"Oh…fuck…"
Pamela stood against the railing as she watched the words pass through her daughter's lips on the ground below her. "Come here. Now." She told her, her voice still carrying with a slight echo.
"Uhh—," Jo's body language made it clear she wanted to run screaming from the room. "No—I—uhh, I think I'm good down here, thanks."
Her skin hot and tingling with rage, Pam said, as calmly as she could possibly manage: "That wasn't a suggestion. I don't want to do this in front of your friends."
Carrie's eyes immediately fell to her lap, her cheek's turning bright red, Cass busied herself with dusting off her suit—the one that spent its days in a glass case—and Bruce went to get himself another cup of coffee. Damian was the only one who continued to watch the situation unfold.
"Jolene," Pam said again, and this time it got her moving.
Jo trudged up the stairs, her eyes at her feet, a few beads of sweat visible on her brow. She stopped about a yard in front of Pam and slowly raised her gaze. She looked guilty, her shoulders slouched, her eye-contact shaky, a slight blush in her cheeks.
Pam pointed to Harley's office and Jo led the way, going in and sitting on the couch. Pam followed, closing the door behind them.
"You lied to me," her tone was icy as she crossed her arms, standing above her daughter. "Right to my face, you lied."
"…how did you…"
"Know you weren't with Carrie?" Pam guessed. "You mean aside from the fact that you never even briefed her on what you were actually doing?"
"She told you I wasn't with her?"
"No, she had no idea where you were. No one did, Jolene. What if he was violent? What if he'd hurt you?" Pam asked. "There's nothing anyone could have done about it."
"…except for you." Jo sighed. "Did the cactus tell you?"
"Jolene—," Pam rubbed her eyes quickly, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment. "When I say I'm a goddess, or the physical embodiment of Mother Nature, or even a fucking superhero—what do you think? Do you think I'm lying? Do you think I just say those things to sound cool or to boast, or maybe to frighten you? No, Jolene, I can hear everything. I can see everything. And I could see and hear you in that shitty apartment in South Gotham."
Jo's face drained of all color. "You didn't—Mom, you didn't—,"
"Of course I didn—who the fuck do you think I am?!" Pam demanded. "Honestly, Jolene, I know we haven't exactly been getting along lately, but in what world would I—I know how to shut it off!"
Jo seemed to relax at that news…well, slightly, as much as one could while they were still being actively yelled at.
"Do you know how old he is?" Pam asked.
"Umm…" Jo shifted uncomfortably under the question. "Older than me?"
"Seven years older than you," Pam spat. "He is a 22-year-old MAN and you are a child. He's older than your brother! You know—the one with the college degree."
"No, that's not…no." Jo shook her head. "No, he was at my High School."
"Yes, taking college extension courses." Pam swiftly crossed over to Harley's desk and grabbed the papers sitting there, dropping them down onto Jo's lap. "His transcripts, if you're curious. No surprise he's an idiot."
"Where did you get these?" Jo asked as she flipped through them.
"The Batcave is equipped with one of the most advanced computers in the world," Pam told her. "Some cursory background research wasn't difficult. I'm surprised you didn't feel it was necessary to do any before sleeping with him. Don't you care who you're sharing that part of yourself with?"
"Y—yes, of course I do!" Jo shot up, throwing the papers aside. "And I—I like him, so—what does it matter?!"
"It doesn't matter if you like him! He's 22 years old!" Pam yelled, in utter disbelief that she was having to explain this. "You are a 15-year-old who was just statutorily raped! You understand that, don't you? Have you never listened to a word your Mother has said? Surely she explained this issue to you, I know I certainly have."
"It's not the same as it was for her!" Jo shot back. "Jason doesn't get anything from being with me, and neither do I! It's not—Ma was blackmailed. This isn't that."
Pam shook her head, turning away from her. "Statutorily raped by a man named Jason...I suppose I should be impressed. I sincerely appreciate the equal representation." She grabbed her jacket from the coatrack and headed towards the door.
"Hey!" Jo tried to stop her. "Where are you going?"
"Home." Pam opened the door.
"But you—you're not gonna make me come with you?" Jo asked, bewildered.
"No," Pam confirmed. "You have a job to do. And if you're old enough to have sex with a gown man, and if you're old enough to hate me—then you're old enough to honor your professional responsibilities."
