"Well, I don't really care," Jo said as she stomped up the stairs, Pam hot on her trail. "It's not up to you anymore. I'm 18, I've got a job—my life, my choice."
"Well it's a stupid fucking choice!" Pam yelled, following her into her bedroom, which was partly packed up in boxes.
"I don't care!" Jo whipped around. "I don't have to care about your opinions anymore. I'm sorry you don't like him, but you screaming at me right now isn't going to change my mind."
"You don't even like him!" Pam forcefully reminded her. "It's one thing to want to attend a community college rather than a university—there, that was a choice that I respected, you laid out your reasoning with intelligence, and I understand: your life goals are different than mine or your Mother's were, or Anthony's are. But don't try to act like this decision has anything to do with you and Jason."
"Who the fuck else would it have to do with?" Jo demanded. "I'm moving in with him, Mom!"
"No, you're moving away from me and into a situation that I have made very clear I disapprove of," Pam corrected. "And why? Why is it you despise me so thoroughly? What could I have done differently? Because it feels to me like I checked all the fucking boxes. I encouraged you to set goals, we loved you every day, reaffirmed your intelligence, taught you to be a capable young woman, allowed you to be an individual, allowed you to push back and be angry with us when you needed to, gave you space when you asked for it, pulled you close when you required comforting…there are few children who have been given more opportunities in this life than you, Jolene, and yet, every olive branch I offer you spit and stomp on."
"Ugh! Don't you get it? This is exactly why!" Jo screamed, quickly approaching hysterics. "You don't fucking listen! It's not about me, it's about you, it's always about you, and so when I set a goal that I told you over and over again I wanted to achieve, you didn't care! You didn't care because it didn't have anything to do with you! Instead, you fucking gaslighted me for 10 goddamn years and then nullified all my victories and accomplishments in one fell swoop! Just—ripped the fucking floor out from under me!" she grabbed one of her trophies off of her desk and snapped it in two over her knee. "Meaningless, all of it. But, hey, at least my cancer's in remission now, right?" she tossed the broken plastic into her garbage bin in the corner.
"Pamela," Harley's voice was calm from the open doorway. "Let her go."
"I'm not going to—no! I'm not going to let her go!" Pam couldn't believe her wife was siding with their daughter on this. "This is a mistake; anyone can see that. Anyone whose head isn't shoved up their ass, that is. Why would I just willingly let her make a mistake?"
Harley shrugged, moving into the room and beginning to pack Jo's clothes away into one of the empty boxes. "Because she's going to do it anyway. And maybe this way, when she realizes what a colossal, asinine mistake she's made, maybe she'll come back to us." She shoved the box into Jo's arms. "I'm trying my best not to burn bridges."
Jo snatched the box and started back down the stairs, leaving Pam and Harley alone.
"Harleen—," Pam's tone was pleading. "We can't—please, this isn't right."
Harley sighed, moving forward to brush Pam's hair out of her face. "Babe, unless you want to lock her in the basement, we're sort of out of options. She's right, she's 18…really not much we can do."
"Why are you so fine with this?" Pam wanted to know.
"Oh, is that what it looks like?" Harley asked. "Yeah, no, I'm not fine. Like…not even a little bit. I'd like nothing more than just to go around smashing shit with a hammer right now…but it is what it is, and my mistakes led me to you, so…maybe she'll get lucky."
Pam buried her face in her hands, pressing her palms into her eye sockets. "Our daughter is an idiot," she mumbled.
"Lord," Harley flopped down on the bed. "You can say that again."
/
Anthony looked up from his computer when a box was dropped in front of him.
"Happy anniversary," Karen said, sitting down across from him at the table.
Anthony raised a suspicious eyebrow, "Bee, our anniversary was two months ago and you forgot it."
"Fine, happy belated anniversary," Karen corrected, grinning. "Now will you open it, please?"
Anthony could see that she was excited, giddy, even, which wasn't exactly typical, so he studied the box carefully. Rectangular in shape, the box was white with a red ribbon tied around it. "You mean this?" he teased. "This is what you want me to open?"
