Jolene accompanied Pamela to Lena Luthor's funeral, Anthony to Lois Lane's. Pam held Barbara's hand through Dick's, and Barbara…well, she passed away in her sleep two years after that. Just didn't wake up one morning.
Pam sat between her children at that funeral, Damian beside them, gripping Cass' hand, offering her the support that she couldn't ask for, but desperately needed in that moment, as she mourned the loss of her final adopted parent.
There was a lot Pam wished she could have said to Barbara. Mainly that she loved her, and that she was honored to have been part of her life. Honored to have known her. But there was no use talking to a corpse. She'd learned from Harley's death that no matter how you begged and pleaded, the cold body you clutched to your chest would remain cold. Empty.
Barbara's soul had already moved on, Pamela knew that, but it didn't stop her from leaning over the open casket and pressing a kiss to the woman's forehead, murmuring "Carrot tops are green," against her skin.
Pamela remembered going to a drive-in movie theater as a teenager. Just once. The boy had asked nicely, and his parents were important clients to her Father…so she'd gone, worn his sweater around her shoulders because he'd offered it, not because she was cold.
The movie had been about a group of kids roughly Pam's age at the time—although she reckoned the actors playing them were quite a few years older. It was set in California, and was considered fairly risqué for the time, being that the swimsuits the women wore were rather revealing. They lounged on the beach while the boys in their posse went out to surf. Of course, Pamela found the images of the women laying on the beach in revealing swimwear considerably more entrancing than the other plot line, but there was one scene she'd always remember. It depicted one of the boys—the shortest one with the darkest hair—falling off his surfboard into the water, and each time he'd break the surface, gasping for air, another punishing wave would thrust him back under water. There was nothing the boy could do but let the waves crash on top of him, and hope he'd eventually end up back on shore.
That's what Pamela had felt like nearly every year since Harleen's death. Like there was a punishing surf at her back, beating her into the ocean floor with wave after wave of tragedy.
She had Clark and Kara, though. She felt almost silly saying it, but their friendship meant more than she could articulate with words.
They met at least three times a week in one of The Watchtower's smaller conference room. Some of their colleagues referred to their gatherings as "Grief Group," which bothered Pamela at the beginning, until she realized that's exactly what it was. A place to mourn the immense losses of their lives with the only people that could ever hope to understand.
Ivy sighed as she lowered herself into her seat. "Is it lesbian pride day on Krypton or something?"
Clark and Kara looked equally confused by her jab.
"There's just…a lot of plaid in this room right now," Pam explained, nodding towards the Kryptonians' nearly matching shirts, tucked into almost equally identical pairs of darkly washed jeans.
"Oh, I'm just from Kansas," Clark told her like maybe she was truly confused. "I'm not a lesbian."
"Sure you are," Ivy doubled down. "Reported the news every night on MSNBC, right?"
Clark narrowed his eyes at her. "That's Rachel Maddow, and I think you know that."
Ivy shrugged, sighing again as her gaze shifted to Kara, the younger woman's gaze empty as she stared down into her own lap. "How are you doing, Kara?"
"I'm just tired of being lonely," the blonde murmured, tears somehow already gathering in her eyes. "It's been 9 years but I still can't…breathe at night, without her. And everyone—they, like—they think it should all be OK by now, but how can it all be OK? She's still gone. I'm still…I'm still alone, the house is still empty, and now it…it doesn't even smell like her anymore. It feels like she's gone now. Really. And that hurts worse than the lingering. Because at least I still felt attached, you know? I'm sorry," she apologized, shutting her eyes. "Didn't mean to just launch in—sometimes I feel like I just blabber on and on to you guys. But it's…there are ways I'm getting better, and ways I somehow feel like I'm getting worse. And I don't want to get worse. I want life to have meaning again, want it to have color…it's just—man—what a terrible process."
Clark nodded. "19 years, and sometimes Jon's the only way I can even get out of bed in the morning," he admitted. "I look at him, and…there's just enough of her in there—in his eyes…and I think about how much she loved him, and—Pam, you must know what I'm talking about—that life I was allowed to share, and help create…and it's all OK for a second. But then you remember, and those same eyes make you just as sad as they did happy."