"Mom…" Jo followed after her as Pam headed for the walkway. "Mom, look I'm—I'm sorry I lied."
Pam suddenly spun around, grabbing her daughter by the front of her shirt and pulling her close enough to touch her lips to her ear. "If he hurts you…" a vine slowly slithered out of her wrist, wrapping itself loosely around Jo's neck. "I will rape him with his own cock. Do you understand me?"
She felt Jo's swallow below the vine as the girl's pulse quickened. "Yes," she whispered.
"Good," Pam murmured, retracting the vine slowly and releasing her shirt. Her mouth was drawn into a hard line as she gave Jo one last look over. "It will be up to you to tell your Mother," and with that, she turned and made her way down the stairs, mumbling "Bruce" as she passed him by.
/
Harley rolled over onto her other side, reaching to put her arm around Pam, but feeling a pillow there instead. Groggily, she opened her eyes, scanning the other side of the bed…which her wife was noticeably missing from.
"Pam," she said aloud, her voice raspy with sleep. "Pam, I want to be cuddled."
No answer.
Harley looked around the room, confused. It was…2am, according to her phone. Pam usually didn't wake up until the sun came up or maybe just before.
Maybe she got called in, Harley thought as she yawned. But as she stretched and rolled onto her back, she noticed the window that faced the backyard was illuminated with light.
Pulling herself out of bed, she approached the window and looked down, seeing Pam sitting in her garden with her knees drawn to her chest.
"The fuck?" Harley wondered, grabbing her robe and starting out of the bedroom and down the stairs, out into the backyard.
Pam didn't look up at the sound of the back door closing.
"What the hell are you doing? It's 2am." Harley told her, crossing the yard to stand next to her.
"These children are all so well behaved," Pam chuckled, gently brushing the tips of their petals with her finger. "Sunlight, water…mulch when it gets cold, a few whispered words of encouragement every now and again…they're perfect."
Harley looked at her strangely. "You alright?"
"No, no not really," Pam smiled up at her.
"Did…something happen with Jo?" Harley wondered, sitting down next to her. She had gone to sleep pretty early…
Pam didn't answer, just wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, until Harley was resting her head on her shoulder.
Harley was confused…but also super tired, and the night was warm and Pam smelled good, so she let her eyes drift close.
"Remember with Anthony?" Pam asked. "When we first brought him home…and we had him all to ourselves…And it was just…peaceful? And he smiled and I held him and he was quiet and comforted because he knew that he was loved."
"Yeah," Harley mumbled.
"Does Jo know; do you think?" Pam asked.
"Yes," Harley whispered. "She knows."
/
"This tea is garbage." Pam mumbled as she sat down with her mug at the table, taking the newspaper that was sitting in front of Harleen and extracting the Home and Gardening section before returning the rest to her.
"No, it's tea." Harleen corrected.
Pam deemed it far too early for this particular brand of humor. "It tastes like garbage."
"Then maybe you should go to the store and get yourself something better." Harley suggested, starring down at her phone.
"The grocery stores in this city represent the worst of corporate America." Pam scowled at the taste of the liquid in her cup. "I would go if there was a farmer's market."
"They don't sell tea at the farmer's market, Pam."
"Sure they do." The redhead set her mug down and opened the paper.
Harleen rolled her eyes. "Is Jo up yet?"
"No." Pam told her. "But she's 16. If she can't get to school on time at this point, then she deserves detention."
Harley was preparing her response when her phone rang on the table. She snatched it up immediately, answering it and then setting it back down. "Anthony! What a fun surprise! Hold on one second, I'm going to put you on speaker. Mom's here with me."
"It wasn't a surprise." Pam casually set the record straight. "She's been watching her phone for the last 15 minutes."
Anthony laughed. "I could have guessed."
"Anyway…" Harley began, shooting Pam a look across the table. "How is your week shaping up? You're definitely coming home for Thanksgiving on Thursday, right? Selina's making the turkey herself, so it should be terrible."
Anthony laughed again. "I'll be there. With a friend, actually. If that's alright."
"Ooh, did Tony finally find himself a girl?" Jolene asked, having silently crept into the kitchen.
"No coffee." Pamela snapped at the girl preemptively.
