Author's Note: Hello, this is the first chapter of a story that I wrote on a whim before winter break, figuring I could write and keep up a story. I don't know if I'm going to continue it. Also, the story will be switching point of views quite often. It will switch from Harley's first-person point of view to Ivy's. During flashbacks, it will be in the third person point of view because I want to grasp how the both of them feel without having to write the flashback through both of their perspectives. Okay, without further ado, enjoy! :)

. . .

I came home to Mr. J's hideout after another unsuccessful attempt at capturing Batsy. We were so close this time, like every other time. If Puddin' and I spent another second out in the open streets of Gotham, we would've both ended up back in Arkham Asylum, not that it was hard to escape from the joint. Puddin' got so caught up that he'd forgotten to bring me home, so I walked back to the apartment, alone in the rain, silly him.

I closed the door behind me and took off my jester costume, setting it in the laundry hamper to be washed later. I grabbed a towel and began preparing for a shower. I glanced at the restroom mirror. My face was caked with white foundation that had been smeared by the rain. I peeled my adhesive mask off of my face, revealing my true skin tone along with part of a bruise from a couple days ago that hadn't been covered by my make-up.

Harley Quinn. This was me.

It didn't take long for me to shower. I had to be quick and ready if Puddin' needed me for another one of his schemes. I stepped out onto the floor, changing into black shorts and a white tee-shirt.

I passed by the mirror and paused. I usually try to avoid mirrors when I looked like this because I was afraid of what would stare back at me. This time, I forced myself to look. What stared back at me was a drastic difference from what I saw when I first came in. I looked... normal. It had been a while since I looked this normal, even longer since I looked like Harleen.

Harleen, the girl I once was. The person blissfully unaware of what was to become of her future. At certain times, I wished I could've done things differently. If it wasn't for the lack of a railing above that vat of toxic chemicals, I would've been a completely different person. It's funny how something as simple as how a walkway was built could have drastically changed my life, for the better or worse, I wasn't so sure of.

There were plenty of reasons why my life was worse after that day: I had no family, I had turned into a wanted criminal, a thief, a... murderer. I had also gotten myself tangled up with the epitome what everybody fears as an impotent person, who was simultaneously the man of my insane demented dreams.

The Joker.

He beat me, and tortured me, and made me wish I could be better for him because he deserved so much better than me. So I struggled to be the person he needed me to be, but that person was too far out of my reach, and he hated me for that.

There was only one reason why my life was better that day. The reason seemed to cancel out the harshness and cruelties of any other reason that might convince me why my life was worse because that reason was his smile.

Some called it the smirk of psychosis, others called it the grin of genocide, but to me, it was always the smile of sincerity, because I knew underneath his insanity that he was just a poor helpless man that was torn apart by Batman. My Puddin' was innocent. He was a scapegoat used to blame the horrors of the world upon. I knew I could help him, I just needed to get past the walls he used to block everyone out.

I looked at the bruise on my face, bigger now that there was no make-up covering it. It was his defense mechanism. He was never taught how to be gentle. I could make him gentle. When he smiled at me, not his Joker Smile, but a true and genuine smile, that was him trying to break through and see the light, I was sure of it.

My eyes trailed from the bruise on to themselves, blue and wide. They had a look of uncertainty in them that seemed to contradict everything I was telling myself. Surely I had believed my thoughts, right? I abruptly looked away, not wanting to watch myself cry.

I let my tears fall down my face in silence. I didn't know what they were for. I never knew what they were for. There were too many things in my life that could just as easily bring tears to my eyes as the next.

I walked out of the bathroom, wiping away my tears. I took a deep breath as I looked around for Puddin'. He should've been back already. Maybe he was lookin' for me. I walked over to the rotary phone, spinning and pressing numbers, then picking up the phone. Surprisingly, he picked up after one ring.

"Puddin' I-"

"Shut up," he interrupted.

I patiently waited a minute or so. I wanted to know where he was, but if I asked, I knew he'd be mad. After a couple more seconds I heard shuffling from the other end.

"I'm capturing Batman again. He'd never think I'd try two times the same night, so I have the element of surprise" Mr. J whispered.

"Aw, Puddin', why didn't cha tell me? I coulda-"

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to come! You would've ruined everything, just like you always do!" He exclaimed.

The phone call cut off. I looked around, sad at myself. Of course, he wouldn't want me around, I always ruined everything. I felt tears welling up in my eyes again. I needed to find something to distract myself from the phone call. I couldn't be alone with my thoughts.

I glanced towards the t.v. and grabbed the remote sitting next to the phone. I took a few short steps toward the couch, trying to find a fairly comfortable spot on it that didn't have springs poking out of it. After a couple minutes of fumbling, I gave up, deciding to sit cross-legged on the floor.

