Title: Kiss From a Rose (4/??)
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 4
"Ms. Cabeza?"
"Yes, Lily?"
"You have a call on line two."
"I'm a little busy here, Lily. Could they . . ."
Her secretary sounded slightly awed. "It's Bruce Wayne, from Wayne Enterprises. He says it's important."
Talia leaned back in her chair. "Does he?" she replied, amused. "Put him through. And make sure the line is secure." Secure from you too, her eyes said.
"Of course, Ms. Cabeza," she said swiftly.
The CEO picked up the phone once the doors were closed. "Hello, Bruce. What an unexpected treat."
"Talia," he replied calmly. "It's been a while."
"Yes, well, as you would know if you spent three days a month in your offices, people in our position have a great many responsibilities."
"I saw second-quarter profits were up."
"Yours too, I noticed," she said. "Not as much as ours, though."
"From a percentage standpoint. With our profits, it's harder to achieve double-digit growth."
"True enough," Talia conceded.
Bruce hesitated. It was good to hear her light, musical voice after so long, but once again, she sounded different. She didn't sound like she was speaking to her beloved, the Detective, the Dark Knight, one of the two poles in her life. She sounded like Veronica, actually. Dear old Bruce. It was distracting. "It's been a while since you brought your drama to my doorstep," he said, trying to provoke her a little.
Talia's smile slipped briefly. "Drama. That was polite. I'm surprised you didn't say 'histrionics'."
Her reply surprised him. "You've become - unpredictable, Talia. Not like your father."
"Predictability is rarely a good thing, Bruce. Why, am I not reading the lines you'd like to hear?"
Oddly reminiscent of his own analogy the night before, he found himself switching gears, dancing around what had quickly become the center of the conversation. "Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn are back in Gotham, you know."
"Are they? No, I didn't know. We're not that close."
"Close enough," he retorted. "I asked you if you knew where they were, Talia. You remember what you said?"
"I told you I didn't," she said simply.
"You were lying."
"Yes."
"Why?" he asked. "Ra's said not to?"
Her fingernails scratched at the surface of her desk. Even now, did he really think her so devoid of free will that she could only do what her father asked her to? Or what her "Beloved" asked her to?
Of course, maybe she'd foolishly allowed herself to cultivate that impression. Well, as Poison Ivy might say, it was time to pull that impression out by the roots.
"Because it wasn't any of your business," she said coldly.
He laughed, surprised. "But it was your business to know where they were."
"My father asked me to monitor their location," she admitted, stung. "But I am aware of a great many things in this city, Bruce, and not because it is my mission. It is only because I wish it. Because _I_ wish it," she emphasized. "The sooner you get it through that skull of yours that I do not exist merely to fulfill your wishes - OR my father's," she quickly added, anticipating the reply, "the sooner we can end this discussion."
"When did you develop a mind of your own?" he retorted.
"I am sorry you think so little of me," Talia hissed, surprised that she was becoming so emotional. "Now I understand why we never could have worked."
"Because of me?" Bruce asked, flabbergasted. "How were we supposed to make things work, Talia? When the chips were down, you picked your father every time. _Every time_. His plan would fail, I would live, but he was always out there, preparing his latest scheme, because you helped him. How the hell was I supposed to believe someone who betrayed me constantly? Or respect someone who let her father run her life like that?"
She gasped, and the receiver almost fell from her hand. "You bastard," she whispered.
"Talia."
"At least," she told him, her anger becoming white-hot, "I do not allow my parents' murder to dictate my entire life, _Bruce_. And maybe I learned a little self-respect. I'm living my life for myself now, and the least you could do is be a little happy for me!" Rising out of her chair, Talia slammed the phone down so hard that she cracked the plastic casing.
She looked down at the damaged phone. She'd had such speeches planned for that dialogue. "Shit," she said. "Lily?" she called. "See if someone can get me another phone."
"Ms. Cabeza?"
"And hold my appointments for an hour." Running her fingers back through her hair, she went into a smaller room to meditate.
