Pam wiped her eyes, sniffing as she checked the clock. It was dark by now, and the weeding hadn't been finished…the Ajuga hadn't been trimmed back…Harley's presence had made that impossible. All Pam wanted to do was sit in her greenhouse, as far away from Harley as possible, and cry. Cry and wait for her to leave.

Maybe by now she was gone, Pam hoped. Maybe Harley had finally located her shame, pulled up some boulder of her personality and dug until she found enough of it to head back to Gotham, and to leave Pam alone. Wishful thinking on Pam's part, but reasonable, she thought. Really, Harley leaving her alone was the least she could do. The absolute bare minimum. Harley had always known how to scrape by on the bare minimum.

So Pam rose slowly from her stool, steadying herself on her work bench to subvert her head rush. She walked slowly back to the house, taking it as a positive sign that there weren't any lights on. But when the motion sensors caught her, and flooded the yard and garden with light, Pam was able to see over the fence. Was able to see a cherry-red mini cooper parked just on the other side along the curb. Pam knew that meant Harley was still here, and that was something she should be furious about, but in the moment, all she could think was, what a stupid fucking car.

What was more alarming, however, was that when Pam took a closer look, she found that the back and passenger seats were absolutely stuffed to the brim with what seemed to be Harley's belongings. And since it wasn't common human practice to take a lamp, a deconstructed book shelf, at least for boxes of clothes, and who knows what-the-fuck-else on a temporary road trip, Pam was practically fuming by the time she wrenched open the back door.

The house was dark, but Pamela knew her way around, and was able to navigate the floorplan using just the moonlight seeping through the paned windows as guidance. And sure enough, there she was. Still. Curled up under Pamela's blankets. Her head resting on Pamela's pillow. Sleeping peacefully.

"Harleen," Ivy hissed, her words cutting like a knife through the tranquility of the scene. "Harleen, wake up."

The blonde didn't budge. But of course she didn't, she slept like a rock. She always had.

Ivy moved past the doorway, speaking louder. "Harleen, we have to talk." She shook her shoulder, forcing herself to override her instinct to be gentle. "Wake up."

Finally, Harley began to stir, groggily mumbling something as she rubbed her eyes and then stretched.

"Why did you drive here?" Pam demanded.

It took a moment for Harley's eyes to adjust to the darkness. "Pammy?" she wondered, reaching out to her, still seemingly closer to asleep than awake. "Pammy, I'm so sorry, I—,"

"Shut up," Ivy snapped, shoving her hands away. "Why is there a mini cooper full of your shit parked in front of my house?"

"Oh, well it gets great gas mileage, I thought you'd like it."

"The issue isn't the car, Harleen. It's the shit," the redhead growled. "Did you honestly think that I'd take you back into my home?"

Harley reached over and turned the lamp on so they could truly speak face to face. "Um…well…I mean…yeah. Planned to beg on my hands and knees, but…maybe that was still naïve of me."

"It was," Pam assured her. "And now you need to leave. Head back to Gotham, give Selina my best, and don't ever contact me again." With that, she rose from the bed, crossing the room towards Harley's discarded jeans and tossing them back at her. She was almost through the door when Harley spoke.

"Pam, I don't…have anywhere to go." Her voice was small. Timid. Embarrassed, almost.

Ivy placed her hand on the doorframe, but didn't turn around. "What does that mean?"

"I've been renting in Gotham and I…well, I gave up my lease. Thought I'd give the west coast a try."

Pam was trying hard to keep her anger at bay. "There are plenty of homes on the west coast that aren't mine."

"Yeah, I—I know," Harley granted. "I just…well, I don't really know anyone over here, and…see, I had some money left over from Joker, but I sort of burned through that on therapy and an apartment up by Selina's and—fuck, do you know how expensive groceries are these days?"

Pam dug her nails into the wood she was grasping. "So, in other words," she forced out through gritted teeth, "You haven't changed at all."

"No, that's—Pam, that's not true." Harley was scrambling to her feet. "My life over there just kinda ran its course, and all I could think about was a life with you. I had all these fantasies about what we could be like now that I'm better. I thought about Pamela and Harleen and those 9-5 jobs, and it's—that's what I want. I want you. I want a life with you."

Pam was practically seething at this point, and when she finally turned around she—well, she faltered slightly when she saw Harley was standing in the middle of her bedroom, naked from the waist down.

"Pammy, please, give me another chance," Harley begged, tears again gathering in her eyes. "I came here to be with you. We can make it work, I know we can. You just have to trust me."

Trust you.

For a moment, Pamela thought she was going to be sick. Her anger thrashed violently in her stomach, sending bile up her throat. "You…" her chest was heaving. "Are the single most…thoughtless, person I have ever encountered on this…godforsaken, planet that is overrun by your kind. If you didn't have a degree proving your intelligence, I'd swear you were a fucking imbecile." She forced her breathing to slow. Forced her legs to carry her forward a step. "In fact, I'd go as far as to bet that your emotional intelligence is somehow inferior to Killer Croc's, and he's a crocodile monster that eats human children."

