Title: It's Just Allergies (8/??)
Author: Allaine
Email: eac2nd@yahoo.com
Distribution: Probably at fanfiction.net and the factsofslash group. Anyone interested should just ask, and can expect a positive answer.
Spoilers: Takes place after the New Batman/Superman Adventures, with one alteration - in my story, Ivy's skin never turned white like the Joker's. So she still looks like you and me.
Feedback: Well, this fanfic is uncharted territory for me, so reader opinions may very well determine whether I finish it or not. So I would encourage it even more than usual.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: All characters belong to . . . let's see, DC Comics, Kids WB and the Cartoon Network, the producers of the two Batman serials, the talented artists and voice actors, etc. I have borrowed them entirely without permission, for which I humbly beg forgiveness, but I seek no form of profit from this undertaking.
Summary: When Poison Ivy finds her well-being threatened by the unlikeliest of sources, Harley Quinn proves that Ivy doesn't have to be alone anymore, ever again. My first Batman fanfiction.
_______________________________________________________
(Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Jen Kinloch, for all the discussions we've had lately about Harley and Ivy, which I've enjoyed so much. And if anyone else ever wants to talk in more detail than just a few lines in a review, feel free to write to the above email address. Thanks.)
Chapter 8
"You should go," Ivy suggested. "You've told me all about that time you led the Bat to the Joker and his atomic bomb. He left you in here, and you were out within five minutes. So you should do whatever you did the last time."
"Nuh-uh," Harley replied stubbornly. "Not going anywhere."
"We're parked outside of Arkham, Harley. You know, the place you escaped from less than twelve hours ago? The place they want to put you back inside?" Ivy reminded her. "As soon as this is over with, he's going to come back and take you back to your cell. Why won't you get away while he's inside doing who knows what?"
"Because he's probably going to put you back inside too," Harley said, as if it was the most obvious thing. "The only reason you were released was because they figured with your mind under their control, you wouldn't break the law. Well, as soon as their power over you is broken, won't they want to have you re-admitted?"
Ivy paused, mouth slightly open. She hadn't thought of that at all. "Crap," she muttered. "I won't even get to enjoy my latest taste of freedom."
"I thought you enjoyed a little of it," Harley said hesitantly. "I did."
The redhead looked down and saw Harley's hands, wrists once again adorned with steel handcuffs like hers were, slipping into hers. Much like their earlier trip, the two women were wedged tightly into the passenger side. Ivy could have scooted over a little, now that the driver's seat was unoccupied, but only if she wanted a stick shift up her rear. Besides, she liked being scrunched up against Harley this time as much as she had the last time.
She squeezed Harley's hands. "Some of it was . . . very nice. I keep forgetting how smart you are."
"You're the only person who _knows_ how smart I am," Harley answered cheekily. And she giggled, briefly crossing her eyes.
"So I'll be going back in. No big deal. Now that I'll be able to get close to my darling plants again, I can just get out the way I usually do," she said idly. "Without permission."
"Yeah, but I don't want to wait around on the outside while waiting for you to escape from the inside," Harley responded. "Either we're both in, or we're both out."
"Then let's make it 'out'," Ivy immediately said, tugging at Harley's cuffs.
But Harley shook her head. "You need the Bat to turn off whatever they did, remember?"
"Damn!" Ivy swore. She'd forgotten. "I can't have you trapped in there because of me, Harley. And I'd rather you were nowhere near the Joker."
"Jealous?"
"Frightened. He likes to hurt you, Harley," she pointed out unhappily. "He has a power over you, and he asserts it whenever the whim hits him. When I'm forced to sit there and watch as he makes you do the most degrading things, as he demeans your existence and cheapens your talents . . ." She looked down and felt a tear roll down her cheek. ". . . I hate him so much."
Harley moved in even closer and rested her chin on Ivy's shoulder. "You haven't asked me yet what happened while you were hypnotized."
Ivy hadn't. With the Bat around the entire time since then, she hadn't had the privacy she desired. "You made sure he didn't give me any triggers or anything that would make me into a good little girl, right?"
