"Which brings me the Shelterwood Method…" Pamela, dressed in her typical Paula Irving disguise, flipped to the next slide of her presentation. "The Shelterwood Method is similar to the seed tree method, in theory, but requires that more trees are left standing after harvest time. To understand the need for more advanced growth in a forest, you must refer back to the concept of carbon sequestration that we covered earlier. A healthy forest is a diverse forest. The Shelterwood Method relies on the processes of regeneration. Now once the regeneration is established, it's acceptable to then thin the residual overstory, although keeping them over for the next harvest results in larger trees with deeper roots that further diversify the stand structure." She smoothed out the lines in her skirt as she noticed that most of Wayne Enterprises' board of directors were far more interested in her than they were her presentation. But she pressed on, appreciating that at least Mr. Wayne himself was paying attention. "This policy shift would mean a 15% decrease in production since cultivating a healthier forest is more time consuming than just planting and clearcutting, but adopting those practices will allow your business to expand into markets that simply weren't an option before due to environmental restrictions. There isn't another globally scaled business that has pushed this agenda. Wayne Enterprises has the opportunity to lead by example."

"Does Mr. Wayne get to pose with Poison Ivy for her next PSA?" A man in the back laughed.

Ivy cleared her throat. "I'm sure Dr. Isley would be amiable to the suggestion depending on Mr. Wayne's level of compliance."

This elicited a chuckled from her audience. "Dr. Isley…"

"Her credentials are still valid." Ivy snapped, silencing the crowd immediately. Realizing her mistake, Ivy cleared her throat again and tossed her hair over her shoulder, pushing the pen she was holding behind her ear and biting her lip suggestively. That seemed to calm everyone down. Ivy fought the urge to either roll her eyes or release a virulent allergenic pollen into the room and kill everyone.

"And you would advocate for us?" Bruce asked. "Appeal to the courts in those markets?"

Ivy nodded, grateful to be asked a real question. "I would gladly represent your company if these steps were taken to ensure your small contribution to the health of our environment."

"Very good." Bruce nodded, scribbling something down on the notebook in front of him. "That will be all gentleman, ladies…"

The board rose from their seats and began to mingle, although Ivy very much doubted that they were discussing her presentation. Bruce approached her as she gathered up her notes. "Will Poison Ivy pose with me?" He asked, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

While Ivy recognized he was Batman, it was still a struggle for her to see Bruce Wayne as anything more than Selina's goody-two-shoes, industrialist playboy, sometimes-boyfriend. "If the image isn't demeaning to her..." She placed her notes inside her briefcase and clasped it shut.

"Thank you for not using your pheromones on these guys." He said, straightening his jacket.

"Doesn't seem like I needed them." Ivy scoffed. "Since when did a skirt suit become so enticing?"

Bruce searched her face and realized that she was making a joke. "Right." He chuckled. "How is she?"

"She's fine." Ivy told him. "She's coming home tomorrow."

"Good." Mr. Wayne nodded. "I attempted to make it abundantly clear that she always had a spot of my team, in some capacity."

"And she appreciates that." Ivy brushed a strand of her fake caramel hair behind her ear. "She doesn't like talking about the future in the way that I'd rather not discuss the past. It's stressful."

"Makes sense." Bruce admitted. "And are you ready to come back?"

Ivy sighed and nodded.

"I promise not to…" he searched for the words she had used. "Ravage you. I was sorry to hear about your misdiagnosis, by the way. 15 years of therapy for the wrong disorder probably wasn't helpful."

"It wasn't." Ivy agreed.

"Well I'd like to put you on retainer…" He took a folded packet from his jacket pocket. "I thought maybe some steady income would help keep you on the straight and narrow. You'd be heading up my environmental legal team. Although I guess I never asked if you were actually any good in a court room."

Ivy wanted to be upset at the assumption that she wasn't perfect at everything, but chose to remember her EMDR therapy instead and squeeze her wrist to remind herself that was a silly thing to get mad about. A petty thing, and Poison Ivy was not petty. "Of course I'm a good lawyer." She smiled. "Name a person who can soapbox better than I can."

