Author's Note: I cannot apologise enough to my fanfiction.net fans (if I still have any left after my hiatus). To be honest with you, I had a lot of trouble with the fanfiction.net server and so didn't post this there, saving it for the CatTails website. However, I now realise the error of my ways. Please forgive me. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did whilst writing it.

She glanced up at us and snorted, pretending that she found the leaflet she was reading a lot more interesting.

Don't think, dear reader, that we are arrogant enough to think that a woman like Pam would automatically find us far more interesting than a leaflet on the plight of moss in the Icelandic town of Egilsstadir. . . Correction, we hope she would.

In this instance however, we could sense that our sudden appearance in her life after all this time had piqued her interest. She sniffed disdainfully, attempting to imply completely the opposite.

"Hello Twoface."

Ouch.

"Hello Poison Ivy."

We could almost see her bristling like a hedgehog. Or one of her precious Cacti. We looked over to Eddie. He nodded encouragingly. Feeling like we were slipping into an electric chair, we sat down opposite Ivy.

Here we should probably explain something. Being the Ecowarrior/maniac that Pammy is, she refuses point blank to sit at a normal wooden table - when we were seeing each other she used to claim that she could hear the trees used to make it calling out even in their death and subsequent humiliation. We failed to see what was humiliating about being turned into a table (after all, some hapless trees end up as toilet paper), and said as such.

Which resulted in our spending the next two nights on the fold out couch.

However, at our gentle (ahem) insistence, Oswald was finally persuaded (ahem) to purchase a new table for her especially, one that she and she alone could sit at. We lead her, blindfolded of course, to her new black plastic topped metal table. When the blindfold came off she nearly screamed the house down.

Didn't we appreciate the harmful chemicals given off by companies like the crafters of this table had on the environment? Had we heard of the Ozone Layer? Or the Greenhouse effect? Were we not listening the last 6 times she explained it? Did we not recall the New Year's eve lecture? She could go into it again if we wished, in more detail, with visual aids. Did we know that plastic is a non-biodegradable material, and hence incredibly bad for the environment? Did we realise that they use charcoal to heat the furnaces that shaped this metal monstrosity? Charcoal that has been ripped from its place in the Earth's regenerative cycle? Did we even care about Mother Earth and the survival of person-kind?

We answered that it was just a fricking table.

A slap this time, as well as two whole weeks alone on the couch.

Seeing Ivy wasn't all a bed of roses as you can see (OK, so we're not The Joker, but that doesn't mean we aren't going to use a terrible joke when given the opportunity). The woman who sat opposite us was no doubt beautiful and sexy and anything else one cares to think of when describing an attractive female. But she could be a real pain in the ass sometimes.

"What have you been up to then Ivy?"

"Nothing special."

"Good to hear."

Now, the way we had been lead to understand it, the way a conversation is supposed to work is person one greets person two, person two returns the greeting, person one continues it. Like a board game really - I go, you go, I go, you go.

Ivy obviously played different games. Calm yourself Twoface. She said nothing, allowing the uncomfortable silence to develop into a downright metaphorical chasm between the two of us.

We did the same thing we always do when presented with a chasm in front of us. We put our foot in it.

"Awkward silences and alcohol - just like Thanksgiving at home."

We thought ruefully of Thanksgiving at home as we shamelessly ripped off the gag from TV's Scrubs. A combination of him being off work (ie with me more than usual) and far too much alcohol meant dear old fucking Dad was more likely to carve me up than the turkey. I tended to spend Thanksgiving out of the house, usually in McDonalds with the foreign staff, those of us who didn't celebrate Thanksgiving all together. They because they weren't from this county and hence didn't have the tradition, and me because I had nothing to be thankful for.

The pain must have been written in our eyes at the thought as when we came back to reality Ivy was looking at us with. . . sympathy? From the Icequeen's bitchier sister? Surely not.

She caught herself, and sipped her glass of water cooly.

