Lucy Southard sat on her big sister's bed, listening to their parents argue. Apparently seeing their Aunt Harleen was a bigger deal than either girl had yet realized – but Rachel pretended she'd known this would happen. She pretended to know a lot of things. Chiraj at school said his big brother was the same way, so apparently it was just a big-sibling thing, having to be know-it-alls.
"So you hung out with your sister – the psycho, the murderer, the one you always told me you wanted nothing to do with – you hung out with her just like, a normal walk in the park, oh sure visit your nieces, not like there's a statewide manhunt on for her or anything," Daddy was saying. Lucy could hear him pacing back and forth. "And she brings Christmas presents for the girls, like this is normal. Oh yeah, and she brings Catwoman with her, too. Sure, why not, who's next? Just invite every nutjob crook in Gotham over for dinner. It'll be educational."
"David, stop," Mommy said, and her voice was tired. "They have a point. If he's hunting her, and can't find her, sooner or later he could come for us. We need to get out. The firm will give you leave."
"Permanent leave, when they find out my goddamn sister-in-law is Harley Fucking Quinn!" Daddy snapped, and Lucy's mouth dropped open. She'd never heard her father swear like that.
Rachel, beside her, gritted her teeth. "I didn't know she was that Harley," she whispered.
"What Harley?" Lucy asked. She'd heard the other woman call her aunt that, but not the last name. And that couldn't be a middle name, nobody had curse words in their name. It was probably illegal.
Rachel shook her head. "You're too little to watch the news."
"So are you!" Lucy shot back, indignant.
"David, would you please stop the histrionics?" Mommy said sharply. "I'm not risking the girls. We have to go. And there are worse things than spending a month in the Bahamas in some billionaire's spare condo."
Daddy laughed, but he didn't sound happy. "Oh yeah, a month. That'll be perfect. Here's a thought, that madman won't come after us unless he can't find her. Why didn't you just turn her in? You knew where she was going to be, and the cops are already patrolling."
Silence, for a few seconds, and Lucy leaned toward the door, listening. Her mother's voice had gone low and furious, as the girls had never heard it aimed at them. "She is my sister. If I'd turned her in, he'd know right where to find her, and this is not a game, David. You have no idea what he'd do if he caught her."
"I don't care about her," Daddy said coldly. "I only care about you, and those two girls. She made her own choices."
"She did. And she regrets them. But David, no matter what you think of her, we're in it now no matter what we do. If I'd turned her in and he learned she was caught in Brooklyn, don't you think he'd wonder why? She's tougher than anyone I know, she might not tell him, but he might still come looking to see what was so important to her. And we both know what he'd see."
Lucy frowned, and looked at Rachel. "What? Who are they talking about?"
"Hush," Rachel said, slipping an arm around her and hugging her tight.
"I don't understand," Lucy complained.
Downstairs, Daddy said the really bad word again, and then with an air of defeat he said, "Fine. Fine, I'll call the firm, we'll go. You call freaking Catwoman and tell her to set it up. Jesus Christ, what a mess."
"What's it mean?" Lucy asked her sister, aware that she'd probably get yelled at for pestering.
Instead Rachel just squeezed her close. "It means we're prob'ly going to the beach," she said. "Like a real beach, where it's warm and stuff."
And just as her older and slightly wiser sister suspected, that thought completely distracted Lucy from everything their parents hadn't said.
…
Kala had known she'd have to make this call, it had been inevitable, but she'd been finding every excuse in the world to avoid it. Dreading it on so many levels. But it was already the second week of December and making the final plans for her family's Christmas chaos were closing in. She'd wanted to give it more time, to not upset anything until she had to, but Lana had called last night to make sure she had the dates right, and Kala realized that she couldn't put it off any longer.
And just a text wasn't going to cut it, not after all this time. There had been no direct contact since he'd called her that night at Jay's; it had been almost a month since they'd spoken. She had to do this, no matter what happened. Kala owed him an actual call. After a morning spent on the promotional stuff she loathed – signing merch for fans was wonderful, signing it for auctions or giveaways was decidedly less so – she headed back to the hotel, flopped down on the bed, and studied her phone as if it might offer her a way out of her current predicament. For the hundredth time, she lost her nerve. Who knew, she might get lucky. Oracle might call her in. Or maybe Lex Luthor would figure out how to collapse the entire western coast of California into the sea, and she'd be too busy rescuing people to make this call.
The thought of the ocean chilled her. The Pacific was green and warm and picturesque, as she'd seen it from various hotel rooms in California, but Kala had no desire to go any closer to it than that. Or any other sea, really. Falling from the sky toward the sea was different, somehow; air was her element, she was fearless and powerful in flight. Dunked into the sea, with that salt-smell in her nose and stinging her eyes, she would panic.
And the thought of the sea was enough to make the phone call a tiny bit less nauseating by comparison. Taking a deep breath, Kala speed-dialed the familiar number – she'd never reprogrammed her number shortcuts – and listened to it ring. Once, twice, three times.
Kala dropped her head back, feeling like a coward as she closed her eyes with a sigh. She shouldn't be surprised, really; he could see who was calling, and might not answer. That might be for the best. She could just leave a message and…
The line connected, and Kala barely had time to brace herself before she heard his voice. "Hey, Kala."
She took another deep breath, and let it out shakily. After all this time, she was so used to him calling her 'mi Kala' - my Kala – that the absence of one syllable sounded like he'd gotten her name wrong. All she answered was, "Hey, Sebast."
Silence between them, growing heavier by the second, neither knowing what to say or where they stood. Sebast sighed, too, and finally said, "So I was in the basement the other day, and I found this bricked-up section with a big-ass bottle of cognac in it. Do you have another secret identity that's even more Goth, or do I need to look into the previous owners?"
Bless him for throwing her a life-raft to grab there. She laughed, catching the reference, and some of the nausea passed. "Yeah, no, not me. Wasn't the last family named Poe or something? Could've been them." On the whole, she thought she sounded good, not anywhere near as emotional as she felt.
"Never buy a house from a man named Eddie, that's my new motto," Sebast said. "Speaking of the house, I guess that's why you're calling, right?"
And here they were and she wasn't sure if she was relieved or saddened by it. "Honestly, yeah, part of why," Kala said, and only years of training kept her voice from trembling.
"Three weeks in Ponce, this year," he said. "I've got a cousin getting married and another with a baby on the way, so mis padres are making all kinds of plans. I was gonna call you this weekend, after we buy plane tickets, and give you the dates, 'cause I figured you'd want to come home for Christmas."
Again, that mismatched feeling: a part of her was grateful that he would be away for the season, making it impossible for them to hurt one another, and the other part more than a little hurt to not know which of his family was having these events. Hurt that, for the first time in years, she wouldn't be a part of the festivities, wouldn't be leaving with him to spend the week before Christmas in Puerto Rico. She'd been all right as long as she wasn't thinking about it. With that, she realized again just how far apart they had drifted since even the beginning of the year. "Yeah, but I know it's earlier than we usually do," Kala sighed. "Thank you, Sebast. I … I didn't want you to think I was going to try to kick you out for the week. No matter what else is going on, until we make some kind of decisions, it belongs to the both of us."
