Title: Swing It Low: Chapter Two
Pairing: Poison Ivy/Harley Quinn
Summary: A 'what-if' spin on the episode 'Harley and Ivy'. Kicked out by the Joker, Harley finds a friend, and possibly more, in Poison Ivy.
Rating: Mature.
Disclaimer: Characters © DC.
A/N: Chapter One revised as of 06/2009. Many thanks to the people to reviewed and added this story to alerts. You touched me in all my nice places. I had originally planned to only make this fic three parts, but have since scratched that idea, it'll be a bigger beast, as I want to focus on character developments, which will lead to eventual romance and seXXXy time. And to be fair, I don't know how old Harley is, but 25 seemed like a good enough age.
Harley Quinn woke up feeling sick.
It was a dirty sort of sick; she was hot and heavy with fever. Her body felt like lead and it seemed unable or unwilling to move its slender frame away from the soft surface that was supporting it. Her head was no better; indeed, most of the discomfort was coming from it and despite the fact that the room she found herself in was darkened an inky black, it felt as if she was spinning.
It was at that moment that panic set in, because Harley had no earthly idea where she was or how she got there or why she felt like ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag.
She shifted her back slightly and a wave of nausea backhanded her. Her arm suddenly rebelled against the rest of her lazy body because it found its way to the front on her mouth in an attempt to halt what was bound to happen if left uncovered.
She swallowed the rising bile down.
This plain sucked, yes sir, it did.
Harley was a nice girl, she didn't deserve this.
"Well…maybe…" she chuckled to herself.
Yeah, the little jester definitely deserved this and probably more, but that was beside the point.
She brought her hand across her face. It felt sticky and wet, but it wasn't entirely from the beads of sweat on her forehead. She recognized the feeling of the face paint she wore and knew from its pasty texture that it was smeared and running.
Her bangs were tickling her forehead, and the added annoyance was doing nothing to help her current state. She wiped them back only to have them fall forward again.
She shifted once more, and her stomach held in place this time, just barely. She took it as an improvement and with a deep breath pushed herself up onto her elbows.
It hurt and took more willpower then she would ever admit to anyone if asked. She was embarrassingly weak and her mouth tasted like the inside of a dumpster.
Harley blinked and squint her eyes and found that they had adjusted to the room. It was no longer pitch black and she could make out that she was on a twin sized bed. She was still dressed in her black and red costume although her shoes had been removed.
Harley wiggled her feet against the soft fabric beneath them.
Slowly and carefully she pushed her arms up until she was no longer leaning on them and was able to sit up straight. Her head was screaming at her and pin-pricks of light danced in her vision, but Harley was not going to lie down again and would deal with the oncoming headache the best she could.
She slid her legs over the side of the bed and scooted her rear to the very edge. She didn't want to stand up just yet. She still felt heavy.
The thick smell of flowers were lingering in the air, covering her senses like a blanket. She paused from her attempt to get her body moving and inhaled deeply. It was an intoxicating; too sweet and too musky and made her think of sensuality, lust, and slow moving bodies mingled with soft laughter in darkened corners.
"What the hell…" she muttered and reprimanded herself.
With one deep breath and count of three later, she was standing on wobbly legs.
The room was much easier to make out from this perspective. In the darkness she could see a dresser with a TV sitting on its top directly in front of the bed. To the left of her, there were windows with curtains drawn tight. A halo of soft light surrounded them. It was early morning light.
No wonder she was able to see now, even if it was only in shades of blue and grey.
To the right was a door, the exit no doubt.
Yes.
That's what she needed.
She needed some answers.
She needed to investigate.
Harley took cautious steps towards the door. As she did she saw her boots sitting neatly to the side of the frame and knew in the heartbeat that she wasn't the one that had removed them. There was nothing better, in her most humble opinion, then coming home after a long night of robbing and raging and simply kicking ones shoes off and watching them land.
She had gotten quite good at aiming them too. When she was in her finest form she could knock a glass of gin right out the hand of hired help that Mister J employed, who would do nothing more than blink stupidly at her when they realized what had just happened.
