Pamela was still staring at herself in the mirror the 5th time Harley knocked on the bathroom door. It had taken her longer than usual to get ready, mostly because she'd used that extra time to brainstorm ways to get out of this whole ordeal.

"You don't wanna be late, do ya, Red?"

She'd opted not to buy a new dress, instead choosing something tried and true from her closet that she was confident Barbara wouldn't recognize. It was relatively simple but effective—form fitting, with a plunging neckline that made a statement but was still appropriate for the setting. She'd paired the dress with some "tiger eye" earrings, which was the extent of her commitment to the theme.

Harley had done her own shopping during Pamela's work hours and had composed herself in the guest bathroom, so Pamela finally opening the door, as satisfied as she could be with her own appearance, was the first glimpse she got of her.

…and it was immediately clear she'd misunderstood the assignment.

"Harleen, I said subtle."

Harley was wearing a skintight, bikini strapped, leopard print cocktail dress that ended a good 6 inches above her knee.

"What?" Harley complained, glancing down at herself. "I think I look hot."

"I'm not disputing that," Pam admitted. "But something with sleeves would have been nice."

"But—but how am I s'posed ta hand out tickets to the gun show, then?" Harley illustrated her point by flexing.

"If not for the tattoos, I'd allow it."

Harley pouted. "Well, I got a zebra jacket. It's leather too, so—,"

"I have a blazer for you," Pam saved Harley from herself, moving past her and into her closet to retrieve one of her black blazers. "I hope this fits."

…it didn't, it was very tight on Harley's shoulders which restricted her range of motion, but maybe that was a good thing.

They were already in the car before Pam realized Harley was wearing a pair of red, high top converse, and by that point it was too late.

"Why are you bein' so weird about this?" Harley wondered, watching Pam's index and middle finger tap nervously on the steering while they waited for their light to change from red to green.

Pam cleared her throat, gaze on the traffic light unwavering. "I didn't think I'd ever have to see her again."

"Who?"

"Barbara."

Harley was clearly confused. "We just saw her yesterday."

"What do you mean?"

"At work?" Harley prompted. "I saw you say goodnight in the parkin' lot."

Now it was Pamela's turn to be confused for a moment. "Oh!" she identified the miscommunication. "No, that's my assistant Barbara."

"Right, Babs. Barby G—,"

"That's absolutely not a thing."

"—she's super cool. I don't get why you're so nervous to see your assistant."

"No, Harley, you're not listening," Pam set her straight. "I was engaged to a woman named Barbara. Dr. Barbara Ann Minerva. She lives in Africa now and returned briefly to throw this soiree."

Harley's mind seemed sufficiently blown. "You mean the boring lady from the TV who was shittin' on my tiger show?"

"The very same. I swear we've already had this conversation."

"I thought you meant Babs!"

"You thought I was previously engaged to my assistant?"

Harley shrugged. "She's cute."

Pam opened her mouth to say something else, but nothing materialized, so she closed it again.

"How come there are so many ladies named Barbara?" Harley wasn't ready to put this to bed yet.

"I'm not sure, ask their parents."

"Just seems unnecessarily confusin'."

"Fine," Pam acquiesced with a put-upon sigh. "My assistant will remain Barbara and we can call my ex Barbara Ann. Better?"

That seemed to satisfy Harley. "Yeah, OK, deal."

"Anyway…" Pam pulled to the back of the valet line. "I'd appreciate it if you stayed on your best behavior tonight."

Harley was staring in awe up at the illuminated Gotham Museum of Natural History. "Sure, whatever you say, Red."

That response didn't exactly instill confidence in Pam as she handed her keys off to one of the valets, stepping out of her car and taking a deep breath before Harley joined her.

Harley smiled, offering her arm for the long ascent up the front steps. "Let's just have fun."

And Pam smiled back, although 'having fun' usually wasn't something that happened at these stuffy galas. She supposed she could try, as long as they put up a united front.

…that united front ended almost immediately once they were inside. They stood, together in the entrance, surveying the other formally dressed guests, all with some silly homage to the theme incorporated into their outfits. Harley's eyes went wide with awe at the African Bush Elephant display in the center of the room.

Pam found Harley's child-like reaction to all of it endearing, until the younger woman's focus was stolen by a waiter walking by with a tray of Hors d'oeuves.

