Time to Bloom

Poison Ivy recalls the times she first saw Harley. A new take on BTAS 'Harley and Ivy'.

Author's note: This is my first fanfiction. I really like the relationship between Harley and the Joker and how it would play out in more of a TDK world. I also find the friendship between Harley and Poison Ivy interesting, so that is where I am going with this. It is obvisously from Ivy's POV. I don't own anything!


She was a flower. I had seen her come and go, watching from my cell, what was it, three times now? Hmm, I don't know now, all the days merge into one and I'm getting weaker and weaker... I need somebody to free me. Oh, how I long for the sunlight and the flowers, the pretty little flowers, I need them to brighten up my life.

She doesn't know me. Not yet. Nobody does, not yet. I'm just a strange figure rotting in this cell, but they will know me, soon, darling, soon. Now I am watching... waiting... for what I'm not sure. That's why I've seen her so many times, being led by guards to her cell. I never see her in her normal clothes, only the issued jumpsuit, but I don't need to... I know her. I recognise her. She certainly is a bud with many petals.

The good old Dr. Quinzel. She didn't see me; I'm Arkham's best kept secret. But I saw her, that was the first time I saw her, strutting past in those blood red heels, her head in the clouds and focused on somewhere or someone else. She was like a delicate rosebud, curled up and unopened. Sure, I'd heard the bitchy stories about her and how she got where she was, but she seemed so fragile. That's how I knew she wouldn't last long.

She had changed with the season. When I next saw her she was broken. Someone had taken the rose bud and plucked off her petals, one by one. I wanted to destroy them. I knew who it was, but what can I do in here? Revenge will come, my sweet. Her soft face was covered in greasepaint, tainting her. This time she could barely walk. She was dragged whilst snivelling utters of 'Mistah J...' And I hated him for it.

She was a rose with thorns. That I saw, last time I saw her. No longer was she being dragged, but this time pinned down. It was like she had bloomed, as she held herself with pride and spat spores of venom at anyone who dared to listen. I listened and I knew... This girl could be so much more than what she is for him. She held my attention as she tried to escape the guards. Somehow she had done it, judging by the limp bodies on the ground.

'Good luck,' I whispered. Somehow she heard and understood.

'Thanks, Red,' she answered then turned on her heels and ran.

She didn't make it out, I know. But she was like a dandelion, branded wrong by the world, yet persistent as hell. She'll get out soon. Because I will too.

She was a flower, and a poisonous one at that.