Jo stopped mid-pour, setting the coffee pot back down. "Motherfucker…" she mumbled.
"Props for the pun." Pam offered, flipping the page.
"Is that your next billboard slogan?" Jo sneered.
Pam looked across the table, offering her daughter a tone-deaf smile. "I'll be sure to send an advanced copy to your boyfriend." She didn't wait for Jo's reaction before focusing her attention back on her paper.
"Right…" Anthony said, trying to assert himself back into the conversation. "So in any case…"
"Is she cute?" Harleen asked. "Scale from Mom to Angela Merkel."
"Umm…" He considered the parameters of the question. "Hillary Clinton at the 1996 Democratic National Convention."
Harley and Jolene both furrowed their brows, trying to conjure a mental image.
"Hot enough to notice, hotter when you factor in her intellect." Pam translated, her focus never wavering from the article she was reading.
"Ah," Harleen and Jo said in unison.
/
Anthony ended the phone call with a smile, listening as the shower shut off.
Karen appeared a few moments later, a towel around her body and her hair perfectly dry.
"You found the shower caps?" Anthony prompted, propping himself up a bit by putting his arm beneath his head.
"I did," she confirmed, heading for the closet. "Thank you."
Anthony smiled as he watched her move his clothes to the side to access the corner he'd cleared out for her. She kept a couple outfits there as his apartment was considerably closer to campus than her loft was, and it was always good to be prepared.
"I've got a question." Karen said, her attention still on the clothes.
"Well I hope I have an answer." Anthony sat up, knowing that he had a question of his own to ask.
"Did you just, like, watch Crazy, Stupid, Love one time and go 'I want that!' about Ryan Gosling's wardrobe?" Karen wondered. "Because it seriously looks like he threw up in here."
Anthony snorted. "I fail to see how that's a bad thing." Her responding snicker made him shake his head, and quiet descended as she proceeded to get dressed. Just ask, dude. "Hey," he piped up. "What are you doing for Thanksgiving?"
"I don't know," she replied distractedly as she buttoned up her shirt. "Might do like a Friendsgiving thing since my parents seem to be taking Mal's side in the divorce."
Sweet—well, not sweet, but helpful for my purposes. "Oh, well…we could spend it together, if you wanted." He casually suggested.
Karen shrugged, heading back to the bathroom to apply her make up. "Sure, why not. We're not bad cooks, after all."
"I actually go back to Gotham for Thanksgiving," Anthony told her. "I'm flying out on Wednesday, if you're interested."
"Are you asking me to spend thanksgiving with your family?" she asked.
"That's—yes, that's what I'm asking." Anthony admitted, getting out of bed and coming to stand in the doorway. "They said they'd love to have you."
She stopped, setting down her mascara. "You already told them I was coming?"
"Well, no, I just asked if you could." He assured her. "You don't have to do anything, I'd just—I'd really like you to."
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I like you," he chuckled. "I like you a lot, and I'd like you to meet the other people in my life that are important to me."
"No, I mean why would I want to meet your parents?" Karen clarified.
Anthony felt like the answer could easily be found in his previous statement. But either way, he sincerely wished he was wearing more than just boxer briefs for this conversation as he now felt a bit embarrassed and exposed. "Because they're important to me," he reiterated. "And I thought—maybe—after 5 months, that I was important to you too."
"That's sweet, Ant, but I think I'll sit this one out," she brushed him off. "Sorry, it's just—parent meeting is exactly the kind of thing I told you I didn't want to get into at the start."
"Yes, but that was 5 months ago," he repeated. "And you're—I mean, you have your own toothbrush here, and clothes in my closet—,"
"—Anthony," Karen sighed, leaning against the sink. "You're a good kid. And someday you're going to make some lucky woman incredibly happy. I mean, shit, you're perfect! Seriously. Gorgeous and funny and talented and brilliant and you fuck like a lesbian, which—I mean, gotta love the attention—but I am not that woman. I've already done the marriage thing, and it clearly wasn't for me."
"I'm not a kid," Anthony tried to mask his hurt by sounding offended. "And I'm not asking you to marry me, I'm asking you to meet my family."
"There's a natural progression to these things, Kid," she told him, giving him a kiss on the cheek before ducking under his arm and out of the bathroom.