"Food!" was all she said, and then she was gone.

"Harleen, goddamn it!" Pam whisper-yelled after her. But she was gone, lost to the refreshments.

"There you are, thank God," Selina was suddenly beside her, looking fabulous as usual in a sleek, floor length purple gown. "We just escaped a 20-minute conversation with Oswald Cobblepot. It was torture."

Bruce was nodding solemnly, confirming Selina's version of events.

"I was about this close to stabbing him with his own stupid umbrella," Selina continued. "It's not even raining, what's going on with that?"

Pam was scanning the crowd, trying not to let her mutual relief at seeing Selina be too obvious. "How'd Roman Sionis get an invite?"

"He's rich," Selina reasoned.

"He's an asshole," Pam said.

"The two often go hand-in-hand," was Bruce's contribution to the conversation.

"Shit," Selina cursed, turning towards Pam. "It's Harvey Dent. I'm about to be sucked into an hour-long bro fest."

It wasn't until Bruce was dragging her towards Harvey that Pam noticed the cat ears perched atop Selina's head, a rather sarcastic nod to the theme.

That made Pamela smile…and then just as quickly, her smile was gone.

Barbara Ann was standing across the room in a cheetah print blouse tucked into an expertly tailored pair of tapered tuxedo slacks. The blazer that went with the ensemble was draped casually over her shoulders, though her arms weren't threaded through the sleeves. She held a glass of champagne in one hand, the other playing absently with a strand of blonde hair that curtained her face, escaping her simple, formal up-do.

She and another woman, a rather stunning raven-haired beauty in a sparkling, off the shoulder gown, were engaged in a conversation with the man Pamela recognized as Police Commissioner Jim Gordon. How he'd ended up with an invite, she had no idea.

Barbara Ann began to glance around, having grown bored of the conversation while the other woman remained involved.

They were looking at each other now, Pamela and Barbara Ann, recognition immediate. The blonde smiled, raising a glass in greeting. Pamela would have returned the gesture, but she didn't have a drink yet.

As Pamela watched, Barbara Ann leaned into a passing waitress, pointing Pam out to her. The waitress then crossed the room with her tray of champagne glasses, stopping long enough for Pam to take one.

Pam glanced in the direction Harley had wandered, considering whether she should take two glasses, but Harley was no where to be found, so she settled on one.

Barbara Ann and the dark-haired woman were making their way over to her now, weaving between their guests.

"Goddamn it, Harley," Pamela repeated, but under her breath and to herself this time.

"Dr. Isley, as I live and breathe," Barbara was upon her now, having cornered her prey. "So glad you made it," she leaned in to kiss her on both cheeks, which Pamela reciprocated, hoping the movement looked natural.

"It's been a while," Pam smiled, looking from Barbara to the other woman. "I thought I wouldn't see you back here."

"Yes, well, you were hoping I'd be mauled to death by my cheetahs, remember?" Barbara mocked. "I'm sure my return is a severe disappointment."

"That's certainly one word for it," Pam agreed. "And who's this?"

"This is my partner, Diana Prince," Barbara announced, like the woman standing beside her was actual royalty. "Diana, this is—,"

"Yes, I know, Darling," Diana stopped her, and when she smiled Pam felt like the window had been opened to let the sun stream in. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you, Pamela. You're somehow even lovelier than Barbara described you to be." She spoke with a strange accent, one Pam couldn't immediately identify, but she found herself mesmerized by the quality of her voice.

"Well, that's…well this is great," Pam rephrased, glancing between the two and making she and Diana's handshake stretch on for far too long. "How'd you—you found her in Namibia?"

"She was just passing through," Barbara explained.

"Just passing through…Namibia," Pamela reiterated.

"I became something of a frequent traveler after leaving the UN and transitioning to full-time philanthropy," Diana told her. "The humane treatment of animals has always been a cause near and dear to my heart. These magnificent creatures deserve more respect than they're paid."

"Mhm, yes, absolutely," Pam was nodding. "Just to clarify, when you say 'UN' you're referring to the United Nations?"

"Yes," Diana confirmed. "I was assigned to the Blue Berets for peacekeeping missions after finishing my 2nd tour in the Hellenic Air Force."

Pam really wanted to get this right so she could complain to Selina later. "So, you're a former Grecian fighter pilot turned international peacekeeper who quit so she could spend more time donating money to charitable causes."