Harley considered reaching for them, but the very idea of bending down made her stomach flip-flop.
No, she could go with bare feet; shoes were not worth puking over at the moment.
She reached for the door knob instead; the coolness of the metal penetrating the thin material of her gloves, and opened the door, revealing the hallway of a one-story house, though once again the whole situation boggled her mind.
She hadn't lived in a house since she was kid. As soon as she had finished high school, she had transfer to an on- campus dorm at Gotham University, then a small apartment to start her internship at Arkham Asylum, and most recently, wherever the Joker decided would be a good place to hide out.
His affinity for abandoned amusement parks was downright creepy sometimes.
There were pictures on the walls, old ones, faded and yellow. Harley held out her hand and ran it along the wall, more as a stabilizer than anything else. She was drowning in another wave of nausea, and the hallway, with its sepia tinted family pictures, was the only thing keeping her up.
It wasn't good enough though. Her head dipped on its own accord and feet dragged against the rug. In one quick moment she tripped, and her hand caught one of the 5x7 frames, knocking it from the wall. It broke loudly.
Well that just tore it.
A girl could only take so much until there was a point where the frustrations came to a head, or in this case, to her eyes. Harley felt hot tears run down her cheeks. There was no sadness in them, just the burning rage that came with being helpless and confused.
A warm and pleasant voice broke through the sound of blood rushing around Harley's ears.
"Don't cry. It's not your fault."
Damn right it wasn't.
No sir, this wasn't Harley's fault.
Not one bit of it.
Oh.
Harley had been so focused on her own personal pity party that she completely neglected to pay attention to the unfamiliar surroundings of the home she was in, and missed the sound of footsteps coming up to her.
"You're sick because you're poisoned."
The little blonde's mouth dropped and looked up the red headed woman talking to her. No. She was talking down to her, because Harley was still on her ass.
"You poisoned me?!"
Poisoned.
Poison.
Poison Ivy.
That's right.
The museum, the diamond, the alarm being tripped and the escape from the Gotham City Police Department, it all hit Harley like a ton of bricks.
"I didn't poison you!" Ivy looked infuriated at the idea and put her hands on her shapely hips.
"If I would have, you'd be quite dead!"
She then tossed her ruby red curls over her shoulder as to emphasize the point, and it seemed so snobbish that Harley wanted to reach up and strangle her.
"You just said-"
"I said that you were poisoned, not that I did it! We're on a toxic waste site; this place was closed by the Gotham Health and Safety Board years ago."
Lies!
"Is that so? Then why are you still standing there and not-"
Harley was once again interrupted by the other woman.
"Because I have immunity to it, none of fumes affects me."
Her voice was softer now, and a tad more patient. She knelt down in front of Harley, meeting her face to face. Ivy's eyes were a brilliant shade of emerald green and they threw Harley for a second, then she was met with the overwhelming smell of flowers once again. Something uncoiled itself in her belly and went lower.
It was almost pleasant.
Almost… but not good enough for Harley to keep facing her, and she turned her head away in sheer annoyance. There was nothing half as interesting as Ivy to look at though, so she let her eyes glare into the beige carpet. Sure, it was boring, but it made Harley feel like she was slighting the plant lady by not staring at her face.
Poison Ivy could make money with that face.
However, Harley was not going to reward her with any attention until she started to act accommodating.
"I have something that will make you feel better." Ivy said softly, like an owner talking to a new pet.
The blonde's head perked up at those words.
"What sort of something?" snapped Harley.
The other woman shrugged in an offhand way and the corners of her mouth twitched up in a small smile. The action made Harley grit her teeth.
"Harley…" Ivy's tone was beckoning.
She sighed in defeat.
"Alright, just make me feel better." Her voice was pathetic and small.
Poison Ivy made a move to help Harley to her feet, placing one hand on the side of the clowns arm, the other on her hip and pulled her up as the green clad woman stood. The support was helpful, but Harley still flopped forward and was practically half carried down the hall way, and into the kitchen.