What he said next surprised her a little. "Yeah, it does. And it's gonna stay our house. We're gonna fix this, Kala." A pause, and in a softer voice he said, "Assuming you still want to fix it…?"
That was enough to make her want to burst into tears. Of all the ways she had seen it possible for this to go, Sebast being willing to forgive her hadn't been one of them. Kala didn't know how she'd feel if the shoe were on the other foot; likely, she would have been much less kind. But she jumped at the chance he was giving her. "Yes," she told him, and reined in the emphatic tone just a little. "God, Sebast, of course I want to fix it. I never wanted to screw it up in the first place! Sebast, I miss you. I never wanted you to leave leave. I just wanted you to leave the room at that moment. I was afraid…" She trailed off, not wanting to name what had frightened her the most: that momentary wrathful urge to toss him off the balcony. It had only been an instant, never something she'd seriously consider doing, no matter how provoked, but Kala feared her temper. And she was entirely too aware that she could bodily throw a grown man off a balcony, without even using her martial arts training.
"I know. I've started to understand a lot more, lately. And … I miss you, too, Kala," Sebast said.
It had been more than she had let herself hope for. The relief was almost painful. She bit her lip, hard, not to sob into the phone. No, she hadn't been prepared for this, but would she ever have been? Running a head through her hair, Kala took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. "Listen, Sebast. Do you think… Do you want to come back to the band?"
He laughed, and for a heart-stopping second Kala thought she'd asked too soon, too bluntly. But then Sebast said warmly, "Do I want to come back to the band? Mira, does my brother want the last churro every time Mami makes them? Fucking of course I want to come back to the band! The question is, do you want me back in the band?"
The world seemed to steady more than it had been since Denver, the askew angle leveling out. What a ridiculous question; would he ever know how ridiculous? Kala gave a reassured laugh, her voice shaky, but hope was blooming in her chest. "Hell yes I do, Sebast, I've been missing you like crazy. No one else matches my voice or my rhythm like you do. I'd never try to keep you out, no matter what was going on. I don't care whose initials are on the merch, this is our band. Ours. Yours and mine, the way it's always been."
"Good," he said. "I miss your voice, too. My family sing like drunk chipmunks. I miss doing impressions of Meatloaf songs with you."
Oh, that was a classic. Just the mention had Kala laughing again, remembering the one vodka-inspired rendition wherein she'd sung the male lines, and Sebast had produced a terrifying falsetto to match. It had been the last time Kala had let him even look at any whipped cream-flavored liquor. "Not going to lie, I miss all of it," Kala admitted, pulling her knees to her chin. She suddenly felt so damn lonely, wanting him here so she could drop her head on his shoulder. But that was something of the problem, wasn't it? "But Sebast … we have to be more careful."
"Yeah, I was thinking about that. It's going to be interesting, that's for sure. We need … boundaries, I guess. Which is weird to say, when we've gone and gotten Brazilians together. Whatever it takes, Kala, we'll figure it out." Sebast sighed, and she could hear him opening the refrigerator, a clink of glass bottles, then the subtle pop of a cap. One of the mango sodas he'd brought home from Ponce last year, she thought, and suddenly Kala could see their kitchen as if it were right in front of her. A powerful wave of homesickness swept over her.
Pushing that aside, she focused on the present. "Good. Because the label hauled me in and tried to pull some shit. I backed them off, but if you don't call them and start making plans, they're going to try and cut you out." Kala couldn't help the bitterness in her voice.
"Yeah, I'll unblock Jenna's number. It has to be after the holidays, but we'll work something out." Sebast scoffed. "Watch these bloodsucking sons of bitches try to make a PR stunt out of it."
"You know they will. And you know I won't let them." Another pause, warmer this time, but the inevitable loomed ahead of them. The conversation so far had felt almost back to normal, despite its gaps and all the things that remained unsaid. What she had to say next might implode that.
Kala closed her eyes, and told him, "Sebast … I have to tell you … you know I'm still with him."
The reply broke her heart as much as having made the statement in the first place. "I know. I also know you're not with me, and you never really were." His stark tone left both of them silent for a long moment, Kala blinking away tears.
She took a deep breath, again fighting to steady her voice. "And let's be real, Sebast, we both know it's more complicated than that, and that just saying it like that is a lie for both of us, and that's part of why we need to talk. But not right now. Not like this. It just … it wouldn't have been fair to you if I hadn't said something."
"I know. And I don't wanna talk about him, but hell – I want you to be happy. Looks like he makes you happy." Sebast's voice was bleak, though she could tell he was trying not to sound that way.
God, what a way to over-simplify things, as if only one thing could. "Sebast, you make me happy, too. Don't ever think that's not been the case. I was always happy with you. Being happy with each other is not what's up for debate here," Kala said, her voice shaking a little.
"No, what's up for debate is where we draw the line. Don't worry, Kala, I'm not gonna pull some stupid friend-zoned bullshit on you," Sebast reassured.
Why did hearing all of this hurt so much, when he was trying to reassure her? She knew, she knew she did, but this wasn't the time. It could wait. It would wait. "You act like I don't know you at all. That's not who you are," she replied, her voice hushed.
"Mi Kala, I don't know me lately. Hell, the mighty Queerfinder – he who can hook up in rural Arkansas – is all hung up over a girl? I'm only consoling myself because the girl is literally out of this world." That choice of words choked her up a little, since Jay had said much the same thing. Sebast continued, "The point is, I'm not gonna try to step on that. I don't give a fuck who he is – I pretty much know, by the way – but I'm not gonna put you in that position. No telenovela bullshit for us."
"Sebast, I'm more worried about hurting you with any of this," Kala insisted. "The last thing I'm worried about is you trying to pull something; it's not how either of us operates. I just don't want to somehow screw up somehow and hurt you again." It seemed surreal just to say that. She'd kept quiet about her feelings for him for so long, and now he was the one who wanted what he couldn't have.
Her plaintive reply to Jason echoed in Kala's mind, making her shiver. I want both … They both know me like no one else – but different sides of me. I need them both like I need both sides of who I am. It was so fucking selfish and she knew it, but she couldn't help it. Kala didn't want to lose either of them.
"Don't worry about hurting me, chula, I think I hurt you enough you're owed some payback," Sebast said. "It's gonna hurt, figuring this shit out. But it'll hurt less than walking away. Besides, now that I know, I can help you."
Her heart clenched at that, her hand going to her mouth in amazement; Kala didn't feel like she deserved that, after keeping her secret from him for eight whole years. Eight years while they shared everything, even a bed. "Sebast, I can't ask that of you."
"You're not asking, I'm offering," he countered. "C'mon, Kala, it'll be a lot easier to sneak out and save the world when I can cover your ass."
She let out a shaky laugh, the thought throwing her for a moment. Again, surreal. There had been times in their lives together when she had wanted that, the ability to just tell him exactly what was wrong, but to have Sebast offer that, like he had shared so much else with her? As much as she longed for it, there was a reason she never had. "Oh, Sebast, you don't know what you're letting yourself into. No, querido, I don't want you in this mess. And it is a mess."
