In the long wait, Ivy felt herself slipping back through memories.

All the times she had taken a seat in the private interview room. Cold during the winter, humid during summer. Made to wait what felt like forever.

The gradual regrowth of her hair. Cuts and wounds from fights she had become involved then later, when her skin turned bright green, and she was something else entirely.

So many times, when the door opened to the psychiatrist lumped with her case, she hoped it was Harleen. The painful duality of being at her worst, but also getting treatment and care from the best, rather than the endless mediocrity of those looking to fill out a standardized quota of sessions.

"Miss Ivy?"

She blinked her way back into the present. The psychiatrist's office was far nicer than any to be found within Arkham. In the past, stained wood and numerous books were usually what upset her more than anything. Without the call of the Green telling her to be upset about it all, what she saw was an attempt to present a sophisticated setting. Somewhere knowledgeable, that patients were in the care of someone who knew what they were doing.

Feeling worse than ever, she hoped it was true of Dr Hugo Strange.

"Yeah."

Strange smiled warmly as he closed the door on his way over to the desk. "I hope the surroundings are not too off putting. The interior design of Old Gotham's era is of a particular taste after all."

"It's not a bother. Not anymore."

"Really? Interesting." He set down a sizable stack of files, taking time to spread them out, flick through a few, and then draw out some of the pages to a second pile. Once that was done, he retrieved a notebook of his own, collecting it with the files on his way back to the main chair.

"So, should I continue addressing you as Miss Ivy? Bruce informed me that was your preference."

"Ivy's fine." She curled in a little while staring to the thick red carpet below. "I don't want to be associated with the Poison part anymore. But, I don't know what else to call myself either."

Before he even sat down, Strange began taking notes in between preparing the files for cross-reference. "Identity disassociation is not uncommon among former villains who find themselves in this kind of position, Ivy. Returning to normalcy feels unachievable, but guilt entwined with the legacy means a desire to break away. Leaving them stranded in the uncertainty between."

After arranging everything as desired, Strange sat down slowly. "Comfortable enough? You are welcome to adjust the temperature as desired."

"It's fine."

After they exchanged nods, Ivy chewed at her lip, glancing along the lounge she was seated on. "Do I have to lie down?"

"Not at all. If you prefer to remain seated, then by all means."

Ivy nodded again, gripping at the edge of the cushion a little tighter. "I uh… It's been a really long time since I've had one of these sessions. Is there anything I need to go over, or say because it's the first one? Some kind of baseline to give you?"

"You are free to discuss whatever you wish. There is no schedule or timeframe to your recovery. Tackle whatever you feel is most relevant to you on a given day."

There seemed to be only one issue on her mind, and she wanted to avoid thinking about it as much as she wanted to also talk about it. If talk was even the right word for her confused deluge of feelings.

"If I say Harley, I don't know where to begin. I don't know if I can stop when I do either. Then again, I feel like that describes a lot of my problems."

"That is why the planned sessions are spread out. To help you break down these issues, address them in manageable pieces, and provide you with sufficient time to process them. Relationships can be the source of many other problems, there is no shame in wanting to deal with such things first."

Ivy nodded again. With some effort she forced her hands off the cushion, bringing them to her face instead for deep thought.

"How do I even begin?"

"Try not to look for a particular opening. You are not giving a performance, Ivy. Say whatever you think of first, and go from there. I am listening, without judgement or disapproval."

She took another breath. Her head tilted forwards, digging her fingers into the mess of red with her brow on her palms.

"I love her. But, she scares the shit out of me."

"And why is that? I cannot reach for suggestions, you must give the answers as you see them."

Ivy brought her head back up, clasping her hands together to rest her chin on, eyes starting to wander the room. Trying to think of actual words to use.

"I think… I think she's the only person in the world that loves me unconditionally. And, I'm scared of losing someone who cares that much, when I know that could happen at any moment. I'm already being isolated from everything else I relied on in the past. I can't lose her as well."

Strange lifted his head with a hum, taking down the last few notes before leaning forward a little. "I suspect there are a great many layers to this fear you experience about her fate. If I may indulge, I would like to put to you a tangent to consider. Something that may aid you in better gripping with these potentially crippling anxieties."

Ivy looked at him with plain uncertainty. The mindset of wanting to talk about Harley, but also wanting to discuss anything else possible was still warring away. A minor nod was the best she could manage.

"Mr Wayne informed me that you are aware of his identity as the Batman. I made the connection myself through deduction and study some time ago. I came to him in confidence, told him of my suspicions, as well as my motives for investigating. We have since become trusted friends, and I the only psychiatrist who can truly help him win the struggle he faces as part of his drive to see this city lifted from the ashes. Do you not believe yourself capable of relying on him, knowing the great trust he has already placed in you?"