"Yes," Diana laughed; the sound warm like a shawl Pamela wished she could wrap herself in. "Seems you've successfully memorized my resume."

"But enough about us," Barbara was saying. "Did you bring a date? I was hoping to meet them."

Did I bring a date? Pamela thought long and hard about the answer to that question. "You know, I did. I did do that. I did bring a date. I'm just not sure where she…"

Barbara and Diana followed her gaze. "Is that her there?" Barbara asked. "The woman putting her mouth directly on the chocolate fountain?"

The three of them watched Harley as she wiped her face with a napkin, only succeeding in getting about half the chocolate off, before briefly searching for a trash can, giving up, and stuffing the dirty napkin in the pocket of Pamela's blazer.

Pamela cleared her throat, side stepping to obscure their view of her. "This isn't exactly her scene," she attempted to explain.

Barbara's brow was furrowed, more puzzled than upset. "Did she not see the fondue forks?"

"I very much doubt she knows what a fondue fork is," Pam admitted. "In any case, she's very successful in her field."

"And what field is that?" Barbara wondered.

"Well, there's a…combat, element to it."

"Is she a soldier?" Diana wondered. "I worked closely with American forces in—,"

"She's another one of your boxers, isn't she?" Barbara asked, the question rhetorical. "Still shitting where you eat, then?"

It took every ounce of Pamela's self-control not to lash out at that retort. "Unfortunately, Greek Goddesses don't grow on trees," was the response she went with instead.

Diana seemed to fall back into her peacekeeping role rather easily. "I'd love to be introduced. Her shoes are so fun!"

Pamela had forgotten about the converse until now. Why, Harley? Why?

"Why don't you wrangle her, and we'll chat later?" Barbara suggested. "We should probably continue on our rounds for a while longer."

"Of course," Pam tried to sound casual about it. "Don't let me keep you." And with that, she turned, heading straight for Harley. She immediately grabbed a fondue fork from the table, snatching the strawberry from Harley's hand and stabbing it before handing the fork to Harley. "That's not sanitary," she hissed, trying to keep her body language relaxed in case Barbara Ann or Diana were still watching.

Harley used the fork this time, drenching her strawberry in the chocolate before shoving the whole thing into her mouth. With her gaping maw full, she asked, "How come you're in a bad mood? This party is awesome!"

"I'm going to have to disagree with you there," Pam handed her another napkin.

Harley remained unconcerned with Pam's frustration. "I saw Selina and Bruce. Plus, some weird guy in a bolo hat asked me a riddle."

"Sounds like you've had quiet the evening."

"Yeah," Harley agreed with a nod. "Not-your-assistant Barbara really knows how to throw a party. I've never been ta anything so fancy before."

Pamela felt her anger begin to leave her, replaced with something like depressed acceptance. What she was depressed about, however, she really didn't know. "How was the strawberry?"

"Oh, so good, Red," Harley told her like she was passing along vital information. "You look real pretty, by the way," she stabbed another strawberry with her fork. "I think you're the prettiest one here."

Pamela took a deep breath to center herself, and then leaned forward, wiping some errant chocolate from Harley's cheek with her thumb before kissing her gently. "Come on, let's go rescue Selina from the District Attorney."

Selina was giving some desperate 'help me' eyes across the sea of impeccably dressed people, so Pam took Harley by the hand and forged ahead.

"Harvey Dent," Pamela interrupted whatever conversation he and Bruce were having, causing enough distraction for Selina to take a step away from Bruce and towards Harley, setting up her escape. "I wasn't aware you cared so dearly for the humane treatment of domesticated exotic animals. How moving."

And now only she existed to him, the District Attorney puffing his chest and turning up the charm in his smile. "Pamela. I was hoping I'd—I wasn't sure you'd—you're looking well," was what he finally landed on. "Did you get my voicemail? You haven't—,"

"I did get your voicemail," Pamela confirmed, not terribly interested in rehashing this. "I appreciate the offer, but remain a lesbian, I'm afraid."

Harvey faltered. "Yes, of course, I was just—I thought there was, perhaps, a chance men interested you…as well?"

"Not in this universe, sweetheart," Pam leaned forward, kissing him on the cheek. "But keep up the good work. For the betterment of humanity and…exotic animals, I suppose." She glanced over her shoulder, seeing Harley and Selina had arrived safely back at the refreshments table. "Pleasure to see you, as always." Bruce was covering his mouth to hide his smile beside them. "Bruce," she offered as she departed, flashing him a smile of her own.