"Shit, how bad can it be?" he shot back.
Might as well give him a taste of the insanity he was flirting with. Considering, Kala gave him the first example that came to mind. "Not that long ago I had to change in front of the band, and explain why I was bruised all to hell. I told them it was sparring, and they wanted to kick Jay's ass – which, yeah, nobody without a whole lot of training can even touch him. If I told them the truth, they'd lose their goddamn minds."
"What was the truth?" Sebast asked.
She laughed again, a manic edge to it. He was going to love the answer. "I got hit by a car."
"Fuck!"
"Yeah. That. You should see the kinda shit I've had to heal before I've come home. Sometimes it's an hour hanging over the Pacific, just getting sunned up enough to be presentable." Kala sighed, and decided to indulge a little. She found her cloves and lit one up, the sweet rough smoke soothing her nerves.
"Shit, if getting hit by a car is on the low end of the scale…" Sebast said thoughtfully.
"Dealing with my regular shit is hard enough. This stuff…" Kala trailed off, and took inventory. "Since the summer, I've been knifed, shot at, gotten my ribs kicked in, been bashed over the head with a police baton, got kissed by Poison Ivy and chewed on by Harley Quinn's hyenas, and got a lungful of fear toxin from Scarecrow. The car crash only left bruises, and I've had more of those than I can remember. My new suit's armored, but I have to be able to move, so it can't guard against everything. And I'm not quite as invulnerable as Jase. I probably won't die, but I get hurt." She didn't mention that some of those injuries had come from Jay himself, when he was still trying to convince her to leave the city. And she left her encounter with Joker completely off the list.
Sebast swore, in Spanish he'd never taught her, and then said, "I'm sorry, I'm still stuck on those three big names in a row. Madre de Dios, they took the training wheels off real quick, huh? Elise told me the Bats had all the scary bad guys, but damn, I would've thought they'd let you work up to it."
A laugh forced its way up her throat, but it sounded more like a sob, and Kala cut it off quickly. "Would have been nice, but not how it works in Gotham. Work your way up was never really an option. Sebast, considering what I am, I'm too useful for that. Hell, the minute they got me trained up, we went out to bust Black Mask's human chop shop. As in, kidnapping homeless kids and selling their organs to the highest bidder. I have seen things … fuck, there's a reason I don't want you around this." She felt tears forming, and scrubbed at her eyes angrily. The one part of her life where she could be normal was falling apart around her.
"Hey, mamita, I don't wanna be around it. All that shit you just read off like your grocery list? No way in hell am I gonna put on some tights and try to play sidekick. But I can help you. If nothing else, I can run interference with the boys while you're out solar-charging. And feed you ice cream and hold your hand when you've seen too much." Sebast's voice was steady, earnest, serious, and Kala yearned for the support he was offering.
In the end, she reached out, admitting what she knew was true. "I … I need that, Sebast. I need to keep a toehold in humanity."
"Yeah, Elise said that, too," he replied.
That made Kala pause, sitting up a little more in surprise. Only then did she realize he'd mentioned Elise twice. "Wait, when did you talk to Elise?"
"Right after I talked to you, when I was still majorly pissed. Full disclosure, I had a lunch date with your mom the other week, too. Between the two of them they gave me the lowdown on how to deal with this whole situation. Well, Elise pretty much ripped me a new asshole along the way, but I kinda deserved it." He sounded awfully self-deprecating, almost humble, and that wasn't like him. Her sense of unreality just deepened.
"No, you didn't," Kala protested. "You didn't deserve any of this."
Sebast countered, "Neither did you. You were just born with the skills, and had to use 'em. How can you not, when you know people need you? But damn, Kala, you gotta keep yourself in one piece and right in the head. Fuck, I'm trying to figure out how you did it for so long."
The answer to that was more simple that Sebast could guess and she found herself giving it without hesitation. "I had you," Kala murmured.
"You've still got me," Sebast answered.
And just as quickly, that became dangerous territory, and Kala tried to steer the conversation away from it. "Besides, 'right in the head' is up for debate."
"Well yeah, making a tour of the Gotham rogues' gallery during a concert tour isn't something any truly sane person would do." Sebast joked back.
Kala made a face at that, dropping backward against the pillows to stare at the ceiling. "Tip of the Iceberg. No pun intended," she replied, closing her eyes against the ease and still-strange honesty. Just having it out there was disorientating after all this time.
He chuckled, more easily than before. "Also, chewed on by hyenas? Ew. Why can't you go scrap with Catwoman? At least you like cats."
That got a genuine snort of amusement from Kala. "Oh, Catwoman's fine, she works with Bats sometimes. I actually like her. So does Mom, as a matter of fact. But I bet she didn't steal Mom's shoelace while talking to her. Nothing is safe around her unless it's nailed down – and I wouldn't put it past her to steal the nails." Kala smiled fondly, thinking of Selina.
"Jesus, she sounds like a god-tier thief the same way Oracle is a god-tier hacker," Sebast said, impressed.
Her dark brow furrowed at that. Now, wait just a damn minute… "You talked to Oracle, too?" Kala sat up at that, stung. Had everyone spoken to him before her? Next thing she knew, he'd be texting Jay.
She could almost hear him shaking his head. "Nah, Elise warned me my phone and laptop were being monitored, and I was surprised enough at that before the surprise guest voice popped up on the line. I guess it's a good thing the scary-smart people are on your side. She talked to me, more than anything, but hell. It's not like I'd go tell Capespotting or something."
"I never thought you'd do that," Kala hastened to explain. "But we have to account for the possibility anyway. People's lives are at stake. The minute one of the villains gets a clue who everyone is, they won't come for us. They'll come for our families. Mom would love another chance to shoot Luthor, but I can't risk Kristin. Or you."
"Yeah, well, I really don't want to get kidnapped. It's bad for my complexion," Sebast replied flippantly.
The retort took her by surprise, startling a ringing laugh from her, and the words I love you were on the tip of her tongue – that was so very Sebast, and her heart ached with missing him. But she couldn't say that, not now, not when it might mislead him.
Why was it so easy to say to Sebast, and so hard to say to Jay?
Sebast would say it back immediately, and mean it. The how of it was still up for debate, and that was treading across thin ice to bring that up now. Jay … Jay would implode. He damn near had a legitimate phobia of love. Kala remembered thinking it, falling asleep in his arms, but she was completely unaware that she'd spoken the words aloud.
Instead, Kala just said, "I miss you, Sebast. So much."
"I miss you, too, mi vida," Sebast said, the endearment slipping out. He seemed to catch himself, neither of them calling attention to it, and said in a much lighter tone, "We'll get this figured out. And I'll call Jenna and take my beating. I'll text you when I know the exact date I'm leaving for Ponce, okay?"
"Yeah, we will," Kala said. She smiled, remembering the last time she'd left him alone for a week, and added, "Make sure you vacuum before you leave, you fucking heathen."