The point was clear. Ivy had gone over that question ever since learning the truth. And even before that, when it was the tenuous relationship with Batman alone. Her own inability to distinguish him as being a friend or an enemy. Knowing everything had made some facts straightforward and easy to understand. But there still wasn't a solid conclusion.

"I don't know. He's never outright betrayed me, neither has Harley. Everyone else I've relied on has screwed me over for their own gain at some point. But, Bruce…" She changed to resting her face at one hand. "Batman did it because of his code. Because I stepped over the line. I can admit that."

Strange tilted his head again. "And Harley?"

"She never-" Ivy brought her head back up sharply, almost accusatory in her tone at that moment. A little later, in sank in that she had proven the point being made to her.

She swallowed, blinking a few times, reaching up to try and steady her nerves at that moment. "She never betrayed me for selfish reasons. She's been misguided, or unaware, or…"

Strange leaned back after that. "The point is not to say that you cannot trust Harley. Far from it, in fact I would concur that what she feels for you is unconditional. That consciously, she would go to any length to protect your best interests. Unfortunately, as you described, that does not always apply to unconscious, unknowing, or unintended actions and reactions. And she may not comprehend what your best interests are."

Ivy nodded begrudgingly, sinking back into her previous stance. The uncertainty, fear of facing the truth. Being told to let go. "So, where does that leave me?"

"On a good path, Ivy. A difficult one, without question. But I have genuine confidence that you will come out the other side of this ordeal better for it. If you are ready and willing to see it through. Harley must pursue her own path to recovery, and gentle encouragement from her partner at the right times will be of benefit I am sure."

Strange smiled warmly after that. The notepad came back up following another adjustment of his glasses. "I believe that establishes a reasonable baseline, as you call it. I could tell early on that insecurity is a major struggle you currently face. Is there a particular incident that you feel relates to this?"

"You might've heard about Harley's verbal explosion at Wayne Tower a couple nights ago?"

"Ah. I have indeed." In response, Strange turned to a fresh page of the notebook. "Harley's next session is tomorrow. Once I have heard both sides of what happened, I would like to propose a couple's session as follow-up. If that is acceptable to you both of course."

"I think so." While Ivy braced herself for recounting the night from her perspective, there was a faint smile that lasted a little further on. "A couple's session is fine with me."

A while later, Ivy descended the steps of the office building towards the waiting car. Alfred alone in that case, on that day it was company she was grateful for. Another long talk with Bruce was better saved for when she had more time to think.

She needed a chance to gather herself, and to explore a few facets that hadn't come to mind before. To know where exactly she stood before planning the next few steps ahead.

"So, Miss Ivy, back to the manor? Or someplace else first?"

"I'd like to stop by the park actually. Shouldn't be more than five minutes. I'm still thinking about what happens after that."

"Of course. If I may, you're looking in particularly good spirits compared to earlier this morning. I trust your visit went well?"

Ivy smiled a little more while settling into the back seat, resting her head towards the window. "Yeah, it did actually.

The car moved into the flow of traffic shortly after. Alfred soon laughed quietly. "Forgive me, old habits with Master Bruce and all. It wasn't an intention to pry, I assure you."

"It's okay, Alfred. I actually appreciate the consideration now. Big step for me I guess."

A little later, they were moving onto the bridge towards modern Gotham where the largest of the parks was located. For Ivy, it meant some definitive answers to her growing concerns, but closure at the same time.

It was that level of comfort that made her feel more receptive to opening up again.

"Alfred, can I ask, do you think of myself and Harley as a couple? A real, legitimate couple?"

"I recall times in the past when the two of you were inseparable. Admittedly, neither of you were at your best in those days. But, there's no denying the sincere fondness you share for each other now that things have changed, if that's what you have concerns about."

The concerns were there, but for the moment weren't what Ivy meant. "It's not that. I guess I simply haven't heard anyone refer to us as that, until Dr Strange. It was so natural, coming from him. 'Your partner', 'a couple's session'. Just, plain validation really. Not treating Harley and I like we're some wild fling that doesn't matter, or even as two individuals with no legitimate bond."

"I understand, quite well in fact. A number of fellows from my days in the army longed for the openness and acknowledgement that is finally becoming more prevalent in this age. It is always possible for things to get better, Miss Ivy."

Ivy looked towards him again with another smile. "Miss Ivy now?"

"I noticed the pattern, and adjusted accordingly. Simple courtesies are effortless, after all."