"Mm-hmm."
"And he figured out the Hatter was involved."
Harley nodded.
"So what else is there to know? Unless – I didn't say something embarrassing, did I?"
"I don't know. How embarrassed would you be if you knew that you told everyone you loved me as much as you love plants?" Harley asked. "And that you could probably live without plants as long as you still had me?"
Ivy stared at her, shocked. "I said that?"
"And you meant it," Harley continued wonderingly. "You were hypnotized, so you had to say how you really, truly felt."
"Well, of course I meant it," Ivy replied, still a little flustered. "I already told you once before how I felt about you. What," she added with some scorn, although not directed at her, "didn't the wonderful Mr. J mean it when he said it?"
"He never said it."
"What . . . you mean you've been going on about your great love for each other for all this time, and he never even told you he loved you?" Ivy asked, astounded.
"I thought he was the strong, silent type," Harley said feebly.
"Since when is your one true love silent about _anything_?" Ivy reminded her. "He'll share his opinion about anything."
Harley just looked down, humiliated.
"Oh, no, Harley," Ivy said, softening instantly. "I didn't mean to be nasty. I just . . ."
"I know, you hate my puddin'."
Ivy refrained from grinding her teeth at the sound of that detestable name. "Yes, Harley, just like your 'puddin' hates me. And I'm afraid you're going to have to make a choice at some point, because now I can't go on just being your friend while you're in the Joker's bed, and I know he's something of the possessive type."
Harley trembled. "I don't know, Ivy. I mean, I've been with him for so long, and all my fantasies and dreams for the future were about him."
Ivy looked away. "I see."
"And I thought it was all right if he didn't actually say he loved me, as long as I _believed_ he loved me. But . . . then you said it, and it made me feel _so_ good," Harley continued, her eyes welling up. "And now I'm not sure I could take being with a man who can't make me feel that way himself because he can't say those words, because he's more comfortable hurting me. Being in that kind of relationship when there's something kinder waiting for me – maybe that is crazy."
Ivy almost didn't dare to breathe as she looked into Harley's eyes. "I'll say that I love you as often as you like, Harley. I'll say it in front of the Bat, in front of the TV cameras. I'll even say it in front of a room full of Arkham inmates."
"Could you say it, maybe, just once more?"
"I love you, Harley."
Harley burst into tears.
Ivy pulled back, appalled. "Uh, Harley . . ."
"Oh, Red, I want to be with you too!" Harley bawled as she tried to hug Ivy. But the chain on her handcuffs got in the way. "Shit!" she screeched, and she picked the lock with such a vengeance that she had them off her wrists in fifteen seconds. Then she flung her arms around Ivy's neck and squeezed tightly.
"Can't . . . breathe . . ."
"Oops!" Harley gasped, letting go. Then she smiled craftily. "How 'bout I give you some oxygen then?" Leaning forward so that their noses barely touched, she placed her lips on top of Ivy's.
When they separated about a minute later, Ivy was flushed and both women were breathing heavily. "Wow," Ivy whispered.
"So anyway," Harley went on casually as she bent over and worked on Ivy's cuffs, as if nothing had happened, "wherever you go, I go. And if the Bat wants to put you back inside, then I'll just wait here to be picked up too."
"Well," Ivy said speculatively as she massaged her wrists, Harley having removed her bonds, "how fast can you figure out how to open this thing?"
Grinning like a cat, Harley pushed one of the dozens of buttons on Batman's dashboard, and the windshield pulled back in less than a second. "All this time, and he hasn't changed a thing. I can make a drag chute pop out of the trunk, too."
Ivy chuckled. "Then since we're both going back anyway, how about we go back a little ahead of schedule?"
__________________________________________________
The little man looked up from his bed at the shadow looming over him. "Would you like a cup of tea, Batman?"
"Heard about Ivy?" Batman asked.
"Oh yes," the Mad Hatter said, clucking his tongue. "They were telling the worst sort of jokes about her during group session."
"I heard you joined in," Batman replied. "Something about making her allergic to pollen."
