OK…I think maybe I married my Mother.
Jo wiped the thick sheen of blood off of her face, reaching into the remnants of her mask to dig out the warm liquid that was pooling there, and flicking the excess onto the ground. "Well that was…super fucking gross."
Damian stood next to her, dripping wet, his chest still heaving, eyes still wide—stricken with fear or horror or maybe realization (?) at what he'd just done.
Talia's disembodied head lay in the dirt at their feet, her eyes staring up at them with much the same expression Damian was wearing. They really do look alike…
"Umm…thanks for decapitating your egg donor for me," Jo offered.
It took a moment for her words to land—it seemed as if Damian had to travel back down to Earth before he could hear them—but when he arrived back in his body, he blinked, turning away from the corpse's gaze to look at Jo. "What are friends for?"
They stood there in silence for a moment, just looking at each other, the only sounds in the area coming from the groans of the rusting metal that surrounded them, and the sloshing of the water against the fence that kept it at bay.
"Ha!" Jo exclaimed like it surprised her. "Ha-ha…ha." It was somewhere between a laugh and a choke and it reverberated ominously in the space surrounding them, sounding more unsettling once Damian joined in, his laugh sounding equally crazed.
And then they were crashing together in a messy kiss, Damian's face wet against hers—from tears or the water he'd just been forced to swim in, Jo wasn't sure.
Damian was the first to pull back. "Ow!" he spat on the ground. "I cut my tongue and your mouth tastes like blood."
"Probably because there's fucking glass in there. What are you doing launching in with tongue anyway, you horndog?" Jo was now laughing hysterically, though it still sounded…painful. "And as for the blood…" she looked down at her stomach, locating the piece of her armor that had, indeed, bent back and punctured her abdomen. "I'm either bleeding internally or—you know—the glass thing. Are you OK? Do you still have a hand?"
"One and a half," he held up his right hand, which was now just a palm, a thumb, and four bloody stumps where his other fingers should have been.
"Oh my God!" Jo was yanked out of her brief fit of hysteria. "You're losing blood! We need to get you back to the cave!"
"No, the suit cut off blood supply," Damian informed her. "I'm fine, I'm just…left-handed now, I guess. Your nose is broken and you've got a piece of metal sticking out of your body."
"Is it really?" Jo went to delicately touch her nose. "How can you tell?"
"You look like Owen Wilson."
Talia al Ghul
Solid Assassin, Shitty Parent, Haver of Daddy Issues
Jo stopped writing, holding the stick upright in the dirt. "Any idea when she was born?"
"I think she was about Ivy's age," Damian answered.
Old (but kept it tight)
"Jolene…."
"Sorry, sorry…"
Old
/
Anthony squinted into the night, the porch light not exactly kind on his eyes. His striped pajama pants hung loosely off of his hips, his white v-neck t-shirt was awkwardly tucked in at the front, his hair disheveled and his slippers…Karen's. He was wearing Karen's slippers.
But even still he looked a whole hell of a lot better than the mess on his front porch. Well…messes, plural.
"I take it your lives have not improved in the 48 hours since Selina died."
"You are correct," Jo affirmed, shivering in her spandex shorts and bloody tank top.
Anthony's eyes wandered to Damian, who was dressed in what was essentially the masculine version of Jo's same outfit: a wife beater and a pair of compression shorts. "You two look like you just had really, really sad, depressing sex. Like you both cried the entire time."
"Wow, two for two," Jo was impressed. "You missed your calling, Bro. Should have been a psychic—so perceptive."
"Mm…" Anthony nodded slowly, looking back and forth between them. "Is the blood yours, his, or other?"
"Other," Jo answered.
"And he doesn't talk anymore?" he indicated Damian, whose despondent expression hadn't changed since Anthony opened the door.
Jo glanced over at her husband. "Yeah, no, he's gonna need a little time."
"I notice he's also missing four fingers from his right hand."
"Mhm, yeah, we're not getting those back."
"OK," Anthony opened the door wider, as they'd answered all of his immediate questions. "Head straight for the kitchen, please, don't drip on the rug."
