Title: Kiss From a Rose (2/??)
Author: Allaine
Email: eac2nd@yahoo.com
Disclaimers: Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, along with the other residents of Gotham, are the property of DC Comics, the creators of "Batman: The Animated Series", and God knows who else. All other characters are my invention.
Feedback: As always, greatly desired and usually responded to.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: This takes place about 15-18 months after "It's Just Allergies" and "Life Don't Have to be No Bed of Roses", which you can read at FFN as well.
Distribution: If you want it, just ask.
Summary: Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn visit Gotham after being absent for over a year. A sequel to "Life Don't Have to be No Bed of Roses". Nuff said.
_______________________________

Chapter 2

"Whose autograph you want?" the bouncer drawled.

Renee Montoya and Harvey Bullock looked at him dubiously. The mass of people separated before this bruiser, forming two separate lines into the strip club. "Whaddya mean?" Bullock asked.

The bouncer sighed and pointed over his right shoulder. "For Chrissy Skyler," he said. "For Mindy Mattson," he went on, pointing to his left. "You want both, you gotta pay double, wait in line twice."

Bullock muttered deprecations under his breath. "Which is which?" he whispered.

"Who knows?" Montoya replied. "Which one you want?"

"Make up your minds, or go back to the beginning," the balding doorman warned them.

"Mattson," Bullock said instantly, unable to remember the first name for the moment.

"Then I'll take the other line," Montoya sighed.

The bouncer chuckled. "Most girls prefer the other one," he said.

Montoya suppressed a snarl. She was on a line of people waiting to get a female porn star's autograph. She was on duty, but nobody besides Bullock knew that. Considering she was surrounded by people who evidently got their jollies watching two women having sex, she felt uncomfortable letting everyone think she was a lesbian too. "It's for my boyfriend," she hissed.

"Uh-huh," he said, clearly not convinced.

"Why exactly are we doing this?" she wanted to ask Harvey inside. But now they were separated by a yard or two, and she couldn't do so without announcing to the world they were police. And she knew why they were doing this. Because Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn were hiding in plain sight. They were posing as the very porn stars who became infamous for posing as _them_.

It had been a last-minute announcement. Horny Jones Pictures, Johnny Jonesin' Jones proprietor, had let the word out that Chrissy Skyler and Mindy Mattson would be reprising their roles in "Pretty Poisons" in an all-new Poison Ivy/Harley Quinn porno. Interest had died down in the series, but the return of the original stars, widely considered by sleaze connoisseurs to have done the best imitation of the lunatic beauties, had sparked excitement. The duo had made a killing on "private shows" and disappeared from Gotham months before. Evidently "Jonesin" had lured them back. But first they'd be doing an impromptu autograph signing at a local strip joint.

GCPD might have just rolled its eyes and gone about its business (with perhaps a few tongues lolling), but the photos taken of Harley Quinn at the airport had convinced a lot of people that these were not Skyler and Mattson, but the real, live Harley and Ivy. Bullock and Montoya had drawn the assignment - partly because Renee had a history with Ivy.

Not _that_ kind of history, she told herself. Madre Dios, how tongues would wag if someone made up _that_ kind of story!

"And since we've seen them up close so many times," Montoya added mentally, "we'll know if it's them." If they were within Gotham city limits, they were in violation of their immunity agreement. The commissioner could then throw the book at them.

Renee shook her head and tried to look like she wanted to be there. She didn't come close to the perverts in front of her, she guessed.

She did, however, find herself at the head of the line before she knew it. As luck would have it, she'd selected not Ivy, but Harley. Or was it?

Montoya stared at her. "Chrissy" smiled in return. "Shouldn't your hair be blonde?"

"Chrissy" waved a hand. "What, you think I should be blonde just because I play someone on your TV?"

It was her. The hair was different, but Renee _instantly_ knew that voice. "I should run you in right now," she said, smiling insincerely.

"Betcha you'd like to," Harley said breathily, her perky breasts almost floating out of her sheer top. "I remember you. You paid Mindy $500 for a lap dance in that little green get-up of hers."

Renee flushed and looked away from her rising and falling cleavage.

"Detective Montoya," Quinn sighed.

The policewoman's head spun around. She couldn't be admitting it was her?

"I always remember the cops," she continued, sucking on a fingertip. "Especially the lady cops. It feels extra dirty." Quinn smiled at her.

