Epilogue

"Am I getting fat?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You didn't even look!"

"Because I see you every day, Harley," Pamela reminded her, her annoyance obvious—on edge after a long flight—though her focus never wavered from the luggage carrousel. "A few extra pounds do not make you fat."

"A few extra—WAIT a minute, what the heck does that mean?!"

Shit, Pam lamented. Mistake, mistake, mistake. "Nothing, Darling, really. You just…don't go to the gym as often as you used to. There's nothing wrong with that, but I did read that exercise has a very positive effect on mental health, so maybe you should—oh! Look, it's our luggage."

Pamela had never been so thankful for airport employees in her life. She reached for the handles of their bags, but Harley batted her hands away before she could get a firm grip, yanking the two suitcases off the conveyer belt herself.

"I can carry those, Harl, it's really not a problem." Pamela was hoping to alleviate some tension with helpfulness.

"No," Harley answered firmly, her anger evident in each movement. "Obviously I need to burn some extra calories." She denied herself a luggage cart and carried both bags all the way out to the curb, refusing to use the wheels.

"Harleen, sweetheart, I really didn't mean that," Pam tried again as they waited for a taxi. "You look incredible. You always do. And…I was totally receptive to your body last night, wasn't I?"

Harley was fighting a losing battle to a grin. "I mean…yeah…"

Pam saw her ray of sunlight and capitalized on it, leaning over to give Harley a kiss. "Not having 8 visible abdominal muscles isn't the end of the world, Baby. 4 is completely fine by me."

Harley shyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear (despite there not being much to tuck), gaze trained at their feet. "You sure?"

"I'm positive." Pam kissed her again, only pulling away when their taxi arrived.

"Isley?" the driver inquired.

"That's us!" Harley beamed, picking their bags up before the driver could do it and tossing them into the trunk.

People always talked about the smell of Gotham—the distinctive, invasive stench of the city. Of the entire state, really. The longer you lived there, the easier it was to forget about it, but as Pamela and Harley stepped out of the airport, they were hit with an odor so pungent Pamela nearly keeled over.

It held far more power than just a smell, though. It was a reminder of what it was to be back. In truth, Pamela hadn't even wanted to come to the wedding. Not because she didn't love Selina, and not because she didn't miss her…but because she didn't miss this shithole in the slightest. Gotham City was Poison Ivy's most significant failure. A choice had been placed before her in that sawmill 4 years ago: save the city, or save herself. Fight or flight. And in the end…she grew wings.

This entirety of Gotham would be underwater someday, and Ivy had given up on it. For her betterment, but to the city's detriment. To the world's. It may be a just punishment for man's cruelty, but it still weighed heavy on Ivy's heart.

"You OK?" Harley was asking, pulling Pam's attention away from the window.

"Yes," Pam answered quickly, starring down at her lap. "It's just…"

"Weird to be back?" Pam nodded, letting Harley take her hand. "Kitty can't wait to see you."

The redhead scoffed. "I believe you're the first person to ever utter such a statement.

"Well, let's say you came for me, then," Harley suggested with a grin. "Lettin' a hot piece of ass like me go to a wedding alone is a dangerous game.

Pam rolled her eyes, pulling her hand back and returning her gaze out the window. "I can't believe I married you."

"Nuh, uh, uh, you don't get to pull that shit until you sign the papers."

Christ, not again. "Harley, we're felons," Pam reminded her. "We can't apply for a marriage license. You bought me a ring, that's enough."

"Oh, so we can't get a marriage license but you can apply for patents, right?" Harley scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest petulantly. "I changed my name and everything. Now who can't commit."

Ivy sighed. "Can we get through this wedding first? Please?"

"Fine," Harley grumbled, leaning back in her seat. "For Kitty."

Pamela wasn't quite sure who or what to expect at this wedding. To her knowledge, neither she nor Harley had ever come as an invited guest to Wayne Manor before. They'd certainly crashed their share of galas. Or, Ivy had, at least. That hadn't quite been Joker's M.O., not that he'd ever managed to stick to one M.O….

She shook her head, reminding herself to let that animal stay buried beneath the earth. Dead to the world. To Pamela, to Harley, and to Gotham. Instead, she focused on the prospect of Selina becoming a Wayne. Would that make her a member of the Bat-family? She supposed it would…but then again, maybe she always had been.