__________________________
Bruce stared at the phone. On some level, he'd believed she was being coy all along, that this had been just a cunning game of playing hard-to-get in order to get his attention. He'd been prepared to tell her about Catwoman, if he'd had to, in order to make her understand that there was no hope for them.
Apparently he'd miscalculated.
He took solace in the fact that if he was confused by Talia al-Ghul, her father must be utterly confounded.
__________________________
"He'd better be here," Ivy muttered. "These tickets are nonrefundable."
"I don't care if he's here," Harley told her, scratching a hyena's ears. "We're only going to have time for three days in the Pacific at this point. If you have any ideas about tracking him down if he's missing, I'm taking my ticket right now."
Ivy sighed, seeing the stubborn look in her eyes. "Spending all this time and not getting anything in return," she reminded her.
Harley crossed over to sit next to her in the back of the limousine. "Just us," she cooed, snuggling next to her. "Golden sands, suntan oil, me in my bikini, killer jungle paradise . . ." She fluttered her eyelashes at her.
She'd just joined Harley that morning in the shower - they would have steamed the mirrors if the water had been _cold_ - and already she was becoming aroused. Harley Quinn had sunlight in her veins, because she could make her petals open any time. "Harley," she sighed.
The natural brown-haired girl pulled back suddenly. "And remember the _last_ time you put our trip to the tropics on hold because you just HAD to get somebody?"
"I - remember," Ivy murmured, feeling chills run up her spine. If Harley _ever_ needed to remind her where her priorities ought to lay, she only had to bring up that month in hell. "You're right, it's not important. If he's there, he's there. If he's not - well, I hope he enjoys life looking over his shoulder."
"That's the spirit," Harley said, giggling. "Rely on your reputation."
Ivy grumbled to herself. "We still have a reputation in this town?"
"Somebody needs a hu-ug," Harley sang, grinning.
The window separating them from the driver's seat slowly went down. The driver mumbled something.
"Good," Ivy said. "Can you tell if our attorneys are there?"
There was an unintelligble reply.
"Good," she repeated. "Pull up front when we're there."
She looked at Harley when they had their privacy again. "What?"
"How do you know he wasn't telling us we needed gas?"
"You hired him," Ivy shot back.
"He's an ex-con. He needed a break."
"The next word I understand him say will be the first one."
"It never really mattered if we could understand him. All we needed was for him to understand us. 'Floor it!'. 'Let's get out of here!'. 'Lose the cops!'."
"We," Ivy sighed, "are a motley crew."
"But I'm not wearing motley tonight," Harley pointed out. "Oh, you meant . . . sorry."
Ivy shook her head. Either Harley had pretended to be a flake for so long that the effects had been permanent, or she'd once been the biggest oddball in her psychology class. "My oddball," she added mentally, smiling.
Apparently Aidan Cavendish had in fact been telling them they had arrived, for the car's engines turned off a minute later, and someone wrapped on the window with their knuckles.
"Miss Ivy," he said when she lowered the window.
"Which one are you?" she asked.
"Thorpe, ma'am."
"Then let's get this over with. We have a flight to catch."
She got out of the car with Harley. "Wait for us," she told Aidan. He nodded, which for him was smarter than saying "yes".
"Looks like they're closed," Harley said as they went toward the front door.
"This entire part of town looks closed," Jim Apple told them. "Red light district looked a lot worse after they took the red lights away."
Ivy tried the door, and sure enough, it was unlocked. They let themselves in.
"Wasn't there a receptionist?" Harley asked.
"Probably doesn't want his abject surrender to be seen," Ivy murmured.
"I'm getting a bad feeling, Red," Harley said. "Let's catch our flight now, okay?"
"If he's not here, fine," Ivy told her. "But I'm not walking out of here without my money if he is."
And he was there. So was the money. If it hadn't been for the small fact that he was dead, they could have left in no time at all.
"I just want to be the first to say that this really sucks," Harley growled while Ivy inspected the body.
"Nightshade," she said.
"What?"
"He was poisoned with essence of nightshade," Ivy said confidently. "The signs are clear. It looks like it was injected into his neck."
Harley stared at her. "You mean he was murdered with a plant-based poison?"