"And I ask 'em, 'whatcha doin' carrying around a couple thousand bucks on a Thursday night?' Tells me it's for 'dere grandma, she ain't doing too good and they gotta get her some grey market mobility or somethin'."

Staring across the streets as they ran by was the only thing keeping Montoya silent. The double-edged nature of working with Bullock meant taking the long-winded stories about nonsense in return for him watching her back at all times.

That and letting him drive while she was in the waning hours of a hangover.

"Turns out, story wasn't all crap. They got this whole market for wheelchairs, walkers and the like working outta the foundry district. So I ask myself, if it's all refurbished throwaway stuff, is it even worth shutting down? Looked at prices of the new stuff, you'd buy a car before gettin' some of those chairs first."

Montoya tried rubbing at her forehead. Options to bring an end to the dull thudding behind her skull were dwindling.

"Anyway, I ran it by 'Theft and Looting'. Turns out, it's all on the insurance side. Any of the big corps find outta 'bout it, we gotta come crashin' down on the whole joint. Typical, ain't it. As if we ain't got enough problems to deal with on a daily basis shutting down mob after mob, feels like we end up gettin' used for the same kinda racket anyway. And people don't get ways to move about anymore without selling a kidney to boot."

It was more misery on top of what she was already trying to forget. Too much for her to keep paying even half attention to him.

What eventually saved her from the extensive drawl was a blur of red to the far right. With her interest piqued at long last, more of her focus came back. By the time they passed the office building in question, she had taken a good look.

"What- Since when is Poison Ivy getting taxi'd around in Wayne's car?"

"Eh, really been drinking too much Monty. Word is she's been up a few days now. Didn't ya hear about the big scene back at Wayne's building? Quinny went all nuts on her, broke a glass and cut Ivy up way I hear it. So much for her good behaviour bond."

Montoya frowned at the thought. It was already impossible to not keep thinking about Valentine's Day. That things were still going wrong months later was only bothering her more. "Jesus. Wakes up from having her skull caved in, only to get slashed by her girlfriend. No wonder Plantie's hanging onto Mr Billionaire again."

"Figures, though. Quinn's as demeneted as they come. Don't know why the Batman keeps goin' easy on her. Bad taste in women, tellin' ya."

After the endless boring stories, Montoya felt more than ready to take a worthwhile argument if solely for delaying another ramble. "Seriously? You really think Batman's got a soft spot for Harley Quinn?"

"Hey, you question now, but he was all over Plantie as you call 'er for a while there. Why'd you think he didn't bother showing up at that gold robbery? He was keen on Ivy, turned out she had same kind of preferences you do, pardon the french Monty. Thinks he's being all respectful and gentlemanly by backing off. Then he turns around and starts chasin' the pasty clown instead, since he knows she's actually inta' men. He's a big sleaze in a tyre suit, telling ya."

"I don't even know where to begin with all that, Harv. Actually, I don't wanna touch any of it. You're way off."

"Yeah, I'm way off. And Batwoman totally wasn't checking ya out last time she jumped a scene we were gettin' to."

"She was not."

"I ain't kiddin'. Maybe bakers and party girls aren't who you're pullin' for, Monty. It's chicks in black lycra, or leaves."

Montoya went back to window staring when she caught up to where things were going. "I'm not a magnet for crooks, or vigilantes. You don't see any of them taking in drunks for one."

That was enough to make Bullock ease back on the verbal jabs. "Listen, you do realize I'm kiddin' round here? I know the drinking is a real problem, that's why I ain't taking cracks at it, since there ain't much I can do ta help. It hurts ta see you like this, Monty."

"Yeah, well, what else am I gonna do? Can't go on vacation because I gotta stay for the inquest, can't go to clubs because I have to keep my nose clean. Family ain't around, everyone else has walked on me. And it's not an anonymous group when everyone knows who I am since Valentine's Day."

"Wish I had answers for ya, Monty. I'm just sayin' no-one's happy about this."

"Attention all units in Old Gotham! Pursuit declared on suspected arms smuggler! Details as follows, units respond!"

A call to action was all Montoya needed to peel her eyes away from the window, even though it brought on a resurgence of the headache.

"Detectives Montoya and Bullock responding. What are we looking at?"

A motorbike blasted in front of them at the intersection at breakneck speed. Montoya immediately went to brace herself when Bullock brought the patrol car into pursuit.

"Eyes on speeding bike! Moving to chase! This the one we're after?" Once they got onto a main road, she took the brief chance to get a read on the license plate, relaying it over the radio.

"That's the one. Suspect heavily armed, pursue with caution."

