Pam knew she should go to the police. The letters kept coming at irregular intervals, each one more intrusive than the last. The latest one had held a clipping of her old yearbook photo and a note that read: Slut. She knew she should contact Barbara, get her to arrange a meeting with her father. And yet, something held her back. Fear? Pride? She wasn't sure.
The last time she'd gone to the police to deal with Woodrue, they'd dismissed her. What would be different this time? She had no proof that the letters were being sent to her by an outside source. And what could the police do if they did find her antagonist? A light slap on the wrist? Could she push a restraining order? The complications that would go along with something like that were monumental. And they would only interfere further with her already strained relationship with Harley.
For almost two weeks, she'd kept her secret. Destroying the letters, burning the evidence, hiding her paranoia and fear in her meditation therapy. Harley had no idea. But, once again, there was a wall forming between them. A rift, due to Pam's unwillingness to engage in any SIT. As if she could, even if she wanted to. She felt eyes on her all the time now, and didn't want her paranoia to further upset their already crumbling relationship.
More terrifying than the letters, was the idea that someone was watching her. Following her. Finding ways to sneak their threats into her shop and her home and then leaving her to the throes of her own mind. It was cruel. It was evil.
Slowly, her suspicions began to turn to Jay. She had no proof besides a gut feeling. And yet, there was no way he could have known about what happened to her in Seattle. Harley would never have told him. She wouldn't tell anyone at the shop… Would she? If she had, it was possible it had leaked through one of them. And who else could it be? Who was horrible enough to do this to her?
Part of her wanted to confront Jay. But if she was wrong, then she risked enlightening him to her rape. She risked giving him power over her mental state.
She hadn't told Joan about the letters either, although it was clear from their sessions that she'd noticed a step backwards in Pam's progress. She'd been supportive of Pam's decision to stop SIT sessions at first, but grew increasingly concerned when Harley no longer came with Pam to her appointments.
"Are things alright at home, Pam?"
It was a question she heard over and over again in these sessions and it was beginning to grate on her.
"Things are fine."
"Fine?"
"Yes."
Joan stared hard at Pam and she stared right back, unwilling to yield. "Is there anything you would like to talk about today that you think will turn things from 'fine' to 'excellent'?"
"Things are going well enough, I don't see the need to strive for any improvement." Pam's tone was blasé, too terse. Joan noticed.
"There's always room for improvement when it comes to relationships, Pam," Joan insisted. "They constantly grow and change, as do the individuals involved. And in your case, when taking into account the lack of intimacy, it's more important than ever that you develop your communication skills."
"Noted." Pam put an end to the conversation. It was clear that Joan was disappointed with their progress by the end of the appointment.
"I'll see you in a few days then," she sighed, setting her clipboard aside and opening the office door. But before Pam could go, Joan put a firm hand on her shoulder, holding her in place. "Pam… I want you to take some time to consider the possible consequences of your actions. Harley is a very kindhearted young woman, but she can't shoulder a relationship on her own. You're going to have to communicate with her sooner rather than later if you want to avoid a serious conflict."
Pam nodded, a wave of guilt washing over her. Not only was she lying to herself, but to both of the people who were trying to help her. Whoever was sending her these letters was doing an excellent job of tearing her apart at the seams.
Pam made her way back to the apartment alone, the early winter breeze tousling her hair and whipping through the fabric of her jacket. Harley wouldn't be home yet; she'd told Pam she'd be working late for the next week and Pam couldn't help but think it was to avoid seeing her. Not that she could blame Harley. She hadn't been the most attentive or caring girlfriend. She'd been irritable, distant, cold. All of the things she'd hated about herself in Seattle, all of the things she'd been before meeting Harley. And it was pushing her away.
You're screwing up, Pamela. You're going to lose her.
Pam squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the voice that whispered dark thoughts in her ear, instead focusing on the breathing techniques Joan had taught her. Despite her attempts to discredit the voice, she knew deep down that it was right.
She was losing Harley.
/
"I'm just sayin', it's weird we've all worked here together for, like, three years and we don't have anythin' to show for it," Harley said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at her coworkers, who sat in a haphazard circle around her.
"I'm not following," Chato said, from his perch at his workbench. "What would we show for it?"
"Matching tattoos, duh!" Harley threw her hands in the air. "Come on!"