"Just for that I'm gonna leave shrimp in the fridge," he shot back, and both of them laughed.
…
Donna took a deep breath and steeled herself for whatever reception awaited her at Wayne Manor. Oh, Dick would be glad to see her – he'd invited her, after all – and Alfred would be as courteously welcoming as ever. Tim would be fine, and Bruce would be distant and preoccupied as usual.
It was Jay she worried about, Jay who was finally back home for the first time since he'd … well, since he'd almost died. Jay whom she'd argued with over the phone last month for the first time in over a year, and not spoken to since. Jay whom she knew didn't handle awkwardness well, he'd crack a joke or try to piss her off rather than deal with being in the same room as her. Jay had never coped with emotional stuff well, not even as a kid, not even when anyone who knew him at all quickly realized he was driven by emotion. He deflected as much as possible, and Donna knew that since she was one of people who did know him a little better than most, he'd be on guard against her. One of his sayings came back to her, The best defense is a good offense, and Jay could occasionally be extremely offensive.
So when Alfred opened the door, she was on her guard, determined not to let Jay rattle her or infuriate her. Donna straightened her spine, as if she wore a sword down her back, and smiled back at the butler. "You are most welcome, Miss Donna," Alfred said.
"I'm very glad to be here, and to see you again," she said, impulsively taking his hand. Rather than shake, he clasped hers in both of his, his blue eyes twinkling.
Any further formalities were halted by a cry of "Donna!" and the sound of small running feet. Of all the receptions the Amazon anticipated, this hadn't been one – but it was the most welcome surprise imaginable.
Alfred stepped adroitly aside, and Donna moved in, dropping to one knee. "Lian! Sweetheart, I missed you!" The nine-year-old launched into her arms, hugging her fiercely, and Donna placed a noisy smooch against her hair that made her giggle.
"I missed you too," Lian said eagerly, wrapping her arms around Donna's neck in an eager squeeze. "Daddy said you were comin', so I waited."
Donna picked her up easily, balancing Lian on her hip, and looked at her thoughtfully. "You've grown up since I last saw you," she said, in a playful tone that made Lian giggle. "If you keep on growing, you're gonna be as tall as me next time!"
"Nuh-uh!" Lian laughed, and Donna's heart gave a fierce clench. The weight of this little girl in her arms, the bright intelligence in her gaze, the trusting way she let Donna hold her, all ached in her chest. If only she could've been arranging playdates for Lian and Robert… No, let it go, don't dwell on what might've been.
"It's all that Miracle-Gro I feed her," Roy said from the hall. Donna looked up and met his gaze, her expression softening.
Roy Harper had been through a lot, and it showed in his green eyes. Donna remembered him as a teenager – Speedy had definitely been a good moniker. All eagerness and hunger, seeking the next test of his skill, trying to prove himself. Perhaps more than any of them, he wanted to be a hero. His father, his first mentor, and then his partner Green Arrow had all been larger than life in young Roy's eyes, and he had told her once he felt himself scrambling to catch up with their legends. Meanwhile he was always so prepared, so competent, that some of the other Teen Titans felt a little shabby. Roy disabused them of that quickly; he was never pretentious or arrogant with them.
She and Roy had dated for a while back then – puppy love, nothing more. They were kids, even if they kept getting wrapped up in things that could save the world or end it. That kind of Titans drama had led them all to think they were grownups when really, they were just teenagers, with powers and skills that had aged them too soon. It had been sweet, with Roy, and if nothing else had ever passed between them, she'd still think of him fondly.
But other events had happened. The original Teen Titans broke up, they'd all drifted apart, and Roy had fallen in with a bad crowd. Donna had tried to keep in touch, but he'd rejected everyone for a while. And then Oliver Queen found out he was using drugs, and not knowing how to handle that, just threw him out.
Roy had eventually gotten clean with help from Dinah Lance, who was probably the reason he'd come to Gotham. And he'd rebuilt his life. There were more complications, of course – he'd been sent to capture Cheshire, not fall in love with her, and Lian was the result of that affair. Donna had met her when Roy tried to re-form the Titans, and she and Roy had dated again for a while. It was nice, being a mother figure to someone. Perhaps that was when she'd started yearning for a normal life, a husband and a baby.
But Donna couldn't have that with Roy. She did care for him, she did love him, but something always seemed to get in the way. It never ended badly, they just couldn't seem to find the time for a relationship. At least, not with each other. And of course, there was that stupid prophecy, words that turned her heart to ice when she looked at Roy pushing Lian on the swings. Even now, she shivered to remember Omen's blank eyes, her voice sounding as if it came from the bottom of a well, saying Donna Troy's red-haired husband shall die. As close as she and Roy had always been, it certainly seemed aimed at him, and Donna had always shied away from getting too serious. There were complications on her end, too. One of which was under this same roof.
Donna knew who the prophecy meant, now – she hadn't even thought of it when she met Terry, who'd been dyeing his hair to hide the first grays. But she was not going to get maudlin today. Not when she had the pleasure of Roy's company, and Lian's. She could enjoy them both for who they were, not merely as stand-ins for her ghosts.
Now Roy was a mentor to others, and still working as Arsenal. He'd grown up – they all had – and the expression in his green eyes was a little more world-weary. Roy still had his sense of humor, though, and Donna stepped forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Good to see you, too, Roy."
He slipped an arm around her waist and hugged her; they'd been through too much to be shy of each other now. "Right back at you, Donna. And I know the kiddo's happy, too." Lian beamed at him.
"How's everyone?" she asked, as Alfred nodded them toward the parlor.
"Pretty good," Roy said, reaching for Lian. She went into her father's arms gladly; he'd had sole custody since she was just over a year old. Donna couldn't imagine trying to do what Roy was doing. He never spoke ill of Cheshire to Lian, despite the fact that she was an assassin. And he let his ex see their child as much as possible. Roy insisted stoutly that they'd been in love, and that he still cared for her. Everything else, including the whole assassin and hero conflict, came secondary to their daughter's safety and happiness.
Donna also knew that Lian was a source of strength for Roy. Addiction was never really cured, he'd told her, only staved off each new day as the recovering addict chose a better path. It'd be too easy to fall again … except he looked into Lian's eyes, and wanted to be a good dad. A good example.
She ran a gentle hand through Lian's hair, tugging lightly at its silky length to make the little girl giggle. And then Roy fixed her with a serious gaze. "Donna, you should know – Jay's here. And he's invited Kala. She hasn't turned up yet, but…"
Letting out a sigh that seemed to come all the way from her toes, Donna said, "I expected as much. And I have something for her, too." Might as well get that drama over with, too.
…
Bruce wasn't in the house to meet Donna. He'd gone down into the Cave and was on the computer running some leads about Joker's activities. Currently coming up with nothing, but if he got enough data points he'd be able to predict the next attack.
From the trophy room, he heard Selina's voice. "Jesus Christ, Bruce! What the fuck is this?"
Why exactly did he happen to fall in love with women who could, and would, trespass on his most heavily-guarded secrets?