"Yes, well, that would be the height of irony, wouldn't it?"
"Sort of like the way hatters used to go mad because of the chemicals in the very hats they created and wore?"
Jervis Tetch chuckled wryly. "I suppose so, Batman. So, come to see the latest model?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Come, come, Batman," Jervis chided him. "You and I both know what's going on here. I knew Dr. Park let you in on our little circle the minute you asked about Ms. Ivy. Dr. Park says it's going to be the new wave in behavior modification." He sounded upbeat, but he couldn't quite disguise the unenthusiastic look in his eye.
"Sure you don't have any qualms about using your mind control devices on fellow Rogues, Jervis?" Batman asked.
"Why, of course not," the Hatter blustered. "Dr. Park promised that he would take care of me. Here," he said, pulling a very small metal microchip out from under his mattress. "Look at this little wonder. Surgically implant it in the scalp of that Mock Turtle who calls himself 'Croc' and his skin will burn in reaction to the first contact with water. He won't be retreating to any more sewers, will he?"
"Water?" Batman asked, stunned. "And how's he supposed to take a drink?"
The Mad Hatter flicked his wrist. "Oh, any other liquid will do – juices, milk, sodas. He can _bathe_ in beer and not get hurt. It's only fresh water and salt water that his mind will insist are dangerous."
"So that's where Ivy has hers," Batman replied. "Under her scalp."
"That would be the most efficacious place."
But Jervis shrank back against the wall as the Bat drew himself to such a height that he entirely blotted out whatever light was in the cell. It was like he'd eclipsed the sun.
"And how," Batman growled as he seized Jervis by the shirt, reducing him to absolute terror, "will the doctor be taking care of _you_, Hatter, while everyone else here gets back their mental health at the possible cost of their lives?!"
"Er, now, well, Batman . . . perhaps maybe you weren't a part of this little scheme," Jervis babbled. He glanced to both sides for a moment before he grabbed the Bat's wrist and broke down completely. "I had to do it, Batman! He's the one who runs the asylum! He could overmedicate me, undermedicate me, take my privileges away. For God's sake, Batman, I didn't want to! I never had anything against Miss Isley, never. But I had no choice! It's not just the two of us, you know. _He's_ been keeping his eye on me ever since Dr. Park put him in the cell across from mine!" he added, pointing past Batman.
Not having noticed who was in the cell opposite, Batman looked over his shoulder. And discovered the former chief of security staring intently at him. As soon as their eyes met, Lockup quickly but casually turned his head and walked to the other side of his cell.
"I should have guessed," Batman murmured.
"Please, Batman," Jervis begged. "You can't confront Dr. Park. Lockup will kill me if you do."
"I'll take care of Lockup later," Batman said, shoving the Hatter back. Taking the chip from his other hand, he crushed it between his fingers, and Jervis moaned pitifully.
He turned to leave, but before he did, the Hatter spoke up once more. "Have you seen Poison Ivy recently?"
"Recently."
"She's going to kill me, isn't she?"
The Bat said nothing.
"Would you give her a message? Tell her I weep for her, I deeply sympathize," the Hatter said, resigned.
Sweeping out of the cell and closing it once more, Batman shot Lockup a quick look before continuing on toward the doctors' offices.
After he had gone, the Hatter tried his best to ignore the burning stare coming from across the corridor.
___________________________________________
As Batman approached Dr. Park's office, he saw by the light under the door that he was still in. Arkham physicians frequently kept late hours. He reached for the doorknob, but discovered it was locked. So he knocked instead. "Dr. Park?" he asked.
He was about to knock again when he heard someone's voice coming from inside the office. "Let him in, Harley."
Batman's hand froze as he heard those words. Before he could react, the door was unlocked and opened. Harley stood on the other side, looking utterly serious. "We're having group therapy," she said. "Come on in, there's plenty of seats available."
Shoving past her, he found the doctor sprawled on the floor, Ivy on top of him with her knees pressing against his shoulders. One hand was wrapped around his throat, while the other hand held a hypodermic needle containing who knew what. "Ivy!" he snarled. "What are you doing?"