"I ain't getting matching tattoos with you wackjobs," Floyd snorted. "Have you seen Chato's face. Guy has a seven on his fucking forehead."
"It's not a seven, it's a scythe," Chato huffed, rubbing his fingers over said tattoo.
"Because that's better."
"You're one to talk 'knuckles'." Chato gestured to the "love" and "hate" lettering tattooed on Floyd's fingers. "How fucking overdone is that? Why don't you just throw a tramp stamp on your ass and call it a day."
"Guys!" Harley drew their attention before they could start a brawl in the middle of the shop. "Relax, it doesn't have to be anything crazy. We could, I dunno, get a word. Or a symbol. And you can put it wherever you want to, Floyd." She added before he could protest.
"What word?" Tatsu piped in, running her hand over the sleeve of colorful flowers that covered her arm.
"Good question…." Harley pondered it. "Oh! I got it…. 'Squad'."
"Squad?" Floyd balked.
"Yeah, Squad, cuz that's what we are. But we'd have to spell it wrong."
"What the fuck? Why?" Floyd looked even more appalled.
"Aesthetic," Harley shrugged.
"That's stupid," Chato grumbled.
"I agree with Skeletor over there," Floyd jerked his thumb at Chato. "Dumb idea."
"Okay, well then you guys come up with something better!" Harley shouted, throwing her arms in the air.
"Got one," Floyd said immediately. "Hear me out…. How about we don't get matching tattoos?"
"Agreed," Chato said. Tatsu gave Harley an apologetic shrug when she pouted.
"You guys suck," she whined, plopping down into her work chair.
"Sorry," Floyd said, rising and grabbing his bag. "Not all ideas can be winners." He ruffled her hair as he walked by and she batted his hand away irritably. "Need a ride home?" he continued as if she hadn't just smacked him. "You're on the way."
"Uh…No. Thanks," Harley mumbled, glancing away. "I'm gonna stick around and get some more... sketches done."
Floyd's eyes flickered from her empty work station, the customer-less shop and then back to Harley. He knew she was stalling but, to his credit, he simply shrugged, bid the squad goodnight and walked out the door.
Harley watched him go and then swiveled in her chair, beginning to organize her already perfectly organized work bench. Chato and Tatsu moved around the shop, quietly cleaning up for the day. When they'd finished about an hour later, Chato headed to the back office to grab Jay and lock up for the night.
He came back to Harley and Tatsu a moment later, his face twisted in confusion. "Did anyone see Jay leave?"
"He's gone?" Harley asked, her expression matching Chato's.
"I didn't see him go," Tatsu added.
Chato shrugged and grabbed the spare set of keys from the front desk, gesturing for the ladies to head out before him.
"Whatever," he said as he locked the door. "The guy doesn't do anything for the business anyway. Who cares if he doesn't show up. Good riddance."
Harley agreed. But Jay's absences were stacking up and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong.
/
There was a thump against the front door that drew Pam out of the kitchen, where she'd been cooking dinner. When she opened it, she was met with an empty doorstep, save for another letter resting on the door mat. Stepping out into the hallway, Pam glanced left and right, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. There was none. It was as if the letter had been left for her by a ghost.
Shivering, Pam snatched up the letter and slammed the door shut, locking it behind her. Should she even open this one? She knew what would be inside. Pacing back into the kitchen, Pam tossed the letter onto the table, only to pick it up again a moment later and grip it tightly in her hands. She'd just begun to rip it in two when she heard a key jingling from outside and a moment later, Harley entered the apartment.
True to her word, she'd stayed at work a good two hours longer than she normally did. And what was worse was how quiet she was when she came in. No playful, 'Honey, I'm home!'. No scrambling through the apartment to find Pam and kiss her over and over again until they were both grinning like idiots. Bitterly, Pam recalled how much she'd anticipated those arrivals. How she'd begin to smile when she heard Harley's key jingling in the lock. Or how she'd pretend not to notice Harley's (occasionally) sneaky entrances, just to hear her ringing laughter when she 'succeeded' in surprising Pam with dangerously tight hugs.
This time, Harley wandered into the kitchen slowly, probably enticed by the scent of dinner, and offered Pam a weak smile. "Hey."
"How was work?" was all Pam could think to ask as she subtly dropped the letter into one of the drawers behind her.
