"—I think it's a conversation better suited for face to face," Pamela said, nodding at Barbara through her windshield while showing her one minute with her index finger. "I don't expect the changes to be seamless, but I'd at least like the chance to clearly lay out my expectations for this next phase."
"With all do respect, Ms. Isley, that's not really how we do things around here. I'm sympathetic to—,"
"Well, it is now," Pam cut him off. "And it's Dr. Isley. I'll be there by 9am Monday. I expect all mandatory personnel to be present." And with that, he hung up, opening her car door and stepping out into the parking garage.
Barbara was there waiting for her. "Men?"
"Men," Pamela confirmed with a despondent shake of her head. "Did everything go smoothly?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Barbara reported, reaching into her pocket for a small slip of paper. "All taken care of."
Pam took the paper from her, studying it briefly to make sure everything was in order. It wasn't that she didn't trust Barbara, on the contrary, she trusted her more than just about anyone, Pamela just didn't feel she could afford a mistake today. "Remind me to ask you something important later," she said, once she'd confirmed Barbara really had taken care of it.
"Uh, OK, sure, Boss," Barbara said, taking out her cellphone to make a note. "Are you going to be ringside or in the skybox?"
"Skybox," Pam answered, starting towards the elevator that would take them to the arena. "Selina included some tickets in the gift basket she sent Luke, right?"
Barbara was keeping pace beside her. "Yeah, in the skybox, actually. I'm hoping Dick decides to stay home."
"I haven't seen him at a single match this season, so I think your chances are good," Pam assured her, the two of them stepping into the empty elevator car. "How do I look, by the way?"
"Spin?"
Pam obliged her. "It's new…the tailor was at my house at 8am, poor thing."
"I like it," Barbara decided. "Chic, but not elitist. Sexy, but not slutty. It somehow says, 'I'm sorry' and reminds her of what she's missing at the same time."
Pamela grinned, having accomplished her mission. "Excellent."
"Well, OK," Barbara said once they arrived at Pam's stop. "I guess I'll see you in a bit."
"I guess you will."
"Good luck, Pam," Barbara encouraged with a smile before the doors slid shut in front of her.
Pamela took a deep breath, alone in the hallway aside from the occasional member of the technical or medical staff. She wasn't afraid anymore. Pamela's new journey had already begun, and it was one she was perfectly comfortable embarking on alone or with a companion, a decision she'd accepted would be left up to Harley.
Slade wasn't going to be happy to see her, so Pam would have to make this quick. She flashed her ID badge at the security guard outside Harley's locker room, entering once she got the nod. Harley was sitting on a bench near the center of the room, her elbows supported by her knees and her body hunched over between them. She was wearing her custom-made two-toned shorts and matching sports bra, a beanie cap pulled down low over her ears.
Harley didn't look up at the sound of Pamela's heels on the cement floor, which meant she either had headphones in or was too focused on her visualization routine to pay attention to what was going on around her.
It wasn't until Slade said, "Hey! No visitors, especially you, Isley," that Harley lifted her head, her gaze trailing from Pamela's heels, up her legs, stalling briefly at her chest before finally looking her in the eye.
It seemed the dress was pulling its weight.
"I need two minutes, Slade," Pam didn't shift her attention from Harley. "Hi," she said.
"Hi," Harley parroted back to her, sitting up straighter.
"Did you get a haircut?" Pam asked, noticing her pigtails weren't poking out from beneath her beanie.
"It's for a bit."
Pamela decided they didn't have enough time for her to continue that line of questioning. "I wanted to wish you good luck."
"Thanks."
"And to give you this," Pam continued, not allowing Harley to blow her off this time. She knelt in front of her, handing Harley the slip of paper from Barbara.
Harley frowned, reading what was printed on the front before flipping it around and then back again. "What is it? A receipt?"
"Yes," Pam smiled, placing her hand on Harley's thigh. "The house may not be betting on you, but I am."
The blonde continued staring at the paper, her eyes narrowing momentarily before widening in realization. "Three hundred and fifty grand, Red?"
"It's all the liquid inheritance my father left to me," Pam explained. "After taxes, of course."