"Absolutely," she replied. Then she looked back at Harley. "Wait, you don't think _I_ did it?"
"Oh, of course not!" Harley told her.
"Because if I had been going to kill him," she went on, "you know I would have included you."
"I'm sure you would have."
"Er, ladies?" Tim Thorpe suggested cautiously. "Might I suggest you not say that to the jury?"
Ivy turned her head. "The jury?"
"It doesn't matter what I think," Harley said. "But what are the cops going to think when they find out someone poisoned him with something from a plant?"
"Someone who had accused him of keeping money from her?" Jim added.
Ivy scowled. "This is just great," she hissed.
"And whoever did do it," Tim said, "didn't take the money sitting invitingly on the desk. If you try to argue someone else did it, they'll ask why the real killers left the money behind."
"We're being set up," Harley realized.
"Possibly," the twins said in unison.
There was a pause. The silence made it easier to hear what was going on outside.
"Does anyone else hear sirens?" Harley asked.
"We find the body, and the cops show up," Ivy groused. "What a stupid cliche."
"While I don't question your innocence," Apple told her, "I really think you should leave now. If the cops find you here, they're going to arrest you."
"And if they arrest you," Thorpe continued, "because of your history, they're probably going to have you held over for psychological observation."
"At Arkham," his brother added. "And among the current residents of Arkham is - "
"The Joker," Harley whispered.
Ivy's cheeks burned. _He_ was behind this, she knew. He wasn't even going to bother breaking out; he was arranging for them to join him! "That's it," she snarled. "Jim, Tim. One of you take Harley and have Aidan bring you back to the hotel."
"Red?" Harley asked, surprised.
"I'll wait here with whoever's staying," she went on. "And after the police bring me to Arkham, I'm going to have one last conversation with that laughing freak."
"Red, no!" Harley screamed. "He'll kill you!"
"Trust me," she said in a voice like winter. "He won't."
"Then you're gonna kill him, and you'll go to prison for infinity!"
"I am _sick_ and _tired_ of his constant obsession with our lives," Ivy told her. "They'll have to let me out once they find out I didn't do it. By the time I leave Arkham, I'll have done whatever it took to leave us alone forever." Including, she thought bleakly, humiliating herself before him in the worst way, if that was what it would take.
"But Red," Harley pleaded, "I can't let you go in there alone."
"If I let you within a hundred yards of that monster," Ivy said quietly, "then I really will have something to blame myself for for the rest of my life."
Harley was utterly miserable. "I love you," she said, tears running.
The sirens were getting louder. "Damn it, would one of you please get her out of here?"
"Come on, Miss Quinn," Tim Thorpe said, holding his bowler against his chest. "She'll be back soon."
Ivy watched her go, looking pathetic with the man's arm around her shoulder. "Harley," she said. "Love you too."
Harley didn't even turn around. Thorpe continued to hurry her out of there.
"I'll have you released as soon as possible," Apple said.
"Long as you give me enough time to smack some sense into that clown," she replied. She felt the tickets in the pocket of her jacket. "And I'm going to ram these tickets down his throat. It's all they're good for now."
"The money's no good to you, either," Apple reminded her. "It's part of the crime scene."
"There goes your contingency."
He shrugged. "It was worth it to see the look on Dent's two faces when you walked in the room the other day."
__________________________________
"I want her observed for twenty-four hours, Doctor," Commissioner Gordon told her. "Unless she shows some sign of instability, I'm having her transferred to the women's penitentiary at Blackgate." He glanced back at Poison Ivy, pale in her everyday clothes, hands cuffed behind her back. She looked solemn, but otherwise she seemed the very picture of stability.
"Of course, Commissioner," the doctor assured him. "We'll take very good care of her."
He nodded sternly. "Where's the Joker being kept?" he asked.
"Solitary," she said. "He'll stay there."
"Don't do anything for my benefit."
They both glanced over at Ivy. She looked back at them. "I won't be here long anyway," she continued. "I'm not afraid."
"Considering what you did to him the last time you were alone together," Gordon said, "I think we need to keep you safe from each other."
Her only reply was a sardonic chuckle.