She was moved to a chair next to the table in the center of the tiled room. There was a small Bunsen burner, a few bottles and mortar and pestle on it. Ivy grabbed a white plastic box near the sink and then sat down next to her.
"Are you a chemist?"
Harley recognized the equipment; the Joker normally had a fair share of similar things close at hand.
"No, I'm a botanist."
"Oh…"
Ivy reached for one of the bottles sitting on the table. It was the only one filled with liquid and then pulled out a syringe from the plastic box that was resting on her lap. The hypodermic needle on the end of it was quite impressive, and Harley had a pretty good idea of what method Ivy's concoction was going to be administrated.
No way in hell.
"You didn't say anything about a shot! I hate needles! I hate 'em!"
It was the honest truth too. Harley didn't even have her ears pierced because of her fear of the things.
Ivy reached for her arm and tugged up the sleeve of her costume, ignoring her discomfort. Her chilly hand felt good on the bare flushed skin of Harley's wrist.
"Hush up now; if you're going to stay here, then you'll need my antidote. I don't know if you realize this, Harley, but you weren't passed out that long, maybe an hour or so."
Harley wiggled her feet and shook her head away, not wanting to the see injection into her arm.
The red head continued.
"Thirty more minutes' tops and you would have been much worse than you are now."
The prick into her vein was hot and quick.
"You'll be feeling fine before you know it. Just try not to move quickly for the time being."
She pulled the syringe away and replaced the spot with a square of gauze.
"There, all done."
"Do I get a lollypop now?"
Ivy ignored Harley's sarcasm, stood and walked over to the sink, taking the first aid kit with her, and put it in the cabinet above the refrigerator, which she then opened and pulled out a bottle of water. She placed it in front of Harley, once again taking her seat, this time straddling it the chair in a swift and confident move.
"Drink up, you're terribly dehydrated."
Harley sighed.
This dame was weird.
It seemed to Harley that she had gone from a haughty diva to a concerned doctor in five minutes flat, and that annoyed the clown girl. She dealt with enough moody people and even with the loveliness that was Mister J, it got old, but it was awfully nice of Ivy to help her out, and Harley wasn't the type of girl to forgo manners.
"Thanks."
The green clad woman smiled at her then, a full and honest smile and it was very pretty. Her red mouth looked like flower petals. Harley suddenly felt self conscious, because she knew that whatever she looked like at the moment, it wasn't remotely attractive, due to the mix of sweat and smudged paint on her face. She probably stunk too. She had to catch her thoughts and wonder why she even cared about how she looked or smelled to the other woman.
She felt hot again though and drank down the water that was offered up. It was cold and she swore she felt it working its way through her body.
"So, you're a botanist, Ivy? That's a plant scientist, right?" asked Harley, keeping her tone light.
It was a stupid way to start a conversation, but Harley no longer wanted the simple silence of the kitchen, besides, she knew what a botanist was, but Ivy was staring at her icky face and not saying anything. Poison Ivy had already proved that she had the sort of ego that enjoyed being stroked, and people like that often enjoyed talking about themselves, and Harley was used to being around people like that. The Joker was a perfect example.
"Why, yes I am." the red head said in a matter of fact way.
Ivy shifted her hips in the chair, causing it to tip back and forth, in an effort to get comfortable. She stretched, arching her back to do so and continued.
"I have a Ph.D. in the subject and used to work for a cosmetic company developing new fragrances for the perfume department."
Harley nodded her head and matted her bangs back only to have them flop into her eyes again.
"Where did you go to school at?"
"I studied in Seattle, but after I earned my degree I transferred to Gotham University, and lectured there for some time."
"That's where I went!" Harley exclaimed.
She didn't know why she was so excited to share that personal information with Ivy, who had now raised an eyebrow at the petite blonde. Harley took it as a sign to continue.
"I never saw you there though, but I was always in psychology classes, so maybe that's why! I thought you looked familiar when I saw you last night, maybe I passed you on the way to the library or something!"