"There's no alcohol at this table Harvey." She stated. "And I'm sorry about the silence, but I didn't actually ask you to sit with me and you did disturb my reading. If you want to go again, feel more than free."

We were incensed. If that's the way she wanted to play it then so be it. People say we are paranoid. We think they're just saying that because they don't want us to know the truth, whatever that may be. But on this occasion, we feel certain that Ivy was playing a game - a very deadly game known as 'one up-manship'.

And she was in the lead.

We laughed lightly and nodded understandingly.

"You're right Ivy. There is no alcohol at this table. Sly!" he appeared at our table extremely quickly - too quickly - almost as if he had been listening to our conversation in fact. Funny that.

"One carrot juice please good fellow." We paused. "With a dash of vodka of course." It would taste foul, but that was beside the point. It was time to draw level and overtake. "Make sure you grind those carrots especially hard through the cheese grater would you?" A scent of lemon greeted this request. Knowing this as a sign of her anger (and confidant that her usual punishment of sleeping on the couch wasn't applicable here), we pressed the advantage home. "We'd like every refreshing drop of carrot goodness please. Thank you."

We turned to Ivy, smiling politely.

"Well, it's worked for Bugs Bunny all these years hasn't it? And it should help me to see in the dark as well."

"Well, that makes two things Bugs Bunny has that you haven't got Harvey." She said smugly but grinning sweetly, "Night vision and charisma."

It took every last reserve of patience not to snarl, lunge over to her and rip her throat out. Instead we smiled at her (it probably came out as more of a grimace), and said nothing until Sly brought over our drink. We theatrically knocked it onto the floor. In the background, we heard the sound of tutting and chalk on blackboard. (*)

"Oh bother! We do apologise Sly. Please fetch me another - there's a good chap. Put them both on my tab obviously, as well as the cost of the carpet being cleaned. And remember - show those carrots no mercy!"

We laughed jovially (even though it was through gritted teeth) as Sly left and the scent of lemon became stronger. She did an admirable job of controlling herself though - a little shrug and a careless glance down at her leaflet gave the impression of not a care in the world.

We must steal that move.

"So then Ivy," we said, getting greedy - we were already up on her after all, "You never did answer my question - what have you been up to?"

She pouted in thought, and placed her finger to the corner of her mouth as if in deep concentration. An illegal move if ever there was one - whilst we had been seeing each other we had made no secret of the fact that this particular pose drove us mad with desire.

"Not an awful lot." She answered, waving airily as if to suggest nothing of importance. "The usual really. Last week I organised and held a successful demonstration against the Papacy on the very outskirts of Vatican City. Even someone as holy as The Pope should be brought to rights for his heinous wastage of paper in insisting his toilet seats all have paper covers. Oh, and of course there was the demo in Lapland against the usage of pine trees at this particular time of year. They say that a pet is for life not just for Christmas - why then should a humble tree not also be afforded the same luxury? And then there was the answer machine messages by the bucket-load to President Lexy-poo about his misspelling of the word potato in that spelling bee - through his lax attitude towards learning he also conveys the impression that potatoes themselves are not worth any of his valuable consideration. The powerful should really consider their responsibilities to the populace as a whole, certainly someone so powerful as the American President - even if he is a moron. Well honestly, steps should be taken to curb that man's media time. Maybe he could mime his speeches until he comes up with something sensible to say? I mean come on! Doesn't he know that the potato is one of Mother Earth's many triumphs! It has it's place in the natural cycle just as much as you or. . . well, I do anyway, and his ignorance is essentially an act of vandalism against something that is unable to defend itself. Grr! It just makes my Xylem vessels tremble!" She growled, her body shivering in a way that we, despite ourselves, found hard to resist. "Oh yes - and the leader of Greenpeace called a few days ago - something about making me official head of the organisation or something? I don't know - my machine picked it up as Harley was over at the time for an impromptu game of Twister. Pasty Face had been giving her a hard time it seemed, and of course I was only too happy to oblige in the inevitable and yet still amusing verbal deconstruction of the male gender."