Bullock readied the gearshift as they approached the industrial corner. "Switch off the siren, and hold on. This is gonna get dirty. Let's not tell the whole area we're comin'."

The difference was staggering to Ivy. What had once been a hub of subconscious sound and calmness to her had been taken away.

Everything from the grass, to the bushes and flowers, and the looming trees around the bright green runaround were silent to her. As much as she was now spared the perceived pain and cry for help from the Green, she was now also denied the soothing song of those in harmony. All the plant life that people still cared for, and treated well.

In the past, when she was far more invested in protecting nature, and doing its bidding, the circumstances she found herself in would have been utterly crushing. To have all her years of effort, the pain she had personally endured in pushing the cause, all discarded to leave her in exile.

In the present, it felt different. As she looked over to the table where she had sat months ago, and had that first conversation with Bruce after her return to Gotham, the reasons why became more clear.

Walking away from her duty in the city to fight in the Amazon, only to then abandon it as well when she had failed. Using her power over nature in excess, to incite vengeance on the Joker. And all she had accomplished from that was the destruction of an ancient tree.

"Guess you got your way after all, Alec. No more competition from me."

She closed her eyes and outstretched her hand. Until then, she had lacked a reason to exert control over the plant life, or the means to when she did. Slim as the chance was, she wanted to know how harsh the exile placed on her was.

Nothing sprang from the ground. No abrupt growth, or even a change in the pattern of the grass. No matter how much concentration she put into the act, her chlorokinesis had been blocked. To push aggressively for control would only anger the Green, and that was not something she wanted.

"Fine. I really am on my own then."

For the moment, knowing was certainty was cathartic. She had avoided testing the suspicion back at Wayne Manor out of fear it would upset her even more. Having talked with Dr Strange, and giving herself time to think it over on her own had softened the blow somewhat.

It was a significant change for her, and one she wasn't going to let stand indefinitely. Fighting for a restoration of her connection was a battle she planned to save for another time. When she could properly commit to proving her worth as an eco-activist, instead of an eco-terrorist.

Until then, she was no more powerful than Harley herself.

She returned to the car after that, her next destination clear in mind.

"Was your visit informative, Miss Ivy?"

"It was, Alfred. Seems I won't be doing fancy tricks with the flowers anytime soon. But, I can live with that. I'd like to be dropped off at Harley's place. I'll likely be a while so please don't wait this time. I'll get a cab back to the manor, you've done plenty already."

Alfred chuckled heartily as he readied for the next leg of the drive. "It's no trouble. I do hope you can smooth things over with Miss Quinzel."

Ivy settled into place again, wistfully looking at all the plant life with a small sigh while nodding in agreement. The need to know who was still supportive of her was stronger yet. And Harley was important above all else.

"Just passed the foundry district! They're on a planned escape route looks like!"

"Tracking still active, do what you can dispatch! Backup is moving to close in!"

The chase had taken them into the tighter corners of the industrial buildings, sending the car bouncing every time they had to cross a kerb. More than once, they came within a breath of smashing rotting pallets and other discards along the way.

"Cuttin' it close Harv!"

"I ain't keen to see more guns on the streets. We let this punk go to ground, anyone could get put under tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know. Try to make sure we don't join them."

When the chase eventually came to an end, it was at the doorway to one of the many supposedly defunct warehouses in the area. The biker had been able to go straight inside. Ramming the doors with the car was problematic for far too many reasons for Bullock to try.

With a much needed break from the swerving and bumping, Montoya took the chance to get herself back together for the call-in. "Arrived on suspected scene, proceeding on foot. Could be the place, or they lost us. Out."

Both left the car at the same time, Montoya going straight for the doors while readying her pistol.

"Monty! Ballistic vest! Ain't scooping you off the floor today!"

She rolled her eyes while taking up position at the door for surveillance. "If they're bringing in automatics, I don't think it'll matter."

Once Bullock came over with the second vest, she moved aside to let him take the lead while getting hers on.

Inside, past the obvious front of discarded crates directly in front of the door, they were met with a sparse extensive floor. Obstacles to keep it looking occupied from the outside, nothing more. If it had been in use, they had already relocated to another site entirely.

Worse still, there wasn't even a skid mark or an exhaust trail pointing towards where the biker had fled.

"They were prepared alright. Probably long gone now. We callin' it?"

"Let's check the place first. Maybe someone got sloppy and dropped a file or a gun on the way." Montoya adjusted her grip while sighing in frustrating at the continued headache. "And I need a walk before my head explodes."