Harley's hand shook as she gave the paper back, her jaw clenching to stop its quivering. "Well, I—I guess I really gotta win now, huh?"
Pamela stood, taking the younger woman's face in her hands, her thumb running along the scar Jared had left on her cheek as she leaned down to plant a soft kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Harley. Whatever happens, I'm in your corner." She pulled her hands away slowly, nodding in Slade's direction as she backed out of the room. "I'll see you afterwards," she told Harley, who was watching her leave with an expression Pamela could only describe as 'lost'.
She took a moment to lean against the wall once she was back in the hallway. Pam had meant that as a motivator for Harley rather than a distraction, and she sincerely hoped she's struck the right balance because for her it felt like the ultimate unburdening. She loved her. Pamela was in love with Harley and now Harley knew it, what she did with that information was her prerogative. All Pam could do now was settle in and watch the fight.
Thanks to Barbara, there was a champagne glass in Pam's hand as soon as she entered the executive skybox. Luke was there, and Selina and Bruce, and Pam was about to remind Barbara that she wasn't on the clock, but Barbara was asking, "How did it go?" before she could.
"I think she cut her hair."
"Oh…" Barbara's brow furrowed, turning that over in her mind to determine what it might mean. "Like, 2007 Britney or post-Twilight Kristen Stewart?"
"I'm not sure, she didn't take her hat off."
Barbara took that into consideration as she sipped from her own champagne glass. "It's fine," she eventually decided. "It'll be fine."
"Dr. Isley," Luke greeted, wrapping an arm around Barbara's waist as he came to stand beside her. "So? What's the verdict? Did I turn you into a believable romantic lead?"
"Miraculously, in Selina's opinion," Pam joked, trying her best to relax into an actual conversation. "I appreciated the flowery descriptions of my obvious longing, they really sold it."
Luke laughed. "What can I say? I write what I see, and have a weakness for purple prose."
"Right," Pam smirked. "And I've tried to follow through on my end of things, time will tell if I was equally effective."
"I've got some good news for you on that front."
"Oh?" Pam was curious.
"If a woman approached me in a dress like that, I'd buy whatever they were selling," Luke told her. "I have a good feeling she'll come around."
"I told you," Barbara giggled.
"Should be a good match," Luke raised his glass, releasing her with a smile.
"Cheers," Pam offered, moving past him to join Selina where she stood in her usual spot, arms crossed, champagne glass in hand, gazing out the viewing window at how things were unfolding on the arena floor. "How were ticket sales?"
"Sold out," Selina answered, her smile illustrating her satisfaction. "Seems we were able to shit out a diamond, after all the chaos."
Bruce was sitting behind her, eating a lobster, his title match ritual. "If Harley loses, then we'll announce after the match that our internal investigation didn't uncover anything illegal, just personally reckless."
Pamela rolled her eyes. "And if she wins?"
"We'll push the announcement back a week or two. Either way, you'll be taken care of."
"How valiant of you two," Pamela chuckled. "Thank goodness my personal recklessness was able to line your pockets in the meantime."
"Oh, stop," Selina nudged her playfully with her shoulder. "It's just business, Baby. Rest assured your bonus will be extra friendly this year."
I'm not sure I'll need it at this point…
Selina's attention was pulled away when Talia entered the suite, the brunette heading straight for her and looking none too happy…but then again, when did Talia ever look happy?
Pamela took a step back, putting some space between she and Selina as she had almost zero interest in whatever co-parenting quarrel was about to take place. Unfortunately, she soon found she'd stepped directly into a reckoning of her own.
"Pamela," Renee's voice was low, her cadence icy and Pam jumped in reaction, she hadn't seen her come in but now she was standing directly beside her. "You look nice."
Puzzled by that roller coaster of a greeting, Pam glanced over at the detective, searching for some aspect of her appearance to compliment. "Renee. I like your…slacks."
"I came directly from work."
"Of course," Pamela didn't feel that required further clarification. "10 seconds into this exchange and you have yet to call me a whore, are you feeling alright?"
"If you could quit being a smug asshole for two seconds, I'd appreciate it," Renee snapped, shoving both hands deep into her pockets, setting her jaw as she surveyed the rapidly filling arena. It wasn't quite to capacity yet, but close.
