Pam rolled her eyes. "She's not looking for actual advice, Harleen. She's looking for a biased reaffirmation of her views."
"What do you care?" Harley asked, sounding distracted as she typed.
"I care—," Pam snatched the phone away from her, slipping it into the back pocket of her jeans as she continued pushing Harley's wheelchair down the paved path. "Because I'm trying to enjoy our walk and you constantly checking out of our conversation to reply to another one of our daughter's all-capital "I HATE MY HUSBAND" texts is irritating, especially as I also happen to hate her husband. Hated him long before they were married, too. Before they started dating, even, when he was just a human being that existed in my social circle—I hated him."
"You know what you are, Pam?" Harley prompted, reaching a hand out to brush her fingers along the leaves of the bush they were passing. "You're extra."
"What does that mean? In context."
Harley leaned back until she was gazing up at the underside of Pam's jaw. "You familiar with Murphy's law?"
"You're changing the subject."
"Yeah," Harley acknowledged. "Don't feel like explaining the other thing. Murphy's law, Pammy."
"Legally, you have to tell me if I'm walking into an Interstellar joke."
Harley laughed. "Knock it off. Murphy's law says: anything that can go wrong, will go wrong…and there's a lot that can go wrong in a marriage. Especially one between people like Damian and Jo."
"People like…"
"Volcanos with arms and legs," Harley chuckled. "I love em' to death, but there's always a lot going on under the surface, and they're always ready to blow their tops. And losing a parent it tough, Pam-a-lamb. Almost impossible, for some people. I feel for the guy. And no matter how much me, or you, or Jo, or even Selina misses Bruce, we chose him, Damian…he's a different story. Lotta misplaced anger going on with that guy."
"He's always been like that," Pam pointed out.
Harley brought her head back down again, facing forward as her neck had begun to ache. "All the more reason. Anger's always been his coping mechanism. He was angry at Selina for attempting to take Talia's place, then he was angry at Talia once he realized she'd willingly forfeited it, and honestly," this time she twisted her back, leaning her elbow on the back of her wheelchair to address her. "I think he assumed Jo would be a shittier parent than she is. So now his Dad's dead, Jo's helping his kids have a way easier childhood than he had, he's got enough personal awareness to realize being a dick to Selina right now is pretty much off limits, and Bruce is gone so there's really no point in cursing his name any further, and not just because he basically already spat on his grave by not saying goodbye, so…manufacturing stupid shit to be mad at Jo about is his easiest option, because when he stops feeling angry, he's just going to feel sad, and he mistakes grief for weakness. There ya go," Harley twisted back around. "Case closed."
Pam smirked. "Are you planning on charging Jo your typical hourly rate? Or will you award the family discount?"
"Depends," Harley said. "You charge Anthony for all the gardening tips you give him?"
Pam sighed, brushing Harley's hair away from her face to give her a kiss on the cheek. "No."
"Well, then there ya go," Harley smiled, pleased with herself as Pam came to a stop near a park bench, maneuvering the chair to sit next to it before sitting down herself.
And as she did, Harley's phone vibrated in her pocket. "Honestly, Jolene?" she groaned, taking it out…and seeing the text was actually from Selina. "Here. Selina." she handed Harley the phone, and the blonde laughed.
"Good call not opening it for me, it contains the details of my illicit affair, and also graphic critiques on your bedroom performance," she took the phone from her, opening the text message.
"No one likes their privacy invaded, I was just being respectful," Pam murmured, sitting back against the bench to watch the sun set.
"Hey, I got my toy," Harley chuckled, locking her phone and setting it face down on the bench. "You can invade anything you want."
Pam leaned over to kiss her, but broke apart after only a moment. "I'm not sure that sounded as romantic as you intended."
Harley shrugged. "Worked, didn't it?"
"What did she want?" Pam nodded at the phone.
"Us to go over there for dinner tonight," Harley tucked an errant strand of red hair behind her ear, her hand lingering against Pam's face.
