After being escorted back to her cell by her guards, Pamela found herself greeted by a great, grumbling, rumbling growl, the likes of which she wouldn't expect to hear anywhere other than one of Catwoman's Lairs or Joker's circus hideouts. This sound, however, came from no four legged carnivore. The racket rattled through the vent coming from Harley Quinn's cell. At ten till noon, Harleen Quinzel was giving new meaning to the term "sleeping in."

For a moment, Pamela sat on the bed, pinching the bridge of her nose and listening to Harley's marvelous impersonation of a hibernating grizzly bear. After a few minutes she laid down on her own bed, rubbing her temples, contemplating just how it was that this cute, short-statured adorable little blonde could make such ungodly noises. More curious was the fact that they typically only occurred in Arkham. Harley was a very quiet sleeper whenever she and Ivy shared a hideout. She was subtle, cunning, down-right stealthy when the time called for it. There was something about Arkham that made everyone act differently from their usual mannerisms when they were free; with Harley her usual jubilant, perky, excitable attitude was severely diminished into a near lethargic state.

"Harley...?"

Another snore.

"Harl?"

A snort that sounded like one of Selina's cats hocking up something vile.

"HARLEEN!"

"BWUAH!? Wha?! ...Didju say somethin', Red?"

"Sorry to disturb your beauty sleep, Harl, but I had to get your attention."

"Mmmh... What is it, Red?" Harley asked with a drowsy yawn.

"Did you do as I asked?"

"Ya mean with the plant thingy? Oh yeah! One of the orderlies owed me so I asked him to send the flowers ta Dr. Birch's apartment just like ya asked!"

"Did you make sure to tell him which florist to order them from? And what plant to send?"

"Sure, Pammy, sure, c'mon gimme a little credit when have I ever let you down?"

Pamela's dark lips twitched with amusement as she thought of how many times Harley had squealed during late night robberies, or gotten to excited during a high speed escape and ended up blocking Ivy's view while squirming around in the car.

"Oh no, Harl, you've never let me down." She replied, rolling her eyes skyward.

The sarcasm must have been audible enough for Harley to recognize because the blonde gave a plaintive whine from within her cell. "I promise I did just as you said, Red! And Billy won't let ya down, he's a good sort!"

"Billy? Good goddess, Harl, on a first name basis with the interns?" Pamela quipped with an amused smirk.

"C'mon, Red... Not all of us can bat our lashes and make boys do what we want."

"You could."

Harley gasped. To Pamela it had been a statement of fact, but to a young woman used to having her boss sneer, snipe, and abuse her mentally a physically such a comment seemed like the kindest compliment on earth. "Ya really think so?"

Once more Pamela rolled her eyes. "Harley, you're a a bubbly, blonde in pigtails who can twist herself into a pretzel; if you were actually trying there's no end of men who would be at each other's throats just to see you trying on miniskirts." She drolled this out with a mild sneer at the mere idea of it, rolling her shoulders back as she leaned against the wall, letting her feet dangle off her bed as she slid her slippers off and flexed her toes.

"Mmhh... I miss the soil."

"What Red?"

"Nothing Harl... Nothing."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

That evening Hazel came home to find her boyfriend Eric had come over to visit, he had prepared dinner for her as a surprise after she'd called to tell him about her breakthrough with Pamela Isley. Eric worked for the Gotham forensics lab, in his line of work he'd seen it all, and many of the people he helped identify and track down were the people that Hazel would later end up treating in the Arkham facility.

"So you really think this is serious? You think she really stands a chance?"

"I do!" Hazel said excitedly, nodding as she set her fork down between bites of food. "She seems to be genuinely remorseful of her previous actions... So much so that it's almost painful- Eric, the look on her face when I came in yesterday evening. She was an absolute wreck, the poor woman..."

"Wow... Never thought I'd see one of those whack-o's would manage a second chance. Oh, hey! That reminds me, speaking of plants, there was a delivery for you, it's in on the coffee table."

"A delivery? From who?" She asked, getting up and leaving the dining room in order to go in and look at what had been brought to her.

On the coffee table in front of the TV sat a moderately size blue flower pot, with a small flower-shrub sprouting out of it. The flowers were simple, five petaled and ovate in shape, their colors shifting hues of purple, lilac, and near-white.

"Oh my... It's beautiful! But who is it from, Eric?"

"Actually, I was hoping you could tell me." He replied with a grin. "The only card on it was the florists, and the delivery guy said the client wished to remain anonymous. You got any secret admirer's I don't know about, gorgeous?" He teased with a broader smile.

"I don't know..." Hazel replied, leaning down to smell the lovely flowers. "Mmmh, they're wonderful. I wonder who sent this! You know what, I bet it was Margaret! She said she'd find a way to thank me for recommending that child psychologist for her son and daughter."

"Must be." Eric said with an uncertain shrug. "Come on, sweet heart, you can stop to smell the flowers later, dinners gonna get cold!"

"All right, I'm coming- Coming." She smiled as she straightened up, returning to the dining room with him.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Over 2400 miles away, on the west coast of the United States, an urban myth stalked the halls and corridor's of the University of Washington's Seattle Campus. This was his third stop that evening. The first had been Seattle city hall, to access marriage certificates and birth records. Next was the NorthWest Hospital of Seattle, trying to track down the right Isley family. That was a dead end. Finally he'd come to the campus to retrieve Pamela Isley's permanent record, with it he hoped he'd have a better chance of tracking down her parents.

A very smart, very dangerous man once observed that where Batman was involved, jurisdiction meant absolutely nothing. When he was involved you could run, you could hide, you could stay underground for years, but in all that time all it would take is one mistake, one tiny error, something you wouldn't even be aware that you had done. A single mistake is all it takes for him to find you, to hunt you down, and make you talk. It didn't matter how long it took. He'd find what he needed, and she wouldn't be able to hide behind the lies once he did.