Jo slammed around the corner, letting off the gas until halfway through her turn where she then accelerated off of the side street. "Any chance you can predict their route?"

"They don't seem to know where they're going," Carrie remarked.

"Fine," Jo swerved to avoid a pedestrian. "Remind me why Bruce made us take the guns off the car?"

"You used them too liberally," Carrie reminded her. "Best I can do is an—ah!" she squeaked, stopping mid-sentence.

"A what?" Jo switched gears, passing a car who thought it might be fun to try and drag race with the Batmobile. "What happened?"

"Courtney sexted me!" Carrie nearly screamed, absolutely scandalized.

"Wait, really?" Jo giggled, realizing the car she was chasing had pretty impressive speed if it was still a block ahead of her. "What is it? Top? Bottom? Tasteful or uncensored?"

"Umm…it's uh—top…and tasteful, I guess."

Jo narrowed her eyes within her cowl, turning a quick left towards the canal, knowing she'd intercept them eventually if they tried to lose her down there, which seemed the most likely option. "One nipple or two?"

"One."

"OK, well, you're going to have to raise the stakes then," Jo said matter-of-factly, smiling as taillights appeared up ahead of her.

"You mean—like—send something back?"

"No, Caroline, I mean go over there," Jo told her. "It's 2am. She wants the lady D, obviously. There is no heterosexual explanation for what's going on here."

Carrie could be heard choking into her headset.

"She can't just leave work," Damian's voice cut through the feed.

Jo accelerated once more, the car jumping as she left the pavement in favor or the wooden planks of the docks. "Her girlfriend sent a nipple, Damian! Of course she can!"

"No, Jo! I can't—I don't even know how!" Carrie was stammering.

Jo was closing in quickly now, the Batmobile a superior all-terrain vehicle to the Ferrari she was chasing. "Don't know how to what?" Jo asked, setting the auto-pilot and opening the roof. "I thought these fuckers flew around on playing cards, by the way."

"This car…" Carrie was typing. "Appears to be stolen."

Jo shot her grappling gun at the car and it broke through the roof, securing itself enough so that Jo could yank herself out of the Batmobile and onto the Ferrari's back window. "Is it oral you're worried about?"

"Well, I mean—yeah! Have you ever seen a—they're—it's complicated!"

Jo rolled her eyes, rolling on the car's roof to avoid a bullet ripping upwards through the metal. "Yes, Caroline. I've seen a vagina. I happen to have one, actually."

"Yeah, but—you gotta—you know…there are a lot of moving parts!"

"Fair point, fair point," Jo granted, armoring the left arm of her suit and sticking her finger in the bullet hole just in front of her face, attempting to pull enough of the metal back to plant a charge. "How about you practice on m—,"

"No." Damian interrupted. "What the hell, Jolene? That's my sister! Who says shit like that, honestly?"

Carrie was choking again.

"Well, maybe if you went down on me more often I wouldn't have to outsource the job to—ha!" she shoved the charge in the hole she'd help make, looking for a place to bail before detonation…except they were still going at least 90mph…and that's when she realized it didn't look like the driver was planning to stop. "So this should be fun."

"Jo, you know you're…"

"Going swimming?" she prompted. "Yup." She switched her breather on, unhooking her right arm from where she'd tied it to the car as it launched off the dock and into the water.

Damian groaned, turning his plane around and heading towards the canal. He saw the car sinking, but not Jo or the driver, so he quickly landed on the dock near the Batmobile and turned his breather on as well, jumping in after them.

Visibility was low in the murky water, so he turned on the flashlight in his cowl, and was immediately greeted by the mangled remains of the driver who must have smashed through the windshield upon impact. His body was stuck there now, wedged through the broken glass, gaping lacerations littering his body.

The glowing green of Jo's mask caught his eye, and, like the car, she appeared to be sinking downwards. Jo physically couldn't get her bodyfat above about 15%, meaning buoyancy in a time like this was a pipe dream. Because she wasn't fighting for the surface, Damian was sure she was unconscious.

He swam quickly, grabbing her around the waist and dragging her upwards towards the streetlights. Throwing her over his shoulder to climb up the ladder and out of the water, he switched to bridal style before laying her gently down on the hood of the Batmobile.

"Jo," he said, keying in her mask's manual override to expose her face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open slightly, so Damian opened his own mask and leaned forward to listen for her breathing—and was grabbed behind the head and pulled down into a kiss.

"Goddamn it," he angrily pushed her away as she giggled. "Fuck you. Seriously."

"Nah…I'll fuck you, though," she grinned, sitting up. "Did you seriously think I couldn't swim? In what world would that make sense?"

"Is she OK?" Carrie asked desperately.

"She's fine," Damian spat.

"Tssss," Jo hissed, swiping a hand at him like a cat claw. "Getting back to the task at hand, Care Bear, let her take the lead. Being a Wayne has been known to make up for some inadequacies in the bedroom. So remind her who's holding the checkbook, and enjoy yourself."