"You're gonna feel like a real dick when you figure out what it is," Karen smirked, getting her phone out of her pocket and aiming the camera towards him. "Now come on, let's see it."
"Is it…my finished thesis?" He asked, pulling the ribbon off. "Because that would be ideal."
Karen giggled. "No…"
"Why are you recording me?" he laughed.
"For your Mom, she asked me to," she explained.
"Which one?"
"Ivy for Harley—it doesn't matter! Just open the damn box!" Karen had crossed into anxious by this point.
"Alright, alright, damn," he snickered, pulling the lid off the box…and then his smile immediately melted away. "Karen…?"
"Yeah?" she giggled, the camera shaking a bit in her hand.
"Are you…are you serious right now?" He asked, tears gathering in his eyes as he pulled the positive pregnancy test out of the box.
"Why would I joke about this?" she laughed. "That would be a pretty cruel, wouldn't it?"
"Well yeah, but—," he wiped his tears away. "I just—I didn't know that I could, even…"
"Ivy's been helping me," Karen admitted. "She came up with a fertility medication because I figured, if I'm not going to marry you, we may as well get the rest of our lives on track."
"You—a baby?" his language skills devolved as he stared down at the plus sign on the display.
"No, I'm not a baby," she laughed. "We're having a baby."
"But…but Doom Patrol," he reminded her with a stutter. "They need you! They need—you can't be a pregnant superhero. What about your career? What about—are you sure this is what you want?"
"Hey, superheroes get maternity leave too," Karen chided. "And yes, I'm sure."
"Ha, I can't believe this is really happening," he ran a hand through his hair, looking up at the ceiling. "And, Mom!" he turned to the camera. "You asshole, you were in on it?"
"Hey, but Harley wasn't, so no cussing on the video," Karen scolded.
"The only person with a dirtier mouth than Ma is Jo," Anthony laughed, getting up from the table and wrapping Karen up in his arms. "I really don't think she'll mind."
"Fair enough," Karen grinned as she shut the camera off, setting her phone down on the table so that she could hug him back. "I'm excited," she whispered.
Anthony's smile was euphoric as he turned his head to kiss her on the cheek. "I love you."
/
"This your Mom's or your sister's?" Jason asked, kicking the wheel of the car as Jo pulled into the parking structure.
"It's mine," she said, getting out and slamming the driver's door behind her. "A graduation present from my uncle. Something you would have known if you'd bothered to come."
"That was like four months ago," Jason reminded her. "You need to quit beating that dead horse. I told you something came up."
"Something always come up," Jo ridiculed, yanking the back door open and grabbing the first of maybe 6 boxes from inside.
Jason proceeded with caution. "Are you—uh—are you on your…you know…"
"Dude," Jo wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream. "Are you 25 years old and incapable of uttering the word 'period'?"
"Well I was gonna say 'on the rag', but I figured that might be insensitive, so…you're welcome," he told her.
"Yes, thank you, oh gracious Master Jason," she bowed in front of him. "Such sensitivity you exhibit."
Jason rolled his eyes, "Alright, Yoda. You want any help?"
"Umm…yeah," now she was laughing, but not exactly thanks to a humorous situation, it sounded much more panicked than someone who was actually enjoying themselves. "I assumed that was implied."
It took 30 minutes for them to get everything inside, mostly because the walk from the parking structure to the Jason's apartment building—to their apartment building wasn't exactly brief. Actually, it was about four blocks. Jo had never bothered to ask what the deal was as she usually took the bus over or got a ride on Jason's motorcycle, and he was able to park that out front.
"And just for the record," Jolene started their previous conversation up again as she set down the last box on the table. "Women can be in a bad mood for reasons besides menstruating."
"So what is all this stuff?" Jason asked, ignoring her and plopping down on the couch, pulling a box over and slicing open the lid with a knife he had in his pocket.
"I don't know, my stuff," Jo leaned against the counter. "Clothes and…stuff." #SoEloquent. "Did you clear out some drawers for me?"
