A/N: Sorry for the wait everyone.

"How are things going at home?"

"Well, I think," Pam said, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back against the sofa she was sitting on. Joan scribbled something quickly on her clipboard and then looked back up at Pam.

"I'm certainly proud of the progress you and I have made here. You've done exceptionally well in the few weeks we've spent together, Pam."

"Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me," Joan objected. "Your progress is your own. You took the steps you needed, you persevered. You've done very well, not only for your relationship, but also for your own personal freedom."

Pam almost blurted thank you again, managing to hold her tongue at the last second and simply bobbing her head in response. Joan was correct. While originally, her mantra had been, Do it for her, it had quickly evolved to include Pam in the equation as well.

"How does Harley feel about your progress?" Joan asked.

"I'm… not sure I can speak for her, but I imagine she's just as satisfied." That was a lie. She knew Harley was struggling. For as patient and kind as she had been with Pam over the past few weeks… She was human. They both were. And Pam knew she was growing increasingly frustrated… in all senses of the word. It was getting harder and harder to justify the validity of the SIT sessions in Pam's mind. They were beginning to feel unfair.

"How would you feel about bringing her in today? Just to see how she's feeling?" Joan suggested. Pam almost said no, afraid to hear Harley's real answer. And yet, she found herself nodding in agreement. Joan rose and left the office to bring Harley in from the lobby, who still insisted on coming with Pam to every appointment.

A moment later, Joan reappeared, Harley tiptoeing in a little nervously behind her. She smiled quietly at Pam and sunk into the cushions next to her, directing her attention to Joan.

"So, Harley," Joan began. "Pam and I were just discussing how she's been progressing at home and we wanted to hear your take on the situation. How do you feel things are going between the two of you?"

"Great!" Harley answered immediately. "Pammy's doin' fantastic. I'm real proud of her."

Joan's dark eyes locked onto Harley's. "And how about yourself?"

"Hmm?" Harley's cheerful expression faltered.

"Are you satisfied with the progress that's being made in regards to your relationship?"

"Well… Yeah." Harley looked scared now, like she was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

"This is a safe space, Harley. You can express yourself honestly."

"I... I am bein' honest. I'm proud of Pam and she's tryin' so hard and I don't mind bein' patient because I care about her. A lot. I want her to be comfortable." She glanced shyly at Pam, who placed her hand over Harley's and laced their fingers together. She could see the doubt flickering in Harley's eyes, the concern. "This is about her. Not me."

"You're right, Harley. This is about Pam's recovery. But I want to ensure that you two are moving forward together. That you're honest with one another and open about your feelings. That will play a large role in allowing Pam to continue healing," Joan assured her.

"Well, I'm tellin' the truth," Harley insisted, her lips pulling into a pout.

"I believe you," Joan chuckled. "I just want to make sure you're comfortable as well. Now, Pam," she continued, returning her attention to the red head. "I'm extremely proud of the progress you've made but I want you to continue at your own pace. The worst thing you can do to yourself is push too far and relapse. This is about you as much as it is about your relationship."

"I understand," Pam replied, squeezing Harley's hand. She felt the blonde squeeze back.

"Good," Joan took down a few more notes and then rose from her chair, straightening her pencil skirt. "I'm glad to hear you both feel things are going well. I expect to see you again at the same time next week, alright Pam?"

"Absolutely."

/

Harley had been scowling ever since they left Joan's office. Pam held her hand as they walked back to the apartment, their fingers loosely entwined.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Pam asked when the silence between them had become too tense to stand.

"Will you stop askin' me that?" Harley burst. "There's nothin' wrong with me, I'm fine!"

Well, your tone tells me otherwise.

"I'm not trying to upset you," Pam began calmly, in an attempt to diffuse the tension. "We're supposed to check in with one another as often as we can. Joan insists it's important that we discuss how we're feeling when it comes to our sessions, and I simply assumed that after having to wait so long without a 'payoff', for lack of a better term, that you might be-what?"

Harley gaped at her, wrenching her hand away and shoving it in her pocket instead.

"I can't believe you…" Harley murmured.

"What?" Pam was genuinely baffled. She was trying to be open to Harley's feelings, but the blonde's reaction confused her.

