WARNING: mentions of abuse/abusive relationships

…

It hadn't been the first time the door knocked followed by anguished sobbing, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. At this point, I already knew it would be her. Yet my questions of why she would run back to him after her endless cycle of abuse still rang high. The damn knock happened just when I was attending to my many plants when I had to leave them to let her in.

I opened the door to my apartment I made as my makeshift hideout when I saw her, her appearance alone told me enough of what happened. Her lip appeared to be busted with a trickle of blood coming down it, her eyes looked red and puffy as if she'd been crying, her makeup appeared to be stained on her face most likely a result from her possible crying, her pigtails looked messy and tangled, and there was no doubt that there were a few bruises from her chin to her forehead. Her jester costume was torn and ruined, though the sight of the jester costume alone made my skin crawl. Despite how much left of her body was covered by her torn jester outfit, I was certain she'd have worse injuries.

"Harley…" I gasped in horror and disgust.

The horror was by the sight of how broken she appeared and who knew what other kind of damage other than the physical damage she suffered at the hands of that clown she claimed to love. The disgust was from the very conclusion I made in my own head of who was responsible for the state of this broken woman.

"Hi, Red," she replied tearfully, her high-pitched voice etched with pain.

I immediately beckoned her into the living room without a word, saving my energy for a serious conversation I would have with her. She did as asked, limping her way to the couch and the sight of watching her make her way to there caused a sinking feeling in my chest. My past experience with men taught me enough about Harley's troubles with her…"Puddin'." The thought of such a nickname made me shudder.

Shaking my head, I shut the door behind me then took a seat next to her in the living room. Seeing her broken state saddened and angered me enough that I was almost certain I was reaching my breaking point. Even my plants had come to understand my frustration with the woman who I called my best friend. It had to have been the same story like it had been for the past several times she arrived at my place.

Watching her walk in with pain, shame, fear, and sorrow shown on her face and knowing the cause of such emotions in her made my blood boil. I hated the monster who broke her and left her in this state. I knew he was responsible for her state, he only used her for another part in his damn punchline. He didn't care about anyone except for maybe Batman. I didn't have to say anything when Harley spoke, her voice drenched with shame and anguish.

"I failed Mistah J again."

"No." I barely noticed a quiver in my own voice, the delivery of her words angered me. Of course, it wasn't the first time I heard her say this, but it still left a profound feeling of anger and sorrow, and it wasn't just my distrust of men. It was the man responsible for Harley's wounds that amped up my thoughts and feelings.

"No, Ive," she sobbed, looking down at her lap, downcast. "You don't understand. Mistah J was just stressed, and I haven't been on my toes on the missions lately. Pammy, it happens."

I shook my head, mouthing "no" in response. The other nickname that she gave him and was right now calling him made my skin crawl. The mention of him in any form at all caused a tremble in my body. He always caused a lot of unease amongst the underworld of criminals in Gotham City, not that I blamed them despite mainly hating their guts for their greed and arrogance polluting the earth around them. That monster was the worst offender of them all.

I took a closer look at the scars Harley suffered at the hands of that abusive clown, starting with her face then made my way down. The closer I examined each of her injuries, the more my heart started to sink for this poor woman. While I had no knowledge of the details on the abuse, but I found myself already imagining how much the creep would beat her almost to black and blue, and it wasn't the first time I had imagined such things. I could only wince and cringe at each injury out of worry and knowing I had to fix her up.

"Wait here," I said firmly, standing up.

I noticed her slightly bobbing her head up and down as a nodding gesture before I turned to leave to head to my bathroom. My years of being in touch in nature allowed me to create many healing ointments and other natural remedies for medical needs. As I quickly grabbed a few things to help Harley, my mind kept racing back to seeing her injuries and hearing every word she would say as her defense of the clown. Even some of our fellow rogues had mentioned Harley's self-blame. It was always the same.

"I failed Mistah J."

"Mistah J was stressed."

"I shouldn't have screwed up."

"I didn't get the joke."

Everything along those lines. Always spoken with absolute raw guilt, yet soon afterward, she would run back to him only to continue the same vicious cycle. How much more of these constant injuries could she take before that monster would possibly kill her? I pondered on this, often with a sinking heart, I didn't want to think about the possibility of my best friend dying at the hands of the Joker, god, saying his name alone made my blood boil.

I remembered continuously telling Harley how awful her relationship was, but my warnings often went unheeded. Unless if she decided to break off from him permanently, she would never fully breakaway from him. On multiple occasions, I devised plans to kill the clown not just for his blatant disrespect for nature but for also abusing the young woman to the point of being black and blue. However, Harley stopped me those times, claiming she needed him. Classic case of codependency. I wanted that clown dead, not to become a slave under my spell, dead!

I finished grabbing a couple of supplies before leaving my bathroom. I made my way to the living room to see that Harley looked to be holding her knees close to her chest and resting her chin on her knees with her expression painted with anguish. The sight made my heart sink so low that I was almost certain it would have reached to my stomach. I knew she was still coming to grips with the clown kicking her out again, but I was tired of watching her continue the cycle she had been in since the start of her horrendous relationship.

You have to tell her, Pamela. You can't keep letting her walk around eggshells when with the Joker. If you don't, she'll die, and you'd lose your best friend.

I couldn't keep letting this happen any longer. If I wanted any chance of her at least considering on moving on from the clown permanently, I couldn't let her have a final say.

I sat down beside her then got to work fixing her injuries. She looked up, a weak smile on her face, I couldn't help but smile back before turning my focus back to her injuries. I was careful of course; I didn't want to hurt her.