"Yeah, two." He nodded towards the bedroom as he picked through a box filled entirely with gym clothes. "You sure do work out a lot…"
"Yes," Jo acknowledged. "And you're grateful for that."
"And I'm grateful for that," he repeated with a snicker, moving on to the next box. "What's this?" he asked, lifting one of her gymnastics medals out and holding it up for her to identify. "This whole box is full of them."
Jo turned to the sink to pour herself a glass of water, saying: "Just some shit I used to be a lot prouder of."
He was silent behind her, but she could hear the sound of the metal and plastic clinking together. "You won all these?"
"That I did," Jo exhaled before gulping down her water in its entirety (and making a mental note to buy a filter). She turned around to find Jason standing near the wall, the box at his feet. "Under the sink there's a tool box, grab me the hammer, will ya?"
Jo complied, bending over to open the cabinet and digging through the tool box a moment, tossing aside various screw drivers, a wrench or two and a crowbar, before finally locating the hammer and walking it over to him. "Why?"
"Because I'm gonna hang these up," he answered like it was obvious.
"Why?" Jo repeated, nonplussed.
Jason shrugged. "Well I've never won anything…figured we should have something to brag about around here."
/
Harleen grinned giddily down at her pasta, well aware that she likely looked ridiculous, but too excited to control herself.
"You're scaring the pasta, Darling," Pam intoned from across the table.
"Yeah, but—Pam," she looked to where her wife was picking at her salad with notable melancholy. "But hey, Pam. Hey, but, Pam."
The redhead slowly raised her gaze, likely realizing Harley wouldn't stop until she was acknowledged. "Yes?"
"Two words: Interracial. Grandbaby." Harley spelled it out for her. "I mean—it's basically gay Christmas."
That comment seemed to confuse Pam. "Do gays celebrate a different—,"
"I think it'll be a boy," Harley decided. "And he will be very cute and round."
Pam's frown deepened. "Why do you think it'll be a boy?"
"Because girls are terrible and I hate them," Harley answered quickly. "But then again, I did an awesome job raising you, so…"
"Knock it off."
"My little Penelope," Harley cooed, leaning across the table to squeeze Pam's cheek. "All grown up."
"Stop it," Pam smacked her hand away. "It's not funny."
"It's a little funny," Harley tried to stifle a giggle as the waiter returned.
"Good evening, Ladies," he smiled. "How is the night treating you?"
"Oh, just fantastic," Harley answered before Pam had a chance to shoo him away. "My daughter here is in town for a forensic pathologist's conference and kindly invited me—her mother—out for a quick bite to eat. Speaking of which, young man, would you kindly bring us a dessert menu? Penelope here has a terrible sweet tooth, but when in Rome, right? Or—when in Gotham, I suppose."
"Forensic pathologist, huh?" the waiter crossed his arms, smirking, and…yeah, Harley no longer existed. "Aren't you a little too pretty to be smart? I mean—that's just unfair."
"Mmm…" Pam winced, shaking her head. "I hate that line."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I meant no disrespect," he chuckled, before his brow furrowed when he noticed Pam clenching and unclenching her fist. "What's wrong with your hand?"
"They're just sore," Pam's smile was cloyingly sweet. "See, when a corpse comes into the morgue, typically the second step in an autopsy after performing the y-incision is to crack the ribs so that I can access the chest cavity. The instrument I use is not unlike a pair of bolt-cutters, or...say…gardening shears. And having to break each rib individually can be rather trying on my poor, delicate, feminine ligaments. Afterwards, of course, comes organ removal, each being extracted with surgical precision and then weighed individ—,"
"—I'm sorry, Ma'am," the waiter interrupted, suddenly turning to Harley. "I'll grab you that menu."
Harley smiled after him as he scampered away from their table. "I think you might'a scared him off…"
"Ya don't say," Pam mocked. "And will you please stop introducing me as your daughter? It's not a fun game."
"Sure it is," Harley laughed. "That poor boy…how old do you think he is? Anthony's age?"
"This isn't helping make the situation any less creepy."