"I'm not some horny teenager, Pam!" Harley shot back, anger darkening her features. "I don't get why everyone's actin' like all I want from this is to get laid. It's not about that. I wanna help you. I thought I was helpin' you."

"You are helping," Pam assured her. "But, it's only human to expect a certain level of intimacy from one's partner, and with the intensity of our SIT sessions, I just-"

"Stop it." Harley's voice was hard and it startled Pam into silence. "Seriously, stop talkin'."

Pam blinked. She'd never seen Harley this upset before, and she wasn't quite sure how to proceed.

"Do you really feel that way?" she asked suddenly, turning on Pam with a pleading look in her eyes. There were a few ways Pam could respond, and all of her answers she foresaw offending Harley, so she stayed silent. Apparently, that answer wasn't any better because Harley scoffed and shook her head.

"Pam, I don't want to be with you just so I can screw you." Harley's breath was quickening, and she began blinking furiously as frustrated tears came. "I want to be with you because you're smart and you're funny and you're beautiful and you really care about me. You," she screwed her face up to stop the tears. "You mean more to me than just a night in the sack, Red. I've had those. I've had plenty of those."

They were passing Robinson Park now and the volume of Harley's voice reached another couple walking nearby.

"Harley, let's continue this at home…"

"No!" Harley's exclamation echoed around the park. "I'm gonna continue it here."

"Calm dow-"

"You're different." Harley ignored her. "I don't care how long I have to wait. I don't care if it's somethin' we never do," she paused there and Pam knew that even Harley knew that was a lie. Still, she appreciated the sentiment. "I mean… I do want you… I'd have to be crazy not to. But, that's not important right now. Gettin' your confidence back is. Makin' you feel safe is. So… So stop treatin' me like I'm someone who just needs to jump your bones to survive, okay? I'm better than that."

A strangled mix of frustration and pride filled Pam's chest. Pride for the fact that finally, Harley saw herself as someone worthy of respect and genuine affection. And frustration because she didn't know how to respond. She'd assumed too much of Harley, maybe even projected some of her own concerns onto her, and she didn't know how to ease Harley's anger.

"I didn't mean to make it sounds like I thought you needed sex," Pam murmured, glancing quickly over her shoulder at the other couple. "All I meant to say was that, generally speaking, it's a natural progression in the intimate relationship of a couple and if you had any concerns, I wanted you to feel like you could be honest with me."

Harley's reply was unexpected. "That's not why you're doing this, is it?"

Pam was almost offended by the insinuation until she realized that was exactly why she was doing it. In the beginning anyway, that had been her mantra. Harley had been her inspiration. That had changed as her sessions with Joan went on, but Harley wasn't wrong in her assumption.

"I…Well, at first…"

Harley looked away, wrapping her arms around her middle, shutting herself off. "Come on, Red…."

"Harley, I didn't want to do any of this in the beginning. So, yes, I started seeing Joan for you. Because I was worried of what would happen to us if I didn't." The words spilled out of Pam in a torrent. "I didn't want to lose you, so I did what I thought I had to. I thought therapy would make you stay, I thought it could fix me quickly enough to give you what you wanted. Which… I now realize was short-sighted and foolish." Pam stopped, reaching out to grab Harley's arm and turning her around so they stood face to face. "All of this has been for you, because I want you to be happy. I wasn't sure what that looked like, I wasn't sure I would be enough."

Harley began to shake her head, her large blue eyes locked on Pam's. "Red…"

"I know, that was stupid. But it's the unfortunate truth. However, if it hadn't been for that particular motivation, I wouldn't be where I am with Joan now. We wouldn't be here. I'm sorry for projecting my fears onto you," she sprinkled in some of Joan's couple's therapy. "I'm sorry for insinuating you only wanted me for sex. I'm sorry, Harl."

Harley blinked a few times and then launched herself at Pam, throwing her arms around her neck and pressing soft kisses against her cheek.

Knowing she was forgiven, Pam breathed a sigh of relief and threaded her arms around Harley's waist.

"I'm still mad at you," Harley mumbled, her lips tickling Pam's ear.

