Pamela burst into Selina's office. "Well that was a wonderful fucking surprise at 3am."
Selina looked up to greet her, her demeanor calm, a stark contrast to Pam's. "Yes, I thought you might like that. Dinah and I were just discussing Harley's next match, if you'd like to join." She referred to the woman sitting in the chair before her desk.
"Good morning, Dinah," Pam acknowledged as she tossed her briefcase onto Selina's couch. "Excuse my interruption, it's just Selina sent a homeless drug addict to my house at 3am and I wanted to make sure my displeasure was on record."
"Noted," Selina granted. "Now sit, this is a place of work."
Pam rolled her eyes so hard she worried they might get stuck, and then plopped down into the empty chair beside Dinah.
"We're giving Canary a redemption arc," Selina explained. "I want this season's title fight to be a rematch between she and Kate, and I want Dinah here to get her revenge."
Pam glanced over at the fair-featured, dark-skinned blonde to see her sporting a satisfied smile.
"Bout damn time," Dinah sat back, arms crossed. "So I'm taking this Harley chick down in the first, right?"
"Shouldn't be hard," Selina told her. "She doesn't even have a coach right now."
"Yeah, what's her deal, anyway?" Dinah wondered. "She seemed really out of it last night in the locker room. You guys test her and all that?"
Selina was curt, "Pam's dealing with it, and since they're living together now, she'll have plenty of hands-on supervision."
"Wait a minute," Pam intervened. "This living arrangement thing is by no means permanent."
"Hey now, you're the one who lobbied to keep her around," Selina reminded her. "She's homeless, I won't have one of my athletes sleeping on the street."
"Plus, she's kinda your type, right, Doc?" Dinah joked. "This way, the only home you'll be wrecking is your own."
Pam stood, telling the blonde, "I'm failing your drug test."
Selina chuckled at that but stopped her before she could leave the office. "Hey, Pam? Don't bother telling Harley the plan. We'll just let her get her ass kicked, understood?"
"Whatever you want, asshole."
Barbara caught up with her in the hallway, the younger woman jogging to keep pace. "Dr. Isley! Here's Harley's keycard for our in-house facilities, Selina said you could give it to her." She transferred her padfolio to her other hand so she could make a clean track-style baton pass with the keycard.
"I'm sure she did," Pam accepted the card without looking, slipping it into her pocket as she headed back towards her office. "What did you think of the fight?"
"Oh, it was-yes, thank you," Barbara stammered in response.
Pam slowed, allowing Barbara to catch up, their strides synchronizing as they headed for their department's portion of the top floor. "Did you and Dick have a falling out?"
Barbara seemed entirely taken aback, not like she was offended by the inquiry, more just surprised she'd been asked a personal question. "We, uh-yes. Yeah, we broke up," she admitted, holding her head high. "It was mutual, I guess. Never let a man dictate your time, right?"
"That's right," Pam smiled, pride suddenly warming her heart. "So who was the other ticket for, then?"
"Oh, my new boyfriend," Barbara grinned. "He's a really great guy, you'd like him."
Pam sighed internally. "I'm sure."
/
The lights were on when Pamela returned home that evening, which, although odd, wasn't something she felt she needed to pay special attention to until she was inside.
Her house, which usually smelled like her various flowers and the lemon disinfectant spray she used, now reeked of the unmistakable stench Pam associated with a very greasy pizza.
She walked gingerly up her own stairs, the smell becoming stronger with each step until Pam found herself in the kitchen, looking at an empty, open pizza box, the cardboard stained with grease. Alongside it was a half empty 2 liter bottle of Pibb Xtra.
"Awesome," Pam said aloud, setting her purse on one of the bar stools and sighing dramatically. It seemed she was finally getting a dose of what she'd escaped college without having to experience, being that her parents had rented her a townhome off campus so she wouldn't have to live in the dorms.
Of course, they'd likely thought that separating Pamela from her peers would be a good way of stopping any 'experimentation'…but, in reality, all they'd done was give Pam an entire house to impress less fortunate girls with.
Pam's ear pricked up at the sound of a soft snore behind her, and she turned to see Harley in the exact same position she'd left her in that morning—though the water glass was now empty, and the pizza and soda were proof she had, at some point, been awake that day.
Leaning against the counter, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed, Pam reviewed her options as to how to proceed. Harleen was not poor anymore. She'd just had at least 30 thousand dollars wire transferred into her bank account, but that wasn't the point. Pamela very much doubted this girl had ever seen a lump sum of money like that all at once, and likely had zero idea how to spend it with any discernible intelligence. That's why Selina wanted her to stay with Pam.
Well, that, and Selina could be a manipulative dick who occasionally enjoyed orchestrating the suffering of others…or at least their emotional and social discomfort.
Pam sighed once more, having arrived at a decision. She approached Harley quietly, slipping out of her heels as she went and kneeling beside the couch, shaking the younger woman gently awake.
"Big day?" Pam asked, the question sardonic, as the blonde opened one blue eye and then the other.
