you're the worst tease, he sent back, and added in a separate text, Definitely gonna be late for breakfast now. No photo, because there was no hiding what she did to him.
Same, she replied, and he could hear her sigh in his mind. Goddammit, I miss you. Ready to be there already, arrived at his phone a moment later.
I miss you too, Jay sent her. Counting the days, K.
Counting the *hours*, she replied. Not much longer now. I'm sorry it's been this long.
Not your fault, he told her. Gonna make sure I get you a present I know you'll like. And wrap it special for you. They make ribbed AND tingling now.
She sent him a string of cry-laughing emojis, and then, Still can't top the present I have for you. Even if it's the same thing I got you for your birthday.
Oh shit, are we re-gifting now? Are we that lame? Jay asked, and spent a few more minutes joking back and forth with her.
Still, that shot in the mirror … he took a little longer in the shower than he should've. It was supposed to be just a quick way to wake up before he stumbled down to breakfast.
When he got downstairs, things were suddenly very damn awkward, because Kala's parents were in the great foyer with Bruce and Alfred. Of all the fucking times for them to arrive… Dick had dropped in, too, and he was positively beaming at Clark as usual. All of them were grouped together in a very festive scene, the evergreen boughs and red ribbons already up in the front of the house. He remembered then that the crew Alfred always had in to decorate the whole Manor were due to be in today and tomorrow, tasked with making the place holiday-perfect, God fucking help everyone.
Jay froze on the stairs at the thought, trying to decide if he should slink back to bed or just brazen it out, and knowing all along it was already too damn late. No one could sneak past a Kryptonian. Still, did he have talk to them when he already knew which panties their daughter was wearing this morning?
Shit, was it like this for Kala whenever she had to deal with Bruce?
Dick and Bruce both noticed him at the same moment, and looked toward him expectantly. Jay sighed, knowing he was screwed, and made himself continue down the stairs. Fuck. "Hi. Merry Christmas, and all that."
"Merry Christmas," Clark said warmly, while Jay tried not to think about sexting the man's daughter ten minutes ago. Knowing she was the biggest daddy's girl in the entire world didn't help either. That just made everything extra super awkward, to make a Robin-worthy pun.
And his obnoxious-ass brother, the fuckin' Smiley Robin, was not helping matters. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Dick laughed. "Sorry, with everything going on we forgot to tell you, it's the annual Lane-Kent Gift Drop-Off. Two Saturdays before Christmas, every year. At least you woke up in time. Think you've been good enough to stay off Santa's naughty list this year?"
Jay just stared at him, as Lois failed to stifle her laughter. "Yeah, no, Santa doesn't stop at my place, Dickie-Bird. Not after the tripwire in the chimney incident."
That won him a round of chuckles from everyone, and Clark said gently, "I do hope you like your gift. Everyone kept telling me to get you ammunition."
He managed to look the man in the face then. Hi, I'm totally out of my head about your favorite kid, and I just saw her next to naked, but let's pretend we don't all know about the first part of that. "I'm sure it'll be fine. I'm having yours delivered." Which was a convenient way of dodging the fact that he hadn't even thought about what to get Kala's parents. Or that he needed to get them gifts. Oh hell, did he have to buy stuff for her whole family? Most of whom he'd never met? Fuck, this was why he didn't do relationships.
Lois cut him an arch look; she'd evidently caught on to him. No surprise, considering she was the premier journalist among their set. And just as Jay met her gaze, he saw the same wicked grin and raised eyebrow that often presaged Kala's most deviant moments. He knew she was going to say something terrible, and now he knew exactly where Kala's wry humor had come from.
Dropping a wink, Lois snarked, "That's funny, I kept being told to get you condoms. Wonder why that is?" And no sooner were the words out of her mouth than she glanced toward Dick, who burst into full-on braying laughter. Clark, meanwhile, gasped out his wife's name in horrified disbelief.
And Jay couldn't stop himself. "Holy fuck! What the … don't do that!"
Lois snickered at him. "Oh, stop it, Jason; it's not like we don't all know. Might as well get it out there and let everyone freaking breathe. Everything's fine. Both her parents know Kala's a grown woman, we're not gonna demand that Bruce ground you or something."