Selina ran her own team, never subscribing to what she considered petty squabbles between the Bats and the Rogues. She was both at once, and at the same time neither. An army of one. She'd join up when it was convenient, sometimes fighting beside Ivy and Harley…but when push came to shove, if Batman called, Selina would always come running. He was her most consistent principal.

It was funny, though, imagining Selina as a wife. Or, perhaps "odd" would be a better descriptor. A domesticated feline…Briefly, Pam wondered if that had ever been a part of any roleplay between them—collars—but then she found the thought so nauseating that she pushed it out of her mind as quickly as possible, gazing over at Harley to wipe the slate clean.

Harley had uncrossed her arms at this point, leaning forward in her seat to stare out the windshield in wonder at the grounds of Wayne Manor.

In all fairness, it was rather grand. The estate on its own, certainly, but Selina had also clearly hired a proficient wedding planner.

"I can't believe Kitty gets to live in this fancy house forever. It's so big!"

Pam scoffed. "When my father had our house built in 1939, his only note to the architect was 'make it bigger! Show those invalids we survived this Depression'. So please don't try and tell me my home isn't big enough for you."

Harley sunk back in her seat. "Your dad sounds like an asshole."

"Oh, he was," Pam said like it was beside the point. "Such an awful, coarse man…"

Sighing, Harley asked, "Is this whole thing gonna be a dick measuring contest between you and Bruce? Cuz I know what happened with Kitty. She told me."

Both curious and horrified, Pam asked, "And what, exactly, did she tell you?"

"That you and Bats were really going at it over her while I was off doing my, uh, my thing."

"Your thing."

"My thing."

"Well that's a complete misrepresentation of the facts," Pam dismissed it. "And I'm sorry she told you that."

Harley shrugged. "I was off with Joker. I deserved a lot worse."

"It's not about deserve, Harley…"

"Pam, really." Harley leaned in, kissing her softly. "I don't feel like you cheated on me. Not like you two were gonna try and make it work." She laughed at her own joke, getting out of the car when her door was opened by their driver.

Ivy had to remind herself that wasn't a statement to be offended by as she followed, not waiting to be helped. She fixed her hair as Harley again lifted their bags, tipping the driver and sending him on his way. "I'm sure Bruce paid him well enough already."

Harley shrugged, hoisting the luggage over her shoulder and starting towards the front door, though it swung open before they reached it.

"Harleen Carmela Quinzel—,"

"It's Frances—,"

"—how dare you come into my house, on my wedding day, sporting that haircut."

Harley dropped her bag to run a self-conscious hand through her short hair. "It's not too much like yours, Kitty, honest! See? Mine's curly!"

Pamela hadn't the headspace to be at all involved in that exchange. One, because perhaps her only friend, whom she hadn't seen or spoken to in four long years, was standing not 10 feet in front of her. And two, because Selina Kyle wasn't alone.

"What is that?"

Selina was confused by Pam's question. "What's what?"

"On your hip," Pam clarified, nodding towards the raven-haired infant Selina was holding. "Whose child is that?"

"Well, hello to you too, Pamela. Long time no see," Selina scoffed. "This is my daughter. Her name is Helena, I'm sure she's pleased to make your acquaintance."

She was drooling onto Selina's shoulder and seemingly half asleep, so Pam very much doubted that to be true. "Where'd you get her?" was the only thing she could think to ask.

For a moment there, it was clear Selina didn't know if Pam was joking or not. But when it became obvious she wasn't, Selina seemed at a loss for words. "I...um…my vagina?"

"YOU HAD A BABY?!" Harley sounded both thrilled and offended, dropping the other bag with a loud thunk.

"Yeah, asshole!" Selina adjusted Helena so the girl didn't have to hold up her heavy head all on her own. "I tried to tell you! But you were a little preoccupied."

"You—you let Batman impregnate you?" Pam stammered.

"Let him—yes! Why would I marry a man I wasn't planning to let impregnate me?" Selina demanded. "Did you think you were coming here to talk me out of the wedding?"

"Well, no, I mean—." Pam straightened up. "Maybe I would have mentioned a drawback or two of marrying a vampiric child collector born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but it would be up to you whether or not those arguments deterred you."

"What's on your finger?"

"What finger?" Pam held up her right hand.