Harley's bottom lip was quivering. "You're right," she nearly whispered.

"I know."

"But that doesn't mean I can't love you," Harley pushed on. "Doesn't mean I don't. You can't make me stop loving you, doesn't matter what you say. I loved you then, and I love you now. Just as much, maybe even more."

Ivy took another step closer, and Harley began to shake. Ever so slightly…her muscles twitching nervously, her breath coming quicker. But the jitters, the nervousness, even the anger had left Pam altogether. Her tone was even when she said, "And I loved you too, Harleen, I truly did. But it was never enough, and so that time has passed. I owe it to myself to let you go. There's nothing for you here."

Fat tears were rolling down Harley's pink cheeks, her wide blue eyes sadder than Pam had ever seen them. "You…you don't love me anymore?"

Pam leaned forward with an outstretched hand, gently wiping Harley's tears from her face, and then caressing her cheek as she murmured, "If I did, I would kill you like I killed Linda. Lay you down on your back…use my tongue until you were moaning my name in pleasure…and then excrete enough poison to take down a Kryptonian, so the last thing you see is me between your legs, and the last thing you feel is betrayed, by your body and the woman you claimed to love."

Harley's heavy swallow was audible in the silence that followed.

"You can stay here until you find a job, but keep in mind you are unwanted." And with that, Ivy retracted her hand, spinning on her heels and again leaving Harley alone in her bedroom.

/

Harley had never really had to look for a job before. She'd known exactly where she wanted to work out of med school and simply applied there. Arkham was happy to have her. Overjoyed, even. That position wasn't exactly in high demand. There was no way she'd be able to practice medicine again without stealing someone's identity, which meant "finding a job" meant begging for a job unworthy of her qualifications. Harley found that thought depressing. So she simply…didn't think about it, even though Pam had made it a clear stipulation of her staying. She'd figure it out eventually.

Instead, Harley unpacked her things, performing the task slowly, taking out each item one by one, the fear of running into Pam keeping her from doing things more efficiently. But the redhead was nowhere to be found.

In the garden, Harley assumed as she unloaded her fourth box of clothes in the center of Pam's bedroom—A risky move, considering Pam had all but threatened to murder her if she stepped out of line. But then again, maybe she'd take it as a sign that Harley was really going to stick around this time.

Left side or right side?

Pushing Pam's hangers to the right, Harley began the tedious task of hanging all of her clothes in the left side of the closet, stuffing the rest into the empty bottom drawer of Pam's bureau. Rising from her knees, Harley planted her hands on her hips, surveying the progress she'd made. Her lamp still stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, unplugged as Harley had no luck finding an outlet. Save for what Harley assumed was Pam's reading lamp on the bedside table.

Halfway through all this, she realized she never actually asked Pam if she could stay in her bedroom…but it wasn't as if Pam had given her any opportunity to actually have a conversation, and she hadn't explicitly told her to stay in the guestroom instead…so…yeah, Harley determined she hadn't yet stepped out of bounds.

Deciding she deserved a break after all that manual labor, Harley made her way out of the bedroom, wandering down the large hallway, thinking anything was better than sitting stationary with the memory of last night's argument. She peeked into every door that she passed, the ones that weren't locked anyway, catching glimpses of a pristine bathroom, a guest bedroom, a room that seemed to store a collection of vases, and finally an enormous study.

Pushing open the old wooden door, Harley stepped into the open room, turning a slow circle as she took in the towering bookcases, stuffed to the brim with hardbacked novels.

"I'm Belle," she murmured to herself, plopping into one of the plush armchairs, testing the cushion before bouncing back up again to scan the bookcases.

Squinting at the fine print on the book spines, Harley grabbed a novel with a light green cover.

"'The Woman's Bible'," Harley read aloud, turning the book over once. "Sounds like you, Red."

Flipping to a random page, Harley scanned the first passage she saw.

'Nature never repeats herself, and the possibilities of one human soul will never be found in another.'

The nature part caught Harley's attention, but believing in the existence of a human soul sounded like the exact opposite of Poison Ivy's creed.

"Maybe she needs a refresher," Harley muttered, shoving the book back on the shelf and taking out another. "Virginia Woolf…Creepy old lesbian, wasn't she."

She made her way through dozens of novels, reading a few lines from each one, disappointed when the one she'd recognized, 'Pride and Prejudice', nearly bored her to tears. Her saving grace was 'Little Women', which she devoured in the span of an hour or two. Jo was definitely a fav.

The list of female authors Harley found went on and one: Jane Austen, Ursula K. Le Guin, Emily Dickison (total les), Emily Bronte, Lousia May Alcott.

By the time she'd gotten through a single shelf, her mind was spinning with the powerful words put down on paper by the even stronger women that had written them. Harley had never been much of a reader, even in college she was more of a Cliff Notes kind of student, too busy spending her time training in the gym. But now, she felt she had a strong understanding of where Pamela's sensibilities had come from.

Not Ivy's.

But Pam's.

The demure, intelligent young woman, who's principles stemmed from the women she must have spent hours reading about.