Pam chuckled. "Your anger is entirely warranted."

"You're gonna have to make it up to me."

"Ice cream?"

"You know me so well," Harley giggled, kissed Pam's cheek again, and grabbed her hand, dragging her towards the ice cream vendor at the entrance of the park.

/

In spite of their conversation at the park three days prior, Pam still struggled with a substantial amount of guilt when it came to their SIT sessions. Harley was insistent they continue and assured Pam she wasn't bothered or frustrated. But Pam certainly was. And maybe that was the crux of the issue. It wasn't Harley's problem, it was hers.

I'll speak with Joan. There has to be another form of therapy we can try that doesn't feel so unfair.

She knew the logical next step was to express her concerns to Harley, but the last thing she wanted was yet another argument so soon after the last one. But maybe if she explained that she didn't doubt Harley's patience, merely the effectiveness of SIT… Maybe if it came from Joan...

She walked home from work slowly, stewing in her own thoughts. By the time she reached the apartment, she was so distracted that she didn't notice the letter stuck in the doorjamb until it fluttered to the ground in front of her when she opened the door. Stooping to pick it up, she flipped it over in search of some form of return address, but the envelope was blank.

Moving to the kitchen, Pam set her bag on the table and tore the envelope open. What she pulled out made her blood run cold. There was a printed clipping inside from The Seattle Times titled: Esteemed Professor Jason Woodrue reveals astounding new Growth Hormone for rare and exotic plant species.

And then she pulled the note out, a single word scribbled onto its surface: Remember.

Pam dropped both the clipping and the note as if she'd been burned, pacing backward until her back hit the kitchen wall. And then she froze, her eyes locked onto the pieces of paper lying on the table.

Who did this?

Who knew except Harley? And Selina? And neither of them would have done this to her. But then who? Woodrue himself? Had he found her somehow? Had he seen how well she'd been doing for herself? Was he insistent of torturing her for however long he could?

But if it was him, then how had the letter arrived without a return address? Was he in Gotham? Did he have someone here tormenting her for him?

The walls closed in around her and her vision narrowed until all she could see was the letter; anxiety constricted her chest, making it difficult to breathe. He'd found her.

It had to be him. It had to be. No one else knew. No one else was cruel enough, cold-hearted enough, twisted enough. Quickly, she pushed herself off the wall, snatching the papers up and holding them over the sink. With her free hand, she reached for the kitchen lighter they kept in one of the drawers and set the papers aflame, watching as they crumbled and crackled in the sink until there was nothing but charred remains.

She'd just finished washing them down the garbage disposal when she heard the door opening again. Harley was home.

Relax. Act natural. She doesn't need to know. She doesn't need to worry. This doesn't concern her. This is about you.

She needed to protect Harley. The girl had gone through enough already. And she was so patient when it came to Pam's therapy. Adding another worry to her already substantial list was something Pam was not willing to do. Besides, maybe this was a onetime incident. Maybe this was the only letter she'd receive. A flash in the pan. A brief reminder. Realistically, Pam knew that couldn't be true. This was only the beginning.

"Hey!" Harley chirped when she saw Pam in the kitchen. "How was work?"

"Uneventful," Pam replied, plastering one what she hoped was a convincing smile. "You?"

"Wait, wait," Harley said, setting down her backpack and approaching Pam with a grin. She slipped her arms around Pam's waist and kissed her deeply, humming contentedly when Pam kissed her back. She pulled away after a moment, her fingers still teasing the hem of Pam's blouse.

"Okay. Better," She giggled, drawing a genuine smile from Pam this time. "Work was good. Didn't see much of Jay, which is always a plus. And Babs came in to say hi!"

"Oh? Is she getting a tattoo?" Pam asked, watching as Harley pulled the ties out of her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders. Her mouth went a little dry at the sight.

"She's thinkin' about it," Harley replied, removing her bracelets and stuffing them into the front pocket of her backpack. "She said she liked Dick's so much that she wanted to come in for a few ideas."

"I'm interested to see if she decides on anything." Pam was a little impressed with how well she was keeping up conversation, considering her mind was a whirlwind of panicked emotions.