A dark shadow lurked on Arkham's rooftop, meanwhile. He put a hand to his ear.
"I don't like this," Oracle was saying.
"I'm not happy about Poison Ivy returning to our rogues' gallery either," Batman said, "but the police were able to stop her from escaping."
"It's not that," she replied. "I'm not convinced she did it."
He cocked his head. "Why?"
"Police received an anonymous tipoff that Poison Ivy was going to kill the victim. Who made the call? There was no one else at the scene. There's over thirty thousand dollars in cash in Jones' office. Office workers are saying two men claiming to be Ivy's attorneys have been hanging around the office and going through the books."
"Jones and Ivy must have had some sort of financial arrangement," he said, "for her to allow him to use her likeness in adult movies. She probably wanted more."
"But preliminary reports are the only fingerprints belong to Jones. And no, Ivy wasn't wearing her gloves. She wasn't even wearing her outfit. And why wasn't Harley Quinn with her? And why did she surrender?"
Batman had already noted her ordinary attire. "Anything else?"
"They found a concealed camera in his office. They're bringing the tape back to headquarters. I should have a video feed almost as soon as they begin."
"Good."
"I hope she didn't do it," Oracle added. "I'd like to be able to hold onto the notion that these people can turn their lives around some day."
He understood. The Ventriloquist's baffling decision to take up the dummy once more had bothered him. "They're putting Joker and Poison Ivy in the same building. What do you think will happen?"
Oracle paused, evidently pondering the question. "His mania about those two has lasted a lot longer than usual. But she's survived so far. I think she'll manage."
"I'll check on her later. Meanwhile, keep an eye on the investigation."
"Gotcha. Tell her I said hi."
"Who, Ivy?"
"No, dummy. Selina."
He stopped. "What?"
"Robin told me. He's a little worried. He saw her boots in the Bat-cave. So unless you've developed a fetish for rogue footwear . . ."
"It's nothing."
"If there's something going on between you and - "
"I said it's nothing," he interrupted before tuning out.
Oracle sat back. "Cat in the mansion? Sounds like something to me," she said to dead air.
To be continued . . .
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 4
"Ms. Cabeza?"
"Yes, Lily?"
"You have a call on line two."
"I'm a little busy here, Lily. Could they . . ."
Her secretary sounded slightly awed. "It's Bruce Wayne, from Wayne Enterprises. He says it's important."
Talia leaned back in her chair. "Does he?" she replied, amused. "Put him through. And make sure the line is secure." Secure from you too, her eyes said.
"Of course, Ms. Cabeza," she said swiftly.
The CEO picked up the phone once the doors were closed. "Hello, Bruce. What an unexpected treat."
"Talia," he replied calmly. "It's been a while."
"Yes, well, as you would know if you spent three days a month in your offices, people in our position have a great many responsibilities."
"I saw second-quarter profits were up."
"Yours too, I noticed," she said. "Not as much as ours, though."
"From a percentage standpoint. With our profits, it's harder to achieve double-digit growth."
"True enough," Talia conceded.
Bruce hesitated. It was good to hear her light, musical voice after so long, but once again, she sounded different. She didn't sound like she was speaking to her beloved, the Detective, the Dark Knight, one of the two poles in her life. She sounded like Veronica, actually. Dear old Bruce. It was distracting. "It's been a while since you brought your drama to my doorstep," he said, trying to provoke her a little.
Talia's smile slipped briefly. "Drama. That was polite. I'm surprised you didn't say 'histrionics'."
Her reply surprised him. "You've become - unpredictable, Talia. Not like your father."
"Predictability is rarely a good thing, Bruce. Why, am I not reading the lines you'd like to hear?"
Oddly reminiscent of his own analogy the night before, he found himself switching gears, dancing around what had quickly become the center of the conversation. "Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn are back in Gotham, you know."
"Are they? No, I didn't know. We're not that close."
"Close enough," he retorted. "I asked you if you knew where they were, Talia. You remember what you said?"
"I told you I didn't," she said simply.
"You were lying."
"Yes."
"Why?" he asked. "Ra's said not to?"