Sighing, he got up to find her, and discovered her in a back corner of the trophy room, staring intently at a statue. She didn't look around at his arrival, which he could've sworn was silent, but spoke to him anyway. "Seriously, I see why it's hidden in a corner. This is the ugliest damn thing I've ever seen. Bruce, what the hell? What is this? Other than hideous."
He stopped at her side, regarding the statue. Aesthetically, yes, it was unattractive. That was by design; the image was meant to evoke terror and disgust. The face was that of a vampire bat, with upturned nose, glaring eyes, fangs jutting from the open mouth, the tongue lolling down to the chest. It spread its clawed wings, and clutched a writhing human figure in one foot, a blade in the other. The earrings and the elaborate headdress identified both its culture, and its status.
"It's a pre-Columbian sculpture of the Mayan god Camazotz," Bruce told her. "The best known mythology is found in the Popul Vuh. He's described in various sources as a god of the night, death, and sacrifice."
Selina nodded slowly. "Okay. I see the logic. But Bruce … you know you're not Mayan, right? Not by any stretch of the imagination. Hell, maybe some Mayan trader with a bad sense of direction wound up in my family tree, but yours? Not likely."
He smiled tightly. Of course not. It wasn't about a spiritual connection, or anything religious. The statue had simply spoken to him, directly in the deepest part of his brain where all the oldest atavistic fears lived. It had horrified and fascinated him, so he bought it and gave it a place in his trophy room. Not a well-lighted alcove with a plaque describing its provenance, either. If there was such a god as Camazotz, perhaps he would appreciate a shadowy corner in which to lurk.
"I mean, I can't throw shade on cultural appropriation," Selina continued philosophically. "At least I've got Bastet, who even in her furry aspect is still at least good-looking. This guy … come on. You want gods of death, the Egyptian pantheon can hook you up. I'd recommend Osiris, you just need a beard and some green paint. Anubis could work, you'd just have to make the ears on the cowl a lot longer and give yourself a snout, but then I'd have to break up with you. I can't deal with a dog person."
"Selina," he chided gently.
"All right, all right, it has to be a bat. Aren't there any less-horrific bat gods out there? C'mon, those flying foxes they have in Australia are seriously cute. You ever see video of those? They waggle their ears when you feed them."
"Selina." Bruce gave her a warning look.
She folded her arms and eyed the statue of Camazotz irreverently. Selina was the living embodiment of the old adage, A cat can look at a king. Nothing so feline as she could ever be made to feel humbled by the presence of any man or god.
Then Selina turned to him, and her expression was serious. "I did have a reason to come see you."
"Is it about Harley Quinn?" he asked.
Her expression froze, and then she scowled. "I hate it when you do that. Yes, it's about Harley. And I know you're gonna be mad, but there are good people involved, kids included, who need your help. So can we just table all the yelling and 'I'm so disappointed in you' nonsense for a later date? Maybe the fifth of Never?"
He pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling with the urge to simply order her out. He could not conscience helping Harley or Ivy while they remained free; that wasn't justice. At the same time, Selina knew exactly how to win his cooperation. She'd mentioned children. "What do you need?"
"Top-secret transport and housing for a family of four," Selina replied quickly. "Bruce, did you know Harley has a sister?"
Bruce glared. "I do. She's married, she never uses her maiden name. I was under the impression she cut all ties with Harley."
Selina looked chagrined. "How hard do you think it would be for Joker to find them?"
"Has he made any threats? This is an entire family, Selina." The logistics involved in moving them would be extremely difficult, assuming they would even agree to go.
"Not yet, but if he can't find Harley, he's going to look for ways to flush her out. And I don't want them hurt. They seem like good people." Selina looked more uncomfortable the longer she spoke.
Bruce just glowered at her, putting the pieces together. "You went with Harley to Brooklyn. Knowing the risks. Knowing that if Joker followed her, you'd lead him right to them."
She hunched her shoulders. "Hey, we knew he wasn't trailing us. Give me more credit for being subtle. Look, Bruce, Harley's my friend. So is Ivy. You know they're important to me. I've been trying to get Harley to leave Gotham since she put Joker in the hospital. He'll kill her if he catches her, and it'll be something horrible that gives everyone in town nightmares. He's got to go over the top, or everyone will think he's lost his edge. I even gave her my share of the bank job to help her get out quicker. But she wouldn't go until she saw Delia. I had to help."
"Why won't she leave?" he asked. And never mind that she'd openly admitted to robbing the bank, again. It was easier for him to ignore her nonviolent crimes if she didn't talk about them.
Selina bit her lip. "Dammit, Bruce … I can't tell you. If you met them, you'd understand. They need help. The cops aren't enough, they need our kind of help. If I had a villa in Greece or something, I'd send them there until Joker's back in Arkham."
He looked at her a long moment, then turned away, walking back to the computer. Selina trailed him, saying nothing. If you met them was the best clue he was going to get, and he wanted to know what was so important about her sister's family that Harley wouldn't run, when she had to know she was in danger every moment she stayed in Gotham.
Bruce ran a search through the extensive databases he had access to, calling up all the information he could find on Delia Southard's family. Nothing he glanced at seemed important, so he pulled up more files, delving into their social media.
The first page of photos showed the entire family at a dance recital for the older girl. Bruce's eyes passed over them … then darted back. He looked longer at the younger girl, who appeared to be about six.
Selina shivered silently beside him as he pulled up another search, eventually locating a photograph of a young Harleen Quinzel. She was eight in the one he found, going to the regional science fair, but he quickly cropped both images and compared them side by side.
Lucy Southard had the same jawline, the same cheekbones, the same blonde hair, the same smile, as Harleen Quinzel. There was a definite resemblance between Harley and Delia, but not this much of one. "No," Bruce whispered.
"Yeah," Selina whispered back. "Three guesses who her daddy is, and you won't need the first two."
Bruce whirled on her, anger mounting in his chest. This child should have been protected all her life, someone should have been watching out for her. If Joker had the slightest hint… "How long have you known?"
"About a day," Selina replied, her gaze sharpening. "Harley's smart, Bruce. No one here knows, except Pam. Even the birth certificate shows her as Delia's, and it's the original. Harley checked into the hospital under Delia's name. She did everything she could to keep the girl safe. But if Joker goes looking for Harley's sister and sees that little girl with his eyes … I don't even want to imagine what he'll do."
Bruce scowled, but she met his gaze steadily. Selina couldn't have known, he decided. If she had, she would've told him sooner – she wouldn't turn a blind eye to a child at risk.
Neither would he. "I have a condo in the Bahamas," he finally said.
"They'll need Bat-surveillance on the way there," Selina pointed out.
He nodded, thoughtful. "And just how do you plan on explaining Batman owning vacation property in the Caribbean?"
Selina chuckled at that. "Oh, that's easy. I'll tell them the same thing I tell the masks here in town: that I'm dating Batman and Bruce Wayne. Delia already heard me tell Harley I'm going to ask both my boyfriends for help." She smiled mischievously at him.
