"No, Pam," Harleen stopped her with a hand to her chest. "Give him a second, OK? How about you and Jolene go watch a show," she suggested. "What's that show you've been wanting Mom to watch with you, Jo?"

"Oh! Mom, you're in it!" Jo perked up.

Pam didn't move her gaze from Harleen, who she was silently pleading with. "Oh really?"

"Yeah," Jo was grinning a bit too broadly, trying in her own way to diffuse the situation. "Cept' they only call you Ivy, and you're just in High School so sometimes you mess up with your powers."

Harley shook her head, and nodded towards the living room, communicating once more that's where her wife would be most helpful at this juncture.

After one more miserable look, Pamela turned around to face Jolene. "Is that so?"

"Yeah!" Jo repeated, a bit more excited this time as she stood up and grabbed her Mom's hand, dragging her out of the dining room.

Harleen stood there for a moment after they'd left, waiting until she heard the TV flick on to move. Once it did, she shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her sweatshirt and started up the stairs to the master bedroom. She leaned into Anthony's door as she passed it, but couldn't hear anything, so she continued on, opening the top drawer of her dresser and pulling her own version of Pam's shoebox out. Though hers wasn't a shoebox, it was her photo albums. Clutching them to her chest, she shut her bedroom door behind her and knocked on Anthony's.

He didn't answer after the first round, so she tried again.

"Go away."

"Ant, it's me. You know, your stupid human Mother."

Harleen took his second non-answer as an invitation and let herself in. Anthony was laying on his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest. His skin was still green, which wasn't exactly unusual at this point in the evening. He slept in that shade, as it was the most comfortable, but Harleen suspected that he was currently too upset to focus on his pigment. So even if he wanted to look more human in this moment, he couldn't.

"Hey," Harley said, "You're pretty pissed, huh?"

He growled something incoherent and turned to face away from her.

Harleen pursed her lips, determining how best to move forward. "Anthony, can I show you something?"

She again took his non-answer as an invitation and sat down gingerly on his bed behind him. Silently flipping open the cover of her more well-worn album, she extracted a picture from it, reaching her arm over to hold it in front of his face. "That's me," she told him. "And that's my Ma, and…that's my Pop, and that little guy is my brother."

It took a moment for Anthony to react, but slowly he reached his hand up and took the picture from her, gazing at it but still refusing to face her.

"Pop's in jail now," Harleen told him. "Has been for a while. 70 years old and still an asshole," she chuckled.

It was clear Anthony was doing math as he tapped his fingers on the bedsheet, and when he turned to her, it was with a look of disgust. "You know that makes your wife 18 years older than your dad, right?"

"Yeah," Harley sighed, laying her head down next to his on the pillow. "Pretty gross, right?"

"The grossest thing I ever heard."

Harley chuckled. "God, you know what's almost equally gross?"

"Nothing?" Anthony guessed.

"Ooh, a comedian," Harley laughed. "No, do you know how I met your Mom?"

"No." He said, plainly, handing the picture back to her.

"Well…I was a doctor at an insane asylum. A psychiatrist."

"So you treated mental illnesses."

"That's right," Harleen nodded. "At Arkham Asylum."

"What?" Anthony turned to face her more fully, his eyes wide. "You worked at Arkham? That's where all of Batman's rogues get put."

"Mhm," Harley confirmed. "I worked at Arkham…and Mom lived there."

"What?"

"Yep," the blonde nodded. "Poison Ivy used to be one of Batman's most powerful rogues. Maybe even the most powerful…but don't tell her that, it'll go straight to her head."

"So you were…"

"I was her doctor," Harleen finished his sentence so that he wouldn't have to.

"Mama!" Anthony was sitting up fully now. "That is so messed up!"

"Pfft, don't I know it," Harleen agreed. "I felt so stupid, being in love with my patient. And I think she felt pretty stupid too, for falling for a human." She adjusted herself so that Anthony could lay his head back down, but when he did it was to stare at the ceiling. "I thought I had lived a pretty normal life…up until I got to college and started studying psychology. That's when I realized nothing about my life had been normal. My dad was in and out of prison my whole childhood, I spent all day every day in a gymnasium, I had no friends, I knew my brother would turn out an unambitious loser while my Ma sorta thought I would…but none of that really mattered to me because I had a dream, and I was doing everything in my power to achieve it."

"What was it?" Anthony asked, his interest piqued.

"Oh, well I was going to win a gold medal, of course," Harley laughed. "As a gymnast."

"Why didn't you?" Anthony murmured. "Were you not good enough?"

"I was plenty good enough," She reached down to hold his hand, and, begrudgingly, he allowed it. "But I let someone convince me that I wasn't." She turned her gaze to the ceiling as well. "It was a long time before somebody told me I was good enough."

"Was it Mom?" He asked, a bit cynically.

Harley smiled. "Oh my gosh, you must be—like—a genius or something." He flicked her in the arm, but even without looking at him she could tell he was smirking. It's what Pam would be doing, after all. "When the most beautiful, most intelligent person you've ever met tells you that you're pretty and that you're smart, I think it's a good idea to listen. I was 26 years old…fresh out of medical school, like this adorable little blonde baby…"

"I don't think you can call yourself adorable." Anthony chided.

"No?" Harley challenged, propping herself up on her elbow so that she could flip through the open photo album. "How do ya like them apples?!"

Anthony rolled onto his side to look at the picture she was gesturing to so forcefully, and a full smile finally cracked his humorless expression. "You wore glasses?"

"Only to impress people," the blonde confessed.

"I like your chipmunk cheeks," He admitted, having reined in his smile. "Now you've got…" he brushed the backs of his knuckles gently over Harley's face. "Cheekbones."