"Same here," Harley stretched and headed towards the bathroom. She paused before disappearing inside, poking her head back out. "I'm gonna take a shower. Did you wanna watch Gotham's Most Wanted with me after?"

Pam gave her a weak thumbs up.

Why did you do that? You never do that. You're trying to convince her nothing is wrong. Pull yourself together.

Harley didn't seem to notice the uncharacteristic gesture. She grinned and closed the bathroom door and Pam heard the sounds of water hitting the tile a moment later.

Pam gazed into the empty sink, a shiver running down her spine. A single clipping, a menacing note. That was all it had taken to make her feel violated again. To drag her back into the past. As she settled herself in the living room, staring blankly at a dark television, she began praying to whatever, or whoever, might be listening that this didn't affect her sessions with Harley. Another setback was the last thing she needed.

And yet, deep down, she knew it would.

/

Pam trailed a path of deep kisses from Harley's shoulder to the sensitive spot just below her ear, where she sucked at Harley's throbbing pulse point. She let her fingers glide down Harley's bra covered breasts to her stomach, drawing circles around her navel before slipping them below the lip of her panties.

Harley's moan rumbled deep in her chest, and she clutched at the covers with one hand, burying her face in the crook of her own elbow as Pam continued to tease her. She lay on her side, Pam pressed against her back for easy access to her neck.

With her free hand, Pam brushed Harley's hair aside and caught her earlobe between her teeth, tugging gently and earning a soft gasp from Harley.

It was getting easier. The heat, the intimacy, the racing heartbeats and vulnerability. She wanted to push, she wanted to be completely ready, but there was still a line. Still a barrier she couldn't completely cross. And that line had been made even clearer with the multiple letters she'd received over the past few days. They all contained the same thing. Clippings, notes. All vague, but clear enough to make Pam feel tainted, horrified.

She knew she was already reaching her limit.

Dipping her fingers lower, she drew them along the crease of Harley's thigh. Harley jerked against her, her fingers coiling around the sheets.

"God, Red..." she breathed as Pam attacked her neck again teeth and tongue.

The whimper took Pam out of the moment. She had to stop. She knew she wasn't going to be able to go much farther. Touching Harley any more intimately would mean crossing that line, it would mean reciprocation, it would mean losing to the panic that had been building inside and outside the bedroom. She couldn't focus tonight anyway. The clippings she'd received over the past few days kept flashing before her eyes. So, slowly, painfully, she drew her hand away, rubbing Harley's side comfortingly as she did. She felt the blonde release a shuddering sigh before hiding her face against the pillow.

"Harley?" No response. "Are you alright?"

"Gimme a sec," was the tense reply. Harley was taught as a wire, her breathing shallow. And a wave of shame washed through Pam. These sessions weren't fair. They were one-sided, unintentionally cruel. Whether Harley was patient enough or not didn't matter. Teasing her like this felt like an abuse of power to Pam, and she hated the implication. Harley deserved more than that. No matter what she'd told Pam in the park.

"I'm sorry," she said, shifting until she was no longer touching Harley, but lying on her own side of the bed. "I'll speak with Joan tomorrow and discuss some alternate therapeutic methods. This isn't working anymore."

That got Harley's attention. She jerked her head around, peering at Pam over her shoulder through lust clouded eyes. "Whaddya mean it isn't working? We've been makin' so much progress."

"It isn't fair to you," Pam retaliated, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. "I feel I'm the only one benefitting from these sessions."

"That's—That's not true," Harley argued, rolling to face Pam. "I…benefit…too."

Pam searched her face for sincerity, sighing when Harley looked away, squirming under the scrutiny of her gaze.

"I'll talk to Joan," she repeated.

"What else can you do to get over the fear, Red?"

"Something."

Harley rolled her eyes and a flicker of annoyance rose in Pam's chest. "So, you think it's a better idea to just avoid me? Will I be allowed to hold your hand, or is that off limits too now?"

Pam knew Harley was only acting out in anger, but it was growing more difficult to keep her calm. "That's not what I said. I didn't insinuate we couldn't be remotely intimate, I just suggested we try something other than this."

"This," Harley stressed the word in a hiss. "Ishow we're gonna get past everything, Red."