Pamela wasn't sure how to proceed. She would prefer their interaction end here, but Renee had yet to move away, despite her harsh tone. "Would you like a drink?" Pam ventured, hoping that would help whatever this was.
Renee cleared her throat before answering, "No."
"No?"
"No," Renee repeated. "I've decided to lay off for a while. One of the compromises Kate and I made."
"Oh," Pam tried not to sound so surprised. "Good for you."
"Thank you."
"What was her compromise?" Pam wondered. Maybe it wasn't her place, but as long as Renee was going to continue inhabiting her personal space, she was going to ask. "Besides not sleeping with other people, I mean."
When Renee didn't respond, Pamela braved another glance at her, getting the answer she was looking for. "It was your idea, wasn't it? The interview."
"What gave me away?"
"Well, I was finding it difficult to shake the feeling a case had been built against me."
"It fell apart in court of public opinion, unfortunately."
Pamela finished her champagne. She wasn't sure if they were waiting for a formal toast or if it had already happened, but she couldn't nurse that drink any longer. "When did you know?"
"About you and my wife?" Renee asked. "Almost immediately. Floral perfume isn't my thing or hers. Didn't take a detective to narrow the suspect field, but the fact that I am one made the whole thing that much more insulting."
"And it took you that long to confront me?"
"It took me that long to decide if I was going to make her fight for me or take her for everything she's worth in a divorce."
"Ah," Pam signaled Barbara for another glass.
"You weren't the first, you were just the best looking," Renee continued, more like she was talking at Pamela rather than to her. "She can be so aimless…we've been together for 8 years now and it feels like I've aged 30 in that time. And yet…here I am…in love. How terrible."
Pam nodded, taking that in, whispering a quick thank you as she accepted the champagne handoff from Barbara. "She's in love with you too, Renee. She's just—,"
"I know what she is," Renee interrupted, turning to her fully now, looking her in the eye. "She's overqualified. You remind me of her that way, and I know it's the reason you found each other. Not that you seem to give a shit, but…I don't resent you, not anymore."
"That's…big of you, Renee," Pamela decided after a moment of silent contemplation. "I'm not sure I'd be able to overcome a betrayal like that. From either of us."
Renee scoffed. "I'm not enlightened, Dr. Isley, I just invested in some therapy. I recommend you look into it."
"Still, good for you," Pam doubled down. "You know, if you'd like to…I don't know…not get drinks together some time, I think we'd—,"
"Oh, no," Renee appeared mildly horrified, making it clear Pamela had misunderstood her intent. "This was not an offer of friendship. If you were murdered, I'd still half-ass your homicide investigation."
"Gotcha," Pam nodded quickly,
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THIS IS IT, WHAT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR, THE MAAAAAIN EVENT!"
Thank god, Pam welcomed the interruption as the crowd roared in response to the announcer's booming voice.
"THE GREATEST GLADIATOR MATCH IN THE SUPER LIGHTWEIGHT DIVISION. THE BAT OF GOTHAM VERSUS THE HARLEQUIN FROM HELL. IT ALL COMES DOWN TO THIS FOLKS, SO LET'S GIVE A WARM GOTHAM CITY WELCOME TO OUR ROOKIE PHENOM, THE CLOWN PRINCESS OF CRIMES AGAINST HER COMPETITORS, IT'S HARLEEN QUINZEL!"
The lights flickered in the arena, the spotlights searching, but Pam's eyes were already on Harley's tunnel. The title fights were always allocated a larger budget, so when Harley was finally illuminated, she was backlit by a red light emanating from within her tunnel, creating the perfect demonic atmosphere for Harley's typically feral entrances.
However, the song that began to play seemed relatively upbeat. Rather than jumping up and down or pounding her chest in exaggerated clown makeup, Harley was just standing there…in aviator sunglasses and a leather jacket over her sports bra…her hair cut short and styled, the red and blue pigtails gone. If not for the fact she was a blonde rather than a redhead, Pamela might have mistaken her for Kate.