Harley plucked an apple from the fruit bowl on the table and plopped down into a chair. "It was okay, I guess. Tried to convince the crew to get matching tattoos. Didn't really go over well."
"That's a shame."
Harley nodded, crunching quietly on her apple as an uncomfortable silence fell over them. Clearing her throat, Pam returned her attention to the skillet on the stove, while Harley picked at the chipped wooden surface of the table.
"You haven't had any trouble with Jay lately, have you?" Pam asked, scrambling for a topic of conversation.
"No. Haven't seen him around at all actually. He just doesn't show up anymore, or if he does, he hides in his office all day." Harley's face scrunched up in thought. "It's kinda creepy. No one knows what he's been up to."
Pam narrowed her eyes, her mind beginning to turn. "You… Don't see him around anymore?"
"Not really."
"Do you happen to notice when he does show up? Time of day? Frequency?"
Harley looked a little disconcerted by Pam's questions. "Uh… It's pretty random, actually."
That certainly fit within the delivery of the letters. Pam hadn't been able to find a pattern. Could it be him? She'd need more than the randomness of Jay's work schedule as proof before she could truly determine if it was him.
"And then he stays in his office?"
"Yeah…"
"Does he let any of you in?"
"Well, no… But he's never really done that."
If only she could find a way inside to snoop through his things. Find out if he had clippings stored in his desk drawers or on his computer. Then again, even if he was the one sending the notes, there was no guarantee he kept everything in his office, although that would explain why he spent so much time locked away in there.
"Why?" Harley asked, drawing Pam from her thoughts.
Pam froze. She'd been keeping this secret from Harley for so long that it felt wrong to tell her now. Maybe she could continue to solve it on her own? And Harley would be none the wiser? Or maybe she could enlist Harley's help. Maybe she could have her find a way into the office and see if Pam's suspicions were correct.
But telling Harley now would reveal that she had been lying. It was a calculated risk, considering Harley's propensity for extreme emotional reactions. If she could just explain that she'd kept the secret to protect their struggling relationship, that might gain her some sympathy. It wasn't a decision to be made lightly, and Pam needed to think.
"No reason in particular," she answered, shrugging. "It just seems odd."
Turning off the heat on the stove, Pam quickly made her way towards the bathroom. "Dinner just needs to simmer for a little while longer. I'm going to take a quick shower and we can eat when I'm done. Be back in a bit." She gestured vaguely in the direction of the living room. "I think one of your shows is on in the meantime."
Harley watched her go, confused by the suddenness in which she left. But she nodded nonetheless, rising from her chair and ambling towards the living room.
Pam grabbed a quick change of clothes and locked herself in the bathroom, turning on the spray and allowing the hot steam to clear her head.
She knew she couldn't hide this secret from Harley for much longer. And really, what would be the harm in telling her? The only issue she could foresee was the fact that she'd hidden it for so long. Harley would be hurt, that much was undeniable. But the guilt had been eating away at Pam and to finally have this off her chest…
Besides that, Harley was in a much better position to keep tabs on Jay and his movements. If he was behind the letters, she had a better chance at catching him than Pam did. And two heads were always better than one.
/
Harley plopped down on the couch with a weary sigh. Pam's distant behavior wasn't new, but she'd seemed particularly jittery when Harley had mentioned Jay. It confused her as much as it frustrated her, because she clearly wasn't going to get any answers from Pam. Secretive, short-tempered, detached Pam.
Deciding not to worry about it now, Harley reached for the remote sitting on the coffee table, growling to herself when it failed to turn the television on. She clicked the power button a few more times and smacked it against her thigh for good measure. When neither strategy worked, she hauled herself to her feet and wandered back into the kitchen, pausing in the entrance and frowning.
Where do we keep the batteries again?
Harley sifted through a few drawers, growing more and more aggravated when she came up empty. Finally, she opened the drawer closest to the stove and found a wrinkled envelope stuffed inside. Curious, she pulled it out and examined it more closely. There was no return address, nothing to suggest where it had come from. And Harley couldn't think of a reason why it had been shoved into the drawer, somewhat haphazardly from the looks of it. Glancing over her shoulder, Harley carefully tore the lip of the envelope open and pulled out the contents folded inside.
/
Deciding that she didn't really have a choice in the matter anymore, Pam took a few more minutes in the shower to center herself, dried off, and headed for the living room, steeling herself for the inevitable confrontation with Harley. Except Harley wasn't there. Confused, Pam moved back into the kitchen, cold dread blooming in her gut as she took in the scene before her.