Pam nodded mutely, looking down at the wedding and engagement rings she still wore, running the pad of her index finger gently over the emerald encrusted bands… "I don't know when it's supposed to change, Kara. 21 years for me, and yes, the pain does feel…duller. But then again, the whole world feels duller. I'm every bit as empty as my house, every bit as empty as my bed…but you're right, Clark—it is my children, human or otherwise, that convince me to start my next day."
"Yeah, well," Kara wiped her eyes. "Guess I should'a had kids, then."
Clark reached out and squeezed her hand. "You'll always have me, Kara. I am your family, you know that."
Kara nodded, painting on a watered down smile. "I know. I'm just—ugh," she took a deep breath. "It's been good to be working again. Helpful. Lena always believed in my reporting. It made her sad when I had to quit and change my name. So it feels like, in a way, I'm doing this for her too. Her and me."
"I've found distraction to be vital," Pam agreed. "And you have a friend in me as well, Kara. You know that, don't you?"
"Yeah," Kara smiled sweetly—so did Clark, actually. "And you're a good friend, Pamela. Oh!" she suddenly straightened up, obviously having been reminded of something. "I meant to tell you, I'll be in Gotham tomorrow, interviewing your daughter for the trials thing. She seems very excited."
"She hasn't shut up about it for two years," Pam smiled with genuine amusement. She would never grow tired of Kara's exuberance. There was something so familiar about it…and it had been gone for some time, despite the woman's attempts at faking it. But little by little, day by day, group by group, she'd seen mirth slowly creep back into those bright blue eyes. She was still healing—or trying to, at least—but the passion with which she discussed her stories reassured Pamela that Kara would be OK eventually. That she was on the road to being OK now. "I'm relieved it's finally happening; the topic is honestly growing tiresome."
"She really loves it, huh?" Kara grinned.
"Gymnastics? Oh, yes," Pam laughed. "Besides her children and her husband, I can't imagine she loves anything more…although," Pam narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "She might honestly prefer gymnastics to Damian—I suppose we'll never know. I'm just aware I've misjudged her affection for the sport before."
Kara chuckled as Clark checked his watch, saying "I should get going," and grabbing his blazer off the back of his chair as he stood up.
They didn't always have hours to spare, sometimes they had only minutes. But some days a minute was all they needed.
"See you tomorrow, Cus," Kara waved after him, Pam following suit, though without the verbal goodbye. When he was gone, Kara turned back to Pam. "Anyway, can I call you afterwards? Maybe we can get dinner or something? You know I'm always hungry."
"Oh, yes, sure," Pam rose from her chair as well. "Just—umm—yeah," she smiled. "Call me."
/
"The number one goal is, of course, that everything runs smoothly," Jo was saying, continuing her tour of the facility. "Of course, that's easier said than done, but at this point, we're feeling confident."
Kara was struggling to keep up, pushing her glasses back up her nose, hurrying her steps. "Did you—um—have you—I'm sorry," she apologized, grabbing Jo's arm to slow her down. "You're obviously a lot better at maneuvering in heels than me. And has anyone ever told you that you talk a little fast?"
Jo laughed. "Off the record, I thought you, of all people, would be able to keep up. And on the record, I will continue to make high heels my bitch until the day I die. Any more questions?"
"Just a few," Kara flipped through her reporter pad, aware that it was outdated, but craving the familiarity. "I'm a little rusty, I'm sorry."
"That's alright…" Jo smiled, absently trailing her fingers across the balance beam they'd paused in front of.
"Um—why was it so important to you that the trials come to Gotham?" Kara asked, not yet looking up from her notebook. "I heard the bidding got expensive."