Renee glared back at her. She wondered how Harvey was faring.

"Okay," Quinn said, all business-like. "Bra or panties?"

"Excuse me?" Renee asked, shocked.

"Bra or panties?" Quinn repeated. "Which do you want me to sign?" She grinned salaciously. "One woman wanted me to sign hers while she was still wearing it. Saucy little thing. You want that?"

Montoya was an experienced cop, damn it. And she was definitely straight, because this little display wasn't turning her on. It was more than slightly humiliating, however.

She slammed twenty dollars on the table. "Enjoy tonight," she whispered.

"You ever watch that cartoon where those kids carry around little balls?" Quinn asked idly. "And little animals pop out and fight?"

Renee blinked. "What?"

"And every town has one cop, and they all look the same, and they all have the same name?" Quinn giggled. "Officer Jenny. I think I met your Officer Jenny in New York, Detective. Only she got the name a little wrong. Detective M-M-Maza-a-a. M-M-Montoya-a-a," she said, letting the first and last letters roll off her tongue. "I wonder if she'd like a lap dance too?"

Her lips pressed tightly together, Renee straightened, spun on her heel, and stormed out.

Quinn laughed gaily and tucked the twenty into her shirt.

Bullock came out a minute later. "What a brainless fucking airhead," he said.

"Who, Ivy?" Montoya asked, still steamed.

"I don't know," he said hesitantly. "Boobs were too big. Ivy never did have those Lola Ferrari-type breasts."

She didn't bother correcting him. She couldn't pronounce it either.

"And she acted like she didn't have a single brain cell. Just asked me if I was at one of her bachelor parties."

"Well, that was definitely Harley," Montoya snapped. "Her voice was unmistakable."

"Maybe it was just a really good imitation," he replied.

"You think I don't know her?" she retorted.

"Never knew Ivy to play the bubblebrain," he said uncomfortably. "With that ego of hers." He remained silent for a few moments. "Guess who I passed in the line on the way out," he said.

"Who?" she asked, not really caring.

"Nygma."

Surprise replaced anger. "The Riddler? He's in there too?"

He nodded. "Maybe we'd better wait and see what happens. They might be in it together."

She grumped. "Oh, all right."
_______________________

Ivy groaned mentally as yet another leering, drooling deviate slithered away. She was very glad she'd stipulated on a hotel room with a bath big enough for two. A shower wouldn't be enough to remove the sleaze. A bath - well, baths could be more fun.

She looked up and pretended to smile. "Hello there," she began to say breathily. Then she stopped. "Eddie?"

The Riddler, sans costume, blinked. The breasts, he thought, were definitely fake. The voice was real, however - too real. He realized this was the real Poison Ivy, and he suddenly felt nervous that she'd caught him ogling her. It was hard to label Ivy a feminist, since she'd never cared for men OR women. But she definitely had her "femi-nazi" qualities.

And as it turned out, she cared for women a little bit more than they'd all suspected.

"Er . . ." he began to say.

Ivy swore under her breath. Two-Face had _promised_ - all right, it wasn't even a grudging promise, it was more like a pulling teeth kind of promise - to let all the top-echelon Rogues know that they were back in town for a couple days, and that they'd be dropping by the Iceberg after hours. Apparently Eddie had not gotten the word. "Tell me," she said sultrily, thinking fast. "Have you ever heard of Randy and the Rockets?"

Nygma stared at her. "Who?"

"I read a story that Paul McCartney once said in an interview that it was a personal dream of the Beatles to go touring bars under a false name. They'd call themselves Randy and the Rockets, and they'd wear masks and capes, and no one would know it was them."

"Uh-huh," he said, looking at her like she'd forgotten her meds.

"And the interviewer asked him what would happen when the people recognized the Beatles' voices," Ivy said. "Paul didn't react well."

Eddie looked at her a moment more. "You know, I think that story is apocryphal," he said slowly.

"Well, I'm sorry if you didn't like it," Ivy said emptily. "You don't have to be mean."

He chuckled. "Sorry."

"Why don't you drop by the Iceberg?" she whispered luxuriantly. "Say, after the doors close? For the best customers only?"

Eddie smiled and passed her a twenty. "For the story," he murmured.