"What a lez," Jo chuckled as she passed him, entering the house and following his instructions, Damian mute behind her.
"My son is…"
"With Cass, safe and sound," Jo assured him when Anthony joined them in the kitchen. She pulled a bar stool out so that Damian could sit down, but he ended up just oddly leaning against it instead.
"Jesus, Jolene," they heard from the doorway, all looking to see Karen wrapping a bathrobe tighter around herself, her feet bare on the kitchen tile (as Anthony was of course wearing her slippers). "Why do you look like Owen Wilson?"
"OK, that's the second time I've heard that in the last two hours and I'm really not liking the comparison," Jo said, crossing her arms over her chest. "My nose is broken. I'm going to need one of you to realign it, please and thank you."
"Do you want to tell us why it's broken while Anthony makes us some coffee?" Karen wondered, sitting down at the bar in the stool beside Damian. "Because you better have a good reason for knocking on our door half-dressed at 3am. I'm 50 years old, that's officially too old for this shit."
"I really don't feel it's my place to go into more detail than we—Damian especially—has had an extraordinarily shitty last three months," Jo said. "The last 48 hours being just…we're all having a difficult time grieving and coping and…Damian is now officially an orphan. That's…that's it for now."
Jo wasn't sure if Anthony was furrowing his brow at them in contemplation or squinting because he couldn't see, but Karen could obviously tell the difference because she produced his glasses from the pocket of her robe.
"Thank you," he mumbled, pushing them up the bridge of his nose and blinking at the clarity, which provided him his first real look at his sister. "Well, now I'm thinking about Marley & Me and I'm going to cry, thanks a lot, Jolene."
"Can you shut the fuck up, please?" Jo requested in the kindest tone one could possibly employ with that word choice.
Karen sighed, clearly wanting to move this little visit along. "How much blood have you lost? Why won't you close your mouth all the way? Where are Damian's fingers? Where are your suits? Where is the Batmobile? Why did you come here instead of go home? And why did you come to us instead of your parents'?...go."
Jo hopped up on the counter behind her, getting in a more comfortable position to give Karen the answers she required. "I'm fine, used the panels to recharge before I took the suit off. Someone took a crowbar to my mask and ground my smile panel into my gums, so when I close my mouth the shards still lodged in there cut my mouth and it sucks. Damian's fingers will likely need to be replaced by something robotic, unless Mom can come up with an organic solution. My suit is going to need some serious TLC, Damian's will eventually need the right glove repaired, regardless they are both in the Batmobile. The car itself is hidden, but we really need to get out of here before the sun comes up. We came here because Carrie just lost her Mother and isn't in a super awesome place emotionally and tends to worry about us like a crazy person anyway, so none of this would have helped her. And we're here because I thought seeing Mom would be triggering for Damian—he's not exactly stoked on her right now. That all?"
Anthony sighed, starting the coffee maker. "I'll go get the tweezers…"
Seeming to also be satisfied with Jo's answers, Karen turned to Damian. "Let me see your hand."
Damian didn't respond, just stared off into space, the full weight of what had happened that night—what he'd done—only recently hitting him. "Not for a second did I think about going at it another way," he murmured. "I was, in that moment, exactly what she would have made me."
"And because of that instinct," Jo acknowledged, sitting forward. "I'm still here—breathing, and she'll never have the chance to plant that seed in Terry. And yes," she admitted. "As a house plant, I acknowledge and embrace the pun."
/
"Harleen, I need you to eat something. Selina would have wanted you to eat something."
"You don't know that," Harley grumbled, starring down at the table, repulsed by the selection of breakfast foods her wife had provided. Why'd she have to make pancakes and waffles? That's just weird.
"You're undereating!"
"And you're overcompensating! Your sad-cooking is gonna make me fat!" Harley complained. "I already ate the omelet and the hash browns. Enough is enough, Pamela!"
The redhead plopped down in the chair across from her, grabbing the pancakes by the plate and pulling them over to her, where she then grabbed a fork and cut into the stack, shoving the large bite rather unceremoniously into her mouth. "I hate pancakes…" she mumbled, chewing slowly in comparison to her earlier movements.