Jo's eyes flitted to her fingers, tapping them rhythmically on the beam's beige surface. "I think…the negative reputation Gotham earned continues to be this…pervasive, overpowering, falsified reality of what the city truly is. It's not even in the top 3 most crime-ridden cities in American anymore. It's safer than ever, and I…I want people to get to know the Gotham that I've experienced. This is where I grew up. My Mother was born here, and the Waynes were one of Gotham's first families. You've gotta give things a second chance," her plea was earnest. "And this city has made significant strides in the last few decades. With help from the Bat-Family and the Justice League, of course. I want America to tune in and see that. I want young gymnasts out there to know that this city, and the Harleen Quinzel Memorial gym, have a lot to offer. We're just—," Jo laughed. "We're tired of being known as Metropolis' ugly step sister. Or…drunk uncle, more accurately."
Kara chuckled as she copied that last part down. "This must be so interesting for you, as someone who so famously didn't go on to actually comp—,"
"Oh, no one cares about that," Jo cut her off, dismissing the question. "In gymnastics, the best of the best don't make it much older than 22. It's an early retirement for even the most decorated competitors, and I'm a 61-year-old woman without a medal to my name. I'm a fan. That's it. Gymnastics…it'll always be my first love, and getting to host the trials, see these girls' dreams come true right before my eyes, in my city…it's truly the honor of my life—and I'm a mother to three children," she joked.
"Well…I guess that's it then," Kara smiled, marking her paper with an overzealous period, and closing up the notebook. "I really appreciate you showing me around."
"Course," Jo grinned, making a sweeping arm gesture at the facilities and taking a deep breath. "Like I said, this is all such an honor…that I paid a lot of money for, but at the end of the day—who gives a shit? I have to spend my money somewhere. Are you headed back to National City tonight?" she changed the subject. "Or did you get a hotel."
"Oh, well I'm actually going to meet your Mom for dinner at the…umm…" she got her cellphone out, scrolling quickly through her texts. "The Iceberg Lounge."
Jo raised an eyebrow. "Mom's taking you to dinner at The Iceberg?
Kara didn't exactly know how to respond. She found Jo's delivery strange. "Is it—is that weird?"
"Well…no," Jo laughed. "Actually, I think 'fuckin' finally' is a better reaction. Are you wearing that?"
The blonde glanced down at her sweater vest and khakis. "Yes? Is that…I mean, is this OK? Is there a dress code or something?"
"Umm…" Jo squinted, looking her up and down. "You know what? I think you're fine." She decided, reaching out to dust Kara's shoulder off. "It's cute, and it's—God—it's so on-brand," she laughed.
/
Pam checked her watch again. 8:06. She'd said 8 o'clock.
But it's a strange city for her, Pam reminded herself. Maybe she got lost. Or maybe she just…isn't all that interested in punctuality. Anyway, what does it matter?
Honestly, Pamela had no idea why she felt so nervous. Or why she'd spent so long deciding on her dress. She knew she looked good in anything, and she'd already thoroughly impressed Kara. They'd been friends a long time. It wasn't as if this was their first meeting, or even their first time hanging out together outside the tower.
"Hanging out," Pam mocked herself. It sounded so…high school.
She was taking a sip of her sparkling water at the bar when the front door opened, and Kara stepped in, fiddling nervously with her glasses.
Pam smiled instantly at that. She'd always found the movement so endlessly endearing.
"You don't actually need those, do you?" Ivy asked rhetorically, her eyes still closed.
Harley sat upright, alarmed at the sudden disturbance and a bit embarrassed for how intently she'd been staring.
"Your glasses." Ivy clarified when she didn't respond. "They're not prescription, are they?"
Pam stared down into her glass, aware that Kara had spotted her and was quickly making her way over.
"Hi!" the blonde greeted, sounding slightly out of breath. "I'm so sorry I'm late I—well, there was a donut cart on the corner, and see, I didn't even know donut carts were a thing."
"It's OK," Pam assured her, holding in a laugh. "Really, I understand. My children have similar metabolisms; we were always stopping off at odd places because they were hungry."
Kara looked visibly relieved. "Thank you…" she trailed off slightly as she took her first real look at Pam, her eyes going wide with embarrassment. "Oh no, you dressed up. Jolene said this might—I'm so underdressed." She buried her face in her hands.