Frowning, Pam said: "It's nearly 7 already."
"She said please."
Pam scoffed. "She did not."
"No, really," Harley laughed, grabbing the phone to show her the primary source. "See?"
Selina Wayne (u know it tru): Come to dinner tonight, please. I'm cooking. See you & Pam at 8? She's not answering her phone (bitch).
"Mm…for a moment I was worried she'd been kidnapped or brainwashed or something, as the message was so kind…"
"But then you made it to the end?"
"But then I made it to the end," Pam confirmed.
"I think she's lonely," Harley said.
"Why?" Pam wondered. "That house is full of people."
"Oh, I think you can be surrounded by a thousand people and still feel lonely," Harley's smile was tinged with sadness as she, too, turned her gaze to the setting sun. "Especially when there's someone specific you're looking for in the crowd."
/
"Hey," Selina smiled as she opened the door. "You came."
"Well you used such persuasive language," Pam mocked, holding out a cloth bundle wrapped loosely with a piece of twine. "I brought you some fresh herbs from the garden."
"Huh," Selina furrowed her brow in thought as she took the bundle from her.
"What?"
"Oh, I'm just trying to think if a sentence has ever been uttered that better identifies you as an elderly lesbian, but…" she shook her head. "Yeah, no, I think that one takes the cake. Perfect, you and my friend will have a lot to talk about."
"Selina…" Harley began a bit cautiously. "Is this the kind of friend who requires medication to get rid of?"
"Well, I wouldn't exactly consider Gonorrhea a friend, Harl." Selina deadpanned before beckoning them inside and heading for the living room.
Pam snorted as she pushed Harley over the threshold, the blonde mumbling: "I meant are they imaginary."
Jo and Damian were sitting on opposite couches, Damian next to Courtney and Jo engaged in a conversation with a woman about Selina's age that neither Pam nor Harley recognized.
"Hey!" Jo called over excitedly once she noticed them. "You guys, this is Kate, she used to be Anthony's history teacher!"
"Civics teacher," Damian corrected, and the look Jo shot him was so cold Courtney literally shivered beside him.
Clearly sensing tension, the woman said: "well, I subbed in for a few history classes too. Wasn't really my thing, though, and I think the kids noticed. You'll have to ask your brother if he remembers that."
"Umm…pleasure to meet you," Pam offered, obviously thinking this situation was bizarre. "Is Selina making a point of collecting my s…" she trailed off, realizing she didn't just get to automatically be her children's Mother anymore. "Of collecting Anthony's former high school teachers?"
"She's a gay," Selina defended her actions. "Figured you guys would get along."
The woman rolled her eyes in the same way Ivy might. "She's being an asshole. I'm also Bruce's cousin. We live in a small world."
"Wow, I guess so!" Harley beamed, legitimately excited by this information. "I'm Harleen, Anthony and—uh—Jo's Mom," she gestured to her daughter where she sat on the couch. "Oh, and Penelope's too," she squeezed Pam's wrist as the redhead shifted uncomfortably.
"Huh, how close are you and Jo in age?" Kate wondered, looking back and forth between them. "You have to be twins."
"33," Pam mumbled, her gaze aimed at her shoes.
"Thhhat's right," Jo grinned, attempting to take the attention off of Pam. "33. But Penny's got a minute on me, and believe me she took full advantage of the older sister credentials because of it."
Kate chuckled, though it sounded forced. Pam hadn't exactly sold the cover story.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Damian groaned. "That's Poison Ivy, she's an immortal metahuman. That's her wife, they hooked up when it made sense, and that's one of their two kids—Anthony is the other. We good here?"
Selina cleared her throat uncomfortably as Jo, Pam and Harley all stared at him in horror. "Uh…surprise?"
Kate's jaw had fallen slack. "He's—ha—he's kidding, right?"
Pam sighed, releasing her skin pigment and gradually turning back to her natural green hue. "I sincerely hope you can hold your tongue, Kate, otherwise Damian here just signed your death warrant."
