Most Gothamites who know anything about Poison Ivy assume she lives in the city's many large parks- perhaps in just one or possibly moving among them. They believe that a woman who was part plant, controlled plants, and frankly preferred plants to people would naturally choose to dwell amidst her beloved flora. These people, however, were forgetting about Batman. When you are regularly pursued by violent vigilantes intent on dragging you to the local nuthouse, it's only common sense to have a few bolt-holes which don't fit with your theme. TwoFace had a small cellar-suite on Eleventh Avenue, the Scarecrow owned a loft just over a sports bar, and Poison Ivy rented a small apartment near the wharves.
So it was that Harley sat at the kitchen table of a rather dingy apartment, lost entirely in her own grief and misery. The Joker was gone, killed by that vicious evil Batman. He was gone and she had no purpose in life anymore. Around her, Ivy puttered about the room, rambling on about something or other. Harley wasn't really listening, but kept one ear open so she could say 'Yes Red' when necessary.
"…life will be SO much better for you now, trust me on this Harl…"
"Yes, Red"
The thing of it was, the Joker was the center of her world. Not in the sense of being the central person in her life; he WAS her life, her identity. Without the Joker there was no Harley Quinn, there was just Harleen Quinzell in a strange outfit. In the past when they'd been separated, she'd at least known that he was out there, somewhere. Even on those occassions when he'd been declared dead, she had told herself (correctly) that he was still alive- after all, without a body there was no actual PROOF, was there? But this time it was certain- he was dead.
"…a weed, that's what he was. A filthy, vile weed slowly but surely choking the life out of you, denying you your time in the sun…"
"Yes, Red"
It was true that Harley wasn't alone in this. Professor Crane had told her that if she ever needed money, or someone to talk to, or anything else to call him. He'd always been so good to her. Of course, Red was always there; hugging her, stroking her, grooming her…Harley knew Red had a bit of a thing for her, and guessed with Mista J gone, Red was making her move. She supposed she should be a little uncomfortable with that, but she couldn't honestly bring herself to care.
The other Rogues hadn't had much to do with her after the funeral- although Oswald had torn up her and Mista J's bar tabs, saying that 'the extermination of the Bat more than compensates for your bills'. In truth, though, most of them had seemed glad to see her Puddin' gone. She knew why too- predators don't like being frightened, and almost every one of them had feared the Joker.
"…get you your hair done right, maybe a change of costume. Do you like green Harley?"
"Yes, Red"
Harley tried to think of what Puddin' would want her to do with herself. Truth to tell, it was hard to say. Normally when a loved one dies, it's easy to say to oneself 'He'd want me to go on with my life'. When the deceased was a homicidal megalomaniac, that isn't quite as obvious. It was entirely possible that he'd want her to bury herself alive with him.
"…get the clown buried tonight, don't worry I know a place. Then plant something nice over him- I think daisies, don't you?"
"Yes, Red"
One thing was for sure, she couldn't return to 'normal' life. Even if she could somehow distance herself completely from her past, and start completely fresh, that sort of life just wasn't for her anymore. Years of living the Joker's exciting lifestyle had made normality an almost unbearable torment for her. The idea of a regular profession- however lucrative- sounded unimaginably tedious and confining. As for relationships…
"…and Batman too! HA! The Joker did us all a favor, Harl. Well, apart from making you who you are. I tell you, this town is going to be easy pickings!"
"Yes, Red"
Harleen Quinzell had been a psychologist and she knew that her relationship with the Joker was not healthy by any stretch of the imagination. She had been a love-slave, pure and simple- and as often as not, the subject of some truly horrifying abuse despite his love for her. But, at the same time, it had been hands down the most satisfying relationship of her life. The Joker had been exciting, charming, sexy, dangerous and on occasion unbelievably romantic.
She'd never forget the night he'd simply arrived at their hideout carrying a dozen roses- red and black. He'd dismissed the henchmen, and they'd spent the night dancing to old records. Waltzes, tango, cha-cha, foxtrot, even some disco- they'd danced for hours, before retiring to the bedroom for a different sort of dance. The next day, he'd literally kicked her out of bed to get his breakfast, but the memory of that night was one of her favorites.
Honestly, what other man could compare?
Ivy, meanwhile continued to talk, largely oblivious to her companions mood. Ivy was, like most psychopaths, largely oblivious to other people except as they related to her and her desires. She didn't badmouth the Joker to diminish him in Harley's eyes- she did it because she didn't realize Harley MIGHT take offense. Hence her remark
"Honestly, now we can get on with our lives and forget that that STUPID clown ever existed"
Maybe it was her grief, or maybe it was Ivy's callous comment, or maybe it was just a new facet to her madness. Whatever it was, something in Harley Quinn changed forever in that instant.