The news was on. Boring news, well, except when they're talking about me and Mistah J. They weren't, so I changed it to Disney channel, where they were showing the Lion King. I turned the t.v. off. Just thinking about the scene where Simba finds Mufasa is heartbreaking, and I wasn't in the mood to cry again.

My stomach growled. I needed some food.

I got up and walked to the kitchen, opening the mini-fridge. It was basically empty aside from poisonous concoctions that needed to be kept cold and the occasional insect who met an untimely freezing demise.

I turned toward the cupboards. They had a few scattered containers of empty frosting. I couldn't see what was on the top shelf though. I climbed onto the counter, peeling my hand off of the sticky remnants of soda I had spilled a few weeks ago.

"Darn it," I muttered, jumping down from the counter.

Nothing was on the top shelves. I made a mental note to steal a few groceries from the store later as I began pacing back and forth, wondering what to do. After accidentally stepping on an empty carton of orange juice, an idea popped into my head. I'd stop by Poison Ivy's place for a few hours and convince her to cook me some dinner.

I put on socks and some converses and headed out the door.

While walking, I took a look at the beautiful scenery. Ivy would've loved it. The beautiful flowers, the sunshine, and the smell of freshly cut grass. Well, probably not the last one, Ivy hated that people took it upon their own will to murder innocent grass that did no harm.

The scent was coming from a guy mowing his lawn. I giggled to myself, imagining what she would do to that guy. She would've yelled some obscure fact about grass as she used her powers to let the grass grow back. I looked up as the guy waved at me. I was surprised before I realized that I looked normal. I waved back, turning a street corner.

I crossed the road, walking farther into the heart of Gotham. It was a bummer that Ivy's secret hideout was right in the center of Gotham, where she could easily be caught.

"No one would ever suspect it," she once said to me.

She was right, for the time being. Before Batman would inevitably track her down and unfortunately put her in Arkham. I didn't want to think about those thoughts. So I took a look at the sky, imagining a variety of shapes the clouds were. One looked like a puppy sticking his head out of a box, which was utterly adorable in my opinion. Another looked like a monster truck, but if you looked at it upside down, it looked like a koala on a tree.

Before I knew it, I was there. The old abandoned warehouse. I walked in through its front doors as their resisting creaks echoed through the large building.

"Echo," I yelled, hearing my voice as it repeated several times back at me, giggling to myself.

I headed toward the far corner of the warehouse, weaving my way in and out of the purposeful maze of long-forgotten crates and boxes. After I found my way to the ninety-degree spider-webbed corner, I pushed a certain point along it as it popped open.

I walked into the cavity in the wall, placing the corner piece back into place. About fifteen feet in, I came up to a steel door. After I complained about it hurting to knock on the cold metal with my hands, Ivy installed a doorbell. I pressed it and waited.

I guess Red still isn't used to seeing me... not battered, because when she opened the door, an enormous smile instantly spread across her face as she hugged me, inviting me in.

I noticed all the plants in sight started sprouting tiny pink flowers. I don't think that's ever happened before. I know Ivy's plants wilt when she's tired, and they grow thorns when she's angry, but I've never seen them grow even more flowers. I guess that happens when she's happy.

. . .

I heard the sound of the doorbell. Nobody ever came to my hideout except Harley, but it was five twenty-three, way earlier than the time she usually comes. I walked over toward the door, already prepared to comfort Harley for however long she needs it.

I opened the door. Harley was dressed in civilian clothes, and she had no tear streaks running down her face. She looked... happy. I was amazed, more than amazed. I felt a smile spread across my face as I pulled her into a tight hug, to which she didn't flinch.

My body pulsed with emotion that was too strong to hold in, so I distributed my emotions to my plants, letting them grow blossoms of flowers. She was okay. Harley was okay! For once in my life, she didn't come to me bruised and beaten by the hands of the Joker.

But Harley never came without a scratch, she was too in love with the Joker to ever leave his side until he beat her away. My eyebrows furrowed as I released her from my hug, pulling her inside, something was up.

"Why are you here?" I tried to hide the concern in my voice.

"What? I can't come to my favorite red-headed plant lady without a reason?" Harley joked.

"I don't suppose" I continued, not ready to let go of my suspicion.

"Well, you're right. 'Cuz my puddin' left me out of his plan to capture B-man, and I have nothing to do. I was so bored, and then I got hungry and thought of the amazing food you cook." She explained.

