Title: Rappacini's Last Laugh (8)

Author: Allaine

Email: All characters are property of DC Comics. No profit intended, etc., etc.

Feedback: As always, greatly desired and usually responded to.

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: None.

Distribution: If you want it, just ask.

Summary: Poison Ivy is mad in love, and Harley Quinn is sorely vexed by it. A DC Elseworlds fic.


Chapter 8

The Floronic Man scowled as he looked up from his search of the duffel bag. "I still don't understand what you mean. You're not in the mood. If you got in the mood, I could make you forget about that bitch in a minute." He removed a syringe and put it next to the vial.

Ivy didn't respond. She remained huddled in a corner, her hair covering her face as her head lay in her arms.

"When a girl says no, she means no," I told him as I put a gun to the back of his head.

I saw Woodrue's body stiffen. Ivy's head slowly rose in disbelief. "H-Harley?" she whispered.

"You know what I love about criminal hideouts?" I went on. "It's the weapons people just leave lying around. Some people don't pick up their socks. Others don't pick up their guns."

"Well," Jason said coldly, "now I understand why my deceitful Pamela was so distraught. It wasn't because you were dead. It was because she disobeyed me."

"But I didn't!" Ivy gasped. She looked completely floored. Not the look of "thank-God-you're-alive" joy I was hoping for, but it was better than "how-could-you-put-a-gun-to-Rosebud's-head" horror. "You took my blood, you inhaled my breath! You can't still be alive."

"It's good to see you too, Pammy," I replied.

The hurt on her face was the first emotion I'd seen from her besides shock. I hated hurting her, but this time I did it anyway. She tried to kill me, damn it, and no matter how incredible those last moments together were, I was angry. I jabbed the barrel of the gun into Jason's scalp, making his head rock forward slightly. If that bothered her, so be it.

"You were a willing participant in your own death, Harley," she shot back.

"Perhaps death isn't the most accurate choice of words, Ivy," Jason pointed out. "Since she's pointing a gun at me right now. You're remarkably healthy, I must say, Harley."

"Yes," I agreed. "When I came to a minute ago, I thought to myself that my 'features had never before possessed so rich a grace, nor my eyes such vivacity, nor my cheeks so warm a hue of superabundant life'."

Jason was still for a moment before erupting with a harsh laugh. "Ha!" he barked. "So that's it? You think you're Giovanni to her Beatrice?"

I started. I knew the story well enough to quote it. Apparently he knew it well enough to recognize it. "You've read the tale?" I asked.

"Of course. I found it - inspirational. Naturally I aspired to succeed as Doctor Rappacini did, and you can see the outcome yourself. I too am the man who, 'with what he calls the interest of science before his eyes, will hesitate at nothing'."

"If you mean you're a 'tall, emaciated, sallow, and sickly-looking man', then I completely agree," I replied.

From the look of frustrated annoyance on Pammy's face, she had no idea what we were talking about. There, at last, was the woman I'd seen sweep through the Iceberg like a queen. "Does everyone in Gotham speak in riddles now?" she asked, irritated.

"Ivy, my dear," Jason told her smoothly, "it is possible that you yourself are the reason she's alive. All those days and nights the two of you spent alone in each other's company - like a king who builds his resistance to poison by consuming ever-increasing amounts, Quinn became immune to your poison by inhaling copious amounts of the poison in your breath."

"And touching your skin when I helped you undress," I added. "And kissing your tears away."

"But you passed out!" she said. "I made sure of it! Or were you faking that? Were you faking the whole time!" she demanded with more heat than I expected. As if what happened between us had mattered to her.

At that moment, I stopped being angry with her. It was those flashes of real, genuine emotion that always swept me away. "I've been dreaming about that moment for two years, Pammy," I told her quietly. "You'd pass out too if your fantasy came true after all that time."

Ivy flushed and looked down, embarrassed.

"Hm," Jason murmured. "Perhaps you are Giovanni in more ways than one? Has she 'instilled a fierce and subtle poison into your system'?"

I blushed behind my mask. My memories of those last moments with Ivy seemed to grow stronger.

"You know," he continued, as if this were a simple conversation between acquaintances, "I've always wished for an extra set of hands in my work. I thought to create another woman like Ivy here, but I knew she would never tolerate sharing me." He chuckled a little at that, and I could guess why. He had only said that for Pammy's benefit. If he wanted her to tolerate a second woman, she'd damn well have to.

"But," Jason said, "I think she would be very happy if her best friend began working alongside her. Wouldn't that make you smile, Ivy? If Harley here came to work with us?"

Ivy gasped. "Oh, yes!" she said enthusiastically.

Inside I was groaning. Of course that would mean the best of both worlds for her. She could have her love and her friend at all times. The odds that she would make it easy for me to inject her with the chemist's concoction just went from "very slim" to "zero".

"And I suppose, like all men, you'd enjoy a little ménage a trois on the side?" I asked scornfully.

He laughed. "I know you despise me, Quinn. I wouldn't ask that - although all the boys at the Iceberg agree you've got a perfect little tush."

I snarled at the back of his big smug head.

"Why not say yes?" he asked. He swiveled in his chair before I could react, but he didn't try to stand up. Jason just looked up at me, with the barrel of my gun right between his arrogant eyes. "I can have a second person who can help me work with poisons that would kill anyone else. And you can be with her always. We both know you want that." He lowered his voice. "She'd even - lie with you, if that was what you wanted. If I told her too, she'd make your fantasies come true for hours."

The gun in my hand dropped slightly as I considered it. How could I not? This wasn't about the Phantasm or Barbara or right or wrong - and certainly not a good joke! This was about loving Ivy. Maybe the drugs wouldn't work. Maybe she'd be hopelessly in love with him for the rest of her life, and killing him would only destroy her.

Oh God, I wanted those nights he was offering.

Then I looked at the beautiful and shockingly vulnerable woman I knew, her hands clasped as if she was praying for me to say yes. She probably was.

My resolve hardened. This wasn't about lust. This was about love. And if I - the last chance she had to be free - was going to help Woodrue go on violating her every day for years to come, then I would be violating her too.

Besides, I didn't want her to love me on Jason's orders. I wanted her to love me on her own.

My gun dropped a little more, and a cocksure smile spread across his features. The Floronic Man, archenemy to Batman, king of rogues - who could resist his charm?

I looked at