Ivy tilted her chair once more, the back legs coming off the ground and landing lightly.
"No, I don't believe that's why you recognize me."
She had a smile on her face again; this one was a bit darker than the one she had just favored Harley with earlier. She once again tossed her fiery locks and continued.
"How old are you, Harley?"
The question took the clown girl by surprise. What age had to do with the conversation they were having, she had no clue, but decided to answer anyway.
"I'm 25."
"Ah. Well then, I was already serving my first term in Arkham Asylum when you were in school. I'm sure I was also serving a second sentence when you graduated. Of course, I know you're familiar with Arkham, aren't you… Dr. Quinzel?"
Harley had been mid drink when Poison Ivy had said that name and she almost chocked on the water and dropped the bottle. It felt like it had been years since anyone had referred to her as 'Doctor' or 'Harleen Quinzel'.
That name and title belonged to a life she didn't live anymore, and it was a life that hadn't really mattered anyway.
Her life before the Joker didn't matter.
However, she couldn't help feeling shocked, and slightly pleased that Ivy knew who she was (at least once upon a time) and Harley knew she looked like a deer in headlights. She was blushing underneath the running, goopy face paint and her heart pounded in her chest.
"How did you…?"
The plant lady shook her head and chuckled, then waved her hand as a sign of dismissal.
"Well of course I know who you are! You helping the Joker escape Arkham will probably go down in the record books! I think every inmate was rooting for you that day, well no. Not you, of course, but for the Joker. But I'm sure every inmate was wishing that you had been assigned their psychologist!"
Ivy threw back her head and laughed loudly.
It was a laugh of true amusement, and Harley decided that she liked hearing it, it reminded her of bells.
But it was slightly distracting at the moment because Harley was racking her brain and trying to remember the case files she had looked through while she was interning at Arkham. The Joker had taken her priority as soon as she had seen him through that glass door in the maximum security block, smiling at her and looking handsome.
However, now that she thought about, she did in fact remember the day that Dr. Leland, her mentor and boss, took her aside and made her read about the other inmates at the Asylum, the ones that the Batman had caught, the rest of the crazies and murderers. Leland had patted her hand right before laying down the heavy files in front of her and said some stuff about 'charming', 'liars' and 'stab you right in the back'. (None of which had applied to Mister J, thank you very much!)
Harley had done what she had been told and flipped through them all, reading some, but ignoring others, because a man with a top hat fetish held no interest for her, neither did the guy with the question marked green jacket.
It was when she was almost completely through the pile that she opened up the manila envelope that had the mug shot of the red headed woman and she stopped, because, well she was the first female that Harley had seen in the records.
She had gotten about half way through with the lengthy report, when she was called away from her office, and when she had returned there were copious amounts of paperwork on top of more paperwork, and that had been that. Arkham was always so understaffed.
"I remember you now!"
"Do you?" Ivy raised an eyebrow and pressed her lips together, openly satisfied with Harley's response.
"Well, when I saw you at the museum I knew you were that crazy plant lady, but I couldn't remember who you were, if you know what I mean! But yeah, you're Pamela Isley! You got sent to Arkham for trying to kill off that D.A., the one that got his face half blow off!"
Harley felt proud and gave Ivy a big smile.
It was clear that Ivy wasn't impressed by her memory at all however.
"I'm not crazy! And Harvey Dent had it coming!"
Ivy's sweet voice had taken on a venomous edge, and she stood up in a sharp, rigid manner and walked into the adjoining living room. There was no wall between the two spaces, and the only way to tell that one was leaving the kitchen and going into the common room was the tile floor changing into the plain carpet, the same color as the stuff in the hallway.
It was the first time Harley had noticed the back of a couch and a seemingly unending number of plants. Some were against the white walls and shelving that was nailed to them, others were on window sills and Harley even bet that if she could see the front of that couch (it looked mighty comfortable, even from behind) that some of leafy things were resting on its plush cushions.