She was almost to safety herself when she ran into Kate.

Are you kidding me?

"Harley Quinzel, seriously?"

Why in god's name would Barbara invite Kate?

"Under no circumstances would it appropriate for you to judge my romantic decisions," Pam snapped, trying to brush past her, though Kate grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Pam yanked her arm away. "Where's your wife?"

"Getting a drink," Kate straightened her bow tie.

"Well, how about you go get a handle on that rather than butting into my personal life," Pam suggested. "You made it very clear you wanted to keep things professional between us. So here I am, being professional."

"Yeah and hooking up with someone else."

Pam was borderline appalled. "Are you and Renee not hooking up, Katherine?"

Kate rolled her eyes. "I don't want to start fucking you again, I just want you to start making some more responsible life decisions."

"I don't even listen to the mother I have, so I'm going to walk away now," Pamela intoned. "And you're going to continue enjoying this party that was clearly designed as a torture device for me."

Selina's eyebrow was raised by the time Pam finally made it over to them. "What the fuck was that about?"

"Great question," Pamela snatched another glass of champagne from a passing waiter, downing most of it and offering the rest to Harley, who finished it in one gulp.

By the time Pamela had found the pathway to the rooftop garden, she felt completely done with this night. Coming was a mistake, she'd known this would be bad for her, and yet…here she was. Why? Perhaps the remnants of her debutante days were making themselves known, or perhaps she'd just been curious.

She had no idea why Barbara Ann still interested her. Any romantic feelings she'd once harbored were obviously gone by this point, but it had all ended so suddenly, it made it nearly impossible for Pamela to blackball her from her thoughts completely. Pamela remembered waking up, Barbara beside her, and sliding her engagement ring onto her finger. She remembered how it shimmered in the morning light. And then Barbara was gone. The bed was empty, all the odd tribal decorations stripped from the living room…Obviously there had been time in between, but unless she really dwelled on it, it felt as though that tape had been deleted. What followed was anger…and resentment…and Kate. It wasn't a period of her life that Pamela was terribly proud of.

Pam just wanted to be alone for a moment, but of course, she wasn't.

"Seeking respite from your own party?"

Barbara Ann glanced back at her from where she sat on a stone wall dividing two garden beds. "Finally through with my rounds. I think I've earned a little respite. What's your excuse?"

"Oh, well see, I was going to marry the woman who threw this party," Pamela joked, approaching slowly. "Instead, she lives in Africa now and came here tonight with a divine creature clearly molded from clay on her arm. Meanwhile, I'm fucking a 23-year-old who does her own tattoos…despite not being a tattoo artist."

"How mortifying," Barbara smiled, offering Pamela the bottle of champagne she'd been drinking from. "You may need this more than me, in that case."

Pamela accepted it gratefully, taking a swig before gathering up her skirt to sit next to her. "You seem happy."

"So do you, for the record," Barbara took the bottle back from her.

Chuckling, Pamela said, "That can't be right."

Barbara raised an eyebrow, taking another drink. "You're lying to me. You fancy that 23-year-old failure of a tattoo artist. I can tell."

Pam squinted, showing "just a bit" between her index finger and thumb.

A moment of silence passed between them. One that was long, but not altogether uncomfortable.

"So," it was Pamela who spoke first. "Is Namibia everything you hoped it would be?"

Barbara laughed, searching Pam's face for the truth as she did. "You don't give a solitary fuck about my life in Namibia. We may as well pay each other the kindness of honesty."

Pamela was surprised by her word choice. "Kindness? Since when is that a concept you're familiar with?"

Pursing her lips, Barbara's gaze shifted from Pamela to the Gotham City skyline. "That's the answer, by the way."

"What answer?"

"To the why we didn't work out question I'm sure you've asked yourself," Barbara clarified, the champagne halfway gone by this point. "We're not kind people, you and I."

Pam could see her office from here. Wayne tower stood, stoic in the night, completely dark by this point. The arena silent next to it. "I can be kind…"

"Don't be daft, love. It's not a matter of what you 'can' do. I didn't need nurturing, so you weren't kind to me. Just like you didn't need rescuing," Barbara's tone was wistful. "What magnificent people we'd be if we had the same patience for humans as you do plants and I do animals."