"No, it's—Ma'am," Kate stood up, almost at attention. "You…you have no idea the impact you've had on my life. I'm truly not sure what you're doing here with my cousin's widow, and I had no idea you were his son's Mother-in-law, that's…very strange and I have a lot of questions—but right now I'd just like to tell you that I was a military brat before I joined the Army myself and I saw a lot of mental illness go untreated, and a lot of sexual assault be swept under the rug, and you helped me and a lot of people like me realize we weren't alone."
Pam just blinked, but Harley was beyond intrigued: "You were in the army? For how long?"
"I served for 8 years. 8 years that included a tour in Afghanistan before they pulled women off the front lines and before I was dishonorably discharged."
Harley frowned. "You were discharged for serving on the front lines?"
"No, Ma'am," Kate laughed—sounding like the formality was out of habit. "I was dishonorably discharged because I was a lesbian before they lifted don't ask don't tell."
Harley gasped, looking excitedly over at Pam. "A rebel! Can we keep her?!"
Pam studied the woman before them shrewdly. "Why haven't we ever met you before?"
"Ah, I preferred to stay out of the spotlight." Kate told them. "Bruce and I got lunch or coffee every month or so, but I enjoyed my anonymity. Something I'm sure you can appreciate, Dr. Isley."
Pam grinned despite herself at being addressed by the correct credentials.
"There, look at that, a happy ending." Damian stood up from the couch, stretching his limbs before starting out of the room.
"Where are you going?" Jo asked.
"I don't know, Mom," he answered with a derogatory tone. "Wasn't aware I had to report my movements to you."
"Where are you going?" Selina seconded, sounding firmer than Jo had.
"To get a drink," he answered. "Why are you looking at me like I'm committing a felony?"
Jo quietly cleared her throat. "Damian," her tone was clip with a hint of warning to it. "We said we'd keep the house dry for three months, remember? Because we were worried about temptation in a time of grief?"
An awkward silence descended as Damian didn't answer. He seemed to have honestly forgotten because his quick glance over at Selina seemed nervous. "A soda, then," he corrected.
"You know what?" Jo slapped her hands down on her knees and stood up with a smile. "I could use a soda too."
"Fine, I'll get it for you."
"No," Jo shook her head, that pleasant expression still plastered on her face as she crossed over and looped her arm around his. "I think we should probably go get it together."
"She means we're going to argue," Damian addressed the group.
"That's right," Jo confirmed. "A younger us would have probably just had intense hate sex up against a wall or something. We might still do that, but we're probably just going to yell at each other."
"Guys," Selina rested a hand on each of their shoulders, her expression sincere. "You're talking to a room of people who essentially mated for life. You guys are only 15 years in. That's child's play. And I love you both too much to see this thing go off the rails already, so can I give you a piece of marriage advice, please? Just one?"
"You weren't even married," Damian mumbled.
"Damian…" Selina warned, boring holes into him.
"Yeah, alright, fine."
"Have sex," Selina stated simply. "Be intimate. Touch. Each. Other." She punctuated each word by simultaneously poking them in their chests. "I know making it happen with three kids has been hard for you guys, but take advantage of the time you're given, goddamn it! The kids are at gymnastics until 9! Be fruitful and multiply! Otherwise it makes total sense Damian would be worried about the hunky CEO, and it makes total sense that Jo would be interested in him."
"I'm not—it's not—Selina, Luke is my friend for Christ's sake, I'm not interested in him like that," Jo reasoned.
"Honey," Selina pat her sympathetically on the shoulder. "I'm interested in Luke, and I'm 79 years old. Pam might give the guy a second look, and she's the gayest gay I know."
"Selina…" Pam sighed.
"I'm serious," Selina reiterated. "Go make some magic happen. Away from us, preferably. Fuck while you're still young and hot and capable and life feels worth it!" she spun them around, starting them towards the stairs with a slap on the ass.