"No! no, it's…" Pam looked down at herself, studying how her own green dress clung tightly to her waist and hips… "Perhaps I'm overdressed. I don't go out with friends all that often anymore. The one who used to take me here died some time ago, and the cat my daughter bought to fill that void within me is much too old to take me to dinner anymore."
Kara peaked out from behind her fingers with a laugh. "I didn't know you had a cat."
"I do," Pam smiled. "She's 21 years old and categorically refuses to die. We rarely get along, but I suppose that's the point."
The blonde didn't answer immediately, just smiled at her, but when she did, she said: "So do you—um—want to sit down?"
"Of course, yes, sorry, you're hungry," now Pamela was the one embarrassed. "I had a table res…" she trailed off as she looked over her shoulder. "Damn it," she snapped her head back around.
"What?" Kara frowned, her eyes wandering in the direction Pam's had just abandoned. "Hey, isn't that your granddaughter?"
"I didn't think she'd be here tonight," Pam lamented, gulping down the rest of her water.
Kara looked confused. "Don't you…like your granddaughter?"
"Of course I do," Pam assured her. "I just don't particularly like watching her—,"
"She's coming over! She's coming over," Kara interrupted in an excited whisper.
And Pam felt a hand lightly trail around her waist soon after. "You know," Daisy began. "I've s—fuck. Hey, Grandma," she took a noticeably different tone mid-sentence, her face bright red when Pam whipped around to look at her.
"Were you about to hit on me?" Pam asked, appalled.
Daisy wrinkled her nose, looking like the question pained her. "I really wish my answer could be no."
Pam pulled a nearly identical expression, suddenly very uncomfortable in her tight dress.
"Umm…if it's any consolation," Daisy attempted to cut the tension. "You can't hate me more than I hate myself right now."
"I believe you," Pam granted. "But I also already see a rather lovely young woman sitting at the table you abandoned."
"Yeah, well," Daisy signaled the bartender. "I liked this view better, and now I would very much like to die." He gave her a drink without even taking her order, and she gave him a cordial nod as thanks, downing it in one go. "Who's your friend?"
"Oh, um, Kara," Kara smiled sheepishly as she introduced herself, extending a hand.
"Kara," Daisy smiled, bringing the hand to her lips. "I'm really loving this pencil-pusher look. What do you—,"
"Daisy, stop it," Pam snapped. "There are plenty of other options in here."
The younger woman looked puzzled for a moment, glancing between them, before realization seemed to dawn. "Oh! Right, well…my sincerest apologies, Kara. Can I get you anything? Whatever you want, it's on me. I happen to know the owner," she gave a playful wink.
"She is the owner," Pam explained the joke to Kara.
"Ah, that's—that's very kind, Ms. Wayne," Kara flushed slightly, turning to the bartender herself now, asking for a club soda.
Daisy took the opportunity to give Pam two thumbs up, mouthing, "she's cute, I love the…" and pantomiming Kara adjusting her glasses.
Pam hurriedly waved her off.
Kara was smiling when she turned back around with her drink. "So, how long have you owned this place?"
"5 years now," Daisy told her with a proud smile. "Had to wait until I had the funds to purchase it on my own. The trust fund baby narrative isn't exactly flattering."
"Well it's really, I mean, just so beautiful," Kara let her eyes sweep her surroundings. "Really lovely."
"Mhm…" Daisy smiled, though it was clear her attentions had wandered. "Alright, weigh in here for me," she tugged on Pam's dress, encouraging her to follow her gaze. "Blonde or brunette?"
"Blonde," Pam answered immediately, at the same time as Kara was saying: "Brunette."
Daisy laughed as they looked at each other oddly. "It was a trick question anyway. I want the strawberry blonde in the corner," she nodded in that direction.
Kara frowned behind her glasses as she studied the woman Daisy was referring to. "Doesn't she look a little like…"
"Daisy, that woman looks exactly like your Mother," Pam was more blunt.
"No, no, the blue dress. Right there. Talking to the fuck boi," Daisy attempted to clarify.
"Sweetheart," Pam laughed. "If you put that woman in a leotard I'd tell you it was my daughter."