Right as she began moving out of cover, a spray of bullets chased across the concrete floor towards her. She was back behind the stack of crates before it got near. As far as plans went, hiding potential evidence by shooting at detectives was as poorly thought out as they came, if that was the intent at all.

"Shit! I didn't get eyes on the perp!"

"I did! Hang tight!"

When the gunspray stopped for a few moments, Bullock twisted around to fire at the hanging office to their right. Sparks flew as the bullets struck steel, none managed to hit the gunman directly.

He went back into full cover when the gunfire started again. It wasn't quite enough to drown out the sound of another vehicle speeding away from the area, making the purpose more clear.

"Great, of all days is when I gotta be a lousy shot! And his buds are bookin' it!"

"Forget the others, don't want this creep getting away as well!"

Montoya took her turn at firing at the assailant. Her angle gave her a mildly better view of the attacker, though with her head spinning from the excess noise, she was no more precise even with a lot more shots fired.

"Shit! I think it's the biker! I can't get a good hit!"

"Figures! Drop off the weapons, cover the escape out back, then make a run for it with the bike!"

"How do we stop step three then?"

Over the next blare of gunfire, the sound of a window being smashed came through. They were seconds away from losing the gunman.

"Out front! I'll go for it!"

Before Bullock could stop her, Montoya charged out of cover to bolt right for the stairway up. One last of gunfire trailed her feet before it ended with a louder crash of glass. By the time she got halfway up, there was a heavy thump on the other side of the metal wall.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, she went right for the smashed window. The biker was already starting to take off.

"Screw it!" She fired several more times as the bike sped off into the maze of buildings. A minor hit on the left leg was all she achieved, not enough to throw the rider off, or take out one of the tyres for that matter.

In the end, a long chase and shootout that had ended with the possibility of a blood splatter as their only result for the ordeal. And that was assuming there would even be enough for a sample, if she had struck blood at all.

By the time she returned to the car, Bullock was already warning the other patrols to keep a watch out. Whatever the case, they had failed to get anything worthwhile out of the mess. All because she was way off the required level of competency.

"Yeah, looks like they had this one all planned out. Took a few shots, no joy. No, we're okay, no gushers here-"

Another loud thump pulled him out of the car. That time, it was Montoya letting loose with her fist on the bonnet.

"Shit, get it together Renee!"

When she was done thumping it out, she clawed at the metal instead. The pain was surging hard, all of the anxiety over the inquest as well as her dismal future wracking around at the surface. She nearly lashed out at Bullock when he grabbed her arm to turn around.

"Renee, forget the asshole with a gun! Shit like this happens! Beatin' up the car's gonna look a lot worse, take it from me!" He released the grip when she calmed down barely enough to look at him properly. "Especially if next time it's not a cop car, but a civi's! Or maybe it's some punk who looks at you funny you start doing this to!"

He jabbed his finger at the dent left in the metal, making sure Montoya looked at it properly, and considered the implication.

"I get it, Renee! You think you're falling apart, and you can't decide whether ya need to work harder or give up! Losing your temper's the fastest way to get thrown out though, 'cause I ain't the only one who saw ya lose it a couple days ago! Someone screams 'police brutality' while you're on investigation for shootin' the Joker and ya done! You get that!?"

Montoya stared blankly at him, waiting until she burned out before feeling able to nod in understanding. She turned around to the car again, running her bruised hand over the dent with a wince.

"Shit, how am I gonna explain this one?"

"I drove through a lotta stuff on the way. One more dent ain't gonna be questioned. I suggest ya try coolin' off before others get here."

"Yeah, I'll try." She started back towards the passenger's side, running a hand through her hair in exhaustion. "Who am I kidding? I've let it get this bad already."

"Hey, no quittin' on my watch, Monty. You do way more for this city than any of those stuck-up, overdressed crusaders. Don't forget it."

Climbing up through the desolate building only heightened Ivy's apprehension. The lower floors were riddled with signs of squatters and outright thugs. Many of the walls had been smashed open, anything that wasn't clearly load-bearing and would bring the whole thing down.

Further up, the condition of the place mildly improved. If people did still live in the middle floors, they did so to get away from Gotham's worst. Whether having Harley Quinn as the top floor occupier was a good or bad thing was only known to them.

That floor itself was seemingly in the process of being co-opted into Harley's domain. All the walls were bearing the graffiti she usually started with in the first month of occupation. What the other apartments would be used for, if not women in equal need of a place to hide as Harley herself, she couldn't even guess.

Harley's specific door was easy to identify from her own homebrew reinforcement welded to it. Something that could possibly withstand a crude bomb, and be the last thing standing in the entire place. Having that put to the test was another thing she didn't want to consider.