"Lois," Clark muttered chidingly, and she turned jaded eyes on him. "Don't be cruel."
Jay almost laughed at the utterly exasperated look Lois shot her husband then. She heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes exactly as her daughter did. "No, cruel is dancing around it for another hour. Kal-El, a little birdie told me that Jay's been at least somewhat worrying for months that I'm gonna shoot him and you're gonna just snap him in half like a glowstick. Which is totally not the case. Let's get over it, okay?"
"Aww, the Big Bad Red Hood actually worries about his girlfriend's parents disapproving," Dick chortled.
"Shut the fuck up," Jay hissed, and he was close enough to jab Dick in the ribs. "You try dating someone whose dad can laser your dick off with a look!" Alfred chose that moment to clear his throat, and Jay winced, resolving to keep his swearing under a little better control. Even if his girlfriend's mom was dead set on making everyone around her uncomfortable while trying to alleviate the stress.
Meanwhile, Clark looked utterly confounded. And just as awkward as Jay was. "I promise you, the thought had never crossed my mind," he said earnestly.
Lois scoffed, her expression impish. "Yeah, now Nick might've gotten shaken like a rat, but he was twenty when Kala was sixteen. You're fine, Jay. Neither of us intend to break you two up like that."
That sounded so weirdly high school; his normal response would've been something like, I'll like to see you try. But these were Kala's parents and it was weird, and they'd never been around each other for more than five minutes since he and Kala had started … dating, let's call it dating. Never mind that both of them remembered him as a kid, and they both remembered his first run as Red Hood.
Lois' frankness startled some unexpected honesty out of Jay, too. "Except her brother."
Hazel eyes the same shade as Kala's narrowed, a flash of that aggravated expression again. "We're working on that. Jason is very overprotective. He's seen his sister almost die twice, and both times, she only survived because he was there. Don't worry, he won't come after you again."
"Not like I can blame him," Jay said with a shrug, utterly at a loss. Making polite holiday small talk just wasn't in his repertoire. Not like he'd ever been in anything close to this situation before. If he ever bumped into Rose's dad, he'd probably shoot Slade. Same for Ra's al Ghul, come to think of it – someone needed to shoot that crusty sonofabitch. Donna didn't have a dad, and he for damn sure wasn't gonna cross her sister. No way would he ever go to Themyscira and meet her mom, either.
"Don't worry, I blame him," Lois said, startling Jay. "Seriously, though, when everyone was telling us to get ammo, they told me you shoot exclusively nine millimeters. I never figured you had some kind of cop fetish going on."
Jay snorted at that. "It's not a cop fetish. I use 'em for the same reason cops use 'em. Plenty of power, relatively cheap, and widely available."
She arched a silvered brow just like one of Kala's darker ones. He had almost forgotten how much she liked to push buttons. "Oh yeah? I guess cheap and easy matters when you're spraying lead like an extra in a bad movie. You know 357 magnum is the best man-stopping round, right? And revolvers never jam."
He crossed his arms and glowered at her. "Oh, what, you're packing a Colt or something? This isn't the Wild West anymore."
Lois just grinned insolently. "Ladysmith, actually. We're a Smith & Wesson family. I bet you're a Glock boy."
Jay was just figuring out why she'd chosen to needle him – she was using common interests to put him at ease and diffuse the awkwardness – when Clark leaned in. "Lois, only one person in this family actually carries a gun."
"And it's a Ladysmith, which makes us a Smith & Wesson family," she replied staunchly, smiling at Jay.
"I do carry Glocks, thank you," he said. "Helluva lot more tactical than your revolver, but I guess it's the best choice for you. Smaller hands and all."
Her eyes narrowed at him. Oh, yeah, he'd hit home with that one. "I know you're not dumb enough to say girls can't shoot, Mr. Todd, but I should warn you, they've never found the last guy who called me short." Both brows rose then, Lois glaring at him in warning. Her husband just cradled his head in his hands, and turned to Dick to let them have at it.
"Oh, I'm not dumb enough to say that, either, even if our own scrawny Timmy has an inch or two on you," Jay chuckled. It was weird to hear her call him Mr. Todd, when that was usually Kala's line, and the sarcastic cadence was exactly the same.