Harley stood over the open drawer, the television remote in one hand and the opened letter in the other. Pam put the pieces together quickly, before Harley even had a chance to notice she was there. She'd accidentally uncovered Pam's secret. And that left her at a serious disadvantage. She hadn't had the chance to come clean first, and now Harley knew. Judging by the devastated expression on her face when she turned around, she was well aware that she'd been lied to.
"What's this?" she asked, holding the letter up a little higher, clutching it so tightly it began to crinkle.
"Harley…" Pam began, taking a slow step towards her as if she were approaching a wild animal. "I was going to tell you-"
"What is it?" she asked again, her tone more demanding.
Pam took a deep breath, keeping her eyes on Harley's. "I've been receiving letters like that one over the past two weeks." She watched as Harley examined the envelope again. "I wasn't sure who could have been behind them, but Jay's recent behavior makes me think he may have something to do with it. And even if he doesn't, which I highly doubt… He's the only one who I can possibly imagine would be cruel enough… I don't think it would hurt to know what he's been doing that keeps him out of the shop so much. Whether or not he's a part of these letters, he's clearly up to something."
Pam waited for Harley's reply but she remained silent, staring down at the letter, her hands trembling. When she looked up, Pam was surprised to see her eyes were glistening, and full of anger.
"Two weeks? You—These…For two weeks? You lied to me?" Her fingers twisted in the paper, ripping the edges. Suddenly, she threw the letter and the remote onto the table. They landed with a clatter that made Pam flinch. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Pam opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Why hadn't she told Harley? To protect her, right? It felt like a stupid decision now. "I… Didn't think it was necessary. I felt I had the situation under control-"
"You didn't think it was necessary?" Harley's voice rose a few octaves and Pam suddenly realized that she had chosen the absolute worst thing to say. "Under control? Pam, someone is stalking you! Threatening you! And you thought it would be a good idea to handle it on your own? What happened to all of those communication exercises Joan gave us?" Harley threw her arms out, as if daring Pam to challenge her. "Did you forget? Or do they just not matter to you anymore?"
"Of course they matter." There was an edge to Pam's voice. "I kept it from you because I didn't want you to worry."
"You didn't want me to worry?" Harley's cheeks had turned a furious red. "Are you hearin' yourself right now? How do you know these letters will be all this…whoever this is…does to you? What if I found you dead in some alley one day? What if you just disappeared and I had no idea why? What would I do then, Pam? How could you think this would be a good idea? You know for someone so smart, you can be real stupid sometimes."
"I may not have considered all of the possible consequences," Pam admitted, ignoring the jibe. "But I had the best intentions."
"Why?" Harley burst, she was yelling now, "Why won't you let me help you? Why is it so hard for you to let me in? I thought you cared about me, about this." She gestured back and forth at the space between them.
"I do!" Pam shot back, her rage matching Harley's now. "That's why I kept it from you."
"That makes no sense!"
"Look, Harley, you know now. So what's the point of arguing? We can figure it out together from here."
"Because it's not about the letters," Harley continued, angry tears now evident in her eyes. "It's about the fact that you can't trust me. You don't talk to me. You shut me out whenever I get too close. How am I supposed to keep going like this, Pam?"
"This was for you!"
"No, this was for you and don't you dare pretend you don't know that," Harley shot back, rubbing the heels of her palms against her eyes to stem the flow of tears.
Calm her down. Appease her.
"Harley…" Pam took a step toward her, reaching out, but Harley slapped her hand away. Pulling back, Pam tried for an even gentler approach. "Daffodil, I just thought, with everything we've been struggling with, the last thing you needed was to deal with these letters. I was trying to ensure that you didn't have another issue to worry about when it comes to… Well, when it comes to this." She too gestured to the space between them.
"But don't you get how stupid that is?" Harley countered. "Don't you see how that just makes things worse? We're supposed to be a team. You're supposed to tell me things and let me help you… Just like you helped me."
That gave Pam pause. Harley had been open with her in the beginning. She'd come to Pam when Jay had beaten her, she'd trusted Pam with her safety. Harley had opened up to her when she had nowhere else to turn. But this was different… Right?