"Wh—no," Daisy adamantly shook her head. "Nice try, Grandma, if you think you're gonna scare me straight—,"
Pam chuckled, opening up her clutch. "I'll tell you what…" she retrieved a $100 bill, and slid it across the bar until it brushed Daisy's hand. "I'm willing to bet that woman is a collegiate athlete." She gave the girl in question a more thorough look over. "She's…in her 3rd year at Gotham State. Runs track. The…400m, to be specific," Pam decided. "And, actually, let's up the stakes." She pulled another $100 out of her clutch. "Double or nothing, she's a psychology major."
Daisy scoffed. "Mom didn't even go to college."
"Incorrect," Pam leaned against the bar. "She went to community college for three years, just never graduated. You want to guess what her major was?"
"Ooh!" Kara piped up. She knew this one. "Child psychology."
Pam smiled condescendingly at her granddaughter. "Go ahead," she nodded towards the doppelganger. "Tell me if she's anything different."
Daisy rolled her eyes, running a quick hand through her hair. "Fine. Hate taking money from an old lady, but it's your funeral."
"Good luck," Pam smiled after her, she and Kara watching intently as she Daisy left them, crossing the floor and moving quickly to draw the woman's attention away from the man she was talking to. "Anyway," Pam exhaled, returning her attention to Kara. "Apologies, I realize this might not be the right place for your unique dietary requirements."
"Oh," Kara looked a little disappointed. "Well, I liked meeting Daisy. We get to work with Lilah and Terry every day, but for some reason I always forget there's a third."
"I think she might prefer it that way," Pam told her. "But, if you'd like, you could watch the trials with us tomorrow? You'll get to see all three of them in one place."
Kara's face lit up. "I'd love to! I mean—um," she cleared her throat, obviously trying to tamp down her enthusiasm. "Yeah, definitely. Yes."
Pam was about to smile and tell Kara they'd say goodbye to Daisy and go find some place that served something other than glorified, overpriced appetizers…but she was derailed by the image of Daisy leading the doppelganger towards the door with her arm around her waist.
She did stop off at the bar before leaving, though, reaching into her pocket for five $100 bills, folding them neatly and depositing them into Pam's hand.
"There's $300 extra to ensure this stays between us," Daisy muttered quickly, leaving before Pam could respond, ushering the woman out the door.
Pam glanced down at the money in her hand. "I feel like we should burn this."
Kara laughed out loud, finishing with a little snort.
/
Kara liked the way Pamela's eyes lit up when she talked about things she loved.
Her favorites were the stories about Harley and the kids. It felt like she was letting Kara into this secret little world, locked away in her heart…her secret garden! Like the book!
And, for the record, Jolene was right—Gotham was different than Kara remembered. The air felt lighter somehow, a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves of the trees that were spaced evenly on each sidewalk. Window boxes filled with colorful flowers spilled from the second stories of each building they passed. And it smelled…fresh. Clean. Different than before.
"Did you do all this?" Kara asked, her fingers trailing over the rough bark of one of the trees.
Pam smiled, glancing up at the tree beneath Kara's touch. "It's taken almost 80 years to arrive here," she admitted. "Since the day Harley dragged me out of that cell and into the sunlight, I've been working. There's always room to improve, but…" she watched as a car passed overhead. "It gets easier to breathe with each passing day. Easier for my babies to survive…Gotham is finally a city I'm proud to call home."
"That must be incredibly rewarding, to have your work mean something," Kara said, glancing over at the redhead as they continued their walk back to Kara's hotel.
"You say that as if your work is meaningless," Pam remarked.
Kara shrugged. "I do my best. But I'm not literally helping keep the heart of the planet pumping."
"We all have our different strengths," Pam reminded her, slowing to a stop in front of a bubbling marble fountain. "You're a role model, to every young girl I've ever met. And it's not as if you've been unhelpful with my conservation project," she pulled a few coins out of her pocket, handing one of them to Kara. "I know, after what happened with Krypton, there are few causes more important to you than keeping this planet alive and well."
