"Ow!" Barbara flinched back from Harleen's careless fingers. "What are you doing?"

Harleen glanced up with a frown. "I'm just tryin' to stretch your legs out."

Barbara resisted the urge to slap her hand over her face. "You're supposed to massage them, not pull them! I think I felt my tendon snap!"

"Well, isn't that a good thing? It means you can feel somethin'!" Harleen perked up from off the carpet.

"I could feel where my thigh was about to break off from the rest of my body," Barbara spat, rubbing her inner thigh. "And it's below the knees where I can't feel, not my entire legs. Look, just try to be more careful, okay?"

A spray of spittle shot through the air as Harleen blew a raspberry. "All right, all right. Geez, what is with you redheads? You guys are always so bossy!"

Rolling her eyes, Barbara ignored her and went back to the newspaper in her hand. In the days following her release from Arkham, something which she still hadn't forgiven her dad for, Barbara learned Wayne Enterprises had suffered a pretty rough week. Not only had its stocks taken a severe tumble, but there were rumors of its employees wanting to quit because they felt, quote-unquote, "unsafe."

And what did Bruce Wayne have to say about all this? Nothing. The man who always seemed to be in the spotlight had been keeping a low-profile. He hadn't been spotted in nearly a week, but that didn't stop the vultures known as the media to keep from hounding him or camping outside his house.

It didn't help that because he refused to speak, it left room for gossip to spread like wildfire. From things like Bruce killing his own employees because they had dirt on him to Bruce pissing off the wrong people like the Mafia, it was hard to believe the actual truth was more outlandish than any conspiracy theory.

With the media constantly after him and speculation his investors were ready to pull out, Barbara almost felt sorry for the man. But it was hard to sympathize with a man worth more than the Crown Jewels.

Who she actually felt sorry for were the people like her dad, the ones left to speak on Bruce's behalf. Just like he did right now for today's headline.

"'Bruce Wayne has been nothing but cooperative', police commissioner confirms," Barbara repeated out loud. "Meaning he's still a suspect," she muttered, able to read between the ink-printed lines.

"Ya' think so?" Harleen's ponytails flopped to the side as she cocked her head. "Cause Red says the same thing!"

Oh, right. Barbara had forgotten she was here. How such an eccentric, childish woman could escape her notice-Wait, Red?

"Who's Red?" Barbara lowered the paper from her face.

"That's my nickname for Pamela!" Harleen grinned. "I also call her Pammy sometimes. But mostly, Red because of her red hair."

"Right... So you know Pamela? Like you two are friends?" Barbara had always suspected this, but she had no proof. Like most things, she only had her hunches. But now, she might actually get her first shred of tangible evidence. A confession.

"Yup! I've known her for more than a decade." Harleen looked almost proud of that fact. But who would be proud of knowing a serial killer? Of someone who was not even human?

Barbara felt the color drain from her face. This revelation raised so many new questions. Did Harleen even know Pamela's true nature? She had to, right? And if she did-and was seemingly fine with it-what did this make Harleen? An accomplice? Or something even worse?

Something like Pamela?

Damn it. She was doing it again. She was jumping to conclusions without any proof besides some coincidental dates and names and Bruce's-a. k. a. a known liar-word for it. And look where that got her the last time. But on the other hand, it's not like Pamela ever really denied she was a killer...

Shit. She was trembling. She needed to cool her effing jets and get a grip. Now was not the time to screw this up. Not with Harleen staring right at her. But cursed with probably the world's worst poker face, Barbara knew she would be able to sense something was wrong the moment she opened her mouth. The next time she saw Bruce, Barbara would make sure to get some tips from him. But for now, she was on her own.

Raising the newspaper back over her face, Barbara pretended to read over an advice column as she fought to keep her hands steady. Ugh, why the hell did newspapers have to rustle so loudly?

"I'm surprised," Barbara said, seeing that Harleen was still waiting for an answer. "Pamela doesn't seem like she would have many friends."

Ha. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. But if Harleen noticed Barbara's blatant hypocrisy, she said nothing. "I know Red's a little hard to get along with, but she has a good heart. She helped me get back on my feet after my last relationship. She honestly saved me!"

Barbara scoffed. "No, she didn't. No one did. You saved yourself."

Harleen shook her head, her ponytails swinging from side-to-side. "That ain't true! Pammy literally saved me! I was trapped in a bad relationship with this scumbag of a guy. Wouldn't let me leave for nothing! One night, he beats me so bad that I'm nearly dead. So there I am, lying on the street, when Red comes around. She takes me in, gets me back on my feet, and I never hear from that jerk again!"

Barbara blinked at her, wondering if Harleen realized why she never heard from that guy again. "Where did you two meet exactly?"

"Back in Portland," she hummed, going back to massaging Barbara's legs. "I'm originally from here though. Just like Pammy."

No. Freaking. Way. Barbara could hardly believe what she was hearing. She had just asked that question to fill the silence, not with any hope of actually getting some useful information. It had been pure, dumb luck. A coincidence, really.

But that meant Pamela had been in Portland like she suspected all along. There was someone who could place her there, someone who had met her somewhere between 1962 to 1972. All those painstaking hours at the library weren't for nothing then. All that methodical searching and reading and collecting had actually meant something. It meant she wasn't crazy.

She wasn't crazy! If she could, Barbara would've screamed it from the rooftops to all of Gotham.

Suppressing a smile, Barbara asked, "Did you go to Tacoma afterward?"

