Chapter 7

Poison Ivy.

My first thought was that I hadn't been expecting this. My second was that I should have guessed that something like this would happen. By my third thought I realized that it was horribly obvious. Of course they would give Poison Ivy to me. Besides Joan and myself there were only four other female psychologists in the whole asylum and of those six only two weren't angling for early retirement. Add that to the fact that Joan had her hands full with other patients and I became the only option.

In all honesty though, I really hadn't been expecting this. It was one thing to be given the case file but now that I had it what was I going to do with it? The only logical answer was to review like mad but I had to settle something first. Before I started I had to step back and truly ask myself, did I really want to do this? In Joan's office I had acted tough more for her sake than mine, but now that I was home I could admit the truth. I was scared. I had every right to be.

I'd been living in Gotham for longer than I cared to remember and as far as rogues went Poison Ivy was at the top of the list. She was like a homicidal Robin Hood only instead of committing crimes to help those in need killed whoever threatened nature. Ok, so the only thing she had in common with Robin Hood was the wanton violence and green. "So much for analogies," I thought, sighing as I realized I couldn't put it off anymore. Poison Ivy was my patient and I had two days to get ready. It was time to get started.

As I pulled its bulk into my lap I couldn't help but pause and think about how I'd come to get her case. Arkham had made it seem as if I had been hand-picked which wasn't exactly the truth. I'd already figured out I was a last resort but now I recognized that this was less an honor and more a babysitting job. He didn't expect me to make any progress! I slapped my forehead as I remembered all the stories other doctors told me about Poison Ivy. She never said a word.

I could be pissed at Jerry's sly manipulation because I really did want this case. I didn't doubt anymore that he was a bastard but he had given me a chance. Why I was chosen didn't matter as much as what I could do now that I'd been given the opportunity. A rehabilitated Poison Ivy might mean a rehabilitated Scarecrow or Two-face or even a rehabilitated... hell maybe one day Gotham would get so safe that even Batman would be out of a job. I figured that would happen as soon as hell froze over but maybe I could help alter the weather.

It was obvious to me now that the only reason Jerry had given me Ivy's case was so I could act as her babysitter. I wanted to find something funny or ironic about this thought to head off my mounting anger but there was nothing and I was really too pissed to keep trying. I mean who the hell did Arkham think he was? I turned my thoughts to the day I was summoned to his office and really focused on his demeanor. He had to have known that Ivy had been uncooperative with all her other doctors and yet he had made it seem like a promotion of sorts.

What game was Jeremiah playing at? Why would he give me Poison Ivy if he didn't expect me to get somewhere? Not for the first time I found myself wondering exactly what he thought of me only now it was accompanied by my smoldering ire instead of the usual cloud of absent-minded wondering. Until I learned the name of the game I would just have to play by my own rules. Lucky for me, it was a tried-and-true approach. I rested my hands on top of the coarse brown of the file and took a deep breath.

I was sick of people judging me before they even got to know me or assuming that they already did. Again I found myself hating everything that greeted the eyes of all who looked at me. Again hating what brought on the endless come-ons and stupid pick-up lines. I knew who I was. With the case of Poison Ivy I would be able to make Arkham and everyone like him, know it too and never forget. The time for contemplation and hesitation was over. I opened the file and began to read.

It was while reading her basic information that I realized she wasn't short. That's not to say that she was remarkably tall just that she wasn't short. I had only ever seen her from a distance so it was a surprise. It wasn't important but it was still something that I hadn't thought about and it made me wonder what else I might have assumed. I decided that if I was going to make any progress that I would have to go in a blank slate or risk closing the door before it ever opened. I needed to figure out how to reach her and condescension wouldn't cut it.

I flipped the page and could only stare because I had not expected this. They were color photos and that made all the difference in the world. They were a series of mug shots and she was beautiful. The woman who had committed arson, theft, and murder with pride was staring me right in the eyes. Monsters didn't and couldn't look how Poison Ivy did. Hair too red to be ignored framed a face both exotic and intoxicating. Eyes and skin glowed green, lit from within by an inner flame. Her whole being spit in the face of logic and laughed. How?

To say the pictures gave me pause would be an understatement. Eventually I turned the page to find it filled with clippings of Ivy's crimes and they went on...and on...and on. It was official; Poison Ivy was the hardest working woman in crime. I knew I was being facetious but the list was unsettling. Nature was at her beck and call and she used it to kill anyone who posed a threat to it. That was common knowledge. She viewed her murders not as a necessary evil but as a just punishment. I knew better than to think that she was remorseful in the slightest. Ivy wasn't insane because she killed; she was insane because she wasn't sorry.

At this point I had been reading for close to two hours and it was another ten minutes before I realized something that could be just what I needed to connect with Ivy. The only thing she cared about was nature. It was her life and why should she value ours when we didn't value hers? This revelation was like lightning and it galvanized me. I began to think back through all the information yielded to me by the articles and recognized that something was far more important. Poison Ivy was the poster child for misandry.

She made no effort to hide her (often times literal) venom towards the bearers of the Y chromosome. Her hatred for all things male was no secret but when it came to the reason why no one had a clue. Gotham's rogues possessed some of the most straightforward motivation I'd ever encountered. Everything they did was for a reason no matter how insane or unreasonable. So why wouldn't she tell the world what men had done to her that was the obvious reason for her hate? The answer would be the key to understanding Poison Ivy and once I understood I could help.