"Ow! What the hell, Selina?" Jo complained.
"Go," Harley seconded, pointing towards the stairs. "Just get out of here."
Damian and Jo glanced at each other uneasily before receiving another slap from Selina and beginning (somewhat reluctantly, it seemed) on their way.
Pam, who managed to hold her tongue until they left, finally broke. "Why are you two being so disgusting towards our children?"
"Relax, Pam," Selina chuckled, plopping down on the couch next to Courtney. "They're not actually going to have sex because their parents told them to—that's fucking weird. But they will be forced to occupy the same space without distraction for a second. Tired of hearing them bitch at each other."
"Mm," Pam grunted, evidently accepting that as she wheeled Harley next to the couch and she, herself, sat down next to Kate. "Where's Carrie?" she wondered.
"Went out to get pizza," Courtney answered.
"I thought you were cooking," Harley chuckled.
"I'm grieving, Harleen," Selina haughtily reminded her. "Can't be bothered. Besides, I gave Carrie Bruce's old Jaguar, and she's always looking for excuses to drive it."
"It's a really nice car," Courtney grinned in confirmation.
Kate hadn't been listening to a word of that conversation, really, starring at Harley instead. "You're Quinzel," she said, finally. "You're the psychiatrist. You're her psychiatrist. You were married to that Irving woman. That's how you and Bruce knew each other. No—wait, you," she looked to Ivy. "You are that Irving woman."
"We lead complicated lives," Ivy conceded. "I apologize for Damian's brashness and for my awkwardness earlier. I just wasn't prepared to entertain."
"No it's…it's really no problem," Kate said, a certain awe in her voice. "My ex-wife was a cop, and she saw some weird shit working in this city, but I'll tell you what, Bruce secretly being friends with Poison Ivy since the 90s is probably my favorite revelation. Funny what comes out after someone's passed."
"Funny is one word for it…" Selina mumbled.
"Oh, a cop," Harley said. "I used to work at Arkham, would I know her?"
"Mmm, I'm not sure. Renee Montoya?" Kate told her. "We were only married for a few years, together before that on and off for a while longer, but we just ultimately couldn't make it work. I was depressed after I was discharged, self-medicated with alcohol and—uh—women…we all have our own demons. We gave it our best shot, though. But who am I talking to, you married your patient, I'm sure that comes with plenty of obstacles."
Haha, hey, one time your ex interrogated me for a murder I definitely committed. Small world indeed! "She's worth it," Harley smiled, leaning over to give Pam a kiss.
Selina shook her head. "45 years and you guys are still gross. I'm almost impressed."
"Oh, like you and Bruce weren't," Harley scoffed. "Finishing each other's sentences, all the non-verbal communication. C'mon, Selina, we're not uniquely annoying."
"I'd beg to differ…" Selina trailed off as her phone vibrated on the coffee table, and a look of disappointment crossed her face as she read the message. "They can't come…"
"Who?" Courtney wondered.
"Oh, um, Babs and Dick," Selina shook it off. "And Anthony and Karen are away at that conference, and Cass and Tim said they were busy, so…I guess it's just us."
Pam smirked. "And is that really so bad?"
"I—no," Selina painted on a smile. "No, it's fine—it's great."
Harley tried to put on a look that said 'see? Told'ja she was lonely' for Pam…but her wife had never been all that awesome at the nonverbal stuff…unless you were a mark, then she was fantastic. So anyway, it wasn't a surprise for Harley when Pam leaned over and whispered: "Do you need to use the restroom?"
/
"Is it bad that when I see a bed these days my first thought is about sleep?"
"No," Damian mumbled as he starred up at the ceiling. "I think that's where most normal people go first."
"Well, I used to think 'Man, I can't wait for Damian to rip my clothes off', does that mean I wasn't normal?" Jo questioned, lying beside him, both fully clothed and on top of the covers.
"That's exactly what it means."