"Harley? It's me. I'm ready to talk, if you are."

She heard a bit of movement inside, but nothing akin to someone moving towards the door.

"I'm not upset at you, Harls. I know I was going way too quick. And in case you're still mad at me for apologizing too much, I won't-"

The door opened anyway, though Harley wasn't standing in the open to greet her. Ivy was about to step inside when the unmistakable smell of dogs wafted out.

"I swear, she'd better not have…"

When she did step inside, she was nearly snapped at by a spotted hyena that proceeded to snicker at her and run off. From the sound of it, there was a second much further along in the apartment. Likely the neighbouring one through a demolished wall.

"Daisy and May."

Ivy turned around while Harley closed the door. Her hair was tied up more into messy buns over the pigtails, and her equally messy tight t-shirt and glittery shorts made their styles more alike in a way. It was much harder to tell what kind of mood she was in that day.

"The hyenas?"

"Yeah. I got nostalgic for Bud and Lou. You weren't here when Joker turned them into mince."

Ivy did her best to not wince at the mental image that had been conjured, and failed. At that point she was still hesitant to even reach a hand out to Harley in support. What she wanted their relationship to be like was theoretical, and she had yet to really learn what it was actually like.

After a few seconds, Harley shrugged on her way past to switch on a rather outdated air conditioner set into one of the frosted windows. After a grinding whirr, it at least started to get the airflow moving throughout the place, sending the smell down through holes in the floorboards.

Unsure of how to proceed, Ivy continued standing in place. For reasons beyond her comprehension, she felt as if she could only talk about Harley. Talking to her felt like an impossible challenge, growing worse every time they came face to face. From the point she had woken up, to where she was in tears over upsetting her.

It took her even longer to snap out of the daydream thinking, to notice that Harley was staring right at her. Without a word. Expecting her to make the first move. Borderline impatient with her presence.

"So much for knowing what to say. Maybe I should come back another time."

"Why?"

Ivy lifted her eyebrows with a twist of her head. Of all the possible responses, it wasn't what she had prepared herself for.

"Why? Why am I here now, or why am I putting it off for another time? Or why am I bothering?" She winced sharply after that. "That one's unfair, Harls."

The stare ended with exasperation from Harley. Not entirely directed at Ivy either.

"I know. You're still trying to work it all out. Maybe before we go out to dinner again, Ives, remember that we're not normal people. We're fucked up in the head."

"We're also not the kind of scum that can murder in cold blood and sit down for family dinner an hour later, Harls. We're bad, but there's a lot worse out there. Unlike some I could name, we don't say 'Hail Mary' and act like we're guilt free."

"Well Jews and atheists don't say 'Hail Mary' to begin with, Ives. That's probably why."

It was small, but the biting humour was at least something of the real Harley showing through. Enough to make Ivy laugh at herself.

"What the fuck are we talking about? Maybe I'm running my mouth because the Green shut me out and I'm trying to fill in all the missing sound."

"Ask Bruce for WayneBuds then."

Ivy took the levity for all she could, moving closer towards Harley at last, leaving room for her to make the next move. Watching her step forward, and then throw her arms around for an embrace had never been so relieving.

"I'm trying, Red."

"I know."

Ivy tightened the hold with one arm, her free hand sliding up along Harley's side to her face. Holding her tenderly, reminding herself that they weren't that far gone.

The tenderness inevitably gave way to an exchange of kisses, and exploring hands, before the two landed on the couch and went back for some air. Unlike the other day, hormones weren't threatening to run out of check.

"So, this is why you're still really pale, huh? Nature flipped you off and that's it? No more plant powers?"

"Yep, no more powers. It's just ordinary, pasty-green Ivy. No wristbow, no chemicals, no piranha plants with a personality."

"I'll miss Frank."

With the ice finally broken between them, Ivy relaxed further back, letting her legs entwine with Harley's. "Why am I so stupid, Harls? I got fixated on fancy dinners because of that dumb conversation about the burger, and it cost your hand."

Harley looked at her bandaged hand on reflex, trying not to clench it in the process. "Red, don't start the blame train again. Literally, anything else, or I'll kick you right-"

"Ahh, I get it Harls." Ivy tactically moved Harley's threatening foot out from between her thighs. "What about therapy? Is that a kick-worthy topic?"

"Whose therapy specifically?"

Ivy curled her lips in. The moment of truth was at hand, and she not so subtly pressed her legs tightly together first. "Dr Strange mentioned giving us the option of couple's sessions, if you agreed to it as well."

She grabbed for a nearby cushion as defence against the mostly-teasing jabbing of toes she got in response. "I thought it was sweet. He said we were romantic partners in such a natural way that I wanted to keep that sentiment going."