Harley sighed. "Honey, what's the deal with all the food?"
Pam looked guiltily down at the food, swallowing what was in her mouth. "Selina got so skinny, and I didn't notice or care, maybe, and…" she was interrupted by her phone, which vibrated loudly on the wooden table.
She made no move to answer it, didn't even bother to look and see who was calling. So Harley reached over instead, her head already hurting for no apparent reason other than her body felt heavy with grief and full of calories she couldn't burn off. The number was private, but because it was only 8am and that was an odd time for any sort of promotional call, Harley answered.
"Hello?"
"Pamela?" a woman's voice asked.
Oh my God, she's having an affair, was the conclusion Harley immediately jumped to. She's probably young and pretty and most definitely has legs and—
"Pamela, this is Diana."
Oh my God, she's having an affair with Wonder Woman. I guess it makes sense. They're both perfect and immortal and—
"Pamela?"
Pam snatched the phone away from Harley's hand, looking at her strangely. "Hello? Who is this? Oh, Good morning…No, it's…of course not," Pam assured her of something, still watching Harley with a face that said 'WTF?'. "How can I help you? I'm not due in until 10…Umm, yes, I suppose. I see no reason why not…can you—give me any indication as to what this is about?...It's—no, that's fine…Yes…Yes, fine, I'll see you then." She hung up, returning the phone to its place beside her plate.
"Pam, I…I…" Harley's voice shook. "I understand the attraction, and I'm sure she can give you a lot of things that I can't, but—,"
"Harleen, what in the world are you on about?" Pam demanded.
"I don't—I don't know!" Harley sputtered. "I'm sad and I've cried too much!"
Pam sighed, getting up from the table and walking to the cupboard to grab a glass that she then filled with water before placing it gently in front of Harley. "That was Wonder Woman," she informed her. "She was wondering if you would be able to accompany me up to The Watchtower this morning. She didn't say why."
Harley allowed herself to be excited for an entire 2 seconds before reality set back in and she came to an inevitable conclusion: "Oh God, what did she do now?"
/
Ivy glanced up at the clock for the 5th time in as many minutes, murmuring: "I can't believe she's late for this."
Harley was grinning from ear to ear, spreading her hands out wide over the cool surface of the table, tapping her fingers happily on the screen in front of her. "I can't believe you get to come work here every day…" she whispered back.
Diana cleared her throat at the head of the table, and Clark shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Raven sat beside him, blowing a piece of hair out of her face, her arms remaining crossed.
They heard her before they saw her—heels clacking down the hallway, obviously at a run. She seemed to gather herself once she reached the door, as they heard a shuffling that was more than likely her trying to straighten herself out. Then she took a deep breath and cleared her throat—all audible though the door—before entering the room with all the feigned calm and confidence in the world.
"Good morning," Jo said with a smile, giving a nod to the heroes sitting around the table.
Harley frowned. "What happened to your face?"
Jo raised her hand to the thick strip of tape bridging her nose. "Uh, occupational hazard—wait, what are you doing here?" she looked questioningly from Harley to Ivy, and then over to Diana where she sat at the head of the table.
"Ms. Quinzel, your file has been reviewed…" Diana began.
"It's um—it's Mrs. Wayne, actually," Jo corrected. "Did I not file my absence request correctly?" she laughed nervously. "Why does it feel like I've been called to the principal's office?"
"This isn't a disciplinary hearing, Jolene," Diana assured her. "Please, have a seat."
Kara gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up from here she sat between Pam and Clark and Jo gingerly pulled a chair out, sitting herself down and glancing around the table expectably.
Diana cleared her throat. "You have been an active member of the Titans for the last 15 years…"
Jo laughed. "Sounds kinda sad when you say it like that…"
Clark was smiling now. "We're happy with your contribution, Jolene. Please, relax, you're getting a promotion."
Jo blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"They want you to be part of the Justice League!" Harley suddenly blurted out, overtaken by her excitement.
A smile spread slowly on Jo's lips until it manifested itself in a toothy grin, stretching ear to ear. "You're kidding."
"We don't kid, Mrs. Wayne." Even Wonder Woman herself wasn't able to ward off at least a smirk.