"You always were a smart kid," Lois replied, eyes sparkling and a smirk to that he remembered all too well.
"Made some damn dumb decisions, though," he replied lightly. "Thinking I could teach your kid to shoot was one of 'em."
Lois chuckled at that. "You meant well. I can't blame anyone for trying to keep my little girl safe; God knows I try to do that, too. But you really should've thought about the fact that I have a permit to carry concealed, and I use it."
That rocked Jay back a little, and he looked more closely at her. Sure enough, her blazer was tailored just right – she could very well have a revolver on her. "Seriously, though. Did you really pack heat for a Christmas trip? With him?"
Some of the humor went out of her expression. "Luthor's always out there somewhere. And you never know when he'll have to save the world." Lois nodded in Clark's direction, deep in conversation with both Bruce and Dick. Her hazel eyes sparkled as she looked back at Jay shrewdly. "You're telling me you're not armed? It's not paranoia if they're really after you."
Jay laughed to hear the same saying he'd quoted before. "Look, I just woke up. I only brought two knives. My dad doesn't let us bring guns to the breakfast table."
Lois grinned at that,nodding. "I could see that around here. Sensible house rule. My dad used to strip his sidearm at the table. Drove my mom nuts; well-bred families just didn't do that. Her family ran in the same circles as Bruce's, y'know."
Cocking his head, Jay figured that made sense. Everyone heard about her father the general; having a blueblood mother just meant Lois Lane was comfortable in more places and circumstances, all that knowledge completely to her advantage in her line of work. And he suddenly understood why Kala knew how to waltz, and how much she liked dressing up for the upper-crust social events. "I'm having trouble picturing you dolled up for the debutante ball with a shoulder rig for the gun."
That earned him a delighted laugh. "Yeah, no, absolutely not my thing. My younger sister's the only one who would've been into the debutante thing. My dad made sure that didn't even occur to me. I'd rather go down to the range or find some other trouble to get into. Speaking of which, Mr. Cheap Anonymous Plastic Guns, I'll argue accuracy over volume with you at any range in town. Just say the word."
He gave her a skeptical look. "It's got, what, a three inch barrel at best? Get real, there's no accuracy on that. Now you wanna talk accurate revolvers, maybe a Colt Python…"
Lois sneered at that. "Oh, please. Pythons are for professional shooters and rich wannabes; they call them the Rolls-Royce of revolvers for a reason. They belong in a museum in this day and age. I drive a Mustang, not a Rolls, and I'm not target shooting with the damn thing. If Luthor's not close enough to hit with my Ladysmith, I'm not gonna be able to claim self-defense anyway."
Jay smirked a little. "Just don't stick around after you cap him."
She rolled her eyes, putting her index finger to her lips. "Hush, you. Not too loud. One of my best friends is a cop. If Luthor turns up dead in Argentina she's gonna look at me first. Not to mention, there's him and his idea of right and wrong on the topic." She indicated Clark with a grumpy nod.
Jay almost laughed at that. Yep, she might have gotten older, but Lois Lane had gotten no less fierce in the meantime. "That sucks," Jay admitted, and then looked at her shrewdly. "You have a Mustang? I see where the speed junkie genes come from."
Lois just smiled happily. "Fiftieth birthday present. The car's my age, and restored to mint condition. Kala mentioned you have a Charger, right?"
Clark cut in then to say, "You are not going drag racing. Not in that car, not against Jason Todd, not at all. I will pick you and the car up and put it on a roof somewhere." Lois just flashed him a grin full of vivacious mischief. He tried to scowl, but his eyes were too full of adoration.
Jay had to snicker there; in that one exchange, he saw exactly how the two of them combined to make his girl, and why their marriage was the envy of the entire JLA. Lois looked back at him, and their eyes met with total understanding. She, at least, fully approved.
"Are you always like this?" Jay asked, tilting his head to the side.
That had her chuckling, the blinding grin Lois shot him a spot-on match for his girl's. "To everyone's despair, yes. My daughter comes by it honestly."
Jay couldn't help laughing out loud at that.