Selina rolled her eyes. "Don't be a dick, Ivy, your left hand. Specifically, your ring finger. The one with the fat-ass diamond on it. You didn't even give me a chance to warn you about the dangers of marrying a formerly deranged clown girl who planned to blow up the city, broke your heart more times than I can count, and then was essentially your live-in stalker for 5 months."

"Hey!" Harley protested, not liking that characterization at all. "The stalker thing was your idea!"

"That's not the way I remember it," Selina replied, before taking a deep breath and returning with a smile. "OK, we get all that out of our system?"

"I mean, I still have some questions, but—,"

Pam was cut off when Harley started at a run up to the porch, wrapping Selina and Helena into a strong hug, the force of which caused Selina to go into protective mother mode and clutch her daughter close to her chest. "I missed you so much! Talking on the phone sucks! I'm gonna steal your baby and probably eat her cuz she's so cute."

"Please don't do that," Selina calmly requested, graciously accepting Harley's onslaught of cheek kisses.

When she finally let Selina go, Harley turned back, motioning for Pam to join them on the porch with a wide grin.

The redhead cleared her throat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and staring down at her shoes, only looking up again when Selina spoke.

"I missed you, Ives."

Pam smiled faintly, nearly despite herself. "I'm glad you invited us, I…I think about you sometimes. I miss…having a friend."

Selina smirked. "I think about you too…every time Bruce goes down on me."

"SELINA!" They heard Bruce bellow from inside the house.

"You inspired some real improvement in him. I'm forever grateful."

Pam laughed, a real laugh, and stepped up onto the porch, hugging Selina both more tentatively and tenderly than Harley had. "May I…hold the baby?"

"Oh, God, yes," Selina was relieved. "I've got so much other shit to do. Please, take her." She handed Helena over to Pam and held the door open for them. Harley started back for their bags, but Selina waved her off. "Leave those, Damian will get them."

"I will not!" a boy yelled back from deeper inside the house.

"You will too!" Selina insisted.

They waited for a moment in the foyer, Helena studying Pam curiously, and Harley studying Helena studying Pam. Selina tapped her foot impatiently. Finally, a teenage boy arrived—Damian, Pam assumed, both because he'd come when called and because she vaguely recognized him from the pictures Bruce had showed them on that double date. Though, Damian was of course older now.

"Be careful with her," the boy snapped at Pam. "She's not a plant. She's fragile."

"Plants are fragile." Ivy shot back, on instinct.

"Just don't leave her in a pot or anything, you Gossip Girl reject," Damian mumbled, brushing past her out the door to petulantly retrieve their bags, protest in every step.

"That's funny, but it's also rude," Selina scolded, hands on her hips. "And if you're going to roast my guests, please spread the burn evenly."

He dropped the bags in front of Harley, looking her up and down. "Evan Rachel Wood called, she says you're not pulling it off."

Harley's jaw went slack. "I—wh—," she ran another hand through her hair, turning almost desperately to Pam. "Was this haircut a mistake?!"

"No! No, you look beautiful, Darling," Pam was quick to assure her. "This child was raised in a dank basement, born to parents with nearly no social skills between them. We should pity him."

Damian turned from Harley to Ivy, posturing before her, taking up as much space as his still relatively slight frame would allow. "Listen, Lady—." For a moment, it seemed he was considering poking her in the chest, but after realizing the precarious position that would put his little sister in, he evidently reconsidered, balling his hands up into fists and keeping them by his sides instead. "You don't scare me. You or your super powers. Or you plants. Or your pheromones. Or you s—stupid pretty—your just really stupid, really pretty face and hair and your b—boobs which are too big anyway, and look dumb in that shirt…you don't scare me!"

Pam arched an eyebrow at him before looking down to study herself. "My breasts look dumb in my…polo shirt?"

"Shut up! I know your tricks!" Damian's face was bright red by this point.

Selina sighed. "Can you cool it on the pheromones, Ivy? He's 14."

Pam rolled her eyes. "Believe it or not, Selina, I don't feel the need to force your stepson to find me attractive. If you must blame something for his stammering, blame puberty."

"As—pfft—as if," Damian forced out.

Harley patted his head reassuringly. "It's OK, little buddy, she has the same effect on me."

Damian quickly shoved her hand away, retreating at a run towards the stairs, shouting, "This is my house!" over his shoulder.

The three of them watched him go, waiting until they heard a door slam in the distance to resume a conversation.

