Not Dead, No Clowns
She was lying on the floor, dying. She knew she was dying – she could feel the life seeping out of her, to be replaced by pain, terrible, burning agonizing pain flowing through every inch of her, pumping through her bloodstream. Plant toxins, killing her, destroying her...she was dying, and she was alone. Where had he gone? He couldn't have left her, not when she had done this for him, not when she was dying for him…
The terrible moment of realization was almost worse than the poison – the death of her heart hurt more than the rest of her body put together. She let out an agonized scream, a scream that tore through the last shreds of her humanity, a scream that expelled the shattered remains of her heart and life: "Jason!"
Poison Ivy awoke from the dream suddenly to a desperate knocking on her front door. "Red! Red! It's me! Please let me in!"
Ivy sat up with a deep breath, still confused and dizzy from the dream. She noticed her hands were shaking as she threw on her robe, and frowned. It wasn't like her to have dreams like that – she thought she had repressed those memories forever. But then she supposed dreaming was some involuntary return to things that had been repressed, or that's what the shrinks said. She would have to ask Harley, she thought, humorlessly, as she pulled open the front door to reveal her friend standing in the night air, tearful and bruised and shivering.
Ivy didn't say a word – she just held open the door and turned around to head back to bed, yawning. Although it hurt her to see Harley in pain, the sight had become so routine as to almost have lost its power.
"I'm real sorry to wake you like this, Red…" began Harley
"Just skip it, Harley," she muttered. "I'm sure I'll hear all about it in the morning, but right now I just wanna go back to bed. You should really have a key anyway, as often as this has happened, so you can just let yourself in."
She entered her bedroom and pointed to the bed. "Get in," she snapped.
Harley looked at her. "Oh…thanks, Red, but…I don't really…uh…I mean, there's nothing wrong with you wanting to experiment, y'know, but it just ain't for me. I'm flattered, really…"
"Harley, do I look in the mood for sex?" demanded Ivy. "And frankly if I was gonna experiment with women, I'd try one that hasn't been contaminated with whatever it is the clown's got. The house is being renovated – a couple of my plants needed more root space and they tore up the whole place. While I'm waiting for a builder who's unattractive enough that I let him do the work I'm paying him for instead of having an affair with him, I've closed off the other rooms. You can sleep in the bed or on the floor – it's your choice."
"Oh. Ok, Red!" said Harley, cheerfully, climbing into bed and snuggling down under the covers. Ivy lay down on the other side, shutting her eyes and trying to drop off again.
She heard Harley sniffling, trying to cry silently, and sighed. "Would it help to talk about it?" she muttered.
"Nah," whispered Harley, who was facing away from her. "Nothing can help except…Mr. J taking me back!"
She sobbed, and Ivy sighed again. She was almost past caring about Harley's pain at this point – she was lying in the bed she made, metaphorically, of course. Time and time again Ivy had told her to leave the clown, that he was no good for her, that she deserved better, and time and time again Harley had just come running back to him when he snapped his fingers. Harley wasn't a stupid woman, but she was insane, and therefore reason and rational discussion held no sway against her blind faith in the clown. But then love did have the power to make even the most intelligent people do stupid things…
Ivy's dream came back to the front of her mind, and she shut her eyes firmly again, trying to concentrate on sleep. It had all worked out fine in the end in her case, and she was sure it would in Harley's too. One day the clown would show his true face to her, a face beyond redemption, and Harley would realize that he was scum, and leave him. And Harley would be strong, and independent, and happy, just like she was. Just like she was…
She had managed to drift off, but awoke a few hours later to a tapping on the window. The window was facing Harley's side of the bed, and Ivy was about to turn over to see what was making the noise, when she felt Harley get out of bed and rush over to the window, opening it. "Mr. J?" she whispered.
Ivy scowled, shutting her eyes again. She could tell him to get lost, but he wouldn't listen to her anyway, and she wasn't in the mood for dealing with his jokes at the moment. Far easier just to pretend to be asleep.
"What are you doing here?" whispered Harley.
"Obvious, ain't it?" he retorted. "I want you to come home."
"You mean you're sorry for what you've done?" she asked.
"Didn't say that, did I?" he snapped. "I said I want you to come home."
"I…I ain't coming home until you promise not to treat me like crap no more, Mr. J…" she began, but she was cut off suddenly, and Ivy heard the sound of a kiss, and Harley sighing in delight.
"Now stop being a stupid crybaby and come home," murmured the Joker's voice. "Wouldn't you rather share a bed with Daddy tonight?"
"Mr. J, I can't just…" she began again, but she was cut off again, for a longer period of time. "Oh…Mr. J!" she breathed at last. "Oh, I love you, puddin'!"
"So you'll come home now and stop all this nonsense, won't you, pumpkin pie?"
"Yeah, Mr. J," she said.
Ivy willed herself to be silent, but couldn't. "Seriously?" she said, rolling over and sitting up suddenly. "He hasn't even apologized or promised not to do it again, and you just give into him like that?! I mean, I guess it's good that he isn't lying by saying he's changed or he's sorry, but still, Harley, get some self-respect!"
"Red…I thought you were still asleep," said Harley, who was halfway out the window. The Joker just glared at Ivy.
"That's right, Harley, listen to the Weed Lady tell you about self-respect," he retorted. "Here's a dame who's so desperate for any man that she'll settle for any semi-attractive piece of meat who comes along. That ain't how self-respecting women act – that's how desperate women act."
"Oh yeah, right, J, because I'd much rather be chained to an abusive, psychotic creep for the rest of my life, like Harley is!" snapped Ivy.
"Sweetheart, I doubt you could even keep an abusive, psychotic creep," retorted the Joker. "Or any man, really. Good thing you got the plants when your human relationships break down, which is once every week."
"Red, Mr. J, please, don't fight…" began Harley.
"I'm not gonna fight with him or you anymore, Harley," snapped Ivy. "I'm past caring. You can both kill each other for all I care. All I have ever tried to do is see you happy…"
"What, like you are?" interrupted the Joker. "Yeah, you look it, toots. Alone in your house, having to share a bed with your best friend because you ain't go no one else…yeah, you're real happy."
He seized Harley's arm and dragged her away. Ivy stared after them, her body shaking in a mixture of fury and annoyance and…something else. Something the clown had said had hit home, as much as she wanted to deny it.
She lay back down. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know he had got to her. She was going back to sleep, and in the morning she would just get on with her life without the two of them in it. And she would be a lot happier for it. Not that she wasn't happy now, because she was. She was, she assured herself, as she lay alone in the darkness. She was really, truly happy. The tears she was shedding was just because she was tired. And for Harley, she felt bad for Harley. The poor woman would never be happy chained to that clown. She would only be happy when she was free, like Ivy. Freedom made you happy. Freedom and independence, both of which Ivy had. And that's why she was happy, she assured herself. That's why she was happy.