/
"Goddamn, you're an ugly motherfucker, aren't'cha?" Jo laughed at the—seriously, what the hell is that? She had to duck when the animal took a swipe at her. "An ugly motherfucker with claws, copy that. Uh—hey, guys?" She clicked on her communication device as she, again, dodged one of the animal's paws, sprinting away and clearing the fence into the park, hoping it would follow.
And yeah, it definitely did.
"Guys?! Carrie?!"
She could feel the ground shake behind her with each of its steps, and it was quickly closing in, the stench of its breath somehow reaching her nostrils even at the speed she was moving.
Turning quickly, Jo whipped a batarang at it, and the animal yowled as the weapon sliced a gash in its shoulder.
"Yeah, Batgirl, you're coming through loud and clear," Jo heard Carrie's voice in her ear. "What's up?"
"I'm heading into Robinson Park with a—shit—I don't even know what! A fucking hyena in pursuit." Jo said, sliding under a log into the creek basin and starting up the opposite bank. "He's fast and big and I just thoroughly pissed him off."
"I'll send Damian your coordinates."
"No need, I've already got them," Damian's voice sounded unduly calm.
"Then why aren't you—ah!" Jo yelped at the feeling of sharp claws digging into her calf muscle. He got in deep enough to stop all of her forward momentum, and before she knew it, she was on the ground, her face in the mud.
Twisting, she slammed her heal down on his paw, forcing him to retract his claws and giving her enough time to throw another batarang. The position was awkward, but even side-arm, she was able to get enough velocity on it that it broke the animal's skin, sinking into the center of its chest.
It yowled again, and Jo rolled away as it swiped wildly at her. By the time she was on her feet, the monster was on the ground, Damian standing over it, wrenching its arms behind its back and pressing the animal harder into the ground with his heel, forcing the batarang further into its chest.
Spitting the mud out of her teeth, Jo plucked the rope off of Damian's utility belt and used it to bind the animal's wrists (as she didn't trust normal handcuffs could hold it).
As soon as Jo was done with that, she shot up and punched Damian in the chin (being that it was the only patch of bare skin she could find). "What the fuck, dude?! Really took your sweet-ass time getting over here."
"Oh, I'm sorry, was I late?" Damian asked, his tone pointed as he subtly adjusted his jaw. "Sounds familiar."
"W—are you serious?" Jo couldn't believe it. "Dude, I was 10 minutes late tonight and I fucking apologized! So you decided to punish me by letting me get chased down by whatever he fuck that abomination is?! What kind of a psychotic, Anal retentive motherfucker—,"
"Woof." Damian intoned.
"I—I'm sorry?"
"That's its name," he explained. "He was a criminal whose DNA was spliced with that of a hyena."
"That's…I think that's maybe the worst name I've ever heard," she realized, glancing at the animal below their feet.
"Yes, well, the procedure seems to have significantly blunted his intelligence," Damian informed her, grabbing the rope and yanking the animal up to its feet.
"OK, well—we'll get back to you later," she smacked Woof in the back of the head, following as Damian dragged it down the bank and through the stream. "You let your petty frustrations endanger my life, Batman. That's not teamwork. In fact, it confirms my suspicions that you make a piss-poor team leader. You're a selfish prick, you know that?"
"If you can't take down a villain named 'Woof' by yourself then you don't deserve to wear that symbol, Batgirl." Damian told her. "And clearly you're fine, so how about you demonstrate a little self-esteem and quit letting brutish imbeciles of inferior intelligence walk all over you."
"You know…I'm beginning to think this isn't about Woof at all, or about me being late." Jo realized. "This is about why I was late, isn't it?"
"What you do on your own time is—,"
"—Oh, shut up. You just told me I'm not an idiot," Jo reminded him. "So quit treating me like one. I'm fine. I can take care of myself. But, hey—maybe you and Ivy should get married. You'd have a lot to talk about."
"I'm sorry—did you not just punch me in the face for not helping you when you asked for it?" Damian feigned confusion.
"'When I ask for it' is the key phrase there, Batman. Don't overstep."
Author's note: and no, I did not make Woof up. Woof is real.