"He'll be back," Selina assured them. "Steph is going to show you to your room, you can just throw your shit in there. There's food in the kitchen if you're hungry, and…yeah, sorry I'm being a lame host. I'd love to catch up, but the ceremony's at 4, and this 'mother of 18' aesthetic I've got going on isn't exactly how I want to look in my wedding photos."

"You can shove that apology where the sun don't shine," Harley responded before Pam had a chance to. "We understand. Go get dolled up. Pammy n' me can entertain ourselves for a bit."

"Awesome," Selina smiled—the expression softer than Pam was used to, not devious in the slightest, just…relieved. Like the world had just slowed down to a manageable pace. "I'll take her…" she reached for the baby, which Pam reluctantly handed over, letting her fingers linger in Helena's grip. "She's gonna be a bitch if she doesn't get some boob and a nap."

"Oh, yeah," Harley waved that off. "I'm the same way. Totally understand, Helena."

Selina's nose wrinkled, and Pam buried her face in her hands. "Jesus, Harl…"

"I see not much has changed…" Selina patted Helena's back a few times to soothe her. "If you must fuck, please do it quietly. Children live here."

Pam sighed. "I don't miss having roommates."

Selina started for the living room, lingering for a moment with her hand resting on Pam's shoulder. "You were a shitty roommate, babe." She leaned in to kiss her on the cheek before continuing out of the room, leaving Harley and Pam with their bags at their feet in the foyer.

"…I was a fantastic roommate," Pam disagreed long after Selina had gone. "Put a roof over her head, food on the table, and never asked her to pay rent. What else did she want?"

"Your undivided attention, probably."

Harley and Pamela turned to find a girl staring down at them from the first landing of the grand staircase. She was a little older than Damian—17, maybe—with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a disgruntled pout that seemed to be etched into her fair features with some permanence.

"I'm Stephanie. Your room's up here," the girl added, nodding further up the stairs. "Put you next to Damian, that way if you decide to murder somebody, he's the prime candidate."

Harley didn't seem to know how to respond, so when she did, it was just with a simple introduction. She really had been excited to meet all of Batman's children in person. "Nice to meet you, Steph! This is Pam, I'm H—,"

"Yeah, I know who you are," Stephanie cut her off. "And we've met before. You tied me to the Batsignal with some vines. It was December and I about froze my ass off waiting for my boyfriend to come cut me free."

"Who's your boyfriend?" Pam decided to make an attempt at conversation.

"He's dead, nothing matters anymore," Stephanie growled, her hand gripping tighter on the banister. "He sacrificed himself for a city that didn't care and a father that never really loved him."

"You seem fun," Harley commented.

"I was fun…" the younger blonde stared wistfully off into the distance. "But I'm different now—hardened by a life I didn't ask for, a reality that was thrust upon me, a loss that twisted me, by experiences I—,"

Pam was squinting. "This feels familiar…"

Harley had clearly stopped listening as well. "I know, right?"

"—and it's all Bruce's fault. I'll hold it against him for as long as I live. He took my innocence—my hopes, my dreams of a future, and—,"

"Let's never have kids," Harley suggested, picking up their bags and starting up the stairs as Stephanie continued her monologue.

Pam agreed, following her up the stairs, "That sounds like a nightmare."

Stephanie didn't take the hint until they reached the landing. "Anyway, since you're Selina's friends, you should probably remind her that she's marrying a narcissistic asshole who obviously hates his own kids."

"OK." Harley nodded like she was committing this important information to memory. "Got it. I'm sure she'll appreciate the warning."

"You bet your ass," Stephanie scoffed, finally moving further up the stairs and arriving at the door of a guest bedroom. "This house is a loveless prison and no one understands me or my struggles."

Here was where Pam thought she could be helpful. "Actually, Stephanie, someone I loved very much d—,"

"No one. Understands. Me. Or my. Struggles," Stephanie repeated, slower, through gritted teeth.

"Sure, absolutely," Harley just agreed, bobbing her head. "This us?"

Without another word, Stephanie twisted the door's handle and shoved it open…then she left.

The room was nice, though. Of course, they'd expected the room to be nice, it was Wayne Manor, after all. But after the odd greeting from 2 out of Bruce's 13(?) kids, Pamela had half expected Stephanie to lead them to a dungeon.

"Ooh, cozy!" Harley was already testing the 'springiness' of the bed, and the results were clearly leaving her satisfied. "And it doesn't squeak, either. Being quiet should be easy." She had Pam around the waist and her lips on her neck before the redhead could close the door behind them.