"Dr. Park wasn't very happy to see us," she growled. "Tried to stab me with this needle and inject me with – chlorophyll, maybe? Or something equally silly that only someone with a mind-altering voice in their head would fall for."
"Get her off me, Batman," Park pleaded. "Can't you see she's insane?"
"I thought you gave her a clean bill of health, Doc," Harley reminded him.
"No one gave you your walking papers, Quinn," he retorted, regaining his confidence now that the Bat was present. "You're both mad. Obviously I was wrong about Ms. Isley. She's become paranoid."
Batman opened his other fist and let the remains of the Mad Hatter's second chip sprinkle onto the floor. "You were going to turn Killer Croc into a hydrophobe?"
"A what?" Harley said, somewhat vacantly.
"Can the bimbo routine," Batman snapped at her. "I stopped thinking you were stupid a long time ago."
"Oh. Darn it."
"What are you talking about?" Park asked innocently.
"Enough games," Ivy hissed, pressing the point of the needle against his throat. "You tell me how you messed with my mind and how to stop it, or I stick this in your neck as often as it takes until I find your trachea _and_ your esophagus. Then they can get you one of those nice voice boxes."
"The Hatter confessed, Ivy," the Bat told her. "There's a very small chip that was implanted underneath your scalp. A simple X-ray should determine the location, and then we can remove it in no time."
Ivy glared at the doctor with fresh hatred. "You sick bastard. You've lied to me from the beginning."
"So I did," Park shot back. "Only a normal, healthy person can appreciate the importance of my work in this regard. So often treatment for mental illness requires medication, then psychotherapy, and finally behavior modification. But with these chips and the right programming, we can skip the first two stages entirely _and_ achieve a greater success rate than even the most proficient and experienced behaviorist."
"Success rate?!" Harley screeched. "Ivy almost died because of your stupid chip!"
"Which only further reinforced the lesson that she couldn't go near living plants," he replied.
"That's not what she was talking about," Ivy murmured. "I almost killed myself tonight. I would have if Harley hadn't saved me."
"There are bound to be mistakes in the beginning," he admitted. "But I can have them worked out as the operation progresses. Soon I can have each and every inmate in here neutralized as a threat to society, thus freeing this hospital's resources to treat the problems of normal people."
"Oh, so I break the law, and that makes me abnormal," Ivy sneered.
Dr. Park glared at her. "Who better deserves the best of treatment? A depressed wife and mother, and a businessman suffering from a nervous breakdown? Or a malcontented loner who would rather spend time with a patch of crabgrass than an actual human being, and a delusional sheep whose obsessions have warped her sense of right and wrong and who interprets a battering as love? You're hopeless, Isley. You and Quinn are both incurable. Without reprogramming, you'll never be more than poxes on society, sociopaths incapable of real, healthy emotions or feelings for anyone other than yourselves."
"I've heard about enough for tonight," Batman said. With a sudden motion he pulled Ivy off of the doctor and yanked the needle out of her grip.
"No, you bastard!" she shrieked. "You can't let him do this to me!"
"Hold onto her," the Bat said to Harley, ignoring Ivy's ranting and pushing the redhead into the other woman's arms. "And as for you," he continued, pointing a finger at Park, "we're going down to the infirmary, and you and I are going to remove that chip from her head."
"You can't be serious," Park spluttered as he struggled to his feet. "This is the only way!"
"Having run this hospital long enough, maybe you've come to believe that," Batman replied. "Maybe it's easier just to wash your hands of these people. It certainly appealed to your friend Lockup, didn't it?"
"I can't allow this!"
"That's not an issue. After tonight I'll see to it that you're removed from your post as head of Arkham. And if you're lucky, you'll avoid criminal charges and only be disbarred," Batman told him firmly. "And for your information, for someone who's been treating her all this time, you really seem to have read Ivy wrong."
Ivy blinked as she clung to Harley. "Did he just compliment me?"
"Well, I think he suggested that you really are a human being, so I don't know, did he?"
"I'd certainly take you over crabgrass any day."
"Then yeah, he did."