"Don't you want me to sign your boxers?" she asked, but he was already leaving.
_________________________

"Like the show?"

Nygma stopped in his tracks. His head turned slowly. "Detective," he said, a smile spreading. "Actually, the everyday festivities have been precluded by a signing ceremony. You'll have to find another use for all those one-dollar bills. Although," he added, glancing at Montoya, "maybe this lovely officer will oblige."

"Get what you wanted?" Montoya retorted.

He reached for his buckle. "Would you like to see?"

"That's all right," she muttered, holding up a hand and looking away.

"Think they were realistic enough?" Bullock asked, looking intent.

"They looked like silicone to me," Nygma answered mildly.

"You know what he meant," Montoya snapped.

Edward thought for a moment. "You go in there expecting one thing," he finally said, "and as soon as they open their mouths, all your expectations are shot." He tipped his head slightly and continued on.

"Don't bother," Renee said when Bullock stood up. "We can't arrest him for anything."

"I could come up with something," he muttered. "Let's go see the commissioner."
____________________________________

"Ugh, finally!" Ivy sighed, pulling the flesh-colored implants she'd been using to increase her bust size out and flinging them over her shoulder. "At last I feel like I have some privacy."

"Only you could say that out here," Harley murmured as she walked beside Poison Ivy through Robinson Park, her arm linked with Ivy's.

Ivy shrugged. "A few square miles of green surrounded by tons of air pollution and grime? If it wasn't for the time I've invested in parks like this one, it would be brown by now. Mommy's home, and the plants know it."

Distracted by a whistling sound, Harley looked up and to her left just in time to see some kind of projectile being blocked in midair by a tree branch that had moved at least two feet - and on a still night.

"See?" Ivy added as the dented Batarang bounced to a spot less than a yard from her feet.

"This park's gotten a lot friendlier since Poison Ivy left. Going out of its way to protect two strippers."

Harley and Ivy turned around and found the Dark Knight looming over them, having silently appeared behind them. "If you expect me to go on pretending like I have an IQ of 70," Ivy said calmly, "don't hold your breath."

"I wonder how long he can hold his breath, anyway," Harley wondered.

"Long enough," Batman replied.

"Ain't that the truth," Ivy said.

"What are you two doing back here?" Batman said, his tone chilly. "You've given Gordon an excuse to throw you back in jail."

"And I suppose you're going to tell him," Ivy said dryly.

"Why do you think the police were there tonight?" he asked.

"I had heard we were pretty popular with the boys in blue," she pointed out.

"Girls too?"

Ivy looked at Harley. "Well, I'm sure there are a couple lesbians out there who enjoy girl-on-girl action. A few aberrations, I suppose."

"Anything's possible," Harley said. "Montoya was there."

"They were on assignment," Batman said. "Gordon photographed Harley picking up the Bowler Boys at the airport."

Harley scowled. "Stupid peeping Toms," she muttered.

"So what do you have to worry about?" Ivy retorted.

"The Joker," he replied.

Ivy's hand drifted up with a will of its own and touched her hair where it covered the ugly scar hidden on her scalp, the one Joker had left behind a few months ago when a straight razor had sliced through the flesh, very nearly embedding itself in her skull. She forced it into her pocket.

With all the potency of a magic talisman, meanwhile, the mere mention of the Joker's name caused Harley to press tightly against her lover. The Joker had been transformed from her romantic obsession into her bogeyman, and in either case, she was practically defenseless against him. Having lived through numerous beatings over the years, Harley was more frightened of what he might do to Ivy than anything he could do to her.

"He's been relatively quiet lately," Batman went on, having put just the right element of menace into his voice to freeze them. "Not like the time last year he slaughtered an entire dentist's office because those new steel teeth of his were tingling. And they weren't even his dentists."

"I suppose it's my fault then because I knocked his out," Ivy said angrily.

"The Joker acts with absolute randomness," Batman replied. "Totally unpredictable. But the two of you are still at the center of his mania. Get out of Gotham before you end up in a cell next to his. Or worse, he finds out you're here and breaks out."

"We can handle ourselves," Ivy shot back. "And not that it's any of your concern, Detective, but in less than thirty-six hours, we'll be on a choice tropical isle of mine. It'll make a much better vacation than another few days in this cesspool."

He looked at them grimly. "I'm keeping an eye on you," he said finally.