Damian closed his mask once more, angrily shaking his head and mumbling "I can't believe you" as he started towards the Batplane.

Jo watched him curiously. "…sorry, Carrie. I guess I have to go. Evidently Damian would like to quarrel domestically." She shut off her headset, closing her mask as well and following after him. "Hey, Dude, what's your deal?" Jo mentally ran through the past hour.

I solicited his sister…

No, that's not it. Nothing really out of the ordinary there.

I lead him to believe I was gravely injured…

Mmm…I mean, maybe?

I insulted his bedroom performance…

Yeah?

…no.

"That's not a funny fucking joke, Jolene. Not today."

Shit, it's not our anniversary, is it?

No…that's not until May.

Is it his birthday?

No…that's not until January.

"Umm…I guess I'm sorry?" Jo attempted. She wasn't exactly good at apologies to begin with. Especially when she didn't know what she was supposed to be apologizing for.

"You better grow the fuck up, Jo." He said, climbing into the cockpit. "And fast." The roof closed over him before she could respond.

"Uh—alright, thanks, Dad!" she said, flipping him the bird as he took off.

/

The process of shutting down the tanks was rather extensive. There was a cooling operation that needed to happen before the specimen could be removed, and working with three at once was rather stressful. Luckily Anthony was there to help. He was a quick learner and Pam trusted he would take care, as literal lives hung in the balance.

Harley watched nervously over Pam's shoulder, and although Selina was sitting off to the side, Pam could feel her eyes on her back as well. Bruce was standing in the corner, leaning against his cane for support and nursing a cup of coffee, and Karen sat sleepily beside him, Duke pulled onto her lap, dozing against her chest.

They heard the Batmobile before they saw it, and at that very moment, the roof opened as well and they all watched as the Batplane came to a soft landing. The Batmobile, on the other hand, screeched to a halt, Jo's mask retracting as soon as she jumped out of the driver's seat.

"Seriously? The silent treatment? Now who needs to grow up?" she asked, annoyance evident in her tone.

Damian flipped her off, stomping angrily up the stairs, and Jo looked like she was about to follow before she noticed the party of her loved ones down below the landing.

"Is this an intervention?" she asked, leaning over the railing. "Because now really isn't a good time. I'm all wet…and not in the fun way."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Harley's voice echoed through the cave. "Jo, quit messing around. We're all excited to meet them."

"To meet them…" Jo repeated, seeming confused…before her eyes went wide with realization. "Oh fuck! It's the 21st. Fuck, fuck, fuck," she left the railing quickly, sprinting towards the stairs. "Damian, Babe, I'm—fuck! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sor…" her voice faded away as she left the cave in favor of the main house.

Harley frowned, turning to Pam. "What just happened?"

"Jolene is not a language I speak," Pam casually informed her, pulling the lever on the second tank to drain the manufactured amniotic fluid. "Only English, Latin and French, I'm afraid."

"She probably forgot today was the day," Karen remarked with a yawn, encouraging Duke to slide off her lap. "Only Jo could forget she's going to be a mother to triplets."

Anthony scoffed. "Come on, Karen. Even Jo isn't that inept."

"Raise your hand if you think Jo is that inept," Karen prompted.

Pam was the first to raise her hand, followed by Bruce and then Selina…then a tentative Harley and Duke, likely because it was what everyone else was doing.

Anthony shook his head, looking disappointed with all of them as he pulled the lever on the third tank just as Pam had the first and second.

They only had to wait another moment before Damian appeared once more at the base of the staircase—now in civilian clothes, Jo not far behind him.

"You think it's funny to joke about leaving me alone with three newborns?" He was asking, although the question sounded rhetorical. "You ever heard of The Boy Who Cried Wolf, Jo? Next time it might be worse than a concussion."

"Jesus, could you be any more dramatic?" Jo complained, following him down the flight of metal stairs to the lowest level where the lab equipment was housed. "It's like, the ittiest bittiest concussion. Seriously. The headache's already clearing up."

"That's not the point and you know it," Damian snapped, arriving to stand before the group of people who'd gathered. "My apologies," he addressed them. "My wife is a selfish imbecile."

"Uh—hey! A selfish imbecile with FEELINGS…occasionally," Jo corrected (and then amended). "But I am sorry. Damian's right, I'm an idiot. This is…I'm just so happy you're all here. Really means a lot." Her smile was both nervous and excited, just like it should be.

…which helped Pam to breathe a sigh of relief. She's met the bare minimum of an appropriate response to the situation. That's really all we can ask.

Damian's hands were clamped awkwardly to his sides, his face oddly stern.

"They haven't done anything wrong yet," Jo kindly reminded him in a whisper. "Maybe try a smile?"

It took a moment and what looked like considerable effort, but he did pull his mouth upwards at the corners just slightly—enough to pass for a smile…if the viewer was generous.

But that seemed to please Jo very much as she grinned wide enough for the both of them and took his hand in hers, wrenching it away from the tight grip he had on his own leg.