Kara's smile was nearly as broad as Jo's, Clark kept glancing over at Pam and Harley to see their reactions. Harley was over the moon, clearly, her eyes watering happily…but Ivy was watching Jo intently, puzzled at the darkness that'd passed through her daughter's eyes at the name 'Mrs. Wayne'.
Jo let out an odd little laugh—one that sounded somewhere between relief and irony—and leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting to the ceiling as she ran a hand through her hair. "Fuck," she whispered, closing her eyes.
Ivy sat forward in her chair, her curiosity now crossing over into concern. "Jolene?"
"Thank you," was what Jo said as she lowered her eyes once more, subtly shaking her head as she did. "Thank you so much."
Raven raised a critical eyebrow. "Don't thank us. We're not doing you a favor."
"What she means is—," Kara quickly took the reins. "You earned it! We're lucky to have you."
Jo nodded…and then shook her head just as quickly, biting her lip as she did.
Diana's brow was furrowed in confusion as well now. "It will require more of a time commitment…"
"No," Jo said.
"Come again?"
"I can't. I'm sorry, this is…this is incredible," Jo breathed, still smiling…though not with excitement. "I've been...waiting, and…man, it feels exactly as amazing as I imagined. But…" she shook her head again. "But I think I have to respectfully decline your invitation."
"Jolene," Harley said, glancing around nervously. "This is the—this is the Justice League. That's Wonder Woman."
"Yeah, I know, Ma," Jo smiled warmly at her. "And you could have been here too, just like you could have been at the Olympics. But I've got three kids at home. 8-year-olds, all three of them. And husband who's having a really hard time. So I have to say no," she slowly stood up. "I just—uh—I have to say no."
"You're…forfeiting your spot in the Justice League for a man?" Ivy was appalled.
Jo seemed legitimately surprised by that question. "Not a man, Mom. My husband. Or—you know—I guess my son if you want to extend the definition. I'm really sorry to waste everyone's time," she apologized. "And Ma, I…God, we're 0-2, aren't we? And you got dressed up. I'm so sorry, I didn't—,"
"No, you—don't apologize anymore," Harley said, wiping her eyes. "I get it, I understand."
"You asked the same thing of Mom, remember?" Jo prompted, gently. "And do you remember how happy we all were when she came home? My kids only have about one and a half parents right now, and they deserve the stability you guys gave me and Anthony."
"I know that, I understand," Harley reiterated, though her cheeks were blushed in embarrassment and she had to turn her gaze to her lap—she really had dressed up for the occasion.
"So you're willing to support Damian—as you always have—as a member of this league, while you, yourself, sit on the sidelines," Pam clarified, an edge to her tone. "All because Damian is…fragile."
Jo pursed her lips. "You can call him my wife if that makes you more comfortable with the idea of supporting someone you love through a time of hardship." Her eyes flitted back to Diana. "Thank you for the opportunity. I feel very…validated. I'll call you later, Ma," she told Harley. "We need to start with Selina's funeral arrangements."
Pam wasn't sure why she felt so…betrayed, when the door closed behind her. Why her powerlessness in that moment made her feel so hurt.
She thought back to her first personnel meeting, when Jo's file had come up and she'd vehemently argued against her Titans inclusion…on the grounds that Jolene got too easily overwhelmed and already had a laundry list of mounting responsibilities in her personal life.
Oh.
So Jo knew, then. Understood that about herself.
But that…that should have felt like a victory for Pamela. Should have been the reward for years of difficulty helping her daughter navigate the world and herself.
Perhaps…perhaps the thought of working with her daughter in a way she'd been unable to work with her wife after Harley's accident and Ivy's admittance into the Justice League had grown on her. Perhaps she'd even become fond of the idea. Excited at the thought of seeing her daughter in a competent light, a view she'd deprived herself of during Jolene's gymnastics career. She hadn't been there for her meets. She'd stayed away from them, finding the concept either too unimportant or too heartbreaking to fully witness.