Harleen paused, tilting her head up. "How did ya' know?"

From down the hall, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house. A pair of women's heels clicked across the floorboards as she swiftly approached.

"Harleen?" Pamela peered into the bedroom with a frown. "What are you doing?"

"Heya, Red!" Harleen waved from her place on the carpet. "Did ya' have fun at the salon?"

Although Barbara couldn't see her eyes because of the sunglasses, she was pretty sure Pamela was rolling her eyes. "Yes, I had fun. Now, can you stop wasting time and start getting Barbara ready for the party?"

"It's not for like another five hours." Barbara glanced at her watch.

"Yes, I know that." Pamela snatched off her sunglasses, revealing a deep scowl underneath. "But it's going to take you a while to get ready because of your... Well, injury. And Harleen isn't exactly the most graceful person-"

"I am too!" Harleen jumped to her feet. "If I have her ready in an hour, can I get to go too?"

"I already said no." Without another word, Pamela turned on her heel and stormed off to her room. The sudden slam of her door made both of them startle.

"Geez, what's her problem? You'd think it was that time of that month!" Harleen exclaimed as she grabbed the handlebars and started pushing Barbara towards the bathroom.

Sure enough, it took nearly three hours just to bathe and dress Barbara. Most of it was due to Harleen's clumsiness like Pamela said, and if she hadn't already been bathed by her, Barbara would've found the experience utterly humiliating. Harleen had left the bathroom a complete mess, splashing water and soap everywhere. When it came to changing Barbara, she was even worse. Having nearly torn the gown with all her yanking and tugging, Barbara feared how Harleen must've treated her dolls growing up.

If Barbara hadn't thought Harleen was grossly underqualified to be a caregiver before, then she definitely did now. Oh, how she missed the days when Richard was here. At least he wouldn't have left her with bruises.

By the time Harleen started applying Barbara's makeup, it was nearing five. James had just arrived home, and from what Barbara could hear, he was in a rush to get dressed. Drawers opened and shut as he scrambled to find what to wear, and with only an hour to go, Barbara could only imagine what the final product would look like. After all, her dad was not known to be the most fashionable man around.

"Harleen!" Pamela called from the other room. "Are you almost done?"

"Yep!" Harleen beamed down at Barbara as though she had finished painting the Mona Lisa.

Inching closer to the mirror, Barbara studied her reflection under the intense heat of the burning bulbs. Not bad. Though her hair might be a little too fluffed up for her taste, she actually looked a lot better than what she expected. Harleen might not know the first thing about caregiving, but she did know a thing or two about makeup. And thank God she did. Otherwise, Barbara might've ended up looking like a clown.

"What do ya' think?" Harleen squealed, clutching the lipstick tube to her chest.

"I like it." Barbara's gaze lingered on her reflection. Who was she kidding, she loved it. The smoky eye made her look her age for once, not like the teenager she was often mistaken as. And though Barbara was not one who fussed about her looks, her cherry red lips made her feel like she could break about a dozen hearts tonight. "Certainly better than what I could've done."

A loud cheer erupted from Harleen's lips as she danced around the bathroom. "Yay! I'm so happy you like it!"

Barbara couldn't help but crack a smile at the woman's antics. Her enthusiasm was contagious, even if she might be a killer. "Yeah, I really do. Thanks."

"Harleen!" Pamela appeared in the doorway, immediately ruining whatever semblance of excitement Barbara might have felt with her glare. "Are you done yet?"

"Just finished!" Harleen said in a sing-song voice. "Do ya' like it?"

"Sure." She tossed her silky red curls behind her shoulder, barely even glancing at Barbara. "Now, come on. Your father is almost ready."

Taking hold of the wheelchair, Harleen followed Pamela out of the house and towards the car parked in the driveway. The sun had long set behind the haze of clouds in the sky despite the early hour. Though it happened every year, Barbara could never get used to the sudden change in time. It was always strange to go outside in the afternoon and see the sky as black as night.

"Well, I hope you have a good time at the party." Harleen sniffled as she buckled Barbara into the car seat.

"I hope so too." Barbara glanced at the side mirror. Still wearing that scowl on her face, Pamela stared out the window, her arms crossed over her shimmering red gown. Although Pamela had always been a tight-ass, she seemed even more so tonight, and Barbara couldn't figure out why.

"Everyone ready?" James asked as he climbed into the driver's seat.

Pamela only huffed in response, pressing her arms even tighter against her chest.

"Pam, what's wrong?" He turned to her with a frown. "Do you not want to go?"

"I just don't think it's a good idea with the investigation and all." She pouted her lips and shrugged. "Wouldn't it be considered a conflict of interest if you went?"

"I already checked," he said as he started the ignition. Waving to Harleen, James shifted the car into reverse and backed up out of the driveway. "Since Bruce has not been charged with anything-and probably won't-we're fine."

Pamela snapped her head around so fast Barbara thought she heard a bone crack. "What do you mean he won't be charged?"

It was James's turn to shrug. "There's not enough evidence to charge him with anything. Trust me, if there was, we would've arrested him a long time ago. But it's like I said, Bruce has been nothing but cooperative. Could he be guilty? Sure. But so far, everything checks out and there's no reason to continue investigating him."

Barbara had never been frightened of Pamela, not even when she found out the truth about her. But right now, under the angry red glow of the stoplight, Pamela's almost demonic glare made her shudder.

For the first time since she met her, Barbara found the woman to be absolutely hideous.