/

Harleen sat in her specially designed Wayne Enterprises wheelchair studying the changes that had been made to Ivy's master bedroom. Unfortunately, Harleen's apartment complex wasn't exactly the most wheelchair friendly building in Gotham, and the doctors had told her that she would likely need a full-time caretaker for at least the first 8-10 weeks. She and Ivy didn't even need to discuss it; it was just what was happening. Ivy had installed a bar on Harley's side of the bed that would make it easier for her to move from her chair to the bed. The doors had been taken off the bathroom and the closet so that Harley wouldn't have to deal with opening them from the fixed position in her chair, and also because accidents happen and removing obstacles was an easy way to speed up the journey two and from the restroom. Harley thought the fact that she was asking quite literally one of the sexiest women on the planet to check her catheter and empty her urinary pouch was bad enough, extra accidents would just be too embarrassing.

"You're gonna have to get me a lift for the stairs." Harley said as Ivy finally made it into the bedroom with their bags from the hospital. "The vines are cool and all, but I would like to be able to go up and down on my own accord, and they don't take orders from me."

Ivy nodded. "We can get you a lift. I'll call Batman this afternoon. I'm sure he'll have an opinion on the brand."

"Since when do you care about Batman's opinion?" Harley wheeled herself around to face the other woman.

Pamela sighed. "Although my knowledge is vast, it does not extend to wheelchair ramps."

Harleen gave her a half-hearted smile. "Did you do the showers?"

The redhead nodded, setting down Harley's duffle bag. "I installed a chair and a bar in both of them. Would you like to check?"

"No." The blonde shook her head. "I trust you." She looked past Ivy towards the doorway leading out onto the balcony. "What's that?" She asked, referencing the metal bar apparatus that spanned it.

"Oh." Ivy smiled and walked over to it. "Bruce had it installed. I told him you used to do those silly 100 drills when you woke up in the mornings…"

"Yeah, well, I can't exactly do one squat or pushup now, let alone 100." Harley huffed.

"You're right…but…" Ivy grinned as she pressed a button on the side of the door and the metal bar lowered into her grip. She lifted her feet off of the ground, letting herself hang from it. "You can do pullups." She flexed her back muscles and pulled her chin to the bar to demonstrate, dropping to the ground at the top of the movement. "What do you think?"

Harleen frowned. "I think that was a chin up, not a pullup."

Ivy rolled her eyes and grabbed the bar with one hand this time, easily clearing it with her chin as she pulled herself up with her right hand tucked behind her back. "Better?"

"Show off." Harley grumbled.

"No, look." Ivy dropped down and crossed back over to Harley, standing in front of her wheelchair. She pulled seatbelt looking straps out of the side of the thing and buckled them over Harley's lap. "It might take you a little while to build up the strength, but I know physical exercise relaxes you, and this way…you know…it's all right here, like the balance beam in your apartment."

Harley narrowed her eyes at Ivy as she unbuckled the strap. "Why'd you put it there?"

Ivy smiled sheepishly, looking very much like the Pamela in the picture in her file. "Well you have been known to work out before I wake up, so I thought, if you wanted to exercise immediately after waking, I could get you squared away in your chair and then…"

"Go back to sleep?" Harley couldn't help but laugh.

Ivy was silent for a moment, evidently deliberating what her next move would be. Gingerly, she moved towards Harley, climbing aboard the wheelchair so she sat facing the younger woman. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, brilliant shades of blue and green interlocking in a reverent suspension of reality. Ivy leaned in, resting her forehead against her former psychiatrist's and softly brushing their noses. The position reminded Harleen of that night- the night of Pamela's breakthrough and relapse, and the night of Batgirl's demise. She remembered how good it felt when their positions were reversed, Poison Ivy's lean and powerful body underneath hers, Harley's hands on Ivy's face, when she kissed her back…Harley thought she might cry at the loss of it all. She had shed many a tear since the gun went off, but every day brought up a new memory of an experience she wouldn't be able to have again, not in the same way, at least.

"I'm sorry." Ivy whispered for what felt like the millionth time. "I'm going to kiss you now, OK?"

Harley chuckled at their role reversal. "OK."

The plant queen smiled and brushed her lips against the other woman's, softly, like an angel through the window.

The contact was finished all too quickly for Harleen's taste. "Pamela Lillian Isley, I swear to God, if you tease me right now I am going to flip you out of this chair."