"There is always more than one way to reach a goal, Harley. Joan and I have been discussing various mental techniques I can practice. I would rather that than continue indulging in these sessions."

The furrow in Harley's brow deepened. "You're giving up?"

"I'm not giving up!" Pam's voice rose. "I'm suggesting a change for your sake."

"I don't need a change."

"You'd rather continue spending every night in a suspended state of frustration?"

"Who says I'm frustrated?" Harley argued. "I get to be with you. I get to touch you. That counts for something."

"But is it enough for you?"

"Right now? Yeah."

Pam narrowed her eyes. "I'd like the truth."

"That is the truth!" Harley's eyes were welling with angry tears. "We just talked about this the other day for cryin' out loud. Why can't you accept it?"

"Because no one could want this, Harley," Pam continued, her voice calmer than she felt. "No one could spend every night left… unsatisfied."

"I'm helping you."

"Yes, you are. But I want to help you too. A one-sided relationship is hardly a relationship at all."

Harley looked away, rubbing her eyes fiercely. "I'll say it one more time. I'm fine."

"And again, I insist we try another method."

Confused and clearly angry, Harley didn't argue, but rolled to face away from Pam.

"Harley…"

Silence.

"Daffodil," she tried. "Please look at me."

Harley pulled the covers up to her chin and reached out to turn off the lamp on the bedside table. Jaw clenching, Pam sighed and rolled away, burrowing into the sheets as well and resigning herself to a sleepless night.

/

"Why the long face, dollface?" Floyd asked, plopping down next to Harley in the break room and setting his bagged lunch on the table. Harley picked tiredly at her salad. She hadn't gotten much sleep the past couple of nights. True to her word, Pam no longer engaged in SIT sessions with her. She spent an hour before bed meditating… Or at least that's what it looked like to Harley. Pam had called it something else, attributing the fancy name to Joan, who had agreed to Pam's stupid idea to discontinue SIT.

"It's nothin'." She took a listless bite of the underdressed salad, grimacing as she chewed. She knew Pam had been trying to extend some comfort in packing her lunch for her this morning, but this salad was a perfect metaphor for their relationship right now…bland.

"It's clearly something," Floyd countered, dumping his lunch onto the table. "You're never quiet. And when you are, it means there's something wrong. Like that week after your birthday party when Plant Lady wouldn't talk to you."

Harley's mind drifted back to that night. If things had been complicated between them back then, they paled in comparison to how complicated things were now. A small part of Harley briefly wished she could return to that time: the harmless teasing, the simple yearning. It had been easier than this ache that anchored itself in the middle of her chest.

Floyd seemed to notice he'd triggered something. "You two on the ropes?"

"Kinda," Harley replied, pushing her salad aside after another bite.

"What happened this time?"

"It's really not any of your business, Floyd," Harley answered bitingly, stressing the use of his name, which she knew he hated.

Floyd raised his brows and took a slow bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before shaking a finger at Harley. "The attitude is really not appreciated."

Harley huffed and leaned against the table, propping her cheek in one hand. "Why do you care anyway?"

"Because it freaks me out to see you like this."

She snorted. "That's a dumb reason."

"You're dumb."

The ridiculous attempt at an insult made Harley giggle and she saw a small smile twitch Floyd's lips from the corner of her eye.

"You don't have to tell me," he continued, focusing on his sandwich. "But I figured you'd like someone to talk to."

"She doesn't trust me," Harley blurted. "She doesn't listen to me anymore." Harley paused, debating on how much to tell Floyd. She couldn't accurately describe her troubles unless she was pretty transparent about their situation. But she could trust Floyd. In the three, almost four, years she'd known him, he'd never let her down. And he'd even been the one to help her move out of Jay's apartment, to save her from their confrontation in his office, he'd pushed her to confess her feelings to Pam.

Yeah, she could trust him.

So she told him everything. From the night she discovered Pam had been raped, to her subsequent breakdown, the therapy, the SIT sessions and finally, Pam's decision to cut them off.