"Harl, stop it." Pam tried to push her away, but they ended up on the bed anyway.

"God, that was the longest flight ever," Harley was saying in between kisses that began at Pam's lips and started down the smooth column of her throat.

"Fuck, Harley, please?" This time Pam was more successful in making space between them. "Selina was making a joke. We can't actually have sex right now, quiet or otherwise."

"Well, why the hell not?" Harley demanded, propping herself up on her elbows.

Pam was continually surprised by how much she had to explain to Harley. Like, things that Pamela had previously believed to be common sense or knowledge. "Because if Bruce Wayne or one of his angsty rugrats walks in on us—,"

"You mean…like…when we walked in on he and Kitty that one time?" Harley was absently drawing circles in the fabric of Pam's shirt. "When they were just…" her finger moved lower, and she unbuttoned the last of the shirt's collar. "Going at it?" Her other hand moved up from below the hem, fingers gently stroking Pam's stomach. "In your bed?"

Ivy closed her eyes. Goddamn it.

/

"You let Steph and Damian be the welcome party?" Bruce questioned, eating a croissant and holding Helena as he again looked over the seating arrangement. This was all going to be a delicate balance. The perfect arrangement was paramount.

Selina raised an eyebrow at him from her makeup chair. "Yes? And?"

"They're just currently the most rotten of my apples. Wouldn't you rather have impressed them with Dick or Cass?" He kissed his daughter on the head as she squirmed into his chest.

"They're former members of your rogues gallery. The hell do you care if they're impressed by your kids or not?" Selina asked, applying her foundation. "And Damian and Steph are plenty impressive when they're not being assholes."

"Right," Bruce scoffed. "And magic is real when you see a unicorn."

Selina rolled her eyes. "They get the asshole streak from you, Bat. That shit rolls downhill and you know it."

"I think they might get it from you," Bruce disagreed, wiping his hand on a napkin after finishing his brunch and making sure Helena was properly situated so he could stand up. "You're definitely where Damian got his mouth."

Selina actually laughed out loud at that. "I can assure you I had nothing to do with that. And Steph will come around. She just needs time."

Bruce began to subtly bounce Helena, rubbing soothing circles on her back when she began to fuss. "It's been two years."

"He was her boyfriend, Bru—,"

"He was my son."

"Well, great." Selina turned the lights on in her vanity so she could contour. "Let's all have a grief contest. Ivy wins by default."

Bruce scoffed, though he smiled when Helena relaxed again. "She would think that, wouldn't she? Remind me what room we put them in?"

"Steph insisted they stay by Damian," Selina said, eyes flitting to him in the mirror's reflection. "You can say hi, but I want you dressed by 3, alright?"

"Damn the time constraints," Bruce pretended to be upset. "This was going to be the moment when Pamela and I finally hit it off. I'm afraid you'll have to yank us away from our enthralling personal conversation."

Selina shook her head with a smirk, applying her lip stick. "I'm sure there's a universe where you two are good friends."

"Yes, well, thankfully it's not this one." Bruce started for the door, taking Helena with him. "I'll be right back."

Bruce imagined there would come a day where making this journey with his daughter in his arms would be tedious. She'd grow heavier and he'd get older, and there were a lot of stairs in this enormous house. Idly, he wondered if his father had ever done the same thing with him, held him in his arms and taken him to bed.

He hoped he had.

Of course, there were a lot of things Bruce wished his father had and hadn't done. Like been so needlessly brave, for one.

When he arrived on the correct level, Bruce's ears pricked up at the sound of heavy breathing, which he immediately attributed to Damian because the boy often trained in his bedroom when he couldn't access his 'emotion words'.

There were a lot of moments Bruce Wayne wished he could go back and do over again. Fights, actions, conversations, arguments…He wished he could have done more for Tim and Jason. Wished he'd known about Damian sooner. Wished he'd realized earlier that Selina wasn't simply another love interest, but his future. But perhaps most of all, he wished he'd knocked before opening the door to this particular guest bedroom.

It was…perhaps a slightly different dynamic than what he'd imagined for them. Harley was just so energetic he'd naturally assumed that face-riding would be more her forte.

But yeah, no, Pamela seemed plenty experienced.

Professional, even.