Jo snorted, lolling her head to look at him on the pillow. "What about you? Do you think about sleep?"
"I don't sleep much anymore," he admitted.
"Not like I'd know," Jo pointed out. "Not like you sleep up here anymore, which is pretty hypocritical considering I vividly remember you once telling me 'you can't sleep on a couch'."
"You were being stubborn," Damian remembered. "Blaming something on your parents that really wasn't their fault, if I remember correctly."
"Oh," Jo laughed. "That's fucking rich."
"Not nearly as rich as me," Damian retorted, the traces of a smirk on his lips.
Jo propped herself up on her elbow, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Oh, so we're allowed to make jokes again?"
Damian shrugged. "You tell me. Was that funny?"
Sighing, she let her eyes wander over his body, over the profile of his jaw to his hazel eyes that starred resolutely upwards, blinking at the ceiling above them. "Can I be real with you?" Jo prompted.
"Have at it."
"I don't think you like me very much anymore," She said. "I know you love me—of course you do, I'm the Mother of your children. But I'm also supposed to be your friend, remember? You best friend, probably. And believe it or not, that was as important to me as our marriage. I care about you a lot, like—a lot, a lot…and I want to see you happy. I like it, and I used to take a lot of pride in being able to make you happy. But right now, like I said, I don't think you like me at all, and if you don't like me, then we can't be friends, and if we're not friends…then the other stuff doesn't exactly feel worth it."
Damian closed his eyes, exhaling as he did. "What do you want me to say to that? I have no interest in ending out marriage, if that's what you mean."
"It's not." Jo dropped her head back to the pillow so that she, too, could examine the ceiling. "I'm asking if you value our friendship anymore. It's a yes or no question."
Damian was silent for a long moment, though Jo didn't look over to check on his progress, just quietly allowed him to mull the question over. "I'm sorry," was how he eventually broke the silence.
"I don't know what that means," she murmured in response.
Damian gently lifted her head off of the pillow, high enough so that he could slip his arm behind her shoulders and pull her close to him, until her head lay on his chest and her arm was draped over his waist. "Me neither."
/
"Why do you guys always have to ruin my day by getting pineapple pizza?" Daisy demanded. "It's fruit. Why do we pretend like this is normal?"
"Daisy, you may excuse yourself from this table and from this family," Jo ordered. "The rest of us don't need to hear those blasphemous words at the dinner table."
Selina chuckled, quietly helping her pick the pineapple off of her slice. "I'm with you, Kid. These plants are out of control."
"Your Uncle Anthony likes broccoli and pineapple on his pizza," Harley revealed. "So if you think you got it rough…just imagine what Duke's going through."
"Yeah, that's true," Selina kissed Daisy on the head, a smile on her face. "You have to count your blessings, Kid."
"Then what kind of toppings do you like, Daisy?" Carrie asked. "Maybe you can choose next time."
A smile lit up Daisy's face. "I like anchovies."
"Sissy, that's disgusting." Delilah stated frankly from the other side of the table. "I'm not puttin' no stinkin' fish in my mouth."
"Sorry, Mom. Lost another one." Jo gave Pam a comforting pat on the back.
Pam looked at her daughter confusedly for a second before she understood the joke, but when she did, her response was: "you're an idiot."
Kate departed just after dinner, as they hadn't finished eating until around 10pm. Jo took the kids to bed soon after that, and Selina made sure she'd kissed all three of them goodnight.
"You're a good mom, Jolene," Selina told her, giving her a kiss on the cheek as well. "And I'd say, all in all, you turned out pretty alright."
Jo laughed. "Uh, thanks, Kitty. I appreciate that."
"Of course," Selina smiled after her.
Carrie and Courtney retreated up the stairs next, but not before Selina ran a hand through Carrie's hair, ruffling it like she used to when she was younger. "Love you guys."