"She won't let me help her anymore because she thinks I can't handle the…'frustration'." She put air quotes around the word. "It's stupid! I'm not doin' it to get all hot and bothered. I want to help her, and this is the only way I can help!" Harley threw her arms up in the air, bringing them back down to cup her face.

"Wow." Floyd blinked, crumbling up the bag he'd wrapped his sandwich in and pursing his lips thoughtfully. "That was a lot of information I'm not sure I wanted."

"You asked what was wrong!" Harley reminded him.

Floyd acknowledged the truth in that by bobbing his head. "So… You two aren't talking anymore because she doesn't want to do this therapy thing?"

"Yeah, she doesn't think it's fair to me. So now, she just doesn't come near me. Which I told her would happen, by the way. But did she listen to me? No. Because she thinks she's always right and my opinion only matters when things are going well."

"Woah, sounds like there are a few deep-seated issues you've got in there." He pointed at the center of her forehead.

"I don't have any deep-seated issues," Harley objected, batting his hand away. "I just hate when she does this. Whenever we have an argument she pulls back. She hides and draws inside herself until she decides she's ready to talk about it. And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Nothin'. There's nothin' I can do, because she won't let me in."

Harley paused, practically panting with the exertion of her rant.

"Maybe that has something to do with what happened to her?" Floyd offered. "Back in Seattle?"

"Well, obviously it does!"

"Alright, relax," Floyd's tone was infinitely more serious. "I'm trying to help here. I don't need you getting your panties in a twist."

Harley took a deep breath through her nose, releasing it slowly. Once she'd calmed, she continued. "Joan's been tryin' so hard to help her, and Pam's been tryin' so hard to do what she says that they leave me out of the equation. It's not fair. I—I-"

Do not cry in front of Floyd. Do. Not. Cry. In front of Floyd.

"Look, Harley," Floyd interrupted. "I've seen you in the depths of an awful relationship and I've seen you in the highs of a healthy one. Right now you two are going through a low point. All relationships have those. But, if you really care about Pam….and you do right?"

"'Course I do."

"Then you stay strong. You be patient. You find some way to talk to her and you work through your problems together."

"You're divorced," Harley said a little bitterly. "What makes you think you know how to fix a relationship?"

Floyd chuckled. "Because all I have to do is tell you to do the the opposite of what I did." He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. "Why do you want to fix things so bad?"

"What do you mean, why?"

Floyd shrugged. "Do you feel like it's something you have to do? Or is it something you want to do?"

"I wanna do it."

"Why?"

Confused, and a little irritated by his blasé tone, Harley burst out, "Because I care about her. A lot. She means… She's everything."

Because I love her…. I'm in love with her.

Harley had already known the words to be true for a long time, but admitting them to herself was… staggering. Her heart fluttered at the realization. She was in love. In love with a woman who cared about her, treated her with respect, who wanted her for who she was. She'd gone from a relationship that tore her apart, beat her down everyday, to one that made her feel like she could soar.

And then her heart sank because she realized in the same moment, that she couldn't tell Pam. Pam had cut off their SIT sessions. Pam didn't speak with her openly anymore. She didn't share her feelings. They didn't communicate. In the span of one night, they'd taken ten steps back. Telling Pam how she felt, how she really felt…. It would be too much. It would scare her. It would push her further away. And more powerful than the desire to tell Pam how she felt, was the desire to keep her close. And that meant keeping her feelings locked inside. For now.

Floyd noticed her sudden silence and smirked, seeming to infer what she was thinking.

"Just tell her everything you told me, Harley," he encouraged, rising from his chair. "If you want this thing to work, you gotta be willing to fight through the rough shit."

Harley just nodded, sobered by her own realization.

"You seen Jay, by the way?" Floyd asked, tossing his bag in a trashcan as if he were shooting a basketball. "The guy keeps ditching. I swear he hasn't been in his office all week. Can he still be the boss if he pulls shit like that?"

Harley had noticed his absences too. He'd often leave work early or show up late and head immediately to his office. It was odd seeing him walk into the shop without sending a single glance, or sneer, her way. Something felt off.

"I don't know what he's been doin'," Harley admitted.

Floyd grunted. "Well, the less we see of him, the better I guess."

Harley had to wonder if that was really true.