To be continued . . .
Author: Allaine
Email: eac2nd@yahoo.com
Distribution: Probably at fanfiction.net and the factsofslash group. Anyone interested should just ask, and can expect a positive answer.
Spoilers: Takes place after the New Batman/Superman Adventures, with one alteration - in my story, Ivy's skin never turned white like the Joker's. So she still looks like you and me.
Feedback: Well, this fanfic is uncharted territory for me, so reader opinions may very well determine whether I finish it or not. So I would encourage it even more than usual.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: All characters belong to . . . let's see, DC Comics, Kids WB and the Cartoon Network, the producers of the two Batman serials, the talented artists and voice actors, etc. I have borrowed them entirely without permission, for which I humbly beg forgiveness, but I seek no form of profit from this undertaking.
Summary: When Poison Ivy finds her well-being threatened by the unlikeliest of sources, Harley Quinn proves that Ivy doesn't have to be alone anymore, ever again. My first Batman fanfiction.
_______________________________________________________
(Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Jen Kinloch, for all the discussions we've had lately about Harley and Ivy, which I've enjoyed so much. And if anyone else ever wants to talk in more detail than just a few lines in a review, feel free to write to the above email address. Thanks.)
Chapter 8
"You should go," Ivy suggested. "You've told me all about that time you led the Bat to the Joker and his atomic bomb. He left you in here, and you were out within five minutes. So you should do whatever you did the last time."
"Nuh-uh," Harley replied stubbornly. "Not going anywhere."
"We're parked outside of Arkham, Harley. You know, the place you escaped from less than twelve hours ago? The place they want to put you back inside?" Ivy reminded her. "As soon as this is over with, he's going to come back and take you back to your cell. Why won't you get away while he's inside doing who knows what?"
"Because he's probably going to put you back inside too," Harley said, as if it was the most obvious thing. "The only reason you were released was because they figured with your mind under their control, you wouldn't break the law. Well, as soon as their power over you is broken, won't they want to have you re-admitted?"
Ivy paused, mouth slightly open. She hadn't thought of that at all. "Crap," she muttered. "I won't even get to enjoy my latest taste of freedom."
"I thought you enjoyed a little of it," Harley said hesitantly. "I did."
The redhead looked down and saw Harley's hands, wrists once again adorned with steel handcuffs like hers were, slipping into hers. Much like their earlier trip, the two women were wedged tightly into the passenger side. Ivy could have scooted over a little, now that the driver's seat was unoccupied, but only if she wanted a stick shift up her rear. Besides, she liked being scrunched up against Harley this time as much as she had the last time.
She squeezed Harley's hands. "Some of it was . . . very nice. I keep forgetting how smart you are."
"You're the only person who _knows_ how smart I am," Harley answered cheekily. And she giggled, briefly crossing her eyes.
"So I'll be going back in. No big deal. Now that I'll be able to get close to my darling plants again, I can just get out the way I usually do," she said idly. "Without permission."
"Yeah, but I don't want to wait around on the outside while waiting for you to escape from the inside," Harley responded. "Either we're both in, or we're both out."
"Then let's make it 'out'," Ivy immediately said, tugging at Harley's cuffs.
But Harley shook her head. "You need the Bat to turn off whatever they did, remember?"
"Damn!" Ivy swore. She'd forgotten. "I can't have you trapped in there because of me, Harley. And I'd rather you were nowhere near the Joker."
"Jealous?"
"Frightened. He likes to hurt you, Harley," she pointed out unhappily. "He has a power over you, and he asserts it whenever the whim hits him. When I'm forced to sit there and watch as he makes you do the most degrading things, as he demeans your existence and cheapens your talents . . ." She looked down and felt a tear roll down her cheek. ". . . I hate him so much."
Harley moved in even closer and rested her chin on Ivy's shoulder. "You haven't asked me yet what happened while you were hypnotized."
Ivy hadn't. With the Bat around the entire time since then, she hadn't had the privacy she desired. "You made sure he didn't give me any triggers or anything that would make me into a good little girl, right?"
"Mm-hmm."