Bruce just closed his eyes with a sigh. "Selina…"
"Look, I gave Delia my real first name so she'd talk to me. That's how serious I am. I never ignore a hunch, Bruce, and my gut tells me these people need to get out of the area yesterday." She looked at him seriously, and though he put more faith in logic and deduction than in intuitive hunches, he wouldn't gainsay Selina. Not when a child's life was at stake.
"All right. I'll work on it. I'll reach out to them tomorrow morning." He looked at the photographs again, and sighed. Just what his personal war with Joker needed: another battlefront.
Selina came up and leaned against his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist. "Thank you, Bruce."
…
Jay had to admit, the mulled wine wasn't half bad. Last time he'd been at the Manor for Christmas, Alfred had only let him drink soft cider. Couldn't blame the guy, Jay had only been fifteen. He wasn't normally a wine drinker – too pretentious – but this was nice, warm spices over the red wine, an orange slice and a cinnamon stick floating in his cup.
He sipped it, wondering when Kala would be able to get away, surprising himself by sort of getting into the spirit. Helping Alfred decorate the thirty-foot-tall tree in the main hall had even been fun. The smell of baking spices and evergreen boughs percolated through the entire Manor, and the view from any window was picture-perfect, with snow frosting the landscaping. Any second now, he'd start humming a Christmas carol.
And then hopefully someone would shoot him and put him out of his misery before he completed his transformation into a normal person. Which, given his history, would actually be extremely freaky. Maybe he could call on Lois Lane to put him down; he was still recovering from having met her. No wonder Kala was such a spitfire.
The answer to his problems walked into the parlor then, following after Roy and Lian. Jay had barely met Lian, before his death, and didn't quite know how to handle her now. He liked kids, but he didn't get to spend any real time with them. The boys he'd helped had all been teens. Roy at least was an okay guy. He'd had enough drama in his life so far, from what the rumor mill said, and wasn't looking to start any more. They'd been having a civil non-conversation a few minutes ago as Lian worked on a puzzle.
Donna Troy strolled in behind them, and Jay looked up at her. She looked good, as usual, but also a little nervous. Dick had warned him that she'd be here today, and also warned him to be nice.
So Jay decided to be as nice as possible, and troll them both at the same time. It was a great way to get rid of his megrims. With a little luck, he'd get himself thrown out of the house and have to spend Christmas at the bunker with K.
He set down the wine and rose, beaming. "Merry Christmas, Donna! C'mere, gimme a hug." And while she stared at him, he crossed the room in long strides and hugged her.
Honestly, Jay was expecting to get cuffed upside the head for that. Which would of course be his fault, because she was Donna freaking Troy. Everyone would assume he'd provoked it, and of course he actually had. So that would set the tone, and he could shake off all this family togetherness after one big argument with Dick, and go back to being a paranoid antisocial hermit. Shit, they all thought Timmy was the most like Bruce … who was down in the Cave, working, while everyone else added even more decorations outside.
To his everlasting shock, Donna hugged him back. And then took him by the shoulders, holding him at arm's length with the casual ease of super-strength. "Still a troll, Jay," she said, and smiled. "Merry Christmas, regardless."
It was usually Kala who saw through him that quick, and she had x-ray vision. "Well hell, Donna, just ruin all my fun right there."
"I told her you were getting all antsy over turning into a real boy," Roy said, setting Lian down so she could return to her puzzle. She ignored all the adults in the room for the moment, and Jay had a fleeting thought that he wished he could ignore their pasts the same way.
Jay glared at Roy. "That's absolutely not fair. Snitches get stitches, Speedy."
"You couldn't make a sincere threat that'd matter, Jaybird," Roy laughed.
Glowering at both of them, he dropped back into the chair he'd been in. "Fine, we'll all pretend we're in a sitcom and this sh-stuff is usual," he complained, changing the wording at the last second. "So how's it been, Donna? Snap any good pics lately?"
"I've got some things I'm thinking about putting in a gallery," she said easily, taking one end of the sofa. Roy took the other, ruffling Lian's hair on the way by. Donna arched a dark brow at Jay, and asked, "So what's new with you? Besides Kala, since you told me about her."
For a moment, Jay was at a loss for words. What was there to say? And how the hell did normal people do small talk? He was good for a few minutes' conversation about traffic or the weather, but that was about it.
He opened his mouth, planning to say something sarcastic, but what came out was, "Over the summer, I went under deep cover, and met this pack of homeless kids. Not a gang, they were trying to stay clear of all that. I lived with 'em for a couple weeks, trying to figure out who was kidnapping people. Turned out to be Black Mask, and that's a whole bunch of grotesque crap you don't wanna hear, but the end game is I couldn't just leave these kids without some kind of protection."
Donna leaned forward a little, interested, and Roy looked surprised. "So what did you do?"
"Bought the building they were squatting in, and made sure they had food and clothes and stuff," Jay said with a short laugh. "The youngest one and the oldest one were the two smartest – they figured out I was Red Hood. I tried to warn 'em off, but they all pretty much decided I was a safer bet than anyone else on the street. So I got them working on their GEDs and stuff. We had to move 'em outta that building when Two-Face found it, and now they're scattered all over. Bruce fronted apartments for the older ones, Dinah helped 'em do the court stuff to get emancipated and find jobs, and two of 'em went to Metropolis. Kala's keeping an eye on them. The oldest is in trade school now."
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Roy asked with a knowing smile. "Taking care of people."
"Shit, no," Jay said, and winced, but Lian didn't look up. "Now I've got more people to worry about. I'm always wondering if they're gonna be okay, if anybody's bothering them, if they're getting their schoolwork done, if they're eating right. I went from lone wolf to fu-freakin' scout leader."
"You can blame that on dating the Big Blue Boy-Scout's daughter," Roy opined.
Jay startled back, his eyes widening. "Aww, come on, don't start that."
"It's not her fault, Roy," Donna cut in, smiling a little. Jay wondered if he was the only one who'd seen that starting-trouble grin curve her lips; he tended to inspire a streak of wickedness in her. She caught his gaze and continued, "It doesn't surprise me that Jay's taking care of those kids. He's always struck me as the fatherly type."
He actually felt his jaw drop. Pure horror silenced him – Jay had no interest in perpetuating any of his own issues, thank you very much. He wound up to really let Donna know how he felt about that … and saw Lian from the corner of his eye. Shit. No way could he unleash a torrent of profanity in front of a kid that young. It'd just feel wrong.
So Jay gritted his teeth, glared at Donna, and said, "You're a sick, twisted soul, Wonder-babe."
She smirked at him, glowing with pride at being able to poke fun at him when he'd set out to give her grief. Alfred came in before Jay could think of a comeback, bringing mulled wine for Donna and Roy, cider for Lian. She stopped working on her puzzle to take it, thanking Alfred in a serious voice. "You are very welcome, my dear," Alfred told her, then turned to the rest. "Master Bruce is still working, of course, but the others should be back inside momentarily. I believe they've finished with the outdoor lights."
"If I'd known I had to entertain, I might've gone with them," Jay groused.