They were all very happy and healthy looking plants and all seemed to have been lovingly tucked into their individual pots.
Ivy had walked over to a particular one, a small rose bush, and was moistening it with a spray bottle. Her back looked tense, her motions stiff.
Harley began to feel something akin to guilt rising in her belly. She hadn't intended to make the other woman feel bad. She was getting used to being referred to as 'crazy', and it never crossed her mind to become angry about it. Poison Ivy, on the other hand, seemed to detest the word.
"Look, I'm sorry…"
Ivy continued to water the rose bush, ignoring her.
Her guilt turned to anger.
She didn't like being treated as if she was invisible.
Well, that was fine. If that was how Ivy was going to act then Harley wasn't going to stick around, after all, she had already expressed her gratitude. Plus she had things to do, a lot of things, like deciding how to best brag to the Joker about how she stole his precious diamond all by herself. Oh yes, and the teeth she had plucked away. They had some great potential to become one fancy necklace, if Harley cleaned and polished them.
The babies might like them too, she bet she could fashion them into a set of collars. Bud and Lou would look so elegant with the pretty white things around their furry necks.
She stood and was quite surprised to find that she was walking down the hallway with little discomfort. Whatever Ivy had pumped into her was working miracles. She no longer felt like she was on the edge of throwing up and bent down to pick her shoes up easily. Harley sat on the bed to put them on and was happy to see her bag was on the nightstand. She opened it quickly to make sure the diamond was still inside, along with the rest of her belongings. Ivy didn't seem like a thief, but Harley had to remind herself that she had met the other woman in the middle of stealing things. Everything was still in place though.
She turned to leave the room and came to face Ivy, who was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed over her breasts.
"What are you doing?" Ivy demanded.
Harley clenched her fists.
"What does it look like?" she asked dryly.
The red head's eyebrows shot up and she crossed her arms tighter, giving her even more cleavage then she was already blessed with. She then bit her lip and glared hard at the other woman.
"Why?"
Harley was taken aback by Ivy's sheer audacity and considered telling her one of two things. The first being because she was acting like a bitch, the second being because she was acting stuck up. That led to the third option of telling Ivy that she was acting like a stuck up bitch. However, she settled on:
"…Because I have things to do and places to go."
Ivy still did not move out of her way and was shooting her a sour look.
"And how are you going to do that? You have no idea where you are and you have no vehicle. Are you going to walk all the way back to Gotham, because, honey, I can tell you that we're so off the beaten trail…" each word dripped with contempt and ridicule. Verbal bullets.
"Are you threatening me?!" spat Harley and took a step forward. She still felt rickety, but if Ivy wanted a physical altercation, she may be able to bluff her way out of it by raising her voice. Harley doubted she had enough strength at the moment to land a decent hit be it with her fists or a weapon.
Ivy was peering at her with the eyes of a predator. Harley returned her glower and tension settled around the both of them, neither giving any ground. After a few strained seconds, Ivy shrugged, dulling the edge that had hung in the air.
"All I was saying…" continued Ivy with boredom.
"All I was saying is that I know how to steal a car!" snapped Harley and added mentally, I'm planning to steal yours as soon as I walk outside.
She took another step forward brushing past Ivy and into the hallway. The contact lingered uncomfortably along the side of her body. She was nearly back to the kitchen when she heard: "I'm not crazy. Don't even let that cross your mind."
It was so final and Harley stopped dead in her tracks. Maybe she was being too rash. Maybe they both were, and Harley took a breath to steady her voice. She didn't want to sound angry, because she wasn't. She felt drained and a misplaced sense sympathy for Ivy.
"Well you've said that already and I told you I was sorry. And I get it, you ain't crazy."
The clown girl turned around and suddenly got the impression she was talking to wall because Ivy was continuing a conversation that Harley didn't realize they were having.
"I'll tell you what's crazy; the way humanity abuses the natural world's resources, now that's crazy! Do you know what he did? Do you know what Dent did?"
