(A/N: Captain Deadpool, she thinks that he can be an idiot sometimes, but we all know who the real idiot is. Yah? XPrettyXWomanX17X, I don't like canon pairings, to be quite honest so for me any pairing is possible, ((Joker/Bruce, Poison Ivy/Harry Potter, Joker/Me, Me/My Reviewers.)), and thank you for the wonderful review! Throughout this story there will be time lapses. For example, it's been a month since she moved into her new apartment, Bruce and her have been getting along swimmingly. So get used to random time lapses. Let's cut deeper then, shall we? I don't own these characters, just make them my bitches.)

Rosary Peas were not as easy to get a hold of as she would've hoped. They only grew in tropical areas, and were native to Indonesia. Well, Gotham City was by no means tropical or at all close to Indonesia. However, she did manage to find solace in the cicutoxin.

Cicutoxin was found in the roots of the water hemlock, which incidentally looked like parsnips and had a carrot-like odor. Even two or three bites of the roots have proven to be fatal. Death could occur within thirty to sixty minutes. She smiled satisfactorily. All she needed to do now was find one, or perhaps even grow one if she could get a hold of the seeds. The task wouldn't be too difficult.

The plant was native to North America; it grew in swamps, marshes, and even certain ditches. This was not going to be a problem.

The only thing that she couldn't figure out is what her and the Joker would do after he was broken out of Arkham. Where would they go? Would they leave and start a new life? Would they stay in Gotham while he terrorized the city? One thing was for sure, and that was that it would always be 'they', and never 'her' alone again.

She didn't mind, she liked to be spoken for, in a way. She also doubted that once you were with the Joker that there was any possible way to leave him. He had charmed her, in a strange and sick way. He opened all the right doors for a new and exciting path that she was more than ready to travel down.

Even though Cicutoxin took only thirty minutes to work, she knew that the Joker would want something more lethal and quicker. She'd have to inject the roots with some type of catalyst, or perhaps refine it somehow into something potent.

The only fast acting drug that she could think of was dimethylmercury, which would kill you in under a minute. However, it killed through skin contact which meant, she couldn't get anywhere near it, or spill it on herself in anyway. Inhaling was also out of the question. For now, the Joker would have to just be patient until she could find a way to completely refine the cicutoxin into something faster acting.

In the mean time, she was enjoying her new apartment. (It had been about a month since she moved in). During that month she had come much more accustom to lying and stealing; starting out small, but gradually getting bigger. It gave her a certain thrill that she hadn't been caught so far, she was getting the hang of things.

The week that she stayed at Bruce's penthouse had been somewhat of a dream, she had someone to dote on her every morning, kiss her when she woke up and when she went to sleep, made her 

breakfast, listen to her drone on about work. However, she got the feeling that one of his butlers, Alfred, didn't like her much.

He always gave her a disapproving glare whenever she walked by him. She wondered if he saw through her.

One thing that she noticed was that the Joker seemed to be getting surlier by the second. It must've been difficult for a man like him though, men never did well in cages. His face was beginning to look somewhat worn out, and he didn't laugh quite as often as he used to. Was Arkham getting the better of him?

No. Nothing could get the better of the Joker.

She looked at her digital watch, the one she used to track her medication times with. It was amazing how far away that seemed. Only a month ago, she was someone else. She was someone who was worried about normal things. She was someone who rarely lied or stole. She was someone who wasn't willing to fight. She was normal and weak.

Even by looking in the mirror, she could tell that there was something different about her. Her appearance before she came to Gotham had become muted and typical. But now, she felt wild, she felt uncontrollable and it was beginning to show.

It was exhilarating, to do things and not worry about the consequences. What were consequences anymore? What was guilt? What was it to be normal?

Her watch read 6:00 a.m. She should've been halfway to Arkham already, but the Joker wasn't going anywhere, so she took her time.

When she got to his room he was in his usual position, propped up against the wall, legs sprawled out. He looked up at her briefly before looking back down at a mess of green fabric that was notted up in his hands.

"Why do you look so down?" she asked, sitting on the floor next to him to take his vitals.

He sighed, "It's just the joint, red. A place like this…well…it can drive ya crazy," he managed to let out a hollow laugh.

"Cheer up, I'm working on getting you out." She said, taking his blood pressure.

To her surprise he ripped the blue strap off his arm and chucked it across the room. It hit the wall with a loud bang.

"Yeah but when, huh?! When?! Because I've been waiting…as patiently as I can. Why don't you just bring in some gasoline and matches and I'll get the job done myself!" He yelled, extremely out of character.

She shrunk back, somewhat frightened by this sudden outburst.



"Your way is messy," she said quietly.

"Messy. People are…going to be SPEWING bloody chunks everywhere when you feed them that nasty plant root. We'll be sliding around everywhere trying to get out of here," he said, imagining the entire scene, managing to crack a sinister grin.

She didn't answer him, but instead checked his pulse.

"No matter, since you're beginning to embrace the illusion, I made something for you." He said, rolling out the green mess of fabric in his hands.