"Watch some t.v." I proposed turning it on to Gotham City News. "I'll fix you something,"

I walked over to the island counter in the kitchen, setting two glass bowls on it. I grabbed a bag of pre-made salad from my fridge and poured some into both bowls. A news alert caught my attention. I glanced up at the t.v. wondering what it would be about.

"The Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane has gone bankrupt after being sued for negligence of its patients. Out of all people admitted into the Arkham Asylum, only five percent have ever made a "full recovery". Out of those five percent, twenty percent were wrongfully deemed sane, thus letting psychopaths and murderers roam the streets of Gotham. Studies found that the asylum does little to try and cure patients, and acts as more of a jailhouse for psychotic criminals. A new corporation under the name of XXY Chrome has taken notice of this, and has filed for new management of the asylum, and promises to do the best they can to cure their patients and allow them to live in society as normal citizens."

I couldn't believe it. Arkham Asylum had grown on me after the dozens of times I was in and out of that place.

I looked over at Harley. Her jaw hung open in captivation.

"I'm here with Jon Geraighty, the head of the organization. Jon, what do you plan to do to cure the patients that have been admitted into your corporation?" the anchorwoman questioned.

"Well, if you must know, we'll start by evacuating Arkham city, as it's the last thing you'd do to help the criminally insane. Next, we'd diagnose our patients and assign them psychiatric treatment methods specifically created to fit their needs along with therapy and strict medication. After that, they are allowed visitation privileges from family and friends as a therapeutic technique, and after a specialist has deemed the patient sane, they will finally be released into society." John stated confidently.

"And how thorough is this treatment" the anchorwoman continued.

"In the seventy years since XXY Chrome was founded, every recorded patient we treated was cured. I expect nothing less from the patients of Gotham City."

I cringed at the sentence. GothamCity rolled off of his tongue too easily. Arkham had a much better ring to it. I reverted my attention back to the salads. I pulled orange juice out of the fridge, pouring some into a plastic cup I bought for her after one too many of my wine glasses were broken. I gave Harley her salad and juice as I took a seat on my couch.

"Aw Ivy. You know I don't like healthy food." Harley whined.

"Beggars can't be choosers," I replied with a smirk.

With a huff, Harley crossed her arms, turning back toward the television. She sat on her knees a foot away from the t.v. screen, if that.

"Don't sit so close to the t.v. You'll ruin you're eyes and will have to wear glasses," gosh, I felt like my mother, which wasn't a good thing.

I instantly realized that Harley already needed glasses, which, to my dismay, would give her a chance to haughtily correct my mistake.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself, already hearing the words before they rolled off of Harley's tongue.

She giggled, "I already need glasses, Red," she stated in a childish tone, sticking her tongue out.

I tried to salvage what little authority I had left, to no avail.

"Y-yeah, but you still d-don't w-w- gosh, fuck me," I exclaimed.

"Anytime, Red," Harley winked at me then turned back toward the t.v.

I felt my cheeks flush, instantly knowing I was blushing. Luckily, Harley hadn't seen. It was just a joke, Ivy. Just. A. Joke.

I focused my attention back to the t.v, trying to forget what just happened.

"And what makes you think these patients will react the same as the typical patient of XXY Chrome?" the anchorwoman asked.

"I can't say for sure that they will. XXY Chrome hasn't worked with as many criminally insane patients as there are in Gotham City. As a precaution, XXY Chrome has spent years prior to this, investing millions of dollars into the research of criminal psychology to help us better understand how to help them." John answered as if it was rehearsed.

"And how are you going to go about curing Gotham's most infamous villain, the Joker?"

"We've heard a lot about him. His diagnosis is being kept under wraps, I'm not authorized to tell you anything about any of our patients."

"Well, you'll never find him. He's-" Harley started screaming at the t.v. before she was cut off.

"Although I must say, we already have the Joker in our custody. All day we've been catching villains with the assistance of Batman and Robin. We're like the animal control of Gotham, except we have better security." Jon smiled a smug little smile toward the camera.

"Is there anyone else you still haven't caught?"

"Yeah, a few, including Poison Ivy, the Riddler, Harley Quinn, Twoface, Catwoman, The Penguin..."

I looked over to Harley.

"T-they can't do this. W-we need to find Kitty. S-she can't go there, none of us can," Harley stated.

"Okay. I'll call her right now." I reached for my burner phone but paused.

The beep of an electronic device was heard from the t.v.

"Huh," Dr. Geraighty said, feigning surprise, with an underlying hint of cockiness.

"If you don't mind me asking, what's come up?"

"We've just caught two more criminals. The Scarecrow and Catwoman. That brings the list down to nine."

Harley's breath hitched, and I turned the t.v. off before she could start bawling.