Batwoman ducked behind a car, Batgirl and Nightwing at her side.

"Christ, since when did he have this many of them?!"

Nightwing peered through the car's window assessing Firefly's approaching swarm. "It definitely looks like they increased their membership."

"They've got us pinned," Batgirl lamented. "I thought you called for backup."

"I did," Batwoman gritted, inching up to get another look at the enemy. "They just seem to be taking their sweet time."

"Honestly, the ungratefulness…" a cold female voice came from behind them, causing all three to jump. "And did you honestly dispatch the Justice League to combat a human with fancy gadgets?"

"Poison Ivy," Batwoman sighed. "I specifically told you guys we were dealing with fire, and they sent us the hero whose weapons can be burned?"

"Tough luck, Honey," Ivy sneered. "I was on call."

Nightwing wasn't paying attention, he'd returned his focus to the swarm. "How does Firefly recruit 80 people to walk around with flamethrowers because he told them to?"

"Humans are weak-minded," was Poison Ivy's simple explanation. "Now, can we get this started? I'm expected across town in 30 minutes."

"Yeah," Batwoman pulled smoke grenade from her utility belt. "Let's go."


Pamela rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time as she glanced at her watch...again.

Her caramel colored Paula Irving wig was styled into a loose bun on top of her head, and her red dress next to her green eyes made it look like Christmas in July.

"Ma'am, are you sure you don't want to order?" the waiter asked as he filled her water glass.

"She's coming," Pamela was beginning to grumble before her voice was drowned out with a "sorry, sorry, sorry" from the blonde rolling through the restaurant in her chrome chair.

"Honestly?" Pamela huffed as Harleen misjudged her final rotation and slammed herself against the table. "45 minutes late, I can't believe you."

The waiter cleared his throat uncomfortably and Pam shot him a look Harley knew was coming her way next.

"Can we start with bread sticks?" Harleen asked, her expression cloyingly sweet in comparison to the other woman's.

The waiter nodded and ducked away almost quicker than was appropriate for the setting.

Pamela was still glaring, but her focus was now on the woman across the table.

"What?" Harleen was already defensive. "I had to change, OK?"

The redhead narrowed her eyes in judgment. "It took you 45 minutes to change from your suit into the clothes you wore to work today? You literally left before me."

Harleen looked down at her blouse and pencil skirt. "I couldn't get a taxi."

"That's because you pretend you're still paralyzed and have a designated driver that takes you to and from your appointments," Pamela reminded her as she opened the menu she'd already been over six times. "Why didn't you utilize him?"

"Alright, you got me, I was lollygagging," Harleen admitted. "Sorry, Babe. You look hot, though."

"I know I do," Pamela mumbled from behind her menu.

"Is that a new dress?" Harleen asked, trying to distract with a new conversation topic.

Pamela snapped the menu shut. "If you must know, yes. It is.

"Did you…buy it for date night?"

Pam doubled down on her scowl in an attempt to hide her blush. "Well, now you're just making me feel silly."

"Thanks a lot, Babe," Harleen huffed playfully. "Now I'm starving, but not for food, if you know what I mean," she waggled her eyebrows and the redhead had to avert her gaze.

"Stop it," she fought through her smirk as Harleen sat back, satisfied.

The waiter came back with the bread sticks and Harleen had one of them in her mouth before he'd even set the basket on the table.

"She was raised by wolves," Pamela explained quickly. "And we are ready to order. I'll have the house salad, no dressing or croutons, just balsamic vinegar served on the side. And she'll have the steak, cooked well. She will not eat it if she sees pink. She'll tell you she likes it, but we'll end up throwing it in the garbage when we get home and I'd like not to pay for food we don't eat."

"C-can you repeat that?" the waiter asked nervously as he opened his order pad.

"No," Pamela told him firmly.

"Ooh, do you guys have daiquiris?" Harleen asked.

"And one of those as well," Pamela confirmed before shoeing him away.

Harleen grinned as she waited for them to be alone once more. "How much saliva you think's gonna be in our food?"