Selina had never seen Carrie smile so big, her cheeks instantly flushing with color. "I love you too, M—Selina," she recovered, glancing down at her feet in embarrassment for a moment at almost having moved into uncharted territory. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Yeah," Selina squeezed her wrist as Courtney pulled gently on the other one.
"We should probably get going," Harley said. "Thanks for having us over. Way more eventful than the night of quiet reading and self-reflection Pam had planned for us."
Selina laughed. "Pamela Isley: party animal."
"Something like that," Harley chuckled, ignoring Pam's semi-offended scoff.
Leaning down, Selina wrapped Harley into a hug. "It was good to see you," she murmured. "Really, I appreciate it."
"Of course, you fucking weirdo," Harley punched her in the arm once Selina pulled back. "I'll tell Anthony he was missed."
"Please do," Selina agreed before turning to Pam and reaching out to shake her hand.
Pam looked at her oddly, but obliged the gesture, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake. Selina just smiled, an emotion in her eyes that Pam couldn't quite put her finger on. Appreciation, maybe?
Soon it was just Selina and Damian left on the ground floor of Wayne Manor, and as she closed the front door on Harley and Pam, Selina exhaled contentedly.
Reentering the grand living room, she found Damian sitting on the couch, his head back and his eyes closed.
"You tired?" she asked, coming to sit down next to him.
"I really, really am," he told her.
Selina ran a hand through his hair, the movement gentler than with Carrie—softer, different. "You look a lot like him," she murmured, and from the way Damian's jaw tightened, it was clear he knew exactly who she was talking about. "And people who'd never met Talia used to say you looked a lot like me." A faint smile tugged at her lips. "I used to let them think that."
Damian opened his eyes, turning to look at her. "Why aren't you wearing your makeup?"
Selina sighed, resting her head against his shoulder, knowing it was different than how they usually related to each other, but not really caring. Not tonight. "I didn't feel like lying to myself today." She closed her eyes, listening to his breathing in the quiet room. "Damian?"
"Yeah?"
"Your wife isn't going to leave you." Selina told him. "That feeling in your chest? The weight that crushes your lungs when you look at her and see something beautiful, but look at yourself and see something broken? It's called fear, and you don't fucking need it. Jo's broken too, just like the rest of us. It's an occupational hazard. I promise you she'll still be here when the sun comes up."
"It's the—," he had to stop to clear his throat, emotion heavy in his voice, "first time I've felt unsure around her since she was 18. I told her I loved her like the 3rd time we slept together, Mom." He suddenly stopped cold, and Selina's own heart skipped a beat.
Mom.
Legally she was his Mother. In her heart he was her son. But never…they'd never used the word. Carrie hadn't either, but it was obvious she'd wanted to. Damian, though…
She'd been waiting. For a long time, she'd been waiting—without even knowing it, perhaps. She never thought she'd need the words, need to hear them from his mouth, she was prepared to leave without them…but now she wanted to keep it. Trap it close to her chest.
Mom.
"Damian," Selina sat up straighter to look him in the eye. "It's all going to be OK."
/
"You shouldn't be here."
Catwoman prickled at the voice, though her hands deftly continued their work on the safe. "And you should know better than to tell me what to do," was her answer.
She felt him approach, his feet silent as he crossed the space between them. "Don't make me take you in again," he growled into her ear.
Catwoman smiled slyly, turning her head just barely, just enough so that their lips almost touched. "That implies you can catch me," she breathed.
The safe clicked, the door swinging open to reveal the necklace she'd come for, proudly displayed front and center, the yellow diamond flickering like the eye of a cat.
"You're cornered, Cat."
"Oh, Bat," she sighed disappointedly, removing the necklace and clasping it around her own neck. "You have so little imagination…"
"Or perhaps you're just delusional," he retorted.
She grinned, turning slowly, running a lazy finger down his chest once they'd arrived face to face. "Shall we find out?"
Selina fingered her necklace, turning the yellow diamond over and over again against her skin, watching her reflection in the glass case…the one Bruce had dedicated to her.