"And he figured out the Hatter was involved."
Harley nodded.
"So what else is there to know? Unless – I didn't say something embarrassing, did I?"
"I don't know. How embarrassed would you be if you knew that you told everyone you loved me as much as you love plants?" Harley asked. "And that you could probably live without plants as long as you still had me?"
Ivy stared at her, shocked. "I said that?"
"And you meant it," Harley continued wonderingly. "You were hypnotized, so you had to say how you really, truly felt."
"Well, of course I meant it," Ivy replied, still a little flustered. "I already told you once before how I felt about you. What," she added with some scorn, although not directed at her, "didn't the wonderful Mr. J mean it when he said it?"
"He never said it."
"What . . . you mean you've been going on about your great love for each other for all this time, and he never even told you he loved you?" Ivy asked, astounded.
"I thought he was the strong, silent type," Harley said feebly.
"Since when is your one true love silent about _anything_?" Ivy reminded her. "He'll share his opinion about anything."
Harley just looked down, humiliated.
"Oh, no, Harley," Ivy said, softening instantly. "I didn't mean to be nasty. I just . . ."
"I know, you hate my puddin'."
Ivy refrained from grinding her teeth at the sound of that detestable name. "Yes, Harley, just like your 'puddin' hates me. And I'm afraid you're going to have to make a choice at some point, because now I can't go on just being your friend while you're in the Joker's bed, and I know he's something of the possessive type."
Harley trembled. "I don't know, Ivy. I mean, I've been with him for so long, and all my fantasies and dreams for the future were about him."
Ivy looked away. "I see."
"And I thought it was all right if he didn't actually say he loved me, as long as I _believed_ he loved me. But . . . then you said it, and it made me feel _so_ good," Harley continued, her eyes welling up. "And now I'm not sure I could take being with a man who can't make me feel that way himself because he can't say those words, because he's more comfortable hurting me. Being in that kind of relationship when there's something kinder waiting for me – maybe that is crazy."
Ivy almost didn't dare to breathe as she looked into Harley's eyes. "I'll say that I love you as often as you like, Harley. I'll say it in front of the Bat, in front of the TV cameras. I'll even say it in front of a room full of Arkham inmates."
"Could you say it, maybe, just once more?"
"I love you, Harley."
Harley burst into tears.
Ivy pulled back, appalled. "Uh, Harley . . ."
"Oh, Red, I want to be with you too!" Harley bawled as she tried to hug Ivy. But the chain on her handcuffs got in the way. "Shit!" she screeched, and she picked the lock with such a vengeance that she had them off her wrists in fifteen seconds. Then she flung her arms around Ivy's neck and squeezed tightly.
"Can't . . . breathe . . ."
"Oops!" Harley gasped, letting go. Then she smiled craftily. "How 'bout I give you some oxygen then?" Leaning forward so that their noses barely touched, she placed her lips on top of Ivy's.
When they separated about a minute later, Ivy was flushed and both women were breathing heavily. "Wow," Ivy whispered.
"So anyway," Harley went on casually as she bent over and worked on Ivy's cuffs, as if nothing had happened, "wherever you go, I go. And if the Bat wants to put you back inside, then I'll just wait here to be picked up too."
"Well," Ivy said speculatively as she massaged her wrists, Harley having removed her bonds, "how fast can you figure out how to open this thing?"
Grinning like a cat, Harley pushed one of the dozens of buttons on Batman's dashboard, and the windshield pulled back in less than a second. "All this time, and he hasn't changed a thing. I can make a drag chute pop out of the trunk, too."
Ivy chuckled. "Then since we're both going back anyway, how about we go back a little ahead of schedule?"
__________________________________________________
The little man looked up from his bed at the shadow looming over him. "Would you like a cup of tea, Batman?"
"Heard about Ivy?" Batman asked.
"Oh yes," the Mad Hatter said, clucking his tongue. "They were telling the worst sort of jokes about her during group session."
"I heard you joined in," Batman replied. "Something about making her allergic to pollen."
"Yes, well, that would be the height of irony, wouldn't it?"
