Session 6: An Exercise in Closure

The following weeks were odd. With Isley as her sole patient, Doctor Quinzell found herself with more free time than she had had in many years. And yet, most of that time was spent in preparations–partly for the warden's retaliation, but mostly for what would come after.

The Warden, true to his word, blacklisted Harleen as far as his influence spread, which was at least throughout all of Gotham. Harleen pursued this line no further than it took to confirm the blacklist had indeed been enacted before moving on. She'd already had ideas for a new plan for her life–plans with more risk, but the potential to be even more fulfilling; now that she had thoroughly incinerated her bridges along the safer path, it was time to commit to her ideas in earnest and develop them into a workable plan.

This meant a lot of research and writing, and an uncomfortable amount of networking. Harleen had never been so thankful that she had managed to lose her phone anxiety and keep her college yearbooks. It meant skipping meals occasionally in order to pay to go out to lunch with people. Slowly, and not without missteps, things began to come together.

Between all of this, and getting sleep where she could manage it, were her continuing sessions with Dr. Isely, which were only partially for show.

"We don't know exactly how things are going to go," Harleen said one day. "But either way there's a good chance you'll have to go in front of the board to be certified sane."

Pamela nodded. "Well, I am sane," she said cautiously, "So that shouldn't be too difficult…right?"

"Unfortunately, this test is not just about proving you know who you are and red from blue. It also includes trigger testing. You'll need to show that you can handle certain conditions without relapsing. The things we've worked on so far will help with that, if you use them. However, there is one…other thing you should be prepared for."

"Yes?"

"Under the circumstances, and based on what you've told me, they will most likely ask you to rescind your accusations against Professor Woodrue."

"No," Isley said, flatly.

"Look, Pam, I know–" Harleen began.

"You don't." Pamela took a slow, deep breath. "Bellis Perennis."

Harleen felt a small surge of pride as Isely used the techniques they had developed and practiced together. She waited silently until her patient opened her eyes and spoke again.

"You've done so much to help me, Doctor Quinzell," Pamela said. "And I really do appreciate it. But…You don't know what it was like, for me. He…When I came for him, as Poison Ivy, he was…unrepentant. Worse, he was arrogant. He tried to take credit for what I had become, suggested I should let him study me. Offered me 'more of what I'd had a taste of before.'" Pamela shuddered. "He was arrogant, vile, and completely uncaring of the pain he'd caused and the wrong he had done. And now he's being celebrated and mourned as a beloved mentor whilst I'm in here, and everyone thinks I'm the monster."

Harleen waited, to make sure Isely was finished, then took a deep breath. "I would love," she said, "for you to be able to get the legal closure that you deserve. I would so love for you to be understood, for people to see your pain, even if they condemned your actions. I would love for you to be able to not be alone in carrying the burden of truth.

"However, I don't think that that is going to happen. The world does not want to see its victims, especially its female victims; it does not want to deal with the consequences of acknowledging that truth; and we don't have a strong enough case of proof to try to force them–not now, at least. Maybe we can try to make a world where such truths don't go unpunished. But, Pamela, in the meantime, right now, you are letting him imprison you, inside your head. Don't let the evil of the dead keep you locked up–inside an asylum or inside your pain. Let him go, and free yourself. Please."

Dr. Isely stared at Harleen. There was no fire in her eyes now; just the water of held back tears. "I–I'll…I'll try," she said, quietly. "I can't promise anything."

"I know." Harleen returned. "This is an act of courage. I won't abandon you, though, no matter what. And I'll keep believing you, so you aren't the only one who knows the truth. That's what I can promise you."

That evening, Harleen went home, not knowing that the final confrontation was already within sight.