Ivy suddenly felt her hair being grabbed and pulled hard. She barely had time to register the pain of this when her nose smashed into the apartment's ash-gray wall. Then her head was pulled back, and slammed into the wall again. And again. There was a loud crunch as her nose broke, and the plant woman slumped to the floor. Holding her injured nose, she looked up to see Harley standing over her. Her blue eyes blazing with fury, the clown girl delivered a thunderous kick to Ivy's side.
"No one is going to forget Mista J! I swear it! I'll keep my angel's memory alive in Gotham, by doing the things he would do if that miserble Batman hadn't murdered him! You can help if you want Ivy, but don't EVER talk bad about my Puddin' again! I've put up with it til now cause we're pals, but not no more. Do you understand me, Red?" When no answer was forthcoming, Harley repeated her question but this time punctuated each word with another kick "DO! YOU! UNDERSTAND!"
"YES! YES!" Ivy wailed, cruling into a ball to shield herself from Harley's attack. This was bizarre and more than a little frightening. Harley never stood up to her- not to defend herself or to defend the Joker. But right now, Ivy was certain that Harley would kill her in an instant.
Suddenly, Harley's fury vanished, like a doused flame. Her face softened, and her eyes became warm. "Oh, Red, I'm so sorry. Ya just got me a little worked up, y'know? Don't do it again, 'kay? Say, Red" harley said, her voice becoming sultry "I'm getting' a little worked up right now. Howsabout you get into the bedroom and let Mama kiss it all better?"
Ivy nodded feverishly. She'd been hoping to ease Harley into her bed over the course of a few months, and she certainly never intended it to go like this. But she was sure she could take control of things. She was Gaia's Chosen, the Goddess of the Green. She would take control and convince Harley to abandon this new idea of hers. Then she and Harley would be happy.
Harley followed her new toy into the bedroom. Harley liked men- and if the Joker were here, she'd never do this. But a girl has needs, and Ivy was handy and willing. She needed to 'scratch her itch' if she was going to stay focused. She was a clown with a mission now. Puddin's name would live forever in Gotham, she vowed.
Dick and Tim plodded wearily up the path that lead to Wayne Manor. They had spent the entire day at the offices of Henderson, Fisk & Roberts- the Wayne family law firm. This came at the end of a week of full-day meetings and trips. There had been mountains of forms for them to fill out, and papers to read, and lists of properties that needed to be surveyed. But finally, after a whole week, it was done; they had seen to the distribution of Bruce Wayne's public assets. The two young men wearily entered what was now THEIR house.
Waiting in the hall were Alfred and Barbara. Alfred held a tea tray with cookies and what smelled like hot chocolate, while Barbara greeted the pair with a warm smile.
"How did it go?" she asked, wheeling her chair over to the parlor. The others followed, Dick and Tim munching on cookies.
"It went. That's the best I can say" quipped Dick, as he picked up a cup of hot chocolate "it was boring, repetitive, and more than a little depressing. The only upside is that I had time to think about Bruce's request."
Barbara nodded, trying to keep her nervousness from showing. "And did you decide?"
Dick shrugged "Bruce was right. You guys need a leader and I'm the only one really qualified for the job. I've the most experience, both as a crimefighter and as a leader, plus I've got the Batman seal of approval. Besides, the rest of you are kids and women."
Barbara turned a frosty glare on him "What's wrong with women leading?"
"Woemn? Leading" dick answered with a playful smirk "next thing you know you'll be wanting to vote"
Barbara rolled her eyes and smacked him on the leg "Ass."
Dick nodded his head, but then became serious. "I'm not going to do it as Batman, though. I worked hard to make Nightwing a name to be feared, and I'm not giving it up. "
Now it was Tim's turn to nod "Whatever you say… Old Man"
"What about you, Miss Gordon" Alfred said, doing his best to ignore the scuffle between the two brothers "You said you also had some news to impart"
The redhead sighed "Well, I told my father about what happened. He didn't seem surprised, actually, to learn that Bruce was Batman. He said that he'd made a list of twelve people who could plausibly be Batman and that Bruce was number five. He wouldn't tell me who the others were, said that was irrelevant. He asked NOT to be told who the next Guardian of Gotham will be."
"Say it! Say it!" Yelled the new Guardian of Gotham, as he pulled the elastic his brothers underwear higher and higher into the air.
"OW! OWW! You're not an old man! You're not an old man!" Tim yelped, while everyone laughed. After a week of gloom, things were finally starting to get back on ttrack. They all still missed Bruce, but life went on.