"Sort of like the way hatters used to go mad because of the chemicals in the very hats they created and wore?"
Jervis Tetch chuckled wryly. "I suppose so, Batman. So, come to see the latest model?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Come, come, Batman," Jervis chided him. "You and I both know what's going on here. I knew Dr. Park let you in on our little circle the minute you asked about Ms. Ivy. Dr. Park says it's going to be the new wave in behavior modification." He sounded upbeat, but he couldn't quite disguise the unenthusiastic look in his eye.
"Sure you don't have any qualms about using your mind control devices on fellow Rogues, Jervis?" Batman asked.
"Why, of course not," the Hatter blustered. "Dr. Park promised that he would take care of me. Here," he said, pulling a very small metal microchip out from under his mattress. "Look at this little wonder. Surgically implant it in the scalp of that Mock Turtle who calls himself 'Croc' and his skin will burn in reaction to the first contact with water. He won't be retreating to any more sewers, will he?"
"Water?" Batman asked, stunned. "And how's he supposed to take a drink?"
The Mad Hatter flicked his wrist. "Oh, any other liquid will do – juices, milk, sodas. He can _bathe_ in beer and not get hurt. It's only fresh water and salt water that his mind will insist are dangerous."
"So that's where Ivy has hers," Batman replied. "Under her scalp."
"That would be the most efficacious place."
But Jervis shrank back against the wall as the Bat drew himself to such a height that he entirely blotted out whatever light was in the cell. It was like he'd eclipsed the sun.
"And how," Batman growled as he seized Jervis by the shirt, reducing him to absolute terror, "will the doctor be taking care of _you_, Hatter, while everyone else here gets back their mental health at the possible cost of their lives?!"
"Er, now, well, Batman . . . perhaps maybe you weren't a part of this little scheme," Jervis babbled. He glanced to both sides for a moment before he grabbed the Bat's wrist and broke down completely. "I had to do it, Batman! He's the one who runs the asylum! He could overmedicate me, undermedicate me, take my privileges away. For God's sake, Batman, I didn't want to! I never had anything against Miss Isley, never. But I had no choice! It's not just the two of us, you know. _He's_ been keeping his eye on me ever since Dr. Park put him in the cell across from mine!" he added, pointing past Batman.
Not having noticed who was in the cell opposite, Batman looked over his shoulder. And discovered the former chief of security staring intently at him. As soon as their eyes met, Lockup quickly but casually turned his head and walked to the other side of his cell.
"I should have guessed," Batman murmured.
"Please, Batman," Jervis begged. "You can't confront Dr. Park. Lockup will kill me if you do."
"I'll take care of Lockup later," Batman said, shoving the Hatter back. Taking the chip from his other hand, he crushed it between his fingers, and Jervis moaned pitifully.
He turned to leave, but before he did, the Hatter spoke up once more. "Have you seen Poison Ivy recently?"
"Recently."
"She's going to kill me, isn't she?"
The Bat said nothing.
"Would you give her a message? Tell her I weep for her, I deeply sympathize," the Hatter said, resigned.
Sweeping out of the cell and closing it once more, Batman shot Lockup a quick look before continuing on toward the doctors' offices.
After he had gone, the Hatter tried his best to ignore the burning stare coming from across the corridor.
___________________________________________
As Batman approached Dr. Park's office, he saw by the light under the door that he was still in. Arkham physicians frequently kept late hours. He reached for the doorknob, but discovered it was locked. So he knocked instead. "Dr. Park?" he asked.
He was about to knock again when he heard someone's voice coming from inside the office. "Let him in, Harley."
Batman's hand froze as he heard those words. Before he could react, the door was unlocked and opened. Harley stood on the other side, looking utterly serious. "We're having group therapy," she said. "Come on in, there's plenty of seats available."
Shoving past her, he found the doctor sprawled on the floor, Ivy on top of him with her knees pressing against his shoulders. One hand was wrapped around his throat, while the other hand held a hypodermic needle containing who knew what. "Ivy!" he snarled. "What are you doing?"
