Pam smoothed her hands down her thighs in a nervous, repetitive motion, feeling the ridges of the vines beneath the fabric of her jeans. Harleen had assured her they weren't visible, but how could that be the case when she could feel them pulsing below her skin?

Bruce cleared his throat, reminding Pam that she wasn't the only person in the elevator. "You'll send me your report on the pigmentation issue?" His tone was professional; like she was still a lawyer working for Wayne Enterprises.

"As soon as there is something to report—yes." Ivy told him.

Bruce nodded, slowly turning back to face front, looking at their reflections in the shiny metal of the elevator door.

And Pamela looked too. She was all the same above the neck, the mutation hadn't affected her facial features. Harleen said it would be up to her how she wanted to explain the rest of it to the children, how much she wanted to reveal.

Her eyes flitted to Bruce. Nearing 60 now, he wasn't attempting to hide his age by dyeing his hair. Gray flecks were scattered about, and although he was aging rather well (as men who took care of themselves typically did), Pamela could see in his eyes that he was getting older. He kept himself in good shape, although he wasn't donning his cape all that frequently anymore…with his connection to Talia, Pamela had always assumed he'd find a way to escape ageing with grace, but…no, he was, indeed, allowing himself to grow older. She respected him for that, although why, she wasn't quite sure. Perhaps it was rooted in some degree of jealousy that when his time was up, it would be up. He wouldn't have to force himself to continue with this 'purpose' for the rest of Earth's existence.

"Do you consider me a friend, Pamela?" Bruce asked, suddenly.

Surprised, Ivy almost laughed. "I'm sorry?"

"After all this time…all these battles, against each other, side by side…what are we?" He didn't turn to her, but continued to stare at her reflection.

While it was true Batman had never truly been her enemy, more just a nuisance, and Bruce Wayne hadn't ever been the sort of industrialist to encourage clear cutting or any of the other vile practices Ivy despised so thoroughly. At this point, though, even now that they were working toward a common goal, she'd never presumed them to be anything more meaningful than colleagues.

Ivy didn't have any friends…save Selina, Barbara and Harleen, although the latter hardly counted. And what was a friend, truly? Pamela hadn't had many either in her time, so as elementary as it sounded, that was a valid question to ask. Harleen would say a friend is someone you can trust. Someone who has your best interests in mind and is there for you when you need it.

"I suppose." Pam offered. "If we're judging by the clinical definition."

"I wasn't aware there was a clinical definition of friendship," he smirked.

Pam pursed her lips. "Although I resent your cocky disposition, I'm not too proud to express gratitude when it's been earned."

"So…?"

"Thank you."

Bruce smiled. A real smile, which anyone who truly knew him would tell you was an altogether rare occurrence. "You would have done the same for me."

"No I wouldn't of."

"I know," Bruce chuckled. "But I'd like to think that you would answer the call…if I ever made one."

Pamela didn't answer, as that was the moment the doors slid open. Instead, she stepped into the main hall, looking across the marble expanse for—

"Mom!" Jolene's girlish voice echoed in the cavernous room.

Pam's face split into a wide smile as she watched Jo drop Harleen's hand and start at a sprint towards her. The redhead braced for impact, kneeling down and opening her arms just before Jo reached her, the girl throwing her arms around her neck and relentlessly kissing her cheeks. Pam had to use all her abdominal strength to keep them upright.

When Jo finally allowed for a bit of room, Pam found the girl's face was soaked with tears.

Jo placed her hand gently on her Mother's cheek, looking into her eyes, her bottom lip quivering. "You're OK."

"I'm OK," Pam confirmed, covering the hand on her cheek.

And then Jo was sobbing. "Mama said you were gonna die!" she buried her face in Pam's neck as Harleen and Anthony approached.

"I did nothing of the sort," Harley assured her.

Pam shook her head, stroking Jolene's hair gently as the girl clung to her. She'd been apprehensive about seeing her children, worried they'd notice something was different about her, worried they wouldn't look at her the same way…but in that moment, holding her daughter in her arms…all of those feelings and worries washed away, replaced by a deep appreciation for all she had been blessed with. Harleen was wrong when she said life had only handed her lemons. These powers were a gift, regardless of how she came about them. She was handed the means to single handedly inspire a new relationship between humans and nature. And this…her family…

Pam thought back to the day after she left the hospital the first time. How different that experience was from this. How no one had been there when she was released. How she'd hailed a cab and was dropped off at her parent's house where she promised she would give them one last chance. Even at her most unhinged, when her mind was still sick and convoluted. When it was all she could do to walk straight, let alone control her emotions. How even then she had given them one last chance, and they'd failed—again.

"You have to be taught not to love your Mother," Pam had told Harley, 23 years ago on the lawn of a different hospital…these kids, though. The ones that were hers—that were theirs—they hadn't been taught that lesson. They loved her, Pamela realized. Really, truly loved her. Feared for her safety, wanted to know she was OK…and not because they were afraid of her or desperate to impress her (although maybe that was mixed in there, relationships can be complicated) no, they didn't crave her affection—they knew they already had it. They loved her because they were loved. And that felt…important, somehow.

A knot twisted in her stomach as Pam realized this was what unconditional love felt like. She was familiar with the concept, but had never truly had the opportunity to experience it in a human relationship. But then she glanced at Harleen, who was holding Anthony's hand as he stared down at his sneakers, and saw the smile on her face—how warm it was, how kind. And Pamela finally understood what it was to be human. Why it was worth it.

She reached her hand out to Anthony, and he took it with his free one without first looking up.

"I'm really sorry." He murmured.

"For what?" Pam asked as Jo pulled back.

"For saying you didn't want to be our Mom," he told her, finally looking at her, his blue eyes glistening.

Pam released Jo after planting a kiss on her forehead, and then stood up, taking Anthony's other hand from Harley and looking at him with a sigh. He was nearly her height at this point, and so…handsome. It made her proud to look at him, to see the young man he was becoming. "I will never stop being your Mother, Anthony. I just want—,"

"We don't have to talk about it right now," He cut her off, pulling her into a hug. "You're not dead, that's more important."

"She good?" Harleen directed her question at Bruce, who had been watching the exchange with a smile on his face. "Does she have all her shots or do we need to stop at the vet on the way home?"

"Really, Harl?" Pam scolded as Anthony let her go. "I don't get even a moment of sentimentality?"

"You've had plenty," Harley asserted.

"Yes," Bruce acknowledged, answering the blonde's question. "She's good to go."

"Thank you for making my Mom better, Mr. Wayne." Jo said, sticking her hand out to be shaken. "And don't worry," she assured. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Oh?" Bruce's eyes sparkled with mirth and he reached to shake her hand. "And what secret might that be?"

"That you're Batman, stupid." Jo laughed. "Just like I figured out Aunty Barbara is Batgirl."

"Well, aren't you a smart girl." He retracted his hand and crossed his arms.

"Yeah, I'm a genius." Jo informed him, matter-of-factly.

Bruce spoke to Ivy: "I see you're raising her in your image."

"We encourage a realistic sense of self," Pam assured him.

The man smirked and leaned down to speak to Jo once more. "And are you a gymnast too?"

"Pfft, yeah." Jo said like this was a fact that should have been obvious. "They moved me up two age groups at the gym."

"Good." Bruce reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. "Call me when you're ready."