Ivy gave Harley no time to answer (she didn't know what the plant lady was going on about anyway) because Ivy was stalking towards her, grabbing her wrist and sharply tugging her into the living room. The motion was jerky and it was a reminder to Harley that not an hour ago, she was feeling sickly. The ghost of dizziness graced her head once again.
Ivy dropped her hand and picked up the rose bush that she had been watering earlier.
"Do you see this? The Wild Thorny Rose! This flower is the very last of its kind, thanks to Dent! He plowed the field that its species that had been growing in for years! Do you know why?! To build Stonegate Penitentiary! Ha! A 'better and safer Gotham', he said, isn't that laughable? How was that monstrously worth extinction? Stonegate is nothing but a testament to the failing justice system and mankind's own selfish whims! "
Ivy's cheeks had grown flushed as she spoke and she was starting to pace with her precious little plant in hand.
"You see, they should have just let me kill Dent! He was already a murderer before he became a mutilated freak, and think of all the people who have suffered with him as Two-Face! But no, I turned out to be the bad guy? I was avenging innocents!"
"I avenged a whore a few nights ago." replied Harley hoping the comment would break Ivy's tirade.
Poison Ivy continued with little notice. Watching Ivy grow as animated as she was had been almost inspiring, and the blond felt like she was getting a sample of what the woman's lectures at the University had been like, and she sort of wished that she had been able to attend them, even if she cared very little for the flora and fauna of the world.
It was rare to see such crazed passion. The Joker possessed it, and it seemed Poison Ivy did too and for some reason that thought did not sit well with Harley, although she couldn't guess why.
She was close enough to the couch now to see her earlier assumptions about it being covered with flower pots was correct. The middle cushion was cleared off though and Harley took a seat there. In the back of her mind, she knew her plan to return of the city was put on hold. The decision had been brash anyway, perhaps even a bit immature, but Harley could admit that she was not without her faults.
It would be better to wait until nightfall anyway. Harley knew that if she walked outside, even with it being late morning that Gotham's disgusting summer heat would beat down on her. Besides, Ivy was right, she really had no clue how far away from the city she actually was, and although it had been mentioned that their location was condemned, she couldn't recall anything about such area existing on the news or in books.
The blond crossed her legs and brought her hands upon her knees. Harley didn't want to be dressed in her costume anymore, but didn't have a change of clothing, and hoping her question wouldn't be lost on Ivy, who was now on the grand topic of rain forests, opened her mouth.
"Pam, you got a change of clothes I can wear?"
Ivy stopped mid-sentence and glanced down at Harley like she had forgotten she was there, or more likely, as if no one had dared referred to her by her real name in ages. Harley felt some satisfaction that she managed to make Ivy feel the same way that Ivy had made her feel with the early decision about Arkham.
"What?"
Harley brought her hands up behind her head and popped her back trying to look casual.
"I just feel so gross! I mean, look at me!" she gestured to her face, the paint and sweat-dried hair. "And I think I can smell myself over these plants, it's just disgusting, don't you think?"
She looked up and offered Ivy a big toothy grin. She pleaded with any god that would listen that Poison Ivy wouldn't get snarky with her and would just give up something clean to walk around in. Harley was in no mood for any more conversation with this woman, and hoped that her lackadaisical attitude would be enough for Ivy to dismiss her. It worked with the Joker, after all.
Ivy put down the flower pot with the care of a mother to her child and placed her hands once more on her hips. It seemed to be a common pose of relaxation for her. Light was now pouring through the windows of the living room, silhouetting the red head, emphasizing her hour glass figure.
Harley felt heat creeping up her cheeks and dropped her face down, grinning at the floor instead and feeling like an idiot.
"There's probably something in the dresser of that room you were in."
Harley hopped out of her position, happy to quell the strange butterfly effect in her tummy. It had to be the lingering bits of the earlier sickness.
"You'll find the shower on your left and towels in the closet."
"Thanks!" she exclaimed, making her way back down the hall and into her room. As soon as she closed the bedroom door, Harley let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
End Part Two.