Her fingernails scratched at the surface of her desk. Even now, did he really think her so devoid of free will that she could only do what her father asked her to? Or what her "Beloved" asked her to?
Of course, maybe she'd foolishly allowed herself to cultivate that impression. Well, as Poison Ivy might say, it was time to pull that impression out by the roots.
"Because it wasn't any of your business," she said coldly.
He laughed, surprised. "But it was your business to know where they were."
"My father asked me to monitor their location," she admitted, stung. "But I am aware of a great many things in this city, Bruce, and not because it is my mission. It is only because I wish it. Because _I_ wish it," she emphasized. "The sooner you get it through that skull of yours that I do not exist merely to fulfill your wishes - OR my father's," she quickly added, anticipating the reply, "the sooner we can end this discussion."
"When did you develop a mind of your own?" he retorted.
"I am sorry you think so little of me," Talia hissed, surprised that she was becoming so emotional. "Now I understand why we never could have worked."
"Because of me?" Bruce asked, flabbergasted. "How were we supposed to make things work, Talia? When the chips were down, you picked your father every time. _Every time_. His plan would fail, I would live, but he was always out there, preparing his latest scheme, because you helped him. How the hell was I supposed to believe someone who betrayed me constantly? Or respect someone who let her father run her life like that?"
She gasped, and the receiver almost fell from her hand. "You bastard," she whispered.
"Talia."
"At least," she told him, her anger becoming white-hot, "I do not allow my parents' murder to dictate my entire life, _Bruce_. And maybe I learned a little self-respect. I'm living my life for myself now, and the least you could do is be a little happy for me!" Rising out of her chair, Talia slammed the phone down so hard that she cracked the plastic casing.
She looked down at the damaged phone. She'd had such speeches planned for that dialogue. "Shit," she said. "Lily?" she called. "See if someone can get me another phone."
"Ms. Cabeza?"
"And hold my appointments for an hour." Running her fingers back through her hair, she went into a smaller room to meditate.
__________________________
Bruce stared at the phone. On some level, he'd believed she was being coy all along, that this had been just a cunning game of playing hard-to-get in order to get his attention. He'd been prepared to tell her about Catwoman, if he'd had to, in order to make her understand that there was no hope for them.
Apparently he'd miscalculated.
He took solace in the fact that if he was confused by Talia al-Ghul, her father must be utterly confounded.
__________________________
"He'd better be here," Ivy muttered. "These tickets are nonrefundable."
"I don't care if he's here," Harley told her, scratching a hyena's ears. "We're only going to have time for three days in the Pacific at this point. If you have any ideas about tracking him down if he's missing, I'm taking my ticket right now."
Ivy sighed, seeing the stubborn look in her eyes. "Spending all this time and not getting anything in return," she reminded her.
Harley crossed over to sit next to her in the back of the limousine. "Just us," she cooed, snuggling next to her. "Golden sands, suntan oil, me in my bikini, killer jungle paradise . . ." She fluttered her eyelashes at her.
She'd just joined Harley that morning in the shower - they would have steamed the mirrors if the water had been _cold_ - and already she was becoming aroused. Harley Quinn had sunlight in her veins, because she could make her petals open any time. "Harley," she sighed.
The natural brown-haired girl pulled back suddenly. "And remember the _last_ time you put our trip to the tropics on hold because you just HAD to get somebody?"
"I - remember," Ivy murmured, feeling chills run up her spine. If Harley _ever_ needed to remind her where her priorities ought to lay, she only had to bring up that month in hell. "You're right, it's not important. If he's there, he's there. If he's not - well, I hope he enjoys life looking over his shoulder."
"That's the spirit," Harley said, giggling. "Rely on your reputation."
Ivy grumbled to herself. "We still have a reputation in this town?"
"Somebody needs a hu-ug," Harley sang, grinning.
The window separating them from the driver's seat slowly went down. The driver mumbled something.
"Good," Ivy said. "Can you tell if our attorneys are there?"
There was an unintelligble reply.
"Good," she repeated. "Pull up front when we're there."
She looked at Harley when they had their privacy again. "What?"
"How do you know he wasn't telling us we needed gas?"