Donna leaned one elbow on the arm of the sofa and looked at him seriously. "Oh, stop, Jay. You want the honest truth? I'm not surprised to hear that about the kids, because you've always looked out for women and children. Even when you were a kid. I'm not surprised at all that they trust you, either."
"Gotta back her up there," Roy added. "I mean, I also wasn't surprised when you went through the worst part of this town like a chainsaw through butter, with about as much mess. You don't give the bad guys any slack, but you always took care of the good guys."
"Not always," Jay said darkly, remembering his war on Gotham.
Roy just shrugged. "We've all been in dark places and done bad things, Jay. You might be the most dramatic, but you're not alone."
"I'd trust you to take care of any child," Donna said. She gave a little smile, and added, "You might expand their vocabulary and feed them junk food, but you'd never let a kid come to any harm."
Jay scoffed. "Red Hood, babysitter. Nice to know I have a second career in case the vigilante gig doesn't work out." It sounded ridiculous, but he didn't think Donna was making fun of him. Well, a little, but she was serious too. She really thought he could be trusted with a kid.
Fuck, he didn't even know the first thing about taking care of kids.
"We all need a backup," Roy said mock-seriously, and then the others came in. In the slew of greetings from Tim and Dick – which included the latter actually picking Donna up in a hug, making her laugh delightedly – Jay felt safely anonymous again.
…
Pam was half-asleep at the time, her mind still restless. There were plans to make, contingencies to account for, and threats to defend against, all of which tended to keep her up late. Not even Harley snuggled in beside her, breathing slow and even, could help her drift off. Not tonight.
Harley's sister had pointed out something they'd all overlooked: when Joker couldn't find Harley, he was liable to search deeper instead of giving up. And there were legal records of the Quinzel family, showing that Harley had a sister. A sufficiently determined criminal psychopath could eventually find out where Delia was these days. Oh, there were Quinzel cousins upstate, too, but a sister … Joker was smart enough to know that Harley might stay hidden if he killed a cousin. Cut up her sister on live TV? Or worse, her sister's kids? Harley would sacrifice herself to prevent that.
Even worse, if he looked at Lucy and saw his own eyes and Harley's features.
Harley had come back from Brooklyn with photos on her phone of herself and both girls, along with copies of the school photos and family portraits. Memorabilia, something to hold tightly to while she and Pam fled everything they knew. As they'd left, Harley forcing herself not to linger, Lucy had given her 'aunt' one of her stuffed toys, a buck-toothed plush beaver holding a heart in its paws. Selina had said Harley had damn near lost it right then, just barely holding on until she got into the car and out of sight. They'd driven over the Brooklyn Bridge with Harley clutching the toy and weeping miserably.
She'd still been crying when they got home, trying to dry her tears in front of Pam and failing miserably. A spike of resentment ran through her at the memory – Joker had taught her that, to put on a pleasant face for her lover. Pam had held her instead, letting her cry, stroking her hair. Even Selina had stayed, rubbing her back and looking solemnly at Pam.
They hadn't needed to talk about it. Now that Selina knew about Lucy, she realized what Pam had known for years. This was always going to happen. There were only three possible outcomes to this little love triangle: either Harley died and Pam killed Joker for it; someone killed Joker and they either took over his gang or fled; or they left Gotham for someplace far enough away that Harley would lose any chance of seeing her daughter grow up. As it stood, killing Joker had always been Pam's preferred option, but Selina seemed very convinced that they weren't safe in the city, that even trying to kill Joker was too dangerous to contemplate. She'd learned to trust feline hunches.
Selina was taking care of the Southards, too. She'd gotten both of her men involved, Bat-security and Wayne money, and Pam wondered briefly how the hell she found the time to see both of them. Plus there was her ongoing thing with Holly Robinson, and her work, and the occasional vigilantism that made Pam roll her eyes. At least her dalliances with heroism came in useful for her friends, even if it limited her in other ways.
Harley hadn't let go of the silly stuffed beaver for hours. It was currently on top of the bookshelf in their bedroom, out of reach of curious hyenas. Both of whom were also in the bed, making it exceedingly crowded, but they wouldn't leave Harley's side when she was upset.
Pam sighed, closing her eyes, and tried to sweep all the past and future from her mind, leaving only the now. They were as safe as possible, hiding out in an anonymous apartment far from anything either of them had ever chosen before. Fifteen stories above the ground, the only green things for blocks were the plants Ivy had brought with her. The place was furnished, and soundproofed by the prior tenant who'd been a jazz musician practicing at all hours. That kept the neighbors from hearing the hyenas' curious grunts and chuckles as they explored the place.
It had a balcony, and thankfully Bud and Lou were litter-trained. The balcony was screened, and Harley had hung shade-cloth inside it to further obscure the view. For the moment, they were completely undetectable, even to people living mere feet away on the other side of a wall.
Getting out unseen was going to be a problem, but when they left here, they would be headed to an airport, most likely. The bank job had netted them enough money for secrecy…
An echo of pain screamed across Pam's senses, and she sat bolt upright, clutching her chest. Harley fell onto Lou, who yelped, and Bud whined at all of them from the foot of the bed. Pam paid no attention, didn't even hear Harley asking what was wrong, because she was on fire, she was burning, stems smoking and leaves withering, pain like nothing any animal ever understood…
Every plant in the apartment swayed violently, sending out new roots clawing up from their pots. Harley saw that, knew what it meant, and grabbed Pam's shoulders, giving her a brisk shake. "Snap out of it, Pammy, it's not you," she said urgently.
Ivy heard her, but mind was lost in the Green, lost in the howling echo where peace had been only moments ago. It was her, she was part of it, her physical body might not be harmed but her soul was scarred. Something was wrong, bad wrong, and close enough that she'd felt it despite not being connected to the soil. Destruction and ruin cried out for help, and Ivy rose from the bed, heading to the window.
She pulled up the blinds, looking out at the city. The horizon was orange; a mile or so to the west, something was burning hugely. The Gotham City Arboretum was that way, hundreds of rare and delicate lives nurtured in beauty, now ending in flame. Ivy gripped with window frame, rage boiling in her chest.
Beneath the paint was wood, lengths of cheap softwood cut and dried and treated and smothered in layers of latex paint. Wood long since dead, but Ivy's wrath breathed new life into it, and the paint bubbled up as tiny new shoots sprang up from beneath it. The air suddenly smelled of pine, green needles growing so fast they bristled like porcupine quills.
Ivy breathed in, feeling the room around her. Every pine stud in the walls, every bit of trim around doors and windows, every length of wood in bookshelves and desk, and the living plants in their pots. She breathed out, and the Green sang in her silence.
The miniature rose on her nightstand burst its pot, sending thorny tendrils crawling blindly across the wall. The nightstand itself was cardboard and veneer, like the floating shelves, but the desk was solid cherry. It rippled under the dark stain, branches rising from the top of it, life singing itself into being. The trim around the other windows and the door spiked out more pine needles, and the mahogany bookshelf flung off its paint and grew bark instead. Inside the walls, knots in the pine studs began to sprout.
