A soft sigh echoed through the patient lounge. In this wood paneled room with it's plush maroon carpeting, pictures of the Arkham family and plaques dedicated to Arkham's donation providers such as Thomas and Martha Wayne, it was hard to imagine the place housed some of the most dangerous psychopaths in the United States. This area was for patients nearing the end of their stay, either due to old age rendering them feeble and helpless, or because they were one of the lucky few to be leaving without a body count and a hole in the wall of their cell block.

This was the area that patient's families got to see, away from the rust covered pipes, the peeling paint, chipped tile, and urine soaked cells that housed the truly dangerous and deranged. This was the place where two of Gotham's most notorious villainesses now walked freely amidst other patients and interacted peacefully with Arkham staff. It was astonishing to see, and for many it seemed to good to be true. Patients would give Harleen Quinzel and Pamela Isley wide birth, staff would move a bit more cautiously in their presence, like deer trying to go unobserved by humans in their woods.

"Gee Red... You know, I'd kill for your hair." Harley said in a library whisper, while she sat on the couch, gently weaving her hands through her friends long, rose red locks, weaving the strands into different styles, braiding, undoing, and redesigning again and again.

Pamela patiently allowed the younger woman to enjoy herself with the various hair styles while the botanist carefully tended to a potted African violet in her lap as she sat on the floor just in front of the couch.

"I'd find that funny if I didn't think you were serious." She said, while snipping a wilted leaf gently from the plant, giving it's healthy leaves gentle strokes with her finger tips like a groomer calming a dog as she trimmed it's nails.

"Hey, all the best jokes are played straight!" Harley replied in a huff. "So what if I am, who gives a hoot?"

"I do. No one should have to die just because you wish you had hair like mine." Pamela replied soothingly.

"Geeze, Red, lighten up will ya...? Cripes you're really serious about this ain'cha you're just gonna give it all up, play it straight the whole way? No big punchline at the end?"

"Harley, there's just four days left before my probation hearing and 6 days till yours; I would think you'd be more concerned with minding what you said in ear shot of others, you wouldn't want to do anything to damage your chances of parole would you? This is our chance to finally live a normal life again. As normal as people like us can be..."

"...Wow. Did you go off your meds or somethin'? That was seriously depressin'."

"Sorry Harl... I guess I just have a lot on my mind." Pamela replied with a sigh, hugging her plant to chest, resulting in the pot pressing against her breasts, pushing them up against the top of her jumpsuit in a valley of pale green cleavage that gained Harley's complete attention for a moment as she sat on her seat above the other woman.

"You know, despite everything some people here have done, a lot of them still get Christmas cards... I didn't get any. I haven't gotten one in 4 years."

"But Pammy you hate cards, rememba? You put Harvey in traction cause he sent'cha a valentine's day card!"

Pamela sighed and leaned her head backwards, dropping it directly into Harley's lap to stare up at her from this upside down position.

"That was before Dr. Birch helped me realize how ridiculously obsessive I had become Harl... I may not like that so many trees die all for some silly holiday greetings, but... It's Christmas Harley, and my father didn't even send me a Christmas card. Even you got a Christmas card."

"Well sure, but I don't put people in the hospital for sendin' 'em Red! S'kinda hard to get up the gumption to send out cards when ya know the gal who gets 'em throws a hissy for it." Harley replied, giving her friend a kind smile.

Pamela sighed again, her plump lips twisting into an unhappy pout. "I suppose... And stop staring at my breasts."

Harley blushed and averted her eyes out the window. "Well... Y'know, I didn't get any cards either, if it help ya any?"

"That just makes it worse." Pamela replied sadly

"Oh... Phooey! C'mon, Red, s'not so bad! Hey at least your old man's a good guy right?" Harley said with a smile, and then a jaded laugh. "What've I got? A crooked old con for daddy! No good fat ass brother... And Poor momma always looking after 'em, and they don't even deserve it. At least your dad's a nice guy right?"

"He was a drunken gambler..." Ivy replied bitterly, but her lips drooped into a reminiscent pout. "But he always put aside a little, he never risked so much as to put us in danger... Mother made plenty of money, he could've pissed away his pay checks and he still didn't. Christmas used to be nice with daddy. It was the one time of year when he'd pay proper attention to us, make us feel like a normal family for just a little while. Just a couple weeks out of the year."

"Gosh, Red... Wish I could say that! Look on the bright side, maybe he'll see ya now that you're gonna get- … Ohmigosh, Pammy, no! Noooo, say it ain't so, Red, say it ain't so!"

"What are you wailing about, Harl!"

"Your old man! Don't tell me all this is cause your daddy issues finally caught up to you!"

Pamela snorted in rather unladylike-like amusement. "Don't be absurd, Harley. I'm doing this because I want out of here... But I'm going out my way, nice and quiet, easy. No fuss, no mess, no bodies... Maybe a quiet little house somewhere in the country, with a big garden." She smiled hopefully. "And if I'm lucky, yes, maybe I'll see him..."

"Aw Red... Ya really think we can do it?"

"What, go straight?"

"Y-huh."

"Do you actually want to?"

"I dunno.. Yeah... Kinda, I guess..."

"Until he shows up on your doorstep with his next crazy plan."

"Ooh no. Not this time. I don't want anything more t'do with Mista' J!"

"Then you can start by getting rid of that stupid pet name for him."

"But what else would I call him?"

"How about Joker? Or Jack? Or Joey, Jerry, Johnny Five-Fingers or any of the other stupid J aliases he's used! Better yet let's try oaf, asshole, chauvinistic pig, oh and lest I forget… Homicidal, abusive, narcissistic bastard!" Pamela said with rising ire in her voice, sitting up and twisting around to look Harley in the eye. "He's a monster, Harley... The sooner you accept that, the closer you are to actually getting out of here for good."

For a long while they sat in silence, Pamela eventually stopped her cold stare and shifted her gaze out the window to look at the first spring buds upon the trees outside. Harley fidgeted with her pigtails, tucking her legs up against herself as her mind wrestled with the tongue-lashing lecture her friend had given her.

"...but where would I go with out him?"

A look of surprise cross Pamela's face at that and she slowly turned her gaze back to Harley. Gently the green skinned goddess rose from her seat on the floor and settled onto the empty couch cushion next to the blonde, her left arm wrapping around Harley's shoulders and her right hand moving to rest gentle atop Harley's right knee.

"You can always count on me Harley, no matter how bad it gets, I will never throw you out in the rain."

Harley dared a small smile that Pamela instantly returned. They sat in silence for a moment and then the blonde gave something between a sob of emotion and squeal of joy as she threw her arms around her friend's neck in a vice-like squeeze.

"Oh Red, I love ya so much!"

"Hggk—Sweetie—KAFF—I can't breathe!"

"Oops!"