Villain, anti-hero, amoral, selfish, cunning, loyal. Whatever she'd been, whatever she was, Bruce had given her that case. Her suit stood behind glass just like the others. Between Harleen's first Batgirl suit—the one still stained with blood and torn with a bullet hole—and Ivy's bodysuit, the one she ultimately retired in favor of her leotard after her mutation.
Catwoman, the plaque read.
Her hands didn't shake as she keyed in the code, nor did her heart beat faster when the glass door swung open.
She raised herself up onto her tip-toes, and with nimble fingers, lifted her goggles off of her costume's hood, freeing it from her cat ears.
"You don't mind, do you?" she addressed the suit, smiling to herself as she took a step backwards, keying in the code to shut the door on Catwoman.
/
She's not safe
Pam sat bolt upright, her heart hammering against her chest, sweat beading her brow.
Go now. Before the sun rises.
She quickly obliged, pushing the blankets back and pulling herself to her feet, toes curling on the wood floor. She crossed to the dresser before realizing this may not be the type of occasion you get dressed up for. Pulling her t-shirt over her head and stepping out of her underwear, she let out a whimper of pain as leaves grew over her skin, some poking through from underneath and some simply spreading over the surface, eventually settling into the shape of her leotard.
But in her haste, she hadn't been careful, and Harley stirred, eyes bleary as they reluctantly blinked open. "What'er ya gettin' all dressed up for, Red?" It was common practice for Harley to slip back into her accent if she started speaking before she had a chance to think.
"I don't know," Pam answered almost-truthfully.
"Well, that's weird," Harley squinted into the darkness. "You OK?"
"Yes," Pam responded immediately. "Yes, but I have to go."
Harley yawned, allowing her eyes to flutter closed once more. "Whatever you say, Pammy."
Ivy navigated the city quickly, never more grateful to Bruce for the assortment of cars she had to choose from until this moment.
She found her in a construction site. Well…at the top of a construction site, really. On the arm of a tower crane.
Ivy made short work of the long climb, her vines wrapping around the metal, carrying her gracefully upwards.
"Selina!"
The woman looked back over her shoulder at her, her Catwoman goggles perched atop her head, the wind whipping at her leather jacket, biting through the holes in her jeans. "You nosy bitch," she chuckled.
"How'd you get up here?!" Pam demanded, her vines wrapping around her legs and securing her to the metal where she stood, anchored. "You're 80 years old!"
"79," Selina haughtily corrected before turning her gaze back towards Gotham's skyline. She could see the whole city from this vantage point. "And it's amazing what you can accomplish when you're not planning to come back down."
"What do you mean?" Pam had to yell to be heard over the wind.
Selina turned back around, a soft smile gracing her features. "Here, come sit down." She patted the place beside her.
Pam had to stop her hair from whipping in her face before she could move, crossing the precarious, creaking metal slowly, her vines keeping her upright until she reached Selina and obliged her, taking a seat next to her, her legs hanging over the side, a towering 265m in the air.
"I'm done, Pam," Selina told her, her expression serene. "I'm ready to be done."
Pam was almost too shocked to respond. Selina was…Selina was her friend! Selina was Selina! This isn't how it was supposed to end. She was supposed to claw and scratch and fight until her final second. That was the Selina she knew. "Why?"
"Catwoman saved me," she answered. "Catwoman and Bruce. And now it's just me, and it doesn't seem all that worth it. What's a Cat without her Bat? I don't know just me anymore. I don't care to know her."
"Then why are you dressed like that?" Ivy asked, referring to the outfit that only still fit Selina because of the nearly 25lbs she'd lost after Bruce's death. She'd been fit before, still, even for her advanced age. But now she was…gaunt. Jo had pointed it out to Pam a week prior, but of course she'd brushed it off. Thought it was a natural part of the mourning process. Now she realized it may have been something different.