Baby girl, you're so damn fine though
I'm tryna know if I can hit it from behind though
She strode out of the tunnel with a calm confidence that Pamela wouldn't call typical, raising one fist into the air as acknowledgment. And then Pam understood the bit.
I'm sippin on ya like some fine wine though
And when it's over, I press rewind though
"What is this?" Selina asked.
You talkin' bands, girl, I got it
Benjamins all in my pocket
Harley pointed some finger guns into the fawning crowd.
"An impression," Pam answered her.
I traded in my Trues for some Robins
He playin Batman, Fetty's gon rob him
Harley reached a hand out, eliciting high fives from everyone standing near the rope line.
I'm like, yeah, she's fine
Wonder when she'll be mine
She walk past, I press rewind
To see that ass one more time
She was nearing the ring now, but just before starting up the stairs, Harley grabbed a female fan who was leaning over the rope line begging for a high five, and dipped her, kissing her full on the mouth.
Renee was trying her best not to laugh. "It's not bad."
All fast money, no slow bucks
No one can control us
Harley let the woman go, leaving her in a daze that the camera operators made sure to zoom in on, projecting the woman's sexual awakening on the jumbotron as Harley jogged up the stairs and into the ring.
Aye, yeeeah baby
The music faded out, Harley making sure to add a moonwalk in there before it did. She grabbed the announcer's microphone as he was beginning to ask a question, saying "Ooooh! It does feel good to be Kate Kane!" to laugher and applause.
"Harley!" the announcer was playing up the comedy, his grin broad and laughter loud. "It looks like you might officially be stepping on Ms. Kane's turf!"
"Wouldn't be the first time," she pulled her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose, winking directly into the camera. She then took off the leather jacket, throwing it into the crowd, and making sure to flex in the process.
"Then let's get her out here, YOUR CAPED CRUSADER, YOUR BATWOMAN, YOUR DEFENDING CHAMPION, YOUR HERO, KATE KAAAANNNNNE!"
I just took her name and made that bitch a LLC
Kate stepped out of her tunnel, backlit in yellow, wagging her finger playfully at the camera, wearing a good-natured smile.
I feel like I'm King Kong, name still going ding dong
It's two girls getting' more money, and they don't rap, they sing songs
"Cute," Kate mouthed, starting at a jog now.
What's left that I didn't do? You bit the forbidden fruit
You thought you'd get my spot? Who the fuck was kiddin' you
She cupped her ear, pointing at Harley with her other hand to make sure she was listening.
Took a lil' break but I'm back to me
Tryna make a new Nicki from the factory
They'll never toe to toe on a track with me
There'll never be another one after me
Kate banged her fists on the floor in parody, and then her chest, finishing by flashing a peace sign at the camera.
"What a fucking idiot," Renee said, and Pamela laughed out loud.
Cuz the skill level's still a half of me
All these low IQ hoes baffle me
Rather than following her usual routine and walking up the stairs, Kate chose to take a play out of Harley's book and launch herself over the ropes, landing on her feet and blowing a kiss to her fans. "Cute," she said, audibly now that the music had faded away. "I like the haircut."
"All for you, baby," Harley teased, sliding her sunglasses on top of her head.
"Be honest, Pam," Selina said. "How wet are you right now?"
Pamela pursed her lips, considering. "To characterize myself as bone dry would perhaps be a misrepresentation…"
"Please, Harley, I'm married," Kate joked, slipping out of her black satin robe, tossing it to her corner staff.
"Never stopped you before," was Harley's retort.
Selina had clearly held a different vision for their entrances. She was shaking her head, disappointed by this display. "We needed a villain, not another Kate."
"She's playing Kate's villain," Bruce said in what was perhaps his only worthwhile contribution to any conversation ever. "Her own worst enemy."
"Alright, ladies," the announcer stepped between them. "Are you ready to give these folks a show?"
"It's what I'm here for," Kate said, and the crowd responded, the anticipation palpable.
They retreated to their individual corners, Damian working to quickly wrap Harley's hands before lacing up her gloves while Slade squatted next to her, whispering in her ear. Kate didn't seem to be paying very close attention to what her coach was saying, her focus seemed entirely devoted to Harley, her good humor gone, replaced with a dead eyed stare Pamela didn't claim to recognize.