"Well that's because I'm a very old woman now," She laughed. "And old women who workout a lot usually have those."

"You don't seem old to me, Mama," Anthony assured her. "You don't even look old."

Harleen held his hand against her face. "Neither does Mom, right?"

The boy didn't answer, just dropped his gaze. "Why did you have us?" he mumbled, like he was ashamed to be asking the question, or ashamed that he felt the need to ask it.

"Well…" Harleen smiled, wistfully. "I was very, very happy. We'd been married for like 10 years at that point, and…we'd just had this really strange experience where we got a window into what our relationship could have been, and I just felt really happy with my life choices, really happy I'd chosen Mom…and suddenly, I was ready. I wanted a baby, I wanted to be a mom. I wanted Pam to get to be a mom…"

"Did she want to?" Anthony wondered.

"Not at first, no." Harley admitted. "She was afraid that someday we would have a night like tonight where we'd have to tell you what she really was. She told me I was being selfish, for asking her to not only watch me die, but our kids as well. She said it was unfair of me to introduce another thing to love just for it to be taken away like everything else."

Anthony flipped back over to face the wall. "What did you say?"

"Please," Harley giggled. "And I knew she would say yes because I asked her to, and she loved me too much to feel like she'd disappointed me somehow."

"…but why did she have to make us like this?"

"Unfortunately," Harley began with a sigh. "Her name is 'Poison Ivy' for a reason. A completely human baby wouldn't have been able to survive around her, and they'd be too weak for the vaccine she gave me. So the only way we could have a baby that was ours—or even just mine—was this. And Anthony," She scooted up closer behind him. "You are perfect. From the day you were born, you were absolutely flawless. The most beautiful baby I'd ever seen. And holy crap was Mom in love with you. Two peas in a pod, you two, from day one."

"Mama," Anthony groaned. "Your puns are lame."

Harley laughed. "That's actually just an idiom, but I'll remember that…for future use," she said, menacingly.

And again, she could tell he was smiling.

"Ant, you're right to be angry, and you're right to think this is unfair. It is." Harley told him. "But there is nothing wrong with you. And for all the crap Mom talks about humans, she's still a hybrid. She's still Pamela Isley, she's still married to me and she still has you and Jo. We're a family, and growing up as a family is always hard, especially when you have to leave one person behind. But we're all going to do our best, OK? I can promise you that every day, Mom and I will try our best."

Anthony sniffed, his knees once again tucked into his chest, and his face still turned away. Harley watched as he raised his sleeve to wipe his tears away. "I don't want to leave Mom behind."

Harley wrapped an arm around his chest, craning her neck to kiss him on the cheek. "Me neither."

/

Pam's eyes were narrowed critically at the screen. "So we're all enrolled in an academy specifically for female superheroes?"

Jolene was snuggled into her chest, her medal still hanging around her neck, "yup, pretty much."

"Why am I dressed like that?" Pam asked. "And why is my voice so high? My voice was never that high."

"Well maybe they didn't know that," Jo giggled, twisting her fingers in the buttons of her Mom's shirt.

"Ridiculous portrayal," Pam grumbled. "And why are Diana and Barbara so close? That doesn't make any sense…I don't think they've ever spoken one-on-one."

"Funny that she's Barbara Gordon just like Aunty Babs, huh?"

"Yes, very funny." Pam acknowledged, although she wasn't exactly listening—far more focused on her character's appearance. "I've literally never worn my hair like that. And what are those shoes?"

Jo laughed, pausing it before sitting up to look at her. "Mom, you're ruining the show! I was tryin'a put us in a happy mood."

Pam bit her lip apologetically and smoothed down the flyaways protesting Jo's pig tails. "I'll try to stop."

"Thank you," Jo said with an exaggerated sigh, snuggling back down against her Mom's chest. "She's my favorite," she pointed at the screen as some blonde in an argyle sweater pranced in.

"Who the hell is…?"

"I'm Harley Quinn!"

"Oh, Jesus," Pam buried her face in her hands.

"She's a goofball," Jo giggled. "I like how she breaks stuff and does gymnastics."

"They all do gymnastics," Pam pointed out.

"Yeah, but…she's funny," Jo smiled.

"You know…" Pam adjusted their positions slightly, wrapping her arms around her daughter's shoulders. "I've met Harley Quinn before. The real one...well, a version of the real one."

"Shut up!" Jo twisted to look up at her again.

"No, it's true," Pam chuckled. "She was a bit more grown up than that version, but yeah. I've met her."

"What was she like?" Jo wondered. "Did she call you 'Red' like in the how?"

"Mmm…no, I don't think so." Pam pressed a kiss to the girl's forehead. "She had her own Ivy to call 'Red', just like I have my own Harley."

Jo furrowed her brow, "What do you mean?"

"That's…a complicated conversation," Pam said. "But I will say that your Mother is an excellent gymnast, thinks she's very funny, and breaks stuff literally all the time."

Jo narrowed her green eyes, inadvertently recreating the expression Pam had made while watching herself on screen. "Mama's not a superhero, though…"

"Well, she's not that superhero," Pam acknowledged.

"Are you just saying confusing things to confuse me tonight?"

Pam smiled, "Silly girl, why else would I say confusing things?"

Jolene's eyes were nearly closed she was observing her Mother so critically now, but slowly, her face cracked into her more typical grin. "I'm glad you'll be young forever," she finally decided.

"Oh?" Pam gently slid the hair-ties out of the girl's strawberry-blonde curls, running her fingers through them so her hair fell just past her shoulder. Preparing Jolene for bed was easier when she was distracted. "Why's that?"

"Because, maybe, when I'm older than you—I'll get to say weird stuff that confuses you instead'a me."

Pam laughed. "May-be."