She sighed happily, her flame red hair rippling about her pale green bare shoulders.

We for our part were having a hard part containing our desire. Ever since she had begun her little tirade, we had urged silently to leap across the table, land in her barely covered lap and crush her poisonous mouth with rough kisses. But we were not to be defeated so easily. We knew her tricks. Ignoring our lust we returned to the game.

"So, what's this we hear about you and The Cadaver?" we asked innocently, hoping that enquiring about her and another man would take her off the scent.

"The who?" she asked, puzzled.

"The Cadaver." We said, with a laugh. "It's what Selina and we call Ra's Al Ghul. Correction - it's one of the nicer nick names we have for him."

She laughed lightly. We were taken aback. The sound was like a small bell ringing - a genuine spot of mirth from Poison Ivy. We were taken aback.

"Ra's and I? Who told you about that? Well, suffice it to say, the Grape Vine got it right once again." To our surprise, we felt like our heart was about to break. We shrugged off the feeling, knowing it was merely her chemicals beginning to take effect on our innocent blood stream.

Cursing ourselves for the lack of insight in not wearing nose plugs, we made a faintly inquisitive noise that suggested we wanted her to continue. Hopefully it didn't give the impression we actually wanted to know what she had to say - more over we were merely being polite and taking an interest in an old flame's love life.

Naturally, we actually did care, and cared very much as well. Ever the masochist, we ploughed on, knowing full well our heart was in all likelihood about to ripped from our chest like a redundant appendix.

"Oh sure." She continued, a sexy little smile playing about her lips, "He was my thrall for a while. He's got a really big tongue you know." Our heart leapt to our mouth. "He did a damn fine job of cleaning my stiletto's with it." Relief washed over us. We allowed a small smile to creep through our stony visage. The thought of the criminal mastermind licking somebody else's boots was just too good to not enjoy to it's fullest.

"I know you want all the gory details Harv, seeing as you're such a prominent old maid in the gossiper's club."

We resented that comment, and nearly said so. Why, merely the other day we had been talking to Mad Hatter about something that he had heard indirectly from Eddie Nigma about. . .

It's hard to imagine us as a feared District Attorney isn't it? We'll take your silence as a compliment.

"I'm going to have to disappoint you on that front Harv." She continued. Our ears pricked up. "Nothing untoward happened between myself and Ra's. Besides, wouldn't that be like necrophilia or something?" She winked at us seductively. For our part we nearly punched the air in joy and relief. We were therefore caught completely off guard by her next question.

"So what about you Harv? What have you been up to."

"Not a lot. Knocked over a couple of banks here and there."

She sneered and we realised that we had fallen for the oldest trick in the book. Compared to her numerous humanitarian causes and protests, our 'couple of banks' looked pathetic to say the least. It is an unspoken rule amongst exes that one must always come off as being happier and more successful in their new life than the other. Ivy had in doing this struck a heavy blow in the game, one that needed an immediate and decisive response.

"Oh and of course then there was the luscious Roxy. And the irresistible Harley. And not forgetting Magpie. My, who could forget Magpie with her infinitely kissable lips. All three women wanted a piece of the Dentmeister, and it was down to us to oblige. It was a tough job, but we felt we were up to the task."

We laughed nonchalantly, feeling pleased with ourselves. In playing the role of the chauvinist pig, we could really turn on the brutishness when needed.

We felt so pleased with ourselves in fact that we didn't even feel the vine creeping up our leg until it began cutting off our circulation at the knee.

We subtly stole a glance downward. Our shoes and feet were completely submerged in a mass of twisting green vines - as yet thornless so to speak, but a concern even so. One particularly intrepid vine was beginning to snake its way up one of our trouser legs. The scent of lemon was overpowering.