Or maybe it was just…guilt. Pamela desperately wanting to provide her daughter another opportunity to do something she loved—something she was passionate about. Batgirl was all Jolene had wanted to be growing up. She'd never had any career aspirations besides 'gymnast'. Batgirl was her future. Pam had known it, Harley had known it, Jo had known it, Anthony had known it, even Bruce had known it. From the moment he'd met Anthony, and the moment he met Jolene, Bruce knew she was the one who'd be wearing the suit someday. And now Bruce was gone, Selina was gone, and Damian was evidently hanging on by a thread.
For a moment…for one strange moment…Pam had thought that the Bat she would be forced to collaborate with would be her own flesh and blood. What a bizarre notion. The ranking Bat only a Wayne by marriage…
Or maybe…
Ivy glanced over at Harleen, who was still starring down into her lap.
Maybe she was afraid that Jolene would live another small life. A life of unrealized potential. All the talent and skill to go to the Olympics, but no medals. The Bat, but always just Of Gotham. A life lived for her children and for her spouse…
Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.
25 years ago, Harleen had held Pamela when she cried in that hallway. Carried her up to bed and tucked her in. Given her a bath, rubbed those shapes into her skin…and told her she was afraid—afraid of only being remembered as someone's wife. Of only mattering in relation to Pamela.
Pamela couldn't help her with that. She could try…but at the end of the day, she needed Harleen. Needed her to be her wife. And Jolene was…an apology, maybe. Their second child. A girl. A gift to right their wrongs, to raise a daughter as they'd wished to be raised.
But the result…was much the same.
/
"Hey, I'm home!" Jo called out, shutting the front door behind her. She sighed as she set her purse in the closet.
Nearby, she heard bare feet pitter-patter down the hallway—boy feet, she could tell.
"Mom!" Terry burst out into the foyer, wearing a tuxedo and one of Damian's old Robin masks, because that made sense. "Will you play…" he trailed off when he saw her nose. "Umm…Mom? I think…maybe you look prettier without what is on your nose?"
"Ah, a startling revelation and an apt assessment, Master Terrence," she agreed, leaning down. "You wanna rip it off?"
"Can I?!"
"Yeah, just—MOTHERF—of pearl." Terry had jumped the gun just a bit, ripping the tape off before she could finish her instructions. "Oww…" she wrinkled her nose. "Alright, how does it look? Straight?"
"Is straight good?" Terry wondered.
"Well, yeah," Jo laughed. "Who wouldn't want a straight nose?"
"I thought you'd want yours to be bi."
Jo blinked. "Did you…come up with that joke all by yourself?"
"Yep!" Terry proudly reported. "Just now."
Jo straightened up to laugh. "You're pretty funny."
"Yeah, I know," he grinned, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her down the hallway towards the kitchen. "I think Kitty would'a thought it was pretty funny too, huh?"
"Most definitely," Jo confirmed, allowing herself to be dragged until the hallway opened up into the dining room and she noticed that the rest of her family was sitting at the table, Damian silently watching Daisy and Delilah munch on some grilled cheese sandwiches.
"Mom!" Delilah exclaimed in much the same fashion as Terry had earlier. "Look what Dad made us! Sandwiches!"
"Wow," Jo feigned amazement. "That must mean he loves you very much if he's slavin' away over a hot stove, putting cheese on bread and whatnot."
"Yeah," the girl giggled, leaning over to give Damian a loud kiss on the cheek. Mwah!
"Did you already eat, Terry?" Jo asked.
The boy nodded, skipping over to take a seat at the table next to Daisy. "It's how you grow muscles like Dad's, so I have to."
"Ah, understood," Jo acknowledged, turning her attention to Damian. "Did you sleep?"
"He only has six fingers now," Daisy reported, as if that was relevant to the question. "Did you even know that?"
"I d—,"
"Yeah, I slept," Damian told her, leaning back in his chair. "What did they want up at the tower?"
"Oh, just a filing snafu," Jo smiled, leaning down to kiss him. "For some reason they thought I was coming back today, had to fix my form."
Delilah buried her hands in her face in embarrassment when Damian tucked a strand of hair behind Jo's ear and kissed her again.
"Gross!" Terry and Daisy said in unison.
Jo scoffed, "prudes, the lot of you."