"I do let you help me. The SIT-"
"The SIT that you cut off?" Harley interrupted. "That you thought I couldn't handle? That SIT?"
Pam's jaw clenched, it was hard to feel sympathetic when Harley's tone was dripping with sarcasm. "I stand by that decision."
Harley's mouth fell slack and she shook her head slowly. "I can't believe you… You don't hear me. You don't care."
"Of course I care! Harley, stop and think for a minute about what I was trying to do for you-"
Harley clamped her hands over her ears in a display that was so childish it would have made Pam laugh under any other circumstance. "Stop sayin' that! If you actually were trying to do anything for me, you would have let me help you. You wouldn't have lied to me. For weeks, Pam. I can't… I can't…" Harley's breath was coming in rapid gasps now, her eyes too wide. She was panicked, losing control, and Pam's heart was beginning to flutter nervously in her chest.
"You can't what?" she prodded, her voice too sharp.
Harley's shoulders slumped, her entire body seeming to sag under an enormous weight. She met Pam's gaze and when she spoke, her voice was very small. "I can't… do this anymore."
Pam felt her heart drop into her stomach as the world twisted around her. "What?"
"This is never gonna work if you don't let me in." Harley picked up her backpack and strode out of the kitchen, pushing past Pam as she went. Pam followed her, panic making her limbs tremble.
"Harley, wait. Please. Let's talk about this rationally."
Please don't go. Don't leave me.
"I've said everything I have to say."
You don't understand. I didn't mean to hurt you. Don't go.
"Where are you going?"
Harley didn't look back, she continued for the door, shouldering her backpack and wrenching the door open harder than was necessary.
"I dunno. Away from here."
"Harley…"
Harley opened the door and then stood silently, her knuckles white on the knob. After a few moments of tense silence, she looked over her shoulder, her reddened eyes boring into Pam's. "I've never met anyone like you before, ya know. You were the one that taught me to respect myself. You made me believe…really believe, that I was worth somethin'. That I shouldn't let myself be pushed around by someone who thinks they're better than me, smarter than me, stronger than me. You taught me that." Harley continued before Pam could object, her chin trembling. "So I'm not gonna." She looked away from Pam, hesitant, and then her resolve hardened. "If you can't let me in, there's nowhere else for us to go… Figure out what you want, Red."
Pam opened her mouth to respond, but she choked on her words and watched helplessly as Harley walked out the door. Only when it clicked shut behind her did the magnitude of what she'd done hit Pam like a brick wall. Harley was gone. Pushed away by Pam's stubbornness, by her pride. She was gone. And Pam had no one to blame but herself.
She stumbled back into the living room, collapsing onto the couch and staring at the ragged carpet beneath her toes. She didn't know where Harley was going or if she was coming back. She didn't know if there was anything she could possibly do or say to make amends. Or if she should even try.
Of course you should try. You can't just let her go. Go, follow her.
What would I say?
Does it matter? Anything, just go!
But she didn't. She sat frozen on the couch. And then Pam felt warm tears dripping down her cheeks. She lifted a hand, staring at the wet drops that came away on her fingers. Pamela Isley didn't cry. She just didn't. There was no point, crying didn't solve any problems. And yet, despite the logic that told her to do otherwise, Pam curled around a pillow at the far end of the couch and sobbed.
She cried until there was nothing left inside of her. Then she lay there shivering as fear and despair washed over her in waves. Eventually, exhaustion crept through her body, draping itself over her like a heavy blanket, until she couldn't stand to keep her eyes open any longer and she fell asleep nestled in between the old hardened couch cushions.
/
Selina's call came early the next morning. The ringing of her cellphone jolted Pam awake. Her face was sticky from dried tears and her back ached from sleeping on the old couch all night. Reaching out for the phone on the coffee table, she checked the caller ID before answering.
"Hello?" she croaked, her voice cracked and tired.
"Pam? It's me." There was a heaviness in her tone that Pam hadn't expected. "I just thought you should know that Harley showed up on my doorstep last night."
She's safe.
Relief washed through Pam, but it was quickly replaced with anxiety. "She's at your apartment?" Pam rose on unsteady legs, moving to the bedroom to grab a fresh set of clothes. "I'm coming over. I need to talk to her. I-"
"Pam." Selina interrupted quietly. "I don't think that's a good idea."