Selina looked down at herself. "Because it's who I am. I evaded and escaped her for most of my life, but like everything else, she caught up with me like I knew she would. That little girl was alone, just like I am now."
"Selina—Gaia—you're not a teenaged prostitute anymore, and you're not alone," Pam told her firmly. "You've raised a family; you have lifelong friends. You're not her anymore."
Selina smiled, interlacing their fingers. "Sure I am. Just like you're still that woman bound to the table. You can leave that behind, but it will always follow you, always be a part of you. No reason to hate yourself, I certainly don't hate myself—I'm just not interested in me anymore. I'm ready for a new adventure, one this world can't offer me."
"So tonight was just…what? Your going away party?"
Selina sighed. "I will admit I expected it to be grander."
Pam was almost disguised at this point. This whole thing was silly. 6 hours ago they'd been happily sitting at the dinner table together, 30 minutes ago Pam had been sound asleep in bed. She hadn't planned to lose her friend tonight. She'd been given no warning. There'd been no cry for help…or perhaps there had been. "I can't just let you die, Selina."
"Why not?" she asked. "You let Bruce die."
It didn't sound like Selina was holding that against her, more just…stating a fact. "Yes, because it was his time."
"And who gets to decide that?" Selina wondered. "Who gets to decide when it's my time? If I say it is, who has the authority to override me? You? That doesn't make any sense. Who are you? Why does your opinion matter?"
"Selina, you can't die," Pam reasoned like this was all one of Selina's ridiculous flights of fancy.
"No, you can't die," Selina corrected her. "I can, and I will. I'm ready to. I've arrived and I'm tired."
"What about Damian?" Pam asked, honestly surprised that was her question. "He's already so broken after Bruce. How can you do this to him?"
Selina looked down at their joined hands with a sigh. "39…" she shook her head. "He's 39 years old already. At 39 I was drunk and angry. Felt as old as I am now. I sincerely hope he gets the new lease on life that I did. I hope he leans on the person he chose, and I hope he eventually realizes this world—this life…it only really makes sense if you force it to. That's a lesson Jo learned a while back, I think. It's why he needs her. Damian can't take anything in stride. Everything feels personal to him."
Pam looked down too, studying how Selina's untreated skin glowed in the early morning light, as the sun began to peak between the gray buildings of the city below them. "So your idea is to desensitize him to tragedy by killing yourself?"
"No," Selina chuckled, kissing her on the cheek before rising to her feet, still grasping Pam's hand firmly in her own. "My reasoning for this is entirely selfish."
Pam felt tears spring unbidden to her eyes as she watched her friend brace against the wind, breathing in the fresh air that only existed at this altitude. "I could catch you, if you jump."
"But you won't," Selina smiled down at her. "I'm glad you're here, though. I know you can sing. Can I request some Sarah McLachlan?"
Resigning herself to the reality of the situation, Pam brought their joined hands to her lips, planting a soft kiss on Selina's before murmuring: "no."
Selina chuckled, turning her focus to the city, the sun bright on the horizon, the wind in her face. She dropped Pam's hand after one last squeeze and pulled her goggles down over her eyes. "Fuck, what a life, am I right?"
"I thought you had 9," Pam forced a smile.
"We'll see," Selina grinned. "Promise me you won't miss me too much."
Pam wiped a tear from her eye. "I can't."
"Good," Selina nodded. "I'll see you next time, Ives. Or—actually—," she grabbed Ivy by the shoulders, pulling her into a kiss full on the lips.
Pam closed her eyes, her hands coming to fist in Selina's short gray hair.
Selina was smiling broadly when they broke apart, color in her cheeks for the first time in three months. "Totally worth it."
And with that, Selina released her, spreading her arms wide like she was getting ready for an Olympic dive, filling her chest with air for the last time…and launching into the dawn, as graceful as ever.
In loving memory of
Selina Kyle
Friend, Mother, Stealer of Hearts
1967-2046
"Live fast. Love hard. Die young. Leave a good-smelling corpse."