Ivy laughed. "I'm not teasing, silly girl. I'm just trying to be gentle." She captured Harley's pink lips again, harder this time, allowing Harley to fully appreciate the feel of it.

The blonde playfully nipped at her bottom lip. "Gentle? Pfft. Come on, what's the worst that can happen? You paralyze me?"

Ivy planted sloppy kisses in a line down her neck. "That wasn't very nice." She murmured against the soft skin of her clavicle.

"I know." Harleen smirked. "But I'm entitled to a lifetime of jokes about it."

"Fair enough." Pam acquiesced as she began to unbutton the girl's shirt.

Dr. Quinzel felt the other woman's tongue parting her lips. She let it struggle there for a while, loving the frustrated moans her partner was making. Poison Ivy was an excellent kisser. She'd had a lot of practice, after all, but Harley liked the idea of her having to work at it for a bit. Unfortunately- or, fortunately- Ivy found a loophole; she ran her tongue over Harley's bottom lip before taking it into her mouth and sucking on it.

Harleen's hands went to tangle in Ivy's thick red locks, and she braced herself for the action to be denied. Pamela flinched as Harley's hands made contact with her scalp, but she didn't adjust their positions or remove the girl's hands. That non-action proved to be one of the more arousing things Poison Ivy had ever done, and Harley readily parted her lips, wanting to feel as much of the other woman as possible.

Ivy was grinding against her now as she finished with Harley's buttons. Although she couldn't feel the movement on her thighs, it lit a fire in her belly, and Harley felt a faint aching deep within her. The arousal wasn't on the surface like it used to be. Harley had to look for it, feel into it, and the truth was Pamela was making that pretty easy at the moment.

Questioningly, Harley slid her hands from Ivy's hair down her back. Her skin was warm to the touch in the places where it showed beneath her tank top. She grabbed at the bottom of the fabric and began to hike it upwards. Ivy shivered at the sensation of the air hitting her bare skin, but let Harley pull it off over her head.

They were panting with their foreheads pressed against each other once more. Harleen showed the redhead her hands in a well-established symbol. Pamela hesitated for a moment, but then took Harley's hand in hers and placed them on the tight green skin of her stomach.

Harley sighed. "I'm going to miss my abs…" the words came out more seriously than she expected them too.

Ivy smiled and tilted Harleen's chin up so their eyes could meet again. "We don't have to get into the logistics of human anatomy right now…" She moved her own hand up to Harley's stomach, mirroring the movements the girl was making on hers, but was careful to avoid her scar. "But I'm fairly certain that the placement of your injury won't impede the further development of your abdominal muscles."

"God, you're such a nerd." Harley recaptured Ivy's green lips and snaked her hand upwards to her breast. She felt Ivy's heartrate quicken under her touch, but more out of excitement than fear, it seemed. "Can I have you?" Harley murmured against her lips.

Ivy's body tensed and her hand froze where it was massaging up and down the functional portions of Harley's spine. She had clearly been studying the X-Ray, CT Scan, and MRI.

"It won't be like him." Harley assured her, her nimble fingers dancing like raindrops on the woman's chest. "I promise it won't be like him."

Pamela's head came to rest in the crook of Harley's neck. She was breathing heavily, trying to think with a lust-clouded mind.

"Your answer can be no." Harley reminded her, wishing that she could pick her up and carry her to the bed- make her feel secure in her arms.

Ivy took a deep breath and pushed herself out of the chair, stripping her jeans off as Harley watched. Her jeans. The jeans that Harley had wanted to get into when everything was still just a game. Now Harley desperately wanted to get up, to meet her halfway. To stand three inches taller than Ivy and pin her against a wall, feeling her every sensuous curve trapped against her body. Harley wanted to prove her strength to the goddess, move her emerald form on a whim, respond to Ivy's submission…but she couldn't. That would remain a fantasy for the rest of her time on this earth. And Poison Ivy would live long after Harleen was dead. She would know others, others who could offer her more. At Harleen's funeral, Ivy would look the same as she did today- a perfect specimen. Her long legs and generous hips, the voluptuous curves of her ass and breasts, and her beautiful full lips and dangerous green eyes…someone else would look at her the way Harley was seeing her now, and they would take her in a way that Harley never could. The young woman's blue eyes began to fill with angry tears, but she didn't notice. It was Pamela who wiped them away.