"Oh goody, a bodyguard," Harley said. "Let's go, Red."

They turned to leave.

"That's an interesting choice of words," Batman said suddenly. "Detective. I only know one person who calls me that."

"We'll tell Talia you said hi," Ivy muttered.

She felt herself lurch backwards when a black glove grabbed her arm. "Let go!" she hissed.

"You're working with the Demon?" Batman asked angrily. "What are you really doing here? What's his plan?"

"I don't work for that fucking asshole," she shot back. "And if you don't let go in fifteen seconds, the local flora is going to take notice."

"Then how do you know Talia?" he snarled.

"Business," Ivy said. "Our business. Not yours. You're the star-crossed lovers. Why don't you ask her?"

The Batman finally released her arm when he sensed that Robinson Park was growing dangerous. "This is not your city any more," he told them flatly. "The police told you. I'm telling you. You left. You shouldn't have come back."

"This was never my city in the first place," Ivy snapped. "Gotham will always be cold and dead where it matters. The one thing in this town that really mattered to me, I took her with me."

"You might not want your precious plants to hear that," Batman responded.

Harley moved just enough so that she was partially between them. "Just leave us alone," she almost shouted. "I wanted to come back here, not her. We just want to be together. So beat it, Bats!"

Batman coldly swept his cape around and disappeared into the shadows.

Ivy was breathing hard enough that her shoulders were rising and falling. "Thanks," she said, cooling down.

"Couldn't let you have all the repartee," Harley answered, grinning impishly over her shoulder. "So, want to go see the Gallery one last time now?"

Sincerely doubting that one or another wouldn't crash in front of their paths some day, Ivy nodded. "One last time."
_________________________________

"Hard to imagine," Oswald said, twirling an umbrella by the handle, "that's the same Harley Quinn who once assaulted my jukebox because it would not do karaoke."

"Her hair's brown," Killer Croc repeated for the third time. "Why the hell's her hair brown?"

"She's not a natural blonde," Two-Face told him. "Didn't you know?"

Croc wondered what else he never knew and muttered to himself.

The three of them nursed their drinks by the bar. The Penguin and Two-Face did, anyway - Killer Croc just kicked one back and ordered another. Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn were in a different group with the Riddler, Scarecrow, and Clayface.

"Jervis'll be pissed he missed this," Harvey added.

"I dare say the Joker may be more perturbed than the Hatter," Penguin suggested.

"Not if he has a good memory," Two-Face growled.

"Hey, if you're so smart," Croc interrupted, "then where they been all this time?"

Oswald smiled craftily. "Working for the Demon in New York, of course."

"What she want with that old fart?" Croc asked incredulously.

"It's the Harvard vocabulary that I miss most about this place, really."

Two-Face nodded past Penguin. "Selina," he said by way of greeting.

"Ah," Oswald said urbanely. "All that was missing from our gathering has arrived."

"Sweet talker," Croc mumbled.

Catwoman took off her gloves. "Harvey. Penguin. Killer," she said. "Thought I'd put in an appearance."

"Fashionably late, naturally," Penguin said.

"So, by old fart I assume you mean Ra's al-Ghul?" Catwoman asked.

Two-Face nodded. "Ozzie here thinks the girls have been working for him all this time."

"Mm," she said noncommittally. "Chardonnay," she added, talking to the bartender.

"Where, I ask you, did the Riddler say Miss Isley was looking for jobs?" Oswald asked, unruffled.

"New York," Two-Face said.

"And who moved to New York City to run a company full-time?"

"Talia," Croc muttered. The Gotham grapevine learned these things sooner or later.

Selina said nothing.

"And," Oswald added triumphantly, "just days before their departure, who was Ivy gathering information on?"

Croc looked at him blankly.

"Talia," Oswald told him, exasperated.

"You never told us that," Harvey retorted.

"It wasn't a secret," Oswald said. "Miss Kyle spoke to her as well."

Two-Face looked over at Catwoman. "You been holding out, Selina?"

"Talia is too insipid to waste words over," Catwoman sniffed. "I only shared with Ivy because - it was a girl thing."

"You shouldn't say 'girl thing' in connection with Quinn and Ivy," Harvey pointed out, grinning evilly. "People might get ideas."

"The Gotham tabloids certainly don't need me to get ideas," she replied, grimacing. She sipped from her wineglass. "I'm going to say hi so I can go."