We looked up, straight into the eyes of Mother Nature herself. And Gaia was pissed.

"You're dating again?" she asked, trying to sound composed, but only succeeding in reducing her voice to a frustrated squeal. "That's great to hear Harvey." The vine around the knee became tighter. We winced, despite ourselves.

"Ivy, I'm gonna need that back you know."

"Not when I'm finished with it. And you're leg may not be in great shape either." She mumbled, smiling sweetly.

"Excuse me?" we stammered.

"Nothing dear." She said, the vine gliding ever closer to our half satin and half cotton boxer shorts.

There is nothing like a potentially fatal vine in the vicinity of one's genitalia to stir a man into action. Taking the opportunity with the force that was needed to escape this current dire predicament, Harv was kicked forcefully from the cranial hot seat.

We were in the driving seat, and no coin flip was required when it was a matter of saving Mini Us or facing the rest of our life as a choir boy with a particularly strange case of acne.

"DAMN YOU IVY!" we said, lurching forward, struggling to maintain balance as the vines gripped like limpets to our ankles. It reminded us of the scene in Hotshots! in which Rowan Atkinson tells an understandably sympathetic Charlie Sheen that "They (The Iraqis) have tied my shoe laces together." "Bastards." Comes the profound reply.

Suddenly, our hands were at her small neck. For her part, she merely smiled lustily, as the vine slid ever quicker towards its intimate destination.

"Fight fair Ivy! BITCH! Why can't you just leave your twice accursed chemicals at home along with your bad attitude and acid tongue! We find you attractive OK? There we said it! You don't need to waft that pheromone shit in our face as well!"

Confusion on her gorgeous features. "But Harv. . . I haven't been. . . did you say you still find me attractive?"

Our grip on her neck tightened.

"Fuck this Ivy! Our veins burn with longing to hold you in our arms - a little more intimately than this! We have to fight the urge not to just give in and bury our tongue in your delicious mouth, despite the almost inevitable consequences of us becoming a vegetable afterwards. Literally! Now for fuck's sake go back to your sister's - North, South and East and take your Goddamned slippers with you! You never loved us. . ."

She sneered. The vine had stopped it's ascent as it had reached it's final destination - at least we thought that's what we felt in our boxers. . .

"Fuck you Harvey you cretin. You're just like every other man. Selfish to the end. Our relationship was about sex Harvey! And if you can't see that then you're even more blind than every other member of your gender! Besides, it was your continual bickering that ended us! If there was an argument to be had, you would have it! You even jumped down my throat when I suggested you stop wearing those fucking cycle shorts of yours!" The look in her eyes was one we had not seen in some time. Pure unadulterated passion. We resolved not to give in. "Look Harvey, obviously I like - I mean liked seeing your family jewels, although useless trinkets might be a better term, but why did you insist on exposing them to the rest of the world? And for your information I was a damn sight better for you than that bitch Gilda ever was. . ."

We snapped.

"Is that so? IS THAT FUCKING SO!"

We raised our fist to punch her senseless.

"GO ON THEN HARVEY! YOU KNOW WE BOTH WANT IT!" She shrieked back defiantly.

We drew our fist back. . . but to our surprise, when it flew forwards, it flew directly past her and over shoulder. It buried itself in the small of her back, smoothing out until our hand was pressing her forward into our lusting embrace. In our other arm we took her around the shoulder blades and kissed her deeply.

To our surprise, she was kissing us just as passionately back.
* - It's an obscure reference I admit. You may remember in an earlier chapter Oswald's new attempt to keep order - putting a mark against a patron's name when they comitted a misdemeanour. After a certain amount, they would be barred from the club. Just how did Joker manage to get twenty seven tallies in one evening is a mystery that remains unsolved.

Author's Note - Chris Dee is responsible for the three statements beginning "Were we not listening the first time" and ending in the visual aids. I thought they were great suggestions so I left them in.