Rage, rage, with that senseless ruin fueling her Ivy could bring the whole apartment to life, the whole building. So what if there were representatives of kingdom Animalia here too? Blood and bone meal to feed the roots writhing across the carpet, that's all they were. Poison Ivy stared at the flame-lit tower of smoke rising into the sky, and craved retribution like rain.
The two hyenas were crowded into the center of the room, as far as possible from the verdant growth, both of them whining uncertainly. Harley rushed to Ivy's side, trying to take her hands from the window frame, but her human muscle was nothing against the strength of trees that stood rooted fast against hurricanes.
Instead Harley ducked under her arm, shoving herself between Ivy and the window, standing on tiptoe to meet her gaze. "Pam, you have to stop," she said urgently. "The whole point of this place was hiding, we can't give ourselves away like this. You have to stop."
"He burned the arboretum," Ivy said thickly, her mind and senses far away from this room. "There is a live oak there older than this city, a tree so ancient it was no longer a sapling when the first white men stepped onto these shores. He splashed its bark with gasoline – I can feel it burning now, the flames are eating through layers of wood to my heart." This was like no pain any human could ever understand.
"Pam. You have to cut yourself off from it," Harley urged, grabbing hold of the t-shirt she'd worn to bed. Harley's eyes were still swollen from crying, but what were the lives of mammals to the Green? Less than a family of squirrels living among the mighty oak's branches, and what did the tree care if a nestling should happen to fall? All things died, and their bodies fed the Green.
Fire was the foe, and Pam knew who had done it. Joker. Unnatural, foul creature, he was like no other animal. Not just a beast, he was an aberration. He was flame and gasoline, he was the sickening chemicals that withered green life at a touch, he was the salt and copper driven into a tree stump so not even the persistent life of the Green could renew it. He was death, not part of the cycle of renewal, the death of metal and plastic and concrete swallowing up the world. He was the Enemy.
"I'll kill him," Ivy growled, and the burning plants of the arboretum whispered Yes in her mind, the life she'd called into being in this room sang out Yes in harmony. There was some deeper level of the Green beneath what she knew, something the man she'd once known as Alec Holland had spoken of to her, long after they had both mostly shed their human lives. Ivy knew if she reached for that, if she let herself sink into it, she could find Joker wherever he was and kill him. Topple the nearest tree onto him, wind a tendril of sturdy Virginia creeper around his throat and hang him, crack the sidewalk under his feet and let the roots pull him down to smother.
"Pam, please, I need you," Harley said, her hands on either side of Ivy's face, looking into her eyes intently. "You have to stop."
She wasn't speaking to the daughter of the Green. Harley called her by her human name, and Ivy was not like Holland. The man Alec Holland was dead, his mind and memories absorbed by the Green and reanimated in vegetable form. Dr. Pamela Isley was still very much alive, her body changed but still human at its core, and she loved this maddening blonde creature as fiercely as Ivy loved the Green.
To have her vengeance, to become the avatar of the Green completely, Ivy had to kill the last of Pam within her. Once she did that, this all-too-human woman would be nothing more than a memory, a dream another self had once had. In a way, it would be a relief to be free of this love that had caused her so much pain, so much grief.
The rose, the desk, the window frame, all shuddered with Ivy's indecision. So did the bookshelf, and the stuffed toy fell from atop it. It landed on the carpet and bounced, the movement catching Harley's eye. She turned, and flinched at the sight. Her talisman of the daughter she'd given away, toppled by her lover's unleashed rage.
Pam snatched at control of herself with both hands. No, no matter what, she was not going to be the one who hurt Harley, who put that wounded and defeated look in her eyes. No. She was not that person. And with her denial of the Green came just enough distance so that the burning arboretum was something she knew, and despised – no longer something that was personally happening to her, screaming along her nerves. She gasped, and called back the runaway growth threatening to rip the room apart around them.
Harley threw her arms around Pam's neck and kissed her soundly. Pam held her carefully, letting herself be held in turn. This was the one person in Gotham who'd never doubted her connection to the Green was something real.
Her love for Harley was very real, too. She was the most unexpected thing that had ever happened to Pam – and it was decidedly a case of happened to. Poison Ivy hadn't gone out looking for love. Love had fallen across her path, swept in like a storm, burrowed into her heart and found Pam still inside her. Of all the people she could've fallen in love with, Joker's girlfriend was objectively the worst choice.
But Harley herself? Harley was her anchor in humanity.
Leaning her head on Harley's shoulder with a shuddering sigh, Pam said, "Joker really did just set fire to the arboretum."
"Yeah, and we both know he did it 'cause he can't find us," Harley said, running her fingers through Pam's hair soothingly. "He's tryin' to bring you out, Pam. If you go for him now, he'll be waitin' with a flamethrower. I can't … I can't lose you, too. I'm sorry, I know it hurts, I know it's my fault he's goin' after you…"
"No. It's not your fault. It's mine." Pam kissed her cheek. The moment she chose to save Harley's life, the moment she felt herself falling in love and didn't immediately run away, she'd known something like this could happen eventually.
"We can't do it now. We gotta take 'im by surprise. And right now he knows both of us are lookin' to kill him. Pammy, we gotta wait. But I promise you, we'll get him for this." Harley spoke fervently, but her voice was still fragile.
Pam sighed, and straightened up. She thought of everything else Swamp Thing had told her, how her rage was a remnant of her humanity. If she'd let herself dive into the Green the way he had, her understanding of the world might have changed enough that she wouldn't even want revenge on Joker anymore. Certainly Alec Holland's perspective had never been so broad and deep as it was now.
And that was an idea, wasn't it? Anyone who suspected they were going to leave would be looking at international flights. Selina had stressed out of the country repeatedly, and hinted that the Southards would need passports wherever Batman was going to hide them. If she and Harley made a stop somewhere else first, they could break their trail someplace where Pam's effect on the local flora would go unnoticed. And perhaps gain some material help, as well.
"I know where we need to go," she said quietly. "And … thank you, Harley."
"For what?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. "Gettin' you into all of this bullshit?"
Pam stroked her cheek, and kissed the bridge of her nose. "For keeping me … me. If you hadn't been here, I would've done something I'd regret. And then probably walked right into a trap and gotten myself killed."
"He's good at traps," Harley murmured, and nuzzled close.
Pam held her a moment longer, then stepped away. As Harley looked after her, she went to the bookshelf and carefully picked up the stuffed toy. With a gentle touch, the bookshelf went quiescent again, smoothing down its surfaces – thought she left the branches. Whoever got this place after them deserved some interesting furniture in return for the structural damage she'd inadvertently wrought.
At least none of the pine saplings had broken through the drywall. The neighbors would've noticed that, and odd vegetable phenomena would certainly bring the Bats. Pam couldn't smile, not yet, but she placed the stuffed beaver back on top of the shelf reverently.
It helped, a little, to realize the fire department was at arboretum now, trying to save as much as they could. The ancient oak was doused in water that finally extinguished the gasoline soaked into its bark. It would survive, Pam realized. It had weathered fires before.