"I'd expect your drink to be a 50/50 ratio," Pamela sighed.

"Honestly, Pam," Harleen crossed her arms. "Would it kill you to be a little nicer to people?"

"11 years together and you can't figure that one out for yourself?" Pamela eyed her suspiciously. "For a therapist you are a terrible listener, Daffodil. And anyway, that boy is drowning in pheromones right now. He'd go to the restaurant next door and get that drink for you if I asked him to."

"My knight in shining armor," Harleen said dryly.

The redhead winked and a few moments of comfortable silence passed between them before Harleen spoke up once more.

"I have a question for you."

"Then I hope I have an answer," Pamela took a sip of her water.

Harleen drummed her fingers on the table, not making eye contact. "I know we've never talked about this…

Pamela waited silently, expectantly.

"I'm um, just wondering…" Harleen cleared her throat. "Would you…do you think you could ever see yourself with kids?"

Pam raised an eyebrow. "Human children, you mean?"

"Yes," Harleen almost laughed. "Human children. Would you like to have human children with me?"

"I'm barren and you're 37," Pamela answered curtly. "We're also superheroes with full time-professional day jobs as well. I don't see where we'd find the time. I'm also not sure a child could survive long enough in my presence for me to administer it the vaccine since their immune systems wouldn't be strong enough at birth."

Harleen glared at her wife. Alright, first off, I'm sorry I'm not stuck at 33 like you are. Must be nice to not notice new wrinkles on your face every day. But 37 is not too old to be a mom, and you're like 75, so get off your high horse, Babe."

"I'm not 'like' 75, I am 75, and how would we explain that to the children?" Pamela asked, trying to be reasonable. "And I only mentioned your age in regards to reproductive health, not actual motherhood."

"People have kids at 37 all the time!" Harleen retorted. "And anyway, we could still adopt."

"OK, well my time management argument still stands," the redhead crossed her arms. "We are simply too busy."

"I'd quit my job at Arkham," Harleen said suddenly. "Bruce pays you more than enough, I don't have to work."

"But you want to," Pam reminded her. "And to me it sounds like even though we've never spoken about this, you've put a lot of thought into it."

"Look, I just…ugh," Harleen calmed herself down. "I just finally feel like myself again, and unlike you, I only have this one life, I don't know if I can justify not ever having kids."

"What are you saying?" Ivy's voice was cold.

Harleen took a deep breath. "I'm saying that I love you, I'm married to you, and that I would like to have kids…preferably with you."

"Oh, so suddenly I'm expendable?"

"I didn't say that," the blonde huffed. "But can you imagine what it's like for me? Just for second? I know everything moves slowly for you, your own life doesn't exactly flash before your eyes…but mine does. It's all going really, really fast and I'm afraid there are things I'm missing out on," Harleen's voice grew thick with emotion and Pamela knew tears weren't far behind. "Our life together is just a snapshot in a photo album for you, just a brief little adventure compared to the scope of your existence. For me, it's all I'll have. It's my whole life. So even if you're inconvenienced a bit, it will only be for a minute in the grand scheme of things. Do it as a favor for me, if you have to, but just say yes please."

"But I already have a human child," Pam protested. "Her name is Selina Kyle, she's 43 years old, and an absolute nightmare."

"Yeah, Bruce and I are staging an intervention for her, so don't worry about that." Harleen revealed off handedly.

"Harleen," Pamela reached across the table to take her hand and look her in the eye. "Every year, I hear my babies' voices crying out as summer turns to autumn. Every single one. Now you are asking me to not only stand by as you expire, but also other children that I know I will grow to love? That will remind me of you? My burden is to watch them age, pass me by and wither, and then die surrounded by their families? It's not just a snapshot, Harleen. This will create an entire bloodline for which I am partially responsible. Children, grandchildren, great grandchildren. I'll watch them all die. Every single one. That is what you're asking of me right now."

Harleen's big blue eyes were glossy with tears preparing to spill down her cheeks. "Please."