"This is her last fight," Renee said, only loud enough for Pam to hear. "She's announcing her retirement tomorrow."
Pamela turned to her, surprised. "Why?"
"She's not interested in being phased out," was Renee's answer. "She wants to go out with a bang."
"I want a good, clean fight, ladies," the referee was saying, a hand on both athlete's shoulders. "I won't tolerate cheap shots."
Harley and Kate both nodded, and they were released, the two moving forward to touch gloves, a show of sportsmanship that Pam wasn't expecting. When they did, Kate leaned in, draping one of her arms around Harley's neck, pulling her close to tell her something the microphones didn't pick up. She then released her, and they stepped apart, returning to their corners for a quick squirt of water and last-minute advice from their coaches.
"I'd really love it if this went well," Selina said, her version of a prayer.
Pamela wished she was sitting ringside. Not that there was anything she could do to help, and not that Harley would want her there. She'd asked for space and so Pam was going to respect that, she just…missed, being a comfort. Hoped she could be again someday.
The bell rung to signal the start of the first round, and the fighters stepped forward, both staying light on their feet, sizing each other up. Harley already had her hands up for protection, she'd learned from her mistake with Talia that her opponents at this level of competition could strike from just about anywhere in the ring. Kate seemed a bit more relaxed, her gloves subtly bobbing at neck level.
Harley took a quick step forward, throwing a quick jab as she did. Kate blocked and countered with a cross. Neither landed consequential hits or saw another opportunity, and so they stepped apart again, circling each other.
"Kate needs to get her hands up," Bruce said, dropping his napkin on the plate of food he'd finished. "That hook is going to come hard and fast." He stood, finding a place at the window between Selina and Talia.
"She knows what she's doing," Renee said.
"No," Talia disagreed. "Here it comes."
The words had just left Talia's mouth when Harley lowered her front shoulder, throwing a left-handed uppercut, slipping Kate's responding jab, and coming back with a lefthanded hook all in one movement.
The hook landed on the hinge of Kate's jaw, and although Pamela wasn't a medical doctor, she immediately knew something was broken.
Pamela felt Renee tense beside her, and Kate stumbled backwards, in shock. The pain hadn't hit her yet, but it was about to. Harley let her out of range, not following her into the ropes.
Selina grabbed the radio they used to communicate with the technical and medical staff, holding it to her mouth to say, "Let's get a medic on standby, that was disgusting."
"Yes, ma'am," they radioed back.
Kate was unsteady on her feet, using every muscle in her body to resist dropping to her knees or holding onto the ropes as her jaw hung awkwardly off its axis. Harley allowed the round to expire like that, not engaging with her again.
As soon as the bell rung, the stools were out and Kate was falling back onto hers, a medic climbing over the ropes, sticking a needle in her face to inject her with a numbing agent from a syringe. The camera was in a tight closeup, projecting her agony and injury onto the jumbotron.
Slade was patting Harley on the back, smiling from ear to ear. That was the best first round she'd ever fought, and he was proud. Harley was smiling too, and even without the sloppy red lip, it was clear the playful Harley from the walk-in was gone.
Pam didn't think anyone had expected the first round to go like that…the atmosphere in the room felt uneasy.
"She'll be fine," Renee muttered as Kate stood, squaring up for the 2nd round.
Kate began on the offensive this time around, which seemed to catch Harley off guard. She was slow to block a jab-cross-jab combo, taking a hard hit to the body before she threw her counter—a hook that Kate was able to slip, which left her body exposed for another jab to the stomach. Harley fought her body's natural inclination to double over, pushing forward for an offensive sequence of her own.
She jabbed four times in a row with her left, stepping forward with each one, crowding Kate near the ropes. While Kate tried to find her bearings, Harley tried a hook with her right, which Kate blocked, but the blonde then followed up with three quick uppercuts, the first landing squarely in Kate's gut and the other two just under her ribcage. Kate curled inward to protect herself from further assault, and as she did, Harley twisted, following through with a right-handed uppercut that didn't carry all that much power due to her body position, but connected directly with Kate's nose. Harley's glove came away covered in blood.