"You hired him," Ivy shot back.
"He's an ex-con. He needed a break."
"The next word I understand him say will be the first one."
"It never really mattered if we could understand him. All we needed was for him to understand us. 'Floor it!'. 'Let's get out of here!'. 'Lose the cops!'."
"We," Ivy sighed, "are a motley crew."
"But I'm not wearing motley tonight," Harley pointed out. "Oh, you meant . . . sorry."
Ivy shook her head. Either Harley had pretended to be a flake for so long that the effects had been permanent, or she'd once been the biggest oddball in her psychology class. "My oddball," she added mentally, smiling.
Apparently Aidan Cavendish had in fact been telling them they had arrived, for the car's engines turned off a minute later, and someone wrapped on the window with their knuckles.
"Miss Ivy," he said when she lowered the window.
"Which one are you?" she asked.
"Thorpe, ma'am."
"Then let's get this over with. We have a flight to catch."
She got out of the car with Harley. "Wait for us," she told Aidan. He nodded, which for him was smarter than saying "yes".
"Looks like they're closed," Harley said as they went toward the front door.
"This entire part of town looks closed," Jim Apple told them. "Red light district looked a lot worse after they took the red lights away."
Ivy tried the door, and sure enough, it was unlocked. They let themselves in.
"Wasn't there a receptionist?" Harley asked.
"Probably doesn't want his abject surrender to be seen," Ivy murmured.
"I'm getting a bad feeling, Red," Harley said. "Let's catch our flight now, okay?"
"If he's not here, fine," Ivy told her. "But I'm not walking out of here without my money if he is."
And he was there. So was the money. If it hadn't been for the small fact that he was dead, they could have left in no time at all.
"I just want to be the first to say that this really sucks," Harley growled while Ivy inspected the body.
"Nightshade," she said.
"What?"
"He was poisoned with essence of nightshade," Ivy said confidently. "The signs are clear. It looks like it was injected into his neck."
Harley stared at her. "You mean he was murdered with a plant-based poison?"
"Absolutely," she replied. Then she looked back at Harley. "Wait, you don't think _I_ did it?"
"Oh, of course not!" Harley told her.
"Because if I had been going to kill him," she went on, "you know I would have included you."
"I'm sure you would have."
"Er, ladies?" Tim Thorpe suggested cautiously. "Might I suggest you not say that to the jury?"
Ivy turned her head. "The jury?"
"It doesn't matter what I think," Harley said. "But what are the cops going to think when they find out someone poisoned him with something from a plant?"
"Someone who had accused him of keeping money from her?" Jim added.
Ivy scowled. "This is just great," she hissed.
"And whoever did do it," Tim said, "didn't take the money sitting invitingly on the desk. If you try to argue someone else did it, they'll ask why the real killers left the money behind."
"We're being set up," Harley realized.
"Possibly," the twins said in unison.
There was a pause. The silence made it easier to hear what was going on outside.
"Does anyone else hear sirens?" Harley asked.
"We find the body, and the cops show up," Ivy groused. "What a stupid cliche."
"While I don't question your innocence," Apple told her, "I really think you should leave now. If the cops find you here, they're going to arrest you."
"And if they arrest you," Thorpe continued, "because of your history, they're probably going to have you held over for psychological observation."
"At Arkham," his brother added. "And among the current residents of Arkham is - "
"The Joker," Harley whispered.
Ivy's cheeks burned. _He_ was behind this, she knew. He wasn't even going to bother breaking out; he was arranging for them to join him! "That's it," she snarled. "Jim, Tim. One of you take Harley and have Aidan bring you back to the hotel."
"Red?" Harley asked, surprised.
"I'll wait here with whoever's staying," she went on. "And after the police bring me to Arkham, I'm going to have one last conversation with that laughing freak."
"Red, no!" Harley screamed. "He'll kill you!"
"Trust me," she said in a voice like winter. "He won't."
"Then you're gonna kill him, and you'll go to prison for infinity!"
"I am _sick_ and _tired_ of his constant obsession with our lives," Ivy told her. "They'll have to let me out once they find out I didn't do it. By the time I leave Arkham, I'll have done whatever it took to leave us alone forever." Including, she thought bleakly, humiliating herself before him in the worst way, if that was what it would take.