Pam stopped in her tracks, a hole opening in her chest. She fell silent, waiting for Selina to continue. And she did, after a heavy sigh.
"She told me what happened… I think… She needs some space."
Pam didn't respond. She couldn't find the words to express how much it broke her to hear that.
"I'll look out for her, okay?" Selina assured her, apparently not needing her input. "I'll make sure she's safe… But Pam, you need help."
"I have help," she mumbled, thinking of Joan.
"No… You need help. You need to go to the police, you need to find whoever's sending you these letters. And then you need to figure out how you're going to fix things with this girl, who cares more about you than I think you realize."
"I…" Pam trailed off, she had no argument. Selina was right.
"She doesn't deserve this."
There was a heavy silence that followed. And then finally,"Selina?" Pam swallowed thickly, attempting to gather enough courage to mutter her next words.
"Yeah?"
"Will you tell her I'm sorry?" She knew it wouldn't be enough. It couldn't be. But she had to offer something. Selina seemed to be of the same mind. There was a long pause before she replied.
"I'll tell her."
"Thank you."
"Let me know if you need me to get Bruce involved. And Pam, take care of yourself." It was a plea as much as it was a demand, and then Selina hung up, leaving Pam alone.
/
Harley woke with an ache in her chest so powerful, it hurt to breathe. She rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling of Selina's guest bedroom as sunlight flooded through the windows. Every part of her body felt like it was tied down by a heavy weight. Even her eyelids couldn't seem to stay open. She closed them again and focused on her breathing, trying to fight the tears that threatened to surface as memories of the night before came rushing back to her.
Crying, always crying.
She could hear Selina outside, bustling around in the kitchen, probably starting breakfast, which only made the pain worse. Her mind flitted back to the many, many happy mornings she'd spent with Pam. Waking her with sweet, slow kisses and cuddling with her as they both struggled to rise for the day. Although, it was usually so warm between the two of them that they often fell right back to sleep. And then Pam's alarm would go off and she'd leap out of bed and leave Harley groaning.
Pancakes had become a ritual of theirs. Ever since Harley had shared the story of how she and her Ma made shapes with the batter. Pam latched onto the idea, although she mostly just made different types of flowers. Finally able to drag herself out of bed, Harley would join her in the kitchen, slip her arms around Pam's waist and kiss the slope of her neck. It never failed to draw a shiver from the red head.
Harley wasn't sure she'd have mornings like that again, and it filled her with dread. The fight they'd had last night… It had brought to light many things about Pam that Harley had been too love-struck to see. She was selfish, she didn't trust, she was stubborn, she was unwilling to let Harley get too close… and had been all along. While Harley was busy giving all of herself to this woman, Pam was still building walls to keep her out.
And that realization hurt more than anything Pam had said last night.
Harley had always been a fool when it came to love. She fell too fast. Too deeply. And always, it seemed, with the wrong people.
Slowly, she kicked off the covers, still dressed in her clothes from the day before. She'd left the apartment in such a rush that she didn't even have her toothbrush with her, just her things from work. Luckily, Selina was a gracious host and intended to supply her with everything she'd need this morning.
Shuffling out of the guest bedroom, Harley found Selina in the kitchen, setting plates and silverware on the table. She looked up when she heard Harley approach and grinned.
"Hey! How'd you sleep? I know that mattress is a little lumpy."
Is she kidding?
Everything in Selina's apartment was lavish, including the guest bed. It had felt like sleeping on a cloud.
"I slept great," Harley assured her. She gestured to the large breakfast Selina had laid out on the table. "This looks amazing! Thank you, Kitty."
Deciding not to tell Selina that her stomach was currently organizing a protest against food, she sat down, picking up her silverware and forcing down a few bites of oatmeal.
Selina sat across from her, nursing a small cup of black coffee. She watched Harley with a careful expression and although she pretended not to notice, Selina's stare was beginning to make her squirm.
"You going into work today?" Selina asked, clearly trying to keep the conversation light.
"Yup. I have a few clients lined up that wouldn't be too happy if I didn't show," Harley replied, pushing the oatmeal away and picking at a few grapes instead.
Selina bobbed her head, running her finger around the rim of her cup. "Would you… Do you need to borrow some clothes?"
Harley paused then sniffed at the sleeve of the shirt she wore. "Nah, I'll be okay in these. For today, at least."
"We'll grab some more outfits for you tonight."