"Is Carrie coming?" Pam asked, surprised that she wasn't already there.

Jo cleared her throat. "Carrie is taking some much needed personal time. I'm sure she'll be happy to meet them when she gets back."

Pam just nodded, understanding enough to move on. She gestured to Selina, who handed her one of the three soft towels she was holding, and all Pam could think about in that moment was how—25 years ago—Selina had done the exact same thing, and Pam had pulled Jo out of the liquid. Her eyes had been so green and her skin so smooth…and Harley had been so happy. So happy to have a girl. A girl to follow in her footsteps. And Pam realized, in that moment, as she was about to hand her daughter her own child, that if given a chance, there was nothing about Jolene that she would change. Not a hair on her head. She remembered what a happy child Jo had been. Just…happy to be alive. Those kids were special. Those kids were rare. Those kids were…the ones that ended up like Pamela or Harleen…or Jolene…their paths hadn't been easy, nor were they ever meant to be—really—but it had been some time since any of them had allowed their struggles to eclipse their greatness.

And that's all Pamela could hope for Jo moving forward. That she performed to her potential. That she make the effort. They'd made more than a few mistakes with Jo. Pam (surprisingly) wasn't too proud to admit that. But they'd loved her, and they'd tried. Every day, they'd tried their best. And Jo was still here. Despite the turmoil, the anger, the arguments…Jo was still here. And in 25 years, Pam hoped Jo's daughter's would still be here too. Her son as well. She hoped she'd someday be wiping the fluid away from their children's mouths…handing her grandchildren crying bundles just as she had her children.

"Delilah…" Jo was smiling proudly down at the baby in her arms—blue eyed (for the moment) with lightly tanned skin, a few shades lighter than Damian's, but at least a shade darker than Jo's. "And…Daisy," she leaned over to kiss the nearly identical baby Selina was reverently holding in her arms. "You guys said it used to calm me down to play my song. Figured we need all the help we can get."

"Plain White T's, and…" Anthony narrowed his eyes in concentration. "Leon Bridges?"

"I'd hand you $100 if I knew you weren't just gonna spend it on action figures," Jo chuckled, turning her attention to Pam who was now holding the crying boy in her arms, suctioning the excess mucus from his lungs as gently as she could.

"That's Terry," Jo grinned. "Right, Babe?"

All eyes were on Damian now as he shifted uncomfortably in the corner, looking like he desperately wanted to avert his gaze.

"Would you like to hold him?" Pam asked, softening her tone at Damian's obvious trepidation. "You won't break him."

"You don't know that," was Damian's mumbled reply.

Jo looked him over, seeming to assess the situation, reading her husband's body language as best she could. Eventually, she lowered Delilah into Harley's arms and crossed to Pam, taking Terry from her.

With the baby in her arms, she said: "Maybe let's try sitting down first."

Karen took her cue, getting up immediately and clearing the space, taking Duke with her to watch the ordeal from a different vantage point.

Tentatively, never breaking eye contact with Jo, Damian came to occupy the seat Karen had abandoned, though there was still nothing relaxed about his body language.

Regardless, Jo closed the space between them with the baby in her arms, coming to kneel in front of him so her chest was level with his lap. Terry's cry suddenly turned desperate, but Jo kept up her calm and encouraging smile. "I think that means he wants to meet his Dad."

Slowly, Damian unfolded his arms, and Jo leaned forward, pressing the baby gently to his chest, and guiding Damian's hands to support the boy's head and rear.

Terrence looked the most like Damian in terms of complexion, and he already had dark patches of hair sprouting from his head. Like the girls, his eyes were also blue, meaning none of them had the same outward signs of plant heritage that Duke did. No…Terrence was a Wayne, that much was certain. Through and through, he was Damian's son. Though Pam could still see Jo—even now, this early. She could see her full lips and the round cheeks she'd now grown out of…

"Look at that," Jo grinned, cupping Damian's face in her hands. "You're a natural."

A natural he was not…but the smile he gave her in return—the terrified, genuine smile—told Pam he might just believe it.

Placebo confidence: The Jolene Quinzel effect.

But far better than Damian's smile was Bruce's. Bruce and Selina's.

Bruce moved forward, patting Damian both proudly and reassuringly on the shoulder. He'd made mistakes too, Pam realized. Plenty of them, with all the children he'd collected over the years. But he'd loved them. Pam could see that. Pam had always been able to see that. It came out gruff or sideways sometimes, but at the end of the day, Dick was just as much his child as Carrie was just as much his child and Tim was just as much his child as Damian was just as much his child as Stephanie had been his child. And now Bruce would be given the chance to see his son falter or excel just as Harley and Pam had—and just as they would.

And they were all here for it together—which sounded so...strange. Such a unique detour from anything Pam had planned. Batman, Poison Ivy, Catwoman, Batwoman, another Batman and another Batgirl.

What strange company I keep, Pam thought as a smile spread over her lips.

Author's note: couldn't bring myself to name them Delia and Deirdre, but you get the point