"Dr. Park wasn't very happy to see us," she growled. "Tried to stab me with this needle and inject me with – chlorophyll, maybe? Or something equally silly that only someone with a mind-altering voice in their head would fall for."
"Get her off me, Batman," Park pleaded. "Can't you see she's insane?"
"I thought you gave her a clean bill of health, Doc," Harley reminded him.
"No one gave you your walking papers, Quinn," he retorted, regaining his confidence now that the Bat was present. "You're both mad. Obviously I was wrong about Ms. Isley. She's become paranoid."
Batman opened his other fist and let the remains of the Mad Hatter's second chip sprinkle onto the floor. "You were going to turn Killer Croc into a hydrophobe?"
"A what?" Harley said, somewhat vacantly.
"Can the bimbo routine," Batman snapped at her. "I stopped thinking you were stupid a long time ago."
"Oh. Darn it."
"What are you talking about?" Park asked innocently.
"Enough games," Ivy hissed, pressing the point of the needle against his throat. "You tell me how you messed with my mind and how to stop it, or I stick this in your neck as often as it takes until I find your trachea _and_ your esophagus. Then they can get you one of those nice voice boxes."
"The Hatter confessed, Ivy," the Bat told her. "There's a very small chip that was implanted underneath your scalp. A simple X-ray should determine the location, and then we can remove it in no time."
Ivy glared at the doctor with fresh hatred. "You sick bastard. You've lied to me from the beginning."
"So I did," Park shot back. "Only a normal, healthy person can appreciate the importance of my work in this regard. So often treatment for mental illness requires medication, then psychotherapy, and finally behavior modification. But with these chips and the right programming, we can skip the first two stages entirely _and_ achieve a greater success rate than even the most proficient and experienced behaviorist."
"Success rate?!" Harley screeched. "Ivy almost died because of your stupid chip!"
"Which only further reinforced the lesson that she couldn't go near living plants," he replied.
"That's not what she was talking about," Ivy murmured. "I almost killed myself tonight. I would have if Harley hadn't saved me."
"There are bound to be mistakes in the beginning," he admitted. "But I can have them worked out as the operation progresses. Soon I can have each and every inmate in here neutralized as a threat to society, thus freeing this hospital's resources to treat the problems of normal people."
"Oh, so I break the law, and that makes me abnormal," Ivy sneered.
Dr. Park glared at her. "Who better deserves the best of treatment? A depressed wife and mother, and a businessman suffering from a nervous breakdown? Or a malcontented loner who would rather spend time with a patch of crabgrass than an actual human being, and a delusional sheep whose obsessions have warped her sense of right and wrong and who interprets a battering as love? You're hopeless, Isley. You and Quinn are both incurable. Without reprogramming, you'll never be more than poxes on society, sociopaths incapable of real, healthy emotions or feelings for anyone other than yourselves."
"I've heard about enough for tonight," Batman said. With a sudden motion he pulled Ivy off of the doctor and yanked the needle out of her grip.
"No, you bastard!" she shrieked. "You can't let him do this to me!"
"Hold onto her," the Bat said to Harley, ignoring Ivy's ranting and pushing the redhead into the other woman's arms. "And as for you," he continued, pointing a finger at Park, "we're going down to the infirmary, and you and I are going to remove that chip from her head."
"You can't be serious," Park spluttered as he struggled to his feet. "This is the only way!"
"Having run this hospital long enough, maybe you've come to believe that," Batman replied. "Maybe it's easier just to wash your hands of these people. It certainly appealed to your friend Lockup, didn't it?"
"I can't allow this!"
"That's not an issue. After tonight I'll see to it that you're removed from your post as head of Arkham. And if you're lucky, you'll avoid criminal charges and only be disbarred," Batman told him firmly. "And for your information, for someone who's been treating her all this time, you really seem to have read Ivy wrong."
Ivy blinked as she clung to Harley. "Did he just compliment me?"
"Well, I think he suggested that you really are a human being, so I don't know, did he?"
"I'd certainly take you over crabgrass any day."
"Then yeah, he did."
To be continued . . .