Harley was busy perusing 'Wild Nights', which like…come on, Emily, it's not even subtle…When she heard a door slam out in the main hall. Dropping the book, Harley leapt up from her chair, poking her head out into the hallway.

If Pam had been there a moment ago, she'd disappeared just as quickly.

Heaving a sigh, Harley returned the book to the shelf and slumped out of the study, continuing her exploration of the giant house. Eventually, she tumbled upon a small foyer decorated by a coffee table, another full bookshelf, small couch and an equally small television on the far wall.

Harley liked to think it was her influence that had brought Pam to invest in a television even after she was alone. But she couldn't be sure if Pam had bought it after she'd moved here, or if she'd simply refurbished the one left here from her childhood out of a sense of nostalgia.

Either way, there was a case below the television stand full of movies.

Score.

She soon realized, however, that these weren't ordinary DVDs. They weren't even VHS tapes. They were…projector reels? Like what they had at movie theaters. Meaning…that TV wasn't gonna work. Frowning, Harley let her eyes drift to the ceiling, where her expression immediately relaxed when met with a rolled up projector screen bolted near the far wall. She got to her feet quickly, yanking it down and making sure it would stay in place before letting it go.

The actual projector was another issue entirely. It took her a few moments, but she soon found the old, rickety machine hidden away in the closet.

If I can get this to work, it'll be a miracle.

Dropping to her knees, Harley began scrounging through the case, her excitement dying when she realized that most of the films were old enough to be in black and white. Some even silent.

"Still can't catch up with the 21st century, can ya, Red?"

The Sound of Music, Psycho, Creature From the Black Lagoon (Harley set that one aside for later), Singing in the Rain, Casablanca, Arsenic and Old Lace (funny, Pam…), Little Shop of Horrors, Breakfast at Tiffany's (BOOOO).

Harley picked the ones that didn't sound too boring and stood to study the projector. She was holding literal film in her hands, which meant she would need to feed it through the machine, right? This was officially a waking nightmare. She decided she would practice with Breakfast at Tiffany's, that way, if she messed the film up permanently, no harm would really be done.

"Goddamn piece of shit motherfucker," Harley cursed as her battle raged on.

At long last, she got it cooking, and grinned triumphantly when Little Shop of Horrors appeared on screen.

With a well-earned sigh of contentment, Harley lay down on the couch, fluffing the old pillow beneath her head. The only thing missing was a giant bag of popcorn.

Well, that and an arm around her shoulder, lips against her forehead, the scent of lavender filling her nose…

Shaking her head, Harley focused on the screen in front of her, determined to enjoy herself while Pam came around.

And she would…Eventually. Right?

So maybe she had meant what she said last night. Maybe she didn't love her anymore. But Harley had convinced Ivy to love her once, surely she could manage it again, yeah?

Harley had to believe she could. Because if she couldn't, if this was it, if her Pam was truly gone….Harley couldn't find an end to her own thought, so she pushed it away, she was good at that.

Good at pretending there was nothing wrong.

Good at pretending that Pam still loved her.

That things could be right again…or for the first time, perhaps.

/

Pam trailed her kisses back up Harley's smooth neck to where the blonde's soft lips were waiting for her. Harley was smiling, though Pam's tongue quickly made that impossible as she leaned over her, moving slow and deep, her hands caressing her face and then sliding down, over her shoulder to her breast.

Harley moaned against her lips, her kisses eager, clearly wanting to get to the main event.

"So impatient," Pam giggled, separating for a moment to speak.

"Sorry." Harley stretched out on the pillows, letting her body relax. "Take me," she said rather melodramatically.

Pam tried for a moment to look stern, but the way Harley was biting her lip, twirling a lock of short hair playfully around her finger…Pam found the challenge too trying, and so she dipped low once more, meeting Harley's lips in a suddenly passionate kiss that seemed to take the blonde by surprise.

Their naked bodies moved together, pressing into each other, soft in the glow of early morning. Their kisses became lazy as they tied themselves tighter around each other, one being. And then suddenly Pam was on her back, though she couldn't for the life of her remember them rolling.

Pam wrapped her legs around Harley, desperately wanting to somehow be closer, to draw her in and never let her go, to hold Harley against her long past any singular moment of intimacy. Harley smiled at that, her hips pulsing rhythmically as she leaned into Pamela's ear, her lips brushing the outer shell when she said: "I love you, Pammy."

Ivy's stomach ached when she awoke, a feeling of guilt and disgust so pervasive she wanted to claw her own stomach out, string herself up by her entrails. Sweat was beading on her forehead, but her most terrible discovery came when she shifted her legs, and felt the distinct moisture of wet panties rubbing uncomfortably against her.

Her tears then were irrational…but she'd left the world of rational and reasonable long ago. So rather than steady herself, hold everything at bay, she let the tears flow, as she so often had in the two years since she'd left Gotham. That overwhelming feeling of want that still warmed her gut, and the self-loathing at that very realization that weighed in her chest would keep her up for the rest of the night, she was sure of it. The most terrible of nightmares…

Pamela was now at war with her subconscious, and worse than that, she wasn't confident it was a battle she could win.