It did bring a ceasefire to the assault against her midsection. Over the top of the cushion, she could see it meant something greater to Harley as well.

"We've been on and off for however many years now. Normally I'd say I don't care what others think, but that's changing. And, shit, after the whole thing with the Green I really kind of need something to be positive about. Being treated as a couple is that to me."

"Mm, no promises. I know he's doing his best, but the problem with studying psychology means I know a lot of the methods. Makes it a lot harder to let them work as intended."

"Physician heal thyself?"

"Look at you, Red. There's a bit of actual culture in ya." Harley snickered, pulling her legs back to crawl towards Ivy and lay closer to her instead. "Then again, snagging quotes off the internet is all it takes now huh? And it's the wrong profession anyway."

"Yes, the internet I had access to in the deep Amazonian. The terrible reception must be why I read it wrong."

She put the cushion aside to let Harley rest comfortably on top, reaching around to stroke her hair when her face nestled close to her collarbone. "For what it's worth, it was kind of nostalgic. I could tell he cared, the same way you did back in the day."

"Hopeful Ivy." After another snicker, Harley rubbed her cheek against Ivy's chest. "There's your new name. Hope Ivy."

"Do not."

"Too late, Hope."

Cheesy as the name was to Ivy, in a twisted way it did make her smile to see Harley sliding towards her more bubbly self at last. Especially when it was on her own terms.

"Tell you what, Harls. You don't call me Hope, ever again, and you get a treat right now."

"Treat first, huh?"

Ivy smirked as she sat up, easing Harley off her. Whatever the condition of the place, there was a feeling of freedom to being away from the manor. One she made the most of when pulling her shirt up in a deliberate teasing pace.

Harley's giggle said it all, as did her mischievous tugging at the frills of Ivy's bra, before she was clapped away from it.

"Hands off the goods until you've earned them, Harls. It's Ivy from now on, that's the condition."

After giving it all of a few seconds thought, Harley nodded eagerly. She proceeded to vault over the back of the couch with as much enthusiasm, using the movement to wrest her own shirt free. Unlike Ivy, she had forgone underwear in her case.

"Bed's much better, promise. And the girls know not to go near it."

Her smirk growing larger, Ivy shifted her jaw about with a light lick as she rose to pursue Harley.

"You're sure those are female hyenas?"

"Yeah. Not so hard to tell the difference when they're excited if you know what to look for."

Nearly two hours later, Ivy was back outside, staring across the street wistfully.

The serene smile across her face said enough, as did the few locks of red that had come loose from the tie-up. It was far more than three months, or even a year that had been taken off her mind for the next while. She had definitive proof that the Harley she wanted in her life was still there. However much she had to endure to get back to her, it would all be worth it.

"Ivy, you okay?"

Serenity passed. Ivy blinked, then nodded, turning her head. The smile remained.

"Tiffany, right? Yeah, I'm fine."

Tiffany shrugged casually, digging her hands back into the pockets of her jacket. "Needed a walk away from all the office work. Figured stopping by wouldn't hurt. Watching your back's gonna be awkward either way to start with, so I'm getting over it as soon as possible."

The shrug was mirrored by Ivy as she turned to face Tiffany properly. "If you haven't heard, I actually do need the extra help after all. No chlorokinesis."

"Alfred's been sharing the news with the rest of the circle. Might have a few ideas for alternative defence if you like. Bruce says the wristbow is off the table until you develop a new knockout formula."

"Sleep darts are more fragile anyway. And there's no way to make an injection near-instant without throwing risk of heart failure in. I've tried."

Her eyes wandered about in thought. There was no ignoring the danger that the streets posed, and realistically she had to be open to arming herself again. The key was determining what would suit her skills best, rather than what used to compliment her motives.

"Well, I can send you some of the concepts when you get back to the manor. And you can send any ideas back my way. I wouldn't mind having something new to tackle. Tweaking drones only goes so far. And, best part is, it'll make these catch-ups less awkward if we actually have something to talk about."

"Because the only thing we could possibly talk about is work or self-defence?" Ivy laughed a little more. "It's a generational thing, isn't it? You're the only one of the 'inner circle' I don't have any personal history with, so it can't be that."

Tiffany nodded, looking away for bit. "Yeah, pretty much. I'm not good at crossing that gap. I mean, my dad's my dad, Bruce is my employer, and Kate doesn't stick around to chat. I don't have to think about it usually."