Harley blinked like the world was very slowly coming into focus. "Oh, hey," was her elegant greeting, her girlish voice gravely with sleep. "I'm sorry I'm still in your house, Selina said—,"
"I know what Selina said," Pam interrupted. "It's fine for now. I see you already ate?"
"Yeah, I'm—," she sat up with a grunt, her body creaking and popping. "I'm sorry, I almost saved you a piece, but you don't look like you eat pizza and I got hungry."
OK, well, that was true…Pam supposed she should give her points for being perceptive.
"No apology necessary," Pam excused her. "I've got plenty of food in the fridge. I can make double if you're still hungry."
Harley held her head in her hands, her elbows supported by her knees. "No thanks. I puked all that crap up anyway."
Ah, yes, Pam thought she might run into some withdrawal symptoms.
"Have you been drinking water?"
Harley shrugged.
Good god, the shrugging has got to stop.
Without another word, Pam rose and poured a new glass of water from the sink, placing it on the kitchen island. "There. Drink it," she instructed, opening the refrigerator to start on her dinner. She wasn't looking when Harley got up, but she heard her pad across the living room and kitchen in her dirty socks, taking the water glass before returning to the couch.
A silence stretched between them, punctuated by the soft 'clink's of Pam's metal pots and pans bumping against each other where they hung above her island as she selected the right one for this meal.
"I'm making salmon and asparagus," she announced, setting said pan on the stove and preheating the oven. "I apologize in advance."
"Sounds fancy," Harley said from the couch, unbothered.
Another silence followed as Pam spread her asparagus spears across a cookie sheet, sprinkling them with olive oil and sea salt.
"So, uh…" It was Harley who disturbed the quiet. "What did you do today?"
Pam was nearly as surprised as Barbara had been about the causal question. "Oh, well, actually, I met with Selina about your next match."
"For real?"
"Yes," Pam chuckled. She wasn't sure why she found that response funny. "It'll be the first of next month. Selina has you lined up to fight Dinah Lance."
"Canary? You're messin' with me."
"Why would I do that?" Pam asked, glancing over her shoulder to see Harley in something approaching a man-spread on the couch. "I have a jacuzzi out back that rarely gets any use, I suggest you utilize it before you get back into training. You're 23 years old, you shouldn't sound like a 60 year old with arthritis when you sit up."
"That's what the meds were for," Harley mumbled, sinking back into the pillows.
Pam chose to ignore that, grabbing the filet of salmon out of the fridge rather than engaging. "What did you do today?" she decided to turn the question around.
Harley took a deep breath. "Slept...ate...puked...my usual Friday night."
"It's Sunday."
"Oh," Harley frowned. "Hey," and then changed the subject. "How come you don't have a heavy bag?"
"What do you mean?"
"In your little gym downstairs," Harley clarified. "How come you don't have any boxing stuff down there?"
"Because I don't box," was Pam's simple answer. "Never been drawn to it."
"Oh, well, ya don't gotta punch anybody if you don't want to," Harley leaned forward, engaged, explaining like maybe Pam hadn't previously been aware of that fact. "You can use it just for cardio if you want, way more fun than runnin' in place, if you ask me."
Pamela decided to humor her. "Thanks for the tip. Is that how you started? Just doing it for cardio?"
Harley laughed like Pam had made a joke on purpose. "Nah, I was really angry, that's why I started." She grinned at Pam, who found the expression both endearing and a little disquieting.
...and that's evidently all Harley had to say on that topic.
"Here," Pam offered, reaching into her pocket for the keycard Barbara had given her earlier. "I may not have a heavy bag, but there are plenty at the complex. This gives you 24/hr access, you're welcome to use the facilities any time."
The blonde took the card like she'd received a divine gift from on high. "Seriously? I get to train with the pros?"
"Harley," Pam chuckled, closing the other woman's hand around the keycard. "You're a professional boxer now, you do realize that, yes?"
"No, I…" she retracted her hand, pale complexion blushing red. "I get that. They're just my heroes, is all."
/
When Pam awoke the next morning, she expected to find Harley on the couch, curled up with her head resting on the pillow that was really more for decoration than comfort.
But the couch was empty, Harley wasn't there. Her bag was, though, and even in the short time Pam had known her, she'd come to understand that Harley didn't go anywhere important without those discount bin Title gloves of hers.
Puzzled, Pam glanced down the hall, trying to determine if there was a light on in the bathroom. There wasn't. The hallway was dark. It's not that Pam was concerned, no, Harley was a grown woman who could be wherever she wanted at 7am, it was just...well...Pam had a lot of evidence showing Harley was likely suffering from a few too many head injuries, and-
She turned at the sound of a splash, her eyes trailing through her kitchen, out the bi-fold doors and onto her patio...where she noticed the cover had been flipped off her in-ground jacuzzi and a blonde head poked out of the bubbling water.
Harley was splashing with both arms in front of her, miming a doggy paddle that seemed to absolutely delight her.
She cringed as she watched Harley take a big mouthful of warm water and spit it out like she was a fountain.
Pam shook her head, already disappointed in herself. "Can't believe I'm still going to fuck her," she mumbled, starting the coffee machine.