Kara nodded. It was true. She'd seen her entire planet die, all because her people failed to take care. Their leadership failed to heed the warnings of the planet's top scientists…it still hurt. That feeling of overwhelming helplessness. Pamela knew that feeling too. Her people—human or otherwise—died every day, and she couldn't be numb to any of it.
"What would you wish for?" Kara nodded at the coin in Pam's hand. "If you threw that knowing your wish would come true. What would you wish for?"
Pam turned the coin over in her hand, staring thoughtfully down at it, before her eyes became glassy. "There was a Christmas once, a long time ago," Pam began. "Almost 60 years ago now. The kids were young, but old enough that I felt like I knew them," she pursed her lips, pausing for a moment. "And Harley…she loved Christmas so much. She was Jewish, but she loved Christmas more than all of us." The faint smile Pam was wearing melted away after that thought. "I asked her if she'd stay with me that night. The kids were sleeping, and she pulled me to my feet to dance, and I…I can still feel that, in my heart, that fullness, that security in her arms as we swayed to the music…" Pam pressed down on the coin with her thumb. "And I told her it could be like this forever. Told her I could make her like me. That I could keep her, if she'd let me."
Kara was sure she knew how this story ended, but her stomach clenched with grief none the less. There was still so much love in Pamela's voice when she spoke about her wife. So much affection…
"And…she said no," Pam finished. "She said she was mine as long as she was here, but that she couldn't stay forever."
"So, what's your wish?" Kara asked, her voice small. She wondered if Harleen knew how much Pam missed her. Wherever she was…
Wetting her lips, Pamela said, "I suppose I wish she'd had a different answer. But if not, I'd ask to live one more moment in that night. With my children asleep on the couch behind me, and my head resting on my wife's shoulder. Just…to feel her chest against mine, her arms around my back…Just one more moment of warmth. That's what I'd wish for."
Kara's eyes had welled up with tears, but she smiled at Pamela none the less…softly, sweetly… "I'd wish for that too."
Pam chuckled, though it sounded a bit nervous. "You'd spend your wish on me?"
Kara nodded. "Lena wouldn't want me to go back, she was all about moving forward. And I think…seeing her again, it would hurt too much. I'm not brave enough to rip those scabs off. You remind me of her, though," Kara said, the words slipping out before she could think better of them.
Pam turned to her, raising a curious eyebrow. "I remind you of Lena?"
Again, Kara nodded silently.
"Why?" Pam smiled, almost despite herself, it seemed.
"Well…" Kara shoved her hands deep into her pockets, looking down at the water rather than attempting to hold Pam's gaze. Her eyes were very green. Greener than Lena's, even, and Lena's eyes had been very green. "You're smart," she began. "The kind of smart that's intimidating sometimes. Fierce. And you're…very pretty—beautiful," she quickly corrected. "The kind of beautiful that shakes you, right to your very core." Kara's gaze finally flitted back to meet her, and she found that Pam was still watching her. "The kind of beautiful that makes it hard to even look at you, but…even harder to look away."
Pamela blushed—yes, Poison Ivy actually blushed. Turns out she could do that when her skin wasn't green. She bit her lip to contain a smile, and shyly tucked a strand of loose red hair behind her ear, eyes on her feet when she said, "I hope the potstickers were to your liking."
Kara grinned. "Any chance that place delivers to National City?"
Pam chuckled, braving another moment of eye contact. "I think just about anything's possible for Supergirl." They waited for a moment in a comfortable silence, the sound of the bubbling fountain punctuating the night, before Pamela spoke again. "I'll pick you up tomorrow."
Blinking, as if awoken from a trance, Kara realized she was a bit disappointed that the night had to end. It'd been so wonderful, getting to spend time with someone. Someone that had successfully distracted her from her loneliness. Someone that, somehow, had always been able to. "I thought you were walking me to my hotel?"
The redhead nodded up at the building behind the fountain. "And so I have."
"Oh," Kara flushed with embarrassment. "Right…Duh. I—I had a really wonderful night."
Pam smiled, her eyes sparkling, hair shining in the glow of the streetlamp. "Yeah, me too."