"What's wrong?" The redhead asked, kneeling in front of her chair.

Harley had missed so many chances at happiness, and this one had slipped through her fingers before it had even begun, when both she and Pamela were too sick to enjoy it. She only got one chance at this. One chance at being Harleen Quinzel and she had blown it. She had spent 15 years of her life in a gymnasium, giving everything she had to a sport that seldom loved her back. 15 years of blood, sweat and tears and then it spit her out. "Move on, Harleen!" It told her. The next four were spent at medical school, offering her body to anyone in the slightest position of power, trying to prove that she was worth something- ANYTHING. And then she met someone who was as broken as she was, probably even more so…this goddess before her, this wounded seductress who was now kissing away her tears. They had made too many mistakes. Harley had let her guard down and The Joker had escaped, Catwoman had patted herself on the back a moment too early, and Poison Ivy had lost her temper. It was no one's fault. It was everyone's fault. But no matter what or why, Harley was here, sitting in her chair, watching as Pamela tried to make everything better by kissing her in the sensitive places she'd mapped months ago.

"IT'S NOT FAIR!" Harley screamed, startling Ivy so severely she almost responded with anger, but instead nervously withdrew her hands and lips from the girl's body. "I grew up a normal kid, my dad was sort of unethical, but who the fuck cares?"

Ivy shook her head carefully. "I don't…I don't care."

The tears were beginning to fall again. "And then I dedicate my childhood and my adolescence to a cause, one specific calling out of mediocrity…and a grown man, the man who coached me since I was 10 years old, tells me that the only way to achieve my goal is to fuck him. I was 15 years old! I was just a kid!"

"Men are pigs." Ivy agreed.

"No, but it's more than that. I have made so many horrible decisions in my life, Pamela. And this is the only life I get, you know? And I was good at something! I could run and jump and dive and flip…that's who I was! And now it's gone, just like that." Harley snapped her fingers to illustrate her point. "For the rest of my life I will never be me. And then I'll be dead and buried and you'll move on and remember me as that poor girl you used to fuck who scooted around in a wheelchair."

Pamela rocked back on her heels and allowed her eyes to scan Harley's body for a moment, from her feet to her bangs, then she sighed and moved forward, softly running her hand down Harley's cheek. "You're still just a kid, Daffodil. Life and death…it's a cycle. I have already seen people come and go, live out their entire existence in the time it took me to choose a new leotard. And you know what? I was just the same as you, back when I was actually me. I had a life that was taken away from me, a career, a future…And goddamn it, Harleen, I am so angry! 64 years now I've lived on this planet, and I have hated at least half of them." She smiled and bushed the bangs out of Harley's face. "The only thing I've hated more than the years is the people. But I don't hate you Harleen Quinzel." She got up and climbed back onto Harley's lap, which made the blonde blush for some reason. "In fact," the redhead continued. "You are the only person that I've ever actually wanted to do this with." She placed a soft kiss on Harley's lips.

"But I want to be with you the way you are with me…" Harleen nuzzled her face into her neck.

"I know…" Ivy traced her fingers over the muscles in Harley's shoulders. "And I bet you would have been really good at it." She laughed that genuine, melodic laugh that Harley had loved so much at the start of things. "But I promise you…" She whispered against the girl's ear, taking her pale hand and placing it against the green skin just above the lip of her satin panties, "that this is enough for me right now."

Harleen smiled sadly and nodded, letting her fingers dip slightly and dance below the fabric's waist band. "Why me?" She asked, not making eye contact. Feeling guilty about the actions she'd taken to get them into this position.

Ivy placed her lips on Harley's nose. "Because you're smart, and kind, and fun," she kissed an inch lower with each compliment. "And ambitious, and dedicated, and very pretty…and you said yourself you're the only one that's ever loved me."

It hurt to hear this beautiful woman say those words. Harley wished she could apologize…but at the same time, she liked the feeling of power it gave her to lock away Ivy's affections. After all, this Ivy was Dr. Quinzel's creation.

"And if you don't fuck me right now then I'm going to fuck you." Ivy finished.

"Real classy, Ivy." Harley giggeld.

The older woman shook her head and placed her hand on her chest. "Pamela." Then she moved it to Harley's. "Harleen."

The End

(stay tuned for the epilogue)