Logically, Bruce knew the best plan of action would be to simply back out of the room, as he didn't think they'd noticed him yet. But 'logic' was a difficult thing to favor in that moment.

/

Harley loved it when Pam got into it like this. She was biting her lip trying to muffle her enthusiasm, but there were definitely some whimpers slipping by.

The best thing about this position, though, was that Harley just had to hold her tongue there and watch. Maybe suck occasionally, but really, this was Pam's show. And as Harley was sure there were about a million people willing to pay good money for a show like this from Poison Ivy, she felt pretty darn special.

Pam was getting close. Harley could feel it in the way her legs clamped tighter around her head…and of course that's when it all had to go to shit.

Bruce Wayne was standing in the doorway looking so dumb Harley almost laughed. Now, Harley wasn't totally opposed to being watched…but Batman wasn't her ideal candidate. And Batman's infant daughter was even worse.

"Pmmy."

"Fuck, Harley…" Pam's hands fisted in her own hair. "Baby, you're so good…I'm so close…"

The worst part about this situation, besides the fact that Pam was gonna be in a bad mood the rest of the day because she clearly wouldn't be able to finish, was that Pam was right. They probably shouldn't have had sex.

"Pmmy!" She tapped her green leg this time, as it was impossible to get any actual words out.

Pam's eyes shot open, her face spelling out a mixture of confusion and concern. "Can you not breathe?"

Harley shook her head, which she imagined was still rather pleasurable for the woman on top of her, and then pointed silently to the doorway.

That, Pamela seemed to understand immediately because she slowly raised herself off of Harley's mouth and sat back on her chest instead, still not facing the doorway. Although, she did say, "Please tell me it's not a child."

"I don't—uh—think she understands yet," Bruce sounded as dumb as he looked.

"Right." Ivy nodded subtly, lifting herself off of Harley completely now as leaves quickly grew to cover all her important bits. "How are you, Bruce?" She asked with a rather impressive poker-face when she finally looked him in the eye. "It hasn't been nearly long enough."

"I see you…made yourself at home." He gestured vaguely to them with the arm he wasn't holding his daughter in.

"We did," Ivy acknowledged. "And I would like to remind you that you deserved this."

"Right, yes, sure." Bruce nodded until he was looking down at his feet. "I'm glad I don't need to, um, see your arousal."

"It's right here." Harley wiped it away from her mouth.

"And con—mm—uh," he cleared his throat, braving another look at them. "Congratulations. You're clearly proficient, and I hate this."

"So do we," Pam agreed. "Do yourself a favor and wait to ask about our flight until we're fully clothed."

"I can—that's fine, I'm going to have a married—get married! At a wedding!" Bruce backed out of the room. "My wedding. Selina's going to be my wife, so I'm going to go…do that."

Harley cocked her head. "Do Selina?"

"Tonight. Probably not until tonight. Why am I telling you this?" Bruce was still walking backwards. "We had a baby, as you can—we've already done it once—more than…good day."

Harley waited until they'd heard his rushed footsteps retreat down the hallway to speak. "Well that went w—,"

"Do yourself a favor and don't speak to me."

"But—!"

"If you value your life, Harleen Isley…"

Harley zipped her mouth, then locked it and threw away the key for good measure.

/

"Is this a terrible idea?"

"No." Barbara handed her the bouquet. "It's the biggest and best decision of your life."

"How do you know?" Selina's voice actually shook. She couldn't remember that ever happening before.

Barbara sighed, brushing Selina's hair out of her eyes. "I know because…I know you…and I know Bruce. And I know you two are two sides of the exact same coin. That's a rare, and very special thing."

"Oh, who asked you," Selina waved her off. "You're like 15."

"I'm 26, and you asked me."

Shit.

"That's our cue." Barbara wrapped her arm around Dick's. "If you're going to run away, please make a scene, or at the very least, let him know so he can chase after you."

Dick opened the curtain for them and they began down the aisle, leaving Selina alone with her fear.

If she walked down that beautiful pathway, decorated by flowers that Ivy had asked to grow there, past all her guests, to the man she loved waiting for her at the end. To his children. To their child. If she took his hand, accepted his ring and his kiss and said 'I do'…that was it. That would be her life. Her future. Her legacy.

Selina Kyle, a Wayne.