"Leaving so soon?" Penguin asked, sounding disappointed.

"We're not really friends," she said, gesturing toward Ivy and Harley. "This is just a token of respect." Selina put her glass down and sauntered over.

Oswald's eyes gleamed as he watched her go. "Your only reason, I'm sure," he murmured.

"What was that?" Croc asked.

"Have another drink."

"Don't mind if I do."
______________________________

"Ivy has this gorgeous little island in Indonesia picked out," Harley was saying excitedly. "Well, actually, her first choice was somewhere in the South Pacific. But they tried to film some reality TV show there, and six hours later . . ." She shrugged and wiped her hands. "Thanks for playing, we have some lovely consolation gifts."

"Wait a minute," Clayface interrupted. "That was you? The eighteen cameramen and crew members who disappeared in the jungle?"

"Well, it wasn't the plants' fault!" Ivy complained. "They were only defending themselves from civilization. The government certainly didn't need to burn the entire island. I swear to God," she grumbled. "Every time I find some quiet little place to grow things, someone comes along and nukes it."

Clayface chortled. "Pay up," he said gleefully.

Harley watched as the other men fished out money and handed it over to the man of clay. "Huh?"

"Clayface bet us all one hundred dollars apiece that you had something to do with those 'unexplained' disappearances," Scarecrow said, sourfaced.

"We needed a new wager after you two came out of the closet," Clayface said, shrugging. Not that he exactly had shoulders to shrug. But the meaning was clear.

"Why do you all feel compelled to bet on my personal life?" Ivy asked, eyes narrowing.

"Payback for all the hours we've wasted listening to your Earth Liberation speeches," the Riddler thought, but he wisely kept his counsel.

Harley brightened. "Hi, Catty!" she said cheerfully, waving.

Ivy glanced over. "Selina."

"Ivy," Catwoman replied. "Did you really nip the reality craze in the bud?" Then she made a face. "I'm sorry, I can't believe I made such a bad pun, even unintentionally." She looked at Eddie. "Oh, but I'm sure you liked it."

"I'm sure it would have faded six months later anyway," Ivy answered, unconcerned. "Reality television already existed. It's called the Discovery Channel."

Selina hadn't been too fond of it either. "Oswald's full of theories too," she said.

"Oh?"

"He seems to think you're working for Talia al-Ghul."

Ivy growled. "Ooo! Why is everyone asking me about her tonight? I've seen her, maybe, three times. I don't work for her. I certainly don't work for her father."

"So where do you work?" Eddie asked.

She hesitated.

"Oh come on, if you can't tell your family . . ."

"My extremely dysfunctional family, able to tolerate each other only on good days," Ivy pointed out.

"How is that different from the rest of the world?" Harley asked.

Ivy frowned. "Oh, all right. If only to prevent the rest of you from stealing from it. I work for Nightstone Unlimited."

"Interesting," Clayface and the Riddler said in unison.

"Military hardware, pharmaceuticals, technology," she said, seeing that neither of them had heard of it. "The dangerous stuff."

"Sounds like my kind of company," Clayface said.

Selina continued to say nothing.

"Cat . . ." Harley began to ask.

"I already know the next three words on your lips, Harley. Do us all a favor and don't say it," Catwoman told her immediately.

"Sorry."

"I was just surprised," Selina said. "It sounded like you ignored my advice."

"Like Poe said in _The Purloined Letter_," the Riddler reminded them, "the best thing to take is advice."

"But as you can see, I did take your advice," Ivy told her, ignoring Eddie. "I only know Talia in a more - social milieu."

Clayface shifted. "If you'll excuse me," he murmured. "C'mon, you too," he called out to the men by the bar, waving his hundred-dollar bills in the air as he walked toward them.

"You didn't bet?" Ivy asked Selina, mildly irritated that her life was all but a Vegas fixture.

"When Talia's name comes up, I usually tune it out," Selina replied coolly. "As you might recall."

"You said she was in love with a fantasy," Ivy said.

"Better to be in love with the real thing."

"Definitely."

Both women thought of two very different people and felt warm.

Ivy turned Harley around in mid-conversation with Jonathan Crane and kissed her.

Eddie chuckled. "That's one way to interrupt somebody."

To be continued . . .