"I get it, and I do appreciate the help. Being without powers hasn't really sunk in yet." Ivy gave it all some more thought, then looked at the microdrone resting on a dock strapped to Tiffany's shoulder. "I think I'll go for a walk myself before calling Alfred. Could try the drone watch instead, I haven't seen them in action and I'm curious."

"Wouldn't be a great microdrone if you noticed it following you." Tiffany pulled her phone out, and with a few simple gestures brought the microdrone to life. Up close, the high whirring was hard to miss, but from a much larger distance it would be effectively silent.

The sight amused Ivy quite a bit, her hand reaching up tentatively to get a sense of the downdraft. It was no larger than a finch. "Is there a range I need to stay within then?"

"Nah, Barb and I have the city networked for this. You could be in Blüdhaven and I'd still be able to have eyes on you from here. So if anything does happen out in the open, someone will come help. Count on it."

"Thanks. I won't keep you on watch too long. Watch your own back while you're at it."

Ivy started on her walk with that. With the sky approaching late afternoon, the look of the decrepit buildings around here began to change. Shadows were being emphasised, casting some in a more sinister light. Others looked less dreary in their own way, the scars and decay blending in without the sun shining directly onto them.

True to its name, Old Gotham had age to it. In some districts, like the borough where Dr Strange's office was located, it had a classical feeling. The flats felt more like the reality of those days. Nothing painting over the destitution and decay, plastered over what had once been healthy swampland.

The real irony of her exile from the Green felt clearer as she noticed how extensive the endless concrete was. Bruce had described the difficulty in building new housing when the security requirements at every stage were so high. That manpower alone made it costly to build even the simplest of apartment blocks. Keeping the supplies from being stolen, the workers from being harmed, and the buildings themselves from being sabotaged.

With her chlorokinesis, and her new outlook on life, she could have solved all of the problems herself. Thick vine walls that would regrow on their own, capable of defending themselves, not to mention integrating her own idea of organic structures into the process. So much potential to be brought to the city, barred by her own selfish past.

Then again, she knew the bureaucracy of the city well enough. If Bruce was having trouble getting anything done, trusting a former villain to rebuild was off the table through prejudice and spite already.

Once again her introspection was interrupted abruptly, that time by the rumble of her temporary phone.

"Great. Get it for a day, the spam calls already start up."

She kept walking while drawing it out, ready to dismiss whatever was trying to get her attention. Seeing it was a text from Tiffany made her hum in thought.

"Cancelling already?"

When the message came up in full, she nearly stopped in place. A helpful reminder kept her from doing so.

You're being followed. Black coat, sunglasses. Act natural, don't turn around. Barb's getting ID now.

Ivy tried to keep her face from giving away the warning on the likelihood others ahead were watching her. She faked a smile and began tapping a response.

Check Harley's place. Could be after her too. I'll keep walking.

She remained more observant of her surroundings. Watching the buildings for any sign of the observers, as well as any reflective surface that could let her see who was following her. Given her history, there were any number of people that could be out to follow her, and stalkers were the 'good' option.

That's an ex-Marine. Possibly PMC. Carrying SMG. No-one near Harley.

In that moment, Ivy broke character out of a stark realization, nearly coming to a stop yet again.

"PMC…"

She went right back to the phone again. Enough was in place for her to surmise what was going on.

Ace Chemicals. They have PMC ties. They're-

From the alley to her immediate left sprang another man, striding right over to her and putting an arm around her back. A sharp jab into her right waist marked the injection of a hidden needle.

"Excuse the prick, but we can't have you causing a mess with those vines. This way."

Ivy relented without a struggle, letting her phone drop away on the odd chance it would go unnoticed. The crunch of glass a few seconds later when the follower caught up crushed that hope in a matching manner.

They didn't go far from the street before she was brought to a stop again. At a cross section of alleyways, several other men and women in black coats stepped into the open. One of them took off his glasses, folding it into his pocket calmly.

"Dr Isley. We haven't met before, but I've been following your progress for some time now."

Ivy wrested her arms free of the grip applied, lifting her hands afterwards to indicate she wasn't going to cause trouble.

"I know you're in bed with Ace Chem. If they didn't already tell you, I don't have the gold."

The man laughed curtly at that, taking another step forward. "We're not here about the gold. And we're not here to hold you ransom so that Mr Wayne will pay up the difference."

He put his hands out in a passive gesture, then brought them together in front. For all the sinister setup, the soft Scottish accent and calmness in his voice suggested he was far from the bitter soldier type that PMCs typically drew.

"Of course, where are my manners. Professor Rupert Haimes, biochemist. Dr Isley, I'm here to present you with a lucrative job offer. I do hope you'll hear me out, and see why it's in your best interests to accept."