The round ended before Harley could do any further damage, and the two fighters were separated again. Kate's nose was reset, a rather painful procedure, by the looks of it, and the bleed was clogged. She shoved her coach's hands away when he tried to hold her face steady for the medics, "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?" her lips weren't hard to read.
"I should be down there," Renee said, grabbing her coat before exiting the skybox.
Pamela watched her go, and then turned her gaze to Harley, who was sitting on her stool, Slade pressing gently on her abdomen. Harley shook her head each time, opening her mouth so Damian could squirt some water into it. Slade was nodding now, patting her on the shoulder, and then he helped her up, Harley cracking her neck before the next round.
"She's out of control," Bruce said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "I'm not sure she did her homework."
"Who?" Pam wondered. She knew who but hearing it out loud would feel good.
"Fuckin' Kate," Selina shook her head, finishing her drink. "She's off."
"Or maybe Harley is just having a good fight," Luke suggested before Pam could.
Selina's smile was tight. "Maybe."
Pam knew that smile, it was the 'I'm about to lose a lot of money' smile. Seemed Kate wasn't the only one who'd underestimated Harley.
Kate's performance from that point forward was fueled by a potent mixture of rage and adrenaline, which put Harley on the defensive for most of the next two rounds. Luckily, Harley was able to block most of the strikes to her face, though that meant sacrificing her body for shot after shot.
By the time the 5th round began, Kate was in obvious pain and exhausted, and that's when Pamela began to understand the strategy. Her whole life, Harley had been used like a human punching bag, and now, that endurance might win her a title. She'd started out aggressive, earning decisive victories in the first two rounds and injuring her opponent in ways that would nag her throughout the rest of the fight. In the next two rounds she played defense, taking her licks and conserving energy while Kate tired herself out, wasting her effort. Harley would simply outlast her.
The problem, though, was Kate was still considered the best for a reason. She could not be counted out.
Kate began to lower her gloves again, holding them just high enough to protect her jaw, her feet slowing. Even Pam, who had never stepped foot in a ring, knew that once a fighter's footwork began to break down, they became essentially a sitting duck. Without solid footwork, there was no way to effectively control your range, meaning keep your opponent within your range for striking, or stay out of their range for evasive purposes.
Harley, who had been waiting for this exact opportunity, advanced quickly, probing with a jab at the same time as Kate threw a lethal cross, Kate's glove managing to slip past the hand Harley still had up for protection and landing squarely between Harley's eyes, the force pushing her back into the ropes.
And just like that, the tides shifted.
Kate did not show Harley the same mercy that Harley had shown her earlier, following her into the ropes before the referee could step between them. Harley tried raising her gloves to protect herself, but Kate was quick and efficient with a jab-jab-cross-hook-uppercut combination that dropped Harley onto all fours.
The crowd roared, the thunderous applause causing the skybox window to vibrate, and Pamela's heart dropped.
1-2-3
The referee began his count, squatting down next to her.
Harley spit a mouthful of blood onto the mat, forcing herself into a kneeling position where she paused for what felt like an eternity, blood dribbling down her chin.
4-5
Pamela took a step closer to the glass, her pulse thrumming in her ears, stomach twisting violently.
Harley moved one shaky leg, placing her foot on the ground and raising her head to look Kate in the eye.
6-7
Pam knew it was over even before the referee counted off the final second.
8.
And that was it. All the preparation, all the hard work, all the brilliance Harley had displayed, and Kate was going home with another belt. Just like that. The referee waved his arms, signaling Kate's victory, and the crowd erupted in applause.
"SHE'S DONE IT! A COME FROM BEHIND VICTORY! KATE KANE IS YOUR CHAMPION ONCE AGAIN!"
Harley remained on her knees even after the confetti began to rain down, her chin dropping to her chest and her shoulders sinking. And rather than taking her victory lap around the ring, Kate collapsed beside her, pressing her forehead against the younger woman's and saying something that only Harley could hear.
The referee gave them a moment before helping both up to their feet and raising Kate's hand in victory, the redhead's smile lopsided due to her broken jaw while Harley spit another mouthful of blood onto the floor, wiping roughly at the excess that had now dripped onto her chest.