She looked back over her shoulder. Back to the driveway where her car was parked. The keys were in it. It was gassed up and ready to go. She dreamed of Ivy's house then. Of breakfast with she and Harley, complaining over coffee about men and money and sex and a lack of sleep. Young and beautiful and as carefree as they would ever be.

But…Ivy's house wasn't there anymore. Pamela lived in Seattle now, and she had never been young, or carefree. There had never been any permanence in that house. It was a pit-stop. A distraction. An oasis. Vacation from their lives and responsibilities. From Pamela's grief, from Harley's sickness, and from Selina's fear.

Fear of this. Of a day when a man would stop her from running, and she would be grateful for the rest.

Fear of growing up, fear of falling in love, fear of…Selina Kyle. Of not just biding her time in the days, watching the clock as the hours ticked by, itching to put her suit back on. But of truly living in the daylight. Of truly embracing it.

Selina had a daughter now. A perfect baby girl. One with a father that loved her. One who needed a mother.

The music began to play, and Selina knew it was time. Time for her decision.

She pulled the curtains back just a few inches. Just enough to see down the aisle. To see Bruce waiting for her, handsome as ever in his beautiful suit, and wearing an expression so full of love and appreciation that it made her heart flutter.

In his strong arms was their baby. Their Helena. A girl with eyes as green as her mother's and hair the color her parents shared.

And in that moment, Selina knew things would be different for Helena than they had been for Bruce. And different than they had been for Selina. Helena would have two parents—a mother and a father—that would watch her grow up. That would be there for her first steps, and her first words, for her first day of preschool and her high school graduation. That would watch her get married and would someday hold their grandchild. And they would do all of this…together.

So, when it was time, she took a step forward.

/

"Did you cry?" Harley asked as she saddled up to the bar.

"No."

"Can I get a glass of champagne, please? And also a mimosa without champagne?" She turned away from the bartender to say, "It's OK if you cried, Pammy."

"I didn't."

"So…just an orange juice, then?" The bartender asked, nonplussed.

"Yeah, my wife's an alcoholic, what's-it-to-ya?"

Pam rubbed her eyes. "Harley, I would love it if you would stop telling people that."

Harley grinned, handing Pam her orange juice and taking a sip of her own champagne. "I hate this shit. It's like sour soda with alcohol."

"Then why did you order it?"

"Because not everything I do makes sense, Pammy," Harley reminded her. "Aren't you the one that told me that?"

"I'm sure I—,"

"Goodness, Jonathan, were you made aware the great and powerful goddess Demeter would be gracing us with her presence tonight?"

Ivy cringed. She honestly thought she'd never have to hear that voice again. "Edmund…" she chugged her entire juice before turning around.

The smug look on Riddler's face faltered. "No, it's—it's Edward."

"Mmm…" Pam narrowed her eyes. "Is it?"

"It is! Jonathan, she knows it is!"

"Yes," Scarecrow calmly acknowledged, unrecognizable to the other guests without his hood, though the plaid was frankly a dead give-away. "I'm sure she does." Then he nodded over at Harley. "You're looking noticeably less alone."

"Oh, yeah, I found her." Harley smiled, wrapping Pam up from behind. "She was just in Seattle, not the produce section."

"I don't care enough to ask for that entire story," Ivy told them, shrugging Harley off to order another orange juice.

"She's just grumpy cuz she couldn't orgasm," Harley explained before Jon or Eddie could ask about Ivy's behavior. "You get it."

Ivy choked, but Eddie agreed, "Boy, do I."

This drew a look form Scarecrow that perfectly matched Ivy's.

"But anyway," Harley changed the subject. "How'd you gays get an invite?"

"Kyle and I have worked together from time to time," Riddler told them. "Wouldn't exactly call ours a functional working relationship, but it's Gotham, 'functional' isn't in our vocabulary. Besides, we were sort of hoping Bats would crash the wedding in a jealous rage."

"Right," Harley had to bite her lip to stop a giggle. "And speak of the devil…"

Selina was crossing the room, weaving between guests to join their little circle by the bar. Harley handed over her glass immediately, which seemed to be exactly what Selina was looking for. After downing half of it, she handed it back to Harley, then said, "You four aren't plotting anything, are you?"

Jonathan scoffed. "Do you truly think so little of us, Ms. Kyle?"

"Yes, I do."

"I think that little of us and I'm a part of us," Harley laughed.

Pam was swirling her juice around. "That was a lovely ceremony, Selina."