He rolled out what appeared to be a green, one piece, suit. It was embroidered with leaves, and attached at the bottom was a pair of lighter green stockings. Along with it, what looked like a black harlequin mask.

"Since when have they let you sew?" she snorted.

"They encourage…creative outlets." He explained, imagining her in his little creation.

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not much into role play," she laughed.

"As…delectable as that sounds, that's not what…I made this…that's not what I made this for." He said throwing it over her.

"Then what is it for?"

"See," he began licking his lips, looking up at the ceiling as if searching for answers, "I want you to be a regular…see. When you become a…villain, per say, it's smarter to have something that the uh…public can identify you with. I, for example, wear the, um, make up. This little beauty, will definitely stop some traffic."

She looked at the green outfit. Would she really wear this? It was somewhat ridiculous, but so was the Joker. Arkham really was driving the Joker insane.

"It's flexible, it compliments your complexion, and shows off those lovely gams of yours." He commented, laughing at his own little joke.

"And…by the way, when you're uh…wearing my little outfit, you probably shouldn't be addressed as Pamela Isley." He continued, scooting a little close to her.

This was getting insane, she was going to commit crime in a ridiculous spandex costume under an alias. She felt like a comic book character.

But the Joker knew what was best, after all he'd been doing things like this a lot longer. She couldn't help but feel a slight thrill in the pit of her stomach. Then it hit her.

"If we're being cheesy, Poison Ivy." She suggested.



The Joker looked at her curiously for a moment, before a wide grin cracked onto his face, accentuating the scars.

"It works. I'm proud of you legsy." He said, nudging her with his elbow. She was beginning to give into the madness.

She stood up, "I have a few other patients to visit, give it back to me at five when I come back in, ok?"

He nodded, the grin still plastered to his strangely handsome face.

/

She had managed to see about four patients that day, it had been busy and she was incredibly tired. In the middle of it all, she had received a text from Bruce, reminding her how important she was to him. This lifted her spirits slightly.

It was five, time to see the Joker one last time before she had to go home.

When she entered his room, he was waiting at the door for her. She was slightly startled and walked straight into him.

He shut the door behind her promptly and caged her in between him and the door. He did this sometimes, and Pamela was used to it by now.

"I have to go, bu-" she began but then was cut off by his lips being smashed down against hers.

She was quite surprised to feel him on her like that, his mouth was rough and hungry, taking as much as he wanted. She tried to pull away, but he simply put one hand behind her head and forced her deeper into him. After a few moments she realized that she had wrapped her arms around his neck, his other hand was in between her thighs, dangerously close to the tip of her panties. He pulled his head away from hers and stared drunkly into her eyes for a moment. She was utterly and completely his to play with.

It wasn't quite the icing on the cake yet, he already had a plan on how to do that. He was just reeling her in, reminding her who was running the show.

He shoved the outfit into her arms.

"Make your Uncle Joker proud, Poison Ivy," he hissed before opening the door and pushing her out.

/

She wasn't quite sure to make of what had happened an hour ago.

The stale taste of his lips remained floating around pleasantly in her mouth. She kept bringing her hands up to touch her lips, because she felt his still crushed down upon them.



One thing was certain, she was going to do something that night. She was going to use her new identity, and she was going to use it for something drastic. She needed proof, she needed proof that she was numb. She needed to know that she was capable of what she had to become.

In her apartment, she put on the costume, taking her hair out of its usual bun. She had to admit, wearing it made her feel somewhat sexy. A thrill pulsed through her veins. She felt like she could to anything.

There was a local modern art museum downtown, Bruce had taken her there on a date once, she would steal a piece. Nothing too major, nothing extremely fancy, the only thing that she worried about, was getting all the guards out of her way.

At her side, she kept a large steak knife, she put on a belt and kept it hid behind her back.

At midnight she crept out of her apartment, her heart was going a million miles a minute. She climbed up fire escape after fire escape until reaching the roof of her building. Luckily the modern art museum was only six buildings down, and there was only about one meter distance between each building. Easily jumped.

She leapt from building to building until she reached her target. She used the handle of her steak knife to break the padlock off of the door that led to the stairs.

She crept quietly past the security room, trying to get out of the way of security cameras.

Then she saw it. A white, oddly shaped, vase. It was small, portable, and perfect. She reached out and grabbed it, cursing herself when she did, because immediately the alarm began to sound. She ran as fast as she could, ducking beneath security cameras as best as she could.

"Hey! Stop! Drop it!" a security guard stepped out in front of her.

Without thinking, she took her knife and plunged it forcefully down into his neck. He stumbled backwards, blood squirting out, making a strange gurgling noise. She stepped back, so as the crimson liquid wouldn't stain her clothes. He fell to the floor and she pulled her knife out of his neck, wiping the excess blood off onto his shirt.

She ran up the stairs and hurried back to her apartment. It was almost too easy.

The vase would look beautiful on her nightstand.

(A/N: it was too easy. I know I know. But I'm really bad at writing scenes like that. Not my style. However, expect a citrus gift in the next chapter.)