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I looked up when it got too dark to read and stared at the clock in mild bewilderment. According to the black and red digital it was six in the evening. That would mean that I'd been reading for at least five hours without a break. It was almost like being back in med school how quickly I lost track of time. The file gradually changed from article clippings to her previous doctor's notes. Since she refused to speak during sessions it was almost all speculation. I recognized the signs of mental fatigue but I didn't want to stop so I didn't stop.

I continued to read theory after theory and question after question. The only thing they did was reinforce what I already believed would be the way reach Poison Ivy. They ranged from the fantastical to the ridiculous and ran an intellectual gamut which dead-ended. I looked to the clock again and decided that midnight was as good a time as any to stop. I could always start again tomorrow and besides that I was very tired. I went into my bedroom and really looked at it. It was cold and temperature had nothing to do with it. After getting into my sleepwear I turned off the lights and got into bed. Sleep came with no incident. The morning passed by the same way.

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My day was uneventful which while a surprise wasn't unpleasant. After getting inside I put my things away and got comfortable with the file again. I reviewed and worked on my game plan for tomorrow. Tomorrow would be my first session with Poison Ivy. If I was successful it would kill two birds with one stone. Ivy would begin the road to recovery and everyone would know without a shadow of a doubt that I was more than smooth curves and golden hair. Two birds with one stone, one city saved and one doctor respected.

Time kept going and I kept studying gaining more insight but eventually things began to feel rote and I decided to call it a night. I looked out the window at the sun shining on the street. No children played and the only sounds heard made you glad you weren't a part of them. Arkham didn't pay much and when you didn't take bribes you tended to stay poor. Maybe in time I could afford someplace better. A home that would be mine; with a white picket fence, green grass, and filled with the sounds of laughter. My mind was starting to wander.

I needed to relax. Better yet I needed to go to sleep. Anticipation should have had me wired with energy but instead I felt drained and my bed was the only thing I really wanted. That and maybe some soup but I was more tired than hungry. I went to bed without dinner and when I awoke in the morning I was none the worse for wear. I had bigger problems than a missed meal. Today of all days my hair decided to rebel. It snagged and at one point I seriously considered just leaving it as it was.

Somehow bedhead didn't seem workplace appropriate. In the end I just decided to put it in a loose bun and my hair seemed to agree because it settled down soon after. As ready as I would ever be I left home and began my commute to the asylum. Twenty minutes later I arrived at Arkham and thirty minutes after that Joan entered my office. I heard a polite knock and looked up just in time to see her enter. I gestured absentmindedly to a chair across from me and she sat.

I continued to work but when she didn't say anything for five minutes curiosity got the best of me and I looked up to find her calmly appraising me.

"Joan what's wrong?"

There was silence but when she spoke her voice was filled with pride.

"Nothing's wrong Harleen. I've been watching you work that's all."

My face must have betrayed my surprise because she began to explain.

"I came in here to see how you were. What I found was a doctor who has never looked more confident and ready."

"Joan," I began.

"Let me finish Harley. I see a doctor who has never looked more prepared. I made it no secret to you that I was worried. I see that I have nothing to worry about. I'm going to leave now but I want you to know that you have my support and that I believe that you can do this."

"Thank you."

It was all I squeak out under the pressure of emotion her words caused. She smiled a smile worthy of Madonna and walked around the desk to where I was. We embraced and I felt a weight I didn't know was there lift. If Joan thought I was ready then there really was no room for doubt. She left and I was alone with my thoughts and notes. It was an hour until I had to go and meet Ivy. I spent it wisely. When the time came I walked with poise and purpose and as the interview room came into view I took in a calming breath.

I nodded to the two muscled female orderlies and with no hesitation pushed down the handle and walked inside to meet my patient. When I walked in her eyes widened slightly but whether from surprise or something else I couldn't tell. Whatever it was didn't last long and before I had even sat down her defenses were up. I knew because mine were the same. Poison Ivy and I weren't the same woman but we were both women. There was an inherent bond present between members of the same sex.

I would exploit it if I had to but for now simple conversation would have to do. I decided to begin as civilly as I knew how.

"Hello Ivy, my name is Dr. Quinzel."

"Hello."

I was surprised that she spoke to me at all considering her records with doctors. Her voice was low, almost sultry, and she looked me dead in the eyes. That might have been a bad choice of words but oddly enough I didn't feel threatened by her. What I felt instead was a probing curiosity and the feeling was mutual. The mug shots couldn't compare to the real thing. Now that I was in the room with her I was affected by something the pictures couldn't convey. She had a scent. It was wild like the jungle and just as strong.

I took all this in while she continued to stare, probably sizing me up. I broke the silence with a question.

"What is your favorite memory?"

The look of barely visible surprise was back and this time it lasted longer. She smirked and said nothing. "Let the silent treatment begin" I thought.

Who was she? She was fresh, too fresh to be working in Arkham. I hadn't seen her before but considering how often I was let out of my cell that wasn't an issue. I decided that she couldn't have been working here long. When she spoke her voice was high but not girlish and before I realized what was happening I had already replied. I had given up ground before the battle even started! Whoever she was she wouldn't win that easily. She wouldn't win at all. She would leave like all the rest and I would make sure of it.

Still, she was so young and she was speaking again. What was my favorite memory? I had planned on escaping next week but now I couldn't; not before I learned who she was. How could I leave when she was so...pure? Yes, that was the best word for her. She had somehow managed to remain untouched by the poison of Gotham or the filth of this prison. She was the closest I had been to nature in months. Nothing grows in Gotham and yet somehow Arkham asylum had managed to nurture a flower.

Dr. Quinzel was most definitely interesting but she wouldn't win.