"Thanks for being there for me, Pammy."

Her voice was hoarse, probably from crying, but I noticed the gratitude in her tone.

"You're welcome, Harls," I replied.

I was just about to look at her busted lip when I stopped in my tracks, pondering how I should bring up the topic. Of course, you would want what was best for your friend, but seeing them hurt by someone who your friend claimed to love was a painful thought. It would hurt you, right? This was exactly what I felt when it came to Harley.

I put the healing creams down then stood up, Harley giving me her full attention.

"Harley," I said gravely. "I know you've probably heard this several times, but I need you to hear me out."

She kept her full attention without turning away. After deciding that she really was listening, I continued.

"Your relationship with the Joker." God! Saying his name again, I shuddered. "It's not healthy at all. He's abusive! It would only be a matter of time before he kills you! I care about you and I'm sure your other friends care about you too."

Truthfully, I could barely stand any of our fellow rogues, almost like how I couldn't stand humanity. However, I kept note of their concerns for Harley, that seemed to be one of the few things we could agree on, except for Joker for obvious reasons.

"You can't keep going back to him and then likely anticipate more scars from him! It's not about not getting the joke or him getting stressed or whatever other excuse you give him. That doesn't excuse him for hurting you to the point of you being black and blue with your blood spilling on the floor! Harley, what life is that? I would hate to find you lying dead on the ground, and I'm sure anyone else who isn't that clown would feel the same way! Besides, he doesn't love you! You're just another prop for his punchline and that role could kill you! God, I would hate to imagine you lying six feet under because the clown decided to beat you to death! I'm worried sick for you!"

I was only vaguely aware of my voice growing more distressed and halfway through my speech, I could feel tears brimming through my eyes, though I wiped them away. I knew I would become even more worried, but I never thought I'd react in the way that I did. Maybe it was the memories of my past of men taking advantage of me that haunted me that triggered the reaction. I only hoped it was enough to get Harley to start thinking about staying away from the clown for good.

Harley nodded, seeming to have understood what I said despite that I was close to tears. I sat down then continued to fix her injuries in silence, deciding to give her time to really ponder my worried rant. Truthfully, I was surprised she did not argue but it was for the best that she didn't. She spent far too long defending him, but her injuries told a different story. There was no such thing as "mad love" when all it did was leaving her lying in a puddle of her own blood. All I could do was to continue to patch her up and then get her to rest to make her full recovery.

— — — — —

After I finished fixing up Harley's injuries, I carefully guided her to my bedroom. She had at first protested, wanting to stay up late and watch television or play a game but I was firmly against it on this night. She needed to rest to fully recover from her injuries, especially if there was any plan to confront the clown in the future.

Nevertheless, I got her on the bed then left her briefly to find her a change of clothes, her jester outfit made me shudder. She gave me no fuss as I helped her into a new change of clothes then tucked her into bed. Her sigh of contentment made me smile.

"Thanks, Red," she said, sounding more cheerful than she was mere moments ago.

I nodded in acknowledgement.

"You need your rest, Harls."

"Red, I have something I would like to say."

That caught me off guard as I eyed her in surprise. However, I began to have a sinking feeling in my heart that something bad was going to come out of Harley's mouth. I gave a slow gesture to let her continue.

"Red, after some thinking, I decided I've had enough of Joker. You were right all along. He doesn't love me, and I'm going to confront him to tell him we're over."

I barely realized how wide my smile became before I wrapped my arms around her, though careful to not agitate her healing wounds. I hoped she would finally grasp that her obsession with the clown was awful and unhealthy, and she'd finally create something new out of herself, something that showed that she would be willing to gain her own agency.

"I'm so proud of you, Harls," I smiled. "Though I would have you wait a few days to heal up before confronting him. But you took the first step in gaining your own agency, realizing your relationship with him is anything but healthy."

She leaned back against the pillows, still with a smile on her face. It was such a huge change from how she was when she first walked into the living room a few hours ago. She had first come in as a complete wreck sporting several wounds and an equally wounded spirit. Now, she was on her way to recovery and in much higher spirits.

"You're a good friend, Ive," she said.

"You too, Harls," I smiled back.

I walked closer to her then leaned close to her, caressing her face. Seeing her in happier spirits and now determined to set her own destiny was something to be proud of, and I was almost certain word would spread quick.

"Sleep well," I said.

I gently pressed my lips against her forehead, kissing it before pulling away then shut off the light to allow her to sleep. While the kiss to her forehead was brief, the sparks came flying around, telling me maybe I had something more for Harley than just friendship. However, I was proud of her for realizing how bad her relationship was and now, she was set to get herself back on her feet after being under the clown's cursed spell for so long. During that period, I was worried sick, fearing the day when she would only be a corpse after the clown had enough of her. Now, she was ready to completely toss him out of her life and I would be right there with her as not just a fellow Gotham City Siren, but also a friend.

…

It's been a while since I've posted anything on here and I had this idea in my mind recently. I apologize if it's not too up to par.

While I rarely ever do many ships on here, there are so few I consider an exception and I love HarlIvy, so I made this, though it's probably more friendship than lovers. I'm well certain there are many people out there who have written this ship far better than me, I recommend checking them out.

Also, this is probably the first time in a while I took a hand in writing in first person, but I apologize if it's kinda off. One more thing, I have a lot of strong opinions and with Ivy having my exact thoughts on Joker/Harley, it was quite easy to write in Ivy's point of view and writing out her thoughts. Anyway, hopefully y'all enjoyed!