"But Red," Harley pleaded, "I can't let you go in there alone."
"If I let you within a hundred yards of that monster," Ivy said quietly, "then I really will have something to blame myself for for the rest of my life."
Harley was utterly miserable. "I love you," she said, tears running.
The sirens were getting louder. "Damn it, would one of you please get her out of here?"
"Come on, Miss Quinn," Tim Thorpe said, holding his bowler against his chest. "She'll be back soon."
Ivy watched her go, looking pathetic with the man's arm around her shoulder. "Harley," she said. "Love you too."
Harley didn't even turn around. Thorpe continued to hurry her out of there.
"I'll have you released as soon as possible," Apple said.
"Long as you give me enough time to smack some sense into that clown," she replied. She felt the tickets in the pocket of her jacket. "And I'm going to ram these tickets down his throat. It's all they're good for now."
"The money's no good to you, either," Apple reminded her. "It's part of the crime scene."
"There goes your contingency."
He shrugged. "It was worth it to see the look on Dent's two faces when you walked in the room the other day."
__________________________________
"I want her observed for twenty-four hours, Doctor," Commissioner Gordon told her. "Unless she shows some sign of instability, I'm having her transferred to the women's penitentiary at Blackgate." He glanced back at Poison Ivy, pale in her everyday clothes, hands cuffed behind her back. She looked solemn, but otherwise she seemed the very picture of stability.
"Of course, Commissioner," the doctor assured him. "We'll take very good care of her."
He nodded sternly. "Where's the Joker being kept?" he asked.
"Solitary," she said. "He'll stay there."
"Don't do anything for my benefit."
They both glanced over at Ivy. She looked back at them. "I won't be here long anyway," she continued. "I'm not afraid."
"Considering what you did to him the last time you were alone together," Gordon said, "I think we need to keep you safe from each other."
Her only reply was a sardonic chuckle.
A dark shadow lurked on Arkham's rooftop, meanwhile. He put a hand to his ear.
"I don't like this," Oracle was saying.
"I'm not happy about Poison Ivy returning to our rogues' gallery either," Batman said, "but the police were able to stop her from escaping."
"It's not that," she replied. "I'm not convinced she did it."
He cocked his head. "Why?"
"Police received an anonymous tipoff that Poison Ivy was going to kill the victim. Who made the call? There was no one else at the scene. There's over thirty thousand dollars in cash in Jones' office. Office workers are saying two men claiming to be Ivy's attorneys have been hanging around the office and going through the books."
"Jones and Ivy must have had some sort of financial arrangement," he said, "for her to allow him to use her likeness in adult movies. She probably wanted more."
"But preliminary reports are the only fingerprints belong to Jones. And no, Ivy wasn't wearing her gloves. She wasn't even wearing her outfit. And why wasn't Harley Quinn with her? And why did she surrender?"
Batman had already noted her ordinary attire. "Anything else?"
"They found a concealed camera in his office. They're bringing the tape back to headquarters. I should have a video feed almost as soon as they begin."
"Good."
"I hope she didn't do it," Oracle added. "I'd like to be able to hold onto the notion that these people can turn their lives around some day."
He understood. The Ventriloquist's baffling decision to take up the dummy once more had bothered him. "They're putting Joker and Poison Ivy in the same building. What do you think will happen?"
Oracle paused, evidently pondering the question. "His mania about those two has lasted a lot longer than usual. But she's survived so far. I think she'll manage."
"I'll check on her later. Meanwhile, keep an eye on the investigation."
"Gotcha. Tell her I said hi."
"Who, Ivy?"
"No, dummy. Selina."
He stopped. "What?"
"Robin told me. He's a little worried. He saw her boots in the Bat-cave. So unless you've developed a fetish for rogue footwear . . ."
"It's nothing."
"If there's something going on between you and - "
"I said it's nothing," he interrupted before tuning out.
Oracle sat back. "Cat in the mansion? Sounds like something to me," she said to dead air.
To be continued . . .