"Oh, thank God," Selina breathed a sigh of relief. "I think I sweat through my shirt."
Bruce put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "That was quite the show."
One they were released, Kate immediately found Renee, wrapping her up in a hug that was broadcasted for everyone to see. Renee grabbed a handful of Kate's hair and held her there against her neck, her shirt quickly staining with a mixture of blood and sweat from Kate's mutilated face.
And while the world was watching that, Pamela watched Harley get a hug of her own, from Slade, of all people. She buried her face in his chest and he rubbed her back soothingly while Damian untied her gloves.
"Selina? Bruce?" Pam turned to the couple, a welcome calm overtaking her. "Can I have a moment alone with you?"
/
Pamela had only had her heart genuinely broken twice in her 35 years, both in the last month, once by a woman, and once by boxing in the name of that woman. She hadn't realized how badly she'd wanted that victory for Harley until it was over. What a painful thing empathy could be.
There would be next year, though, Pam was sure of that. Harley would bounce back, she'd evolve and overcome, it was in her nature to rebuild.
"Shit, Red," Harley buried her face in her hands as soon as she entered the locker room, noticing Pam where she was leaning against the wall, waiting. "I'm so sorry."
Pam adjusted her stance, pushing away from the wall, but still careful not to crowd her. "What do you have to be sorry for?"
"I just lost you so much fuckin' money," Harley sobbed, her shoulders shaking.
"Oh, sweetheart, you—,"
Slade funneled in behind Harley, giving her shoulder a strong squeeze as he passed. "She cut her tongue pretty bad, that's where all the blood's coming from," he told Pam, his tone clinical. "It'll be fine, the mouth heals quickly."
"Right."
"You know the drill for the concussion protocol," he continued, nonchalantly, grabbing a bag from his storage locker and slinging it over his shoulder. "She's doesn't have one, but better safe than sorry."
"Yes, absolutely," Pam nodded.
He was at the door now. "She gets a week off, then I want her back in the gym. I reserved a 1pm off season training time and she can't be late, so do whatever it is you need to do with schedule coordination to make that happen." His focused switched from Pam to Harley. "Hey, look at me, Quinzel."
And Harley obeyed, moving her hands away from her tear stained face, sniffing as she did.
"It's all about preparation," Slade said, pointing a finger at her for emphasis. "So we're going to do things right next time. And I mean from the beginning. You may not be the champ to them out there, but you mangled that smug face of hers pretty good, so you're a winner to me."
Harley nodded, steeling her resolve, though she couldn't keep her lower lip from pouting.
"I'm proud of you," he told her…and then he left. That man was truly allergic to the word 'goodbye'.
The locker room was silent after that, Pam and Harley alone for the first time in over a month and Pamela found herself anxious. She had a lot to say and was unsure of what order to say it.
Thankfully, Harley spoke first. "She didn't even hurt me that bad…"
"I know."
Harley blinked.
"She told you she was retiring, didn't she? Just before the match started."
"How did you…?"
"Renee," Pam explained.
Harley laughed at that, though her voice was still strangled by grief. "You talked to Renee?"
"Yes," Pam chuckled, grateful for some levity. "She went to therapy and decided horizontal hostility wasn't a great look."
"I don't know what that means but good for her," Harley sniffed, wiping her nose, and then the tears were back. "I should have just finished it. It's stupid, she wouldn't'a done the same for me."
Pamela considered that. "You're probably right," was her eventual ruling. "But that's what makes you different than her. And that difference is part of the reason I'm standing here, asking you to give me a second chance rather than in Kate's locker room, doing more damage to her marriage."
Harley took a deep, shaky breath in response. "Pamela, I…I don't know if I can do this again with you. I—,"
"Now, hold on," Pam took a step forward before Harley could talk herself out of anything. "You had an awfully specific must-haves list for the person you wanted to date after all of this was over. Let me think, it was…someone who isn't afraid of saying they're in love with you. I think I covered that earlier, but in case you forgot, I love you, Harley."
"Red, I—,"
"No, wait, I'm not quite done. Next it was…someone who works nowhere near you, right? Technically, my company is now based in Virginia, is that far enough?"