Pamela's finger ran absently up the stem of a Libertia growing nearby. "Diana doesn't strike me as someone in need of rescuing, either."

"No," Barbara agreed. "Seems I was the stray. If it wasn't for her, I might still be lamenting your betrayal."

"Barbara…" Pamela briefly saw her the way she used to, fair features soft in the moonlight, one blonde curl rebelling from her updo, trailing down her neck. "We fell out of love long before I found Kate."

She turned to give Pam the same attention. "And when were you going to tell me that?"

They allowed that to hang between them, the muffled sounds of the gala behind them and the cars on the streets below suddenly loud in the absence of their conversation.

"I donate $500 to your sanctuary every month," Pam wasn't sure why that had felt like a secret she'd needed to keep. "I know you don't need me telling you this, but what you're doing is brave and important."

Barbara laughed, a genuine humor in the sound. "I seem to remember a Dr. Isley with a similar ambition."

"Yes, well, why would I try to save the world when I could instead dedicate my life to helping only certain people cheat at sports?"

The blonde was shaking her head, though a smile still graced her lips. "You're never as miserable as you think you are, Pamela. Though, I maintain your self-importance is astounding."

Pam scoffed. "Like you're any better."

"I'm not," Barbara seconded. "And it wasn't until I stopped selling out and started doing something actually important that I realized that."

Pam took the bottle back from her. "What a shame I wasn't graced with your enlightenment."

"It's not mine," Barbara set the record straight. "It's a gift Diana gave me. None of this is me," she gestured behind them at the party that continued without them. "Not the gala, not your invite, the cause is hardly even mine. I'd be happy to continue aimlessly adventuring, but then what would I ever accomplish? I finally have a true north, and her name is Diana Prince."

"Well," Pam took another drink, then set the bottle upright between them, leaning back on her hands. "I'm sorry I made a poor compass. And, for the record, if I ever said something that sentimental, you'd call me a 'wanker'."

Barbara mirrored Pam's body language, nudging her with her shoulder. "You really could be such a bloody wanker sometimes."

Perhaps it was because Pam was on her way to drunk, but she'd quietly begun to feel like the weight that had been placed on her shoulders upon entering the museum earlier that night had been lifted. Pound by pound, that debilitating emotional exhaustion had left her. And now here she was, sharing a bottle of champagne with a woman whose presence she'd dreaded nearly every moment before this one.

"I have a text from you that says 'it must be terrible living inside your head, but that can't possibly be as bad as living with you'," Pam said, quieter now. "Was it all terrible? Are Harley and I going to make each other just as miserable as we did?"

"Of course it wasn't all terrible, love," Barbara said. "I wouldn't have asked to marry you if I didn't believe you were worth the effort. Too bad I'm merely a mortal who can't subsist solely on sexual chemistry and intellectual curiosity. There's only so many ways to tie a girl up before she craves a deeper connection."

"And Diana gives you that?" Pam wondered.

"She gives me both," Barbara winked.

"Hey, Red? You out here?"

Both women looked towards the source of the sound, watching Harley emerge from the building and scan the area, her blazer at this point discarded.

"Blimey, those tattoos are awful," Barbara giggled before Pam waved the younger woman over.

"Over here, Harl."

"Hey!" Harley jogged over. "Selina left n' I got bored. Can we go home soon? As long as you're done making your ex jealous or whatever."

If she could just say one right thing…"Sure," Pam granted. "But first, I wanted to introduce you to not-my-assistant Barbara."

Harley cringed, realizing her mistake, and then briefly studied the woman next to her with something approaching a critical eye. "I saw you on TV. I was thinkin' maybe I wanted a hyena, but I guess that's not cool, huh?"

"It's definitely not cool," Barbara confirmed. "And they're a tad dodgy anyway, not sure they'd make great pets."

Harley crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. "I saw a video of one splashing around in a bath one time, so I think it depends on the hyena."

Barbara seemed to agree. "I, too, have seen that video. It's very cute."

Harley tried twisting her mouth to hide her smile. "I'm glad you guys broke up because…I actually really like Pammy. So, thanks, I guess."

"She likes you too," Barbara stage-whispered before Pam could interrupt. "And she needs you to drive her home, she's had far too much champagne."