The brunette smirked, a lick of satisfaction in the expression. "Did I…maybe see you crying a little bit?"

"No."

"Not even a—,"

"I said no."

"She was definitely crying," Bruce confirmed, somehow appearing immediately behind Selina.

Guess it's not the costume that makes him sneaky… "And you'll be crying in a moment if you bring it up again," Ivy assured him.

Selina smiled, leaning into him until their lips met in a soft kiss. "Where's Helena?"

"With Damian." Bruce nodded over at his son, who was bouncing Helena on his knee, smile filled with so much pride it looked like he might burst. "I believe the unicorn has arrived." Selina chuckled and Bruce surveyed the group in front of him. "You must be friends of my wife's." He reached his hand out for Jonathan to shake, while Eddie insisted he kiss his. "So pleased you could come."

Pam rolled her eyes, realizing he was about to play the same game he'd played with she and Harley.

"Yes, well, it's not every day you get an invitation to Wayne Manor." Riddler retracted his hand after Bruce had kissed it. "Miraculously, it didn't disappoint."

"I'm just glad nothing went wrong." There was a twinkle in Bruce's eye. "So many of my galas are interrupted by Batman's rogues, it's a wonder this thing has gone on without incident."

"I hear they can be pretty well-behaved if you feed them," Harley said as she stuffed a mini-quiche in her mouth.

"Ah, perhaps Batman should carry around some snacks in his utility belt, then," Bruce chuckled. "Who knew there would be such an easy solution?"

"Well, it really depends on the rogue," Eddie interjected. "For example…Harley Quinn might be happy with snacks, but a more esteemed villain…One like…say…The Riddler…his solution might be a bit more complex."

Bruce pretended to be intrigued. "Is that so?"

/

Pam was tired. Harley could tell because she kept literally nodding off while trying to maintain a conversation with Barbara Gordon. The woman who Harley could not stop grinning at all night because she finally knew for sure that Batgirl was pretty and it was honestly such a relief.

To be fair, Barbara was a little drunk, so she may not have noticed how Pam was basically half asleep, but it was still time to wrap it up.

"Will you be here in the morning?" Harley asked.

"Pfft, I'm always here," Barbara scoffed, taking another swig of whiskey straight from the bottle. "Mostly because Steph can't handle her shit anymore cuz she's a selfish little D-bag who—,"

"Totally," Harley had to cut her off. She just had to. Barbara had essentially been talking in that loop for the past hour and Harley honestly didn't think Pam could make it through another round. "We can all get breakfast together. I just need to take Pam to bed. Traveling takes a lot out of her."

"Mhmm…" Pam hummed in agreement, letting her eyes fully close.

"Yeah, fine, OK." Barbara leaned back in her chair, looking up at the stars. "Go to sleep. See if I care. See if anything changes."

Harley made a mental note to try and decode that when they all had less alcohol in their systems. "C'mon, Pammy, let's go to bed."

"OK," Pam yawned, allowing Harley to help her stand. "Should we say goodnight to Selina?"

Harley laughed. "I think she's a little preoccupied. And I'm pretty sure we've seen enough of each other naked already."

"Mm…I'd like to see more of your naked," Pam mumbled as they entered the house and climbed the stairs. "Finish—," she yawned again. "Finish what we started earlier. But this time…" she pushed Harley back on the bed once they were safely inside. "I want to taste you."

"Oh yeah?" Harley giggled, hurrying to kick her pants off while Pam clumsily reached back to unzip her own dress.

She got the zipper about halfway down before giving up, climbing onto the bed and pushing Harley's shirt up rather than unbuttoning it. Her kisses on Harley's stomach were sloppy, but still felt good. Like, really good. So good that she didn't notice how much Pam was fumbling with the button on her pants.

Eventually, she did get them down, though, and the underwear too. That's when Harley closed her eyes, feeling Pam's hot breath and then eventually her tongue against her.

Harley whimpered, carding her hands through Pam's hair as the strokes of Pam's tongue gentled, growing softer until her tongue wasn't moving at all.

"Pammy?"

Her breathing had grown rhythmic against her, and when Harley opened her eyes, she found it was because Pam had fallen asleep.

Giggling softly, Harley reached down and threaded her arms around Pam's shoulders, pulling her up until she lay on her chest. Then she kissed her on the top of her head, whispering, "Night, Pammy," before reaching over to turn off the light, plunging their room into darkness.