"Ooh, shopping spree?"
Selina chuckled. "More like bare essentials spree. I just want to make sure you have what you need until you go back…"
She trailed off and Harley's smile vanished. She stared down at her nearly untouched plate of food, her stomach beginning to rumble in protest.
"Harley, I spoke with Pam this morning. She wanted me to-"
"I don't really wanna talk about it. If it's all the same to you, Kitty." Harley kept her tone light, but Selina saw through the front. She met Harley's gaze, her lips twisting into a grimace.
"It's just that-"
"Please…?"
"Okay," she agreed after a moment, holding up her hands. "We won't talk about it."
Harley cleared her throat and pushed away from the table. "I'm gonna go get ready for work. Thanks again for… all of this."
She gestured to the food, but she knew Selina understood she was also thanking her for her hospitality. She nodded quietly, watching Harley go. Only after she'd disappeared into the bathroom did Selina heave a sigh and begin gathering up the untouched plates of food.
God, Pam…What have you done?
/
Three days had passed since their argument. Three days of waking up without Harley, hoping she'd come back, and knowing she was still angry and hurting. Three days of living with the perpetual ache that had settled itself in Pam's gut.
She hadn't even managed to catch a glimpse of Harley in passing out of her shop window, and god knows she'd tried. The hours ticked by slowly as she sat huddled behind the front desk, mindlessly sorting through paperwork. She jumped when the door chimed and looked up, briefly allowing herself to believe that it was Harley walking through the door. Until she registered the wide smile, the dozens of ridiculous tattoos and sharp green eyes.
"Jay."
"Pammy." He matched her irritated tone and grinned. "How have you been?"
She wasn't fooled by his familiarity, although it did confuse her. After everything she'd done to frustrate him, she didn't expect even a hint of courtesy from him, feigned or not. "What are you doing here?"
"Is it too much to believe that I'm here to catch up with an old friend?" Jay asked, leaning against the front desk.
"We're not friends."
Jay pursed his lips, putting on an exaggerated pout. "Acquaintances then? Neighbors? No? We at least have something in common, don't we?" His tone took on a malicious bite. "We both know how to cut Harley down a size or two, although you seem much better at it than I ever was."
He smiled at her again, and Pam dug her nails into the wood desk to keep from decking him square in the jaw.
"Now, the difference between the two of us," Jay continued, pushing off the desk and moving around the store. "Is that I intend to patch things up between me and the kid. Flowers seem to be her thing, so I'm extending an olive branch… if you will."
He moved towards a row of assorted daisies and carefully examined the various pots. "I really do have to applaud you though. I've never seen Harley so out of sorts. Amazing what a few cutting words can do to such a happy couple." He smiled at her again, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Communication is key, as they say. You don't need a therapist to tell you that, do you Pammy?"
Pam's anger faded and was quickly replaced by shock. Harley and Selina were the only ones who knew about Joan, and neither of them would go around broadcasting Pam's personal life without her permission. As far as Pam knew, not even Bruce was aware of her sessions with Dr. Leland. Jay couldn't know. He shouldn't know. And yet, his remark was too pointed to be a coincidence. That left Pam with one conclusion.
Jay was the one leaving the letters. He was the one who had dug deep and discovered her history in Seattle. He was the one tormenting her to keep her locked in the past. And now, he was the one inadvertently…or perhaps purposefully…revealing himself as her stalker.
Jay had picked up a pot of daises and lay a crisp twenty-dollar bill on the counter before Pam could object.
"Don't take it too hard," he soothed, his smile never fading. "I'm sure Harley'll come around. And if she doesn't, well, I'll make sure she has somewhere to come crawling back to."
He laughed and then the door chimed again and Pam was alone, her heart racing in her chest.
/
Pam found herself inside Barbara's café the next morning, the latest letter in hand. She hadn't opened it, she didn't need to. It was evidence now.
It was proof that she was under scrutiny and attack. It was how she would find true freedom from the shackles of her past. It was how she would apologize to Harley. It was how she would fix everything. It had to be.
She waited until the line in front of the counter had thinned before approaching Barbara.
"Pam!" the younger red head exclaimed. "So good to see you. How are you?" Pam set the unopened letter on the counter. "….What's this?"
"Barbara." The girl looked up at her, eyes wary. Pam took a deep breath to steady herself. "I need to speak with your father."