"Pamela…"
"Someone who isn't close with your asshole bosses…that one's hard because Selina is more or less the only true friend I have, however, she's none too pleased with me right now and it'll probably be a little while before she forgives me, so I feel like that's taken care of. Remind me what the last item on your wish list was? Oh right! Someone who doesn't get paid to watch you urinate."
"Take a piss."
"Of course, excuse my pretentious terminology."
"You know I hate that shit."
"Luckily for you, Harleen, I am no longer employed by WBA—effective immediately, meaning watching you 'piss' is no longer part of my job description."
"Red, what did you do?"
Pam shrugged her shoulders, trying her best to hide a sly smile. "I figured now was as good a time as any to graduate from princess and assume my rightful place atop the pork industry throne."
"You—Pammy, you quit? For me?"
"Yes," Pamela confirmed. "For you, and for me…for us, really. I—,"
Harley's resolve dissipated completely, and her lips were crashing against Pam's before she could get another word out, her body slamming back against the lockers just like their first kiss, although this one was infinitely better. For one, Harley put a hand on the back of Pam's head to protect it from the impact, and the passion this time was fueled by more than just lust. This was love, and it was a feeling Pamela didn't realize she'd been craving.
"I love you too, Red," Harley panted in between kisses, hungry and desperate. "And you look so hot I wanted to rip that dress off when you came in here earlier and maybe hate fuck you up against these lockers."
OK, so maybe there was still a little lust mixed in there too. But that was healthy. Necessary, even.
Pamela felt lightheaded, intoxicated. The coppery taste of blood tainted their kisses, the wet salt of tears on her lips. "Hate fuck me?" was all she could manage to say.
"Yeah!" Harley insisted, separating just enough to press her right forearm into Pam's neck, using it to pin her there while her left hand worked Pam's dress up her thigh. "I was really fuckin' mad at you!"
"I'm not sure this is part of the concussion protocol," Pamela breathed, her eyes sliding shut of their own accord.
Harley stilled her hand, stalling its upward path while she leaned in, ghosting her lips across Pamela's jawline before rasping, "Fuck the concussion protocol," against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.
Pamela gasped when Harley bit down on her earlobe, tugging on it none too gently. This was the best possible outcome, and Pam wasn't about to squander it with modesty. "Harley, I want you so—,"
"So I guess you two are back together then?"
Harley instinctively jumped backwards at the adolescent male voice, putting her hands up like she was going to be arrested. Pam was quick to cover herself. She was never happy to see Damian Wayne, but this was by far his worst entrance.
"Gross."
"Gross?!" Pam was demanding at the same time as Harley was yelling, "Party foul, bro!"
"Get a fucking room!" Damian yelled back at them, grabbing his bag from the bench where he'd left it. "This is a public place and I'm a child."
"You're a teenager," Harley disagreed.
"Right, so keep your shit teen rated, you pervs," he shook his head, simultaneously incensed and disappointed, somehow resembling both Talia and Selina in that moment. "And wash your hands first Harley, Jesus Christ. See you next week." He left it like that, making sure to slam the door behind him.
"He has a point about the hygiene," Pam admitted, yanking her dress back down and patting her hair into place. "Would you like to…continue this at home, maybe? Preferably with all the same…energy?"
"If I don't crash on the way there, absolutely," Harley said, throwing a hoodie on over her sports bra.
"And will you stay?" Pamela ventured, knowing she might be pushing her luck. "Or is Steph's couch really that comfortable."
Harley smiled, her expression soft and kind. Something Pam had been sorely missing in her life for some time. "I'll stay, Red. But I need you to promise me somethin' first. I need ya to always be honest with me, OK? And I mean always, even if it'll hurt me. I don't need protectin'. I'm yer partner, got it?"
"Got it," Pamela agreed, nodding decidedly. "Do you want me to start right now?"
"Well, yeah…"
"OK, I love your hair like this. Not that I didn't like the pigtails, they're cute, it's just…"
"You wanna call me daddy now, huh?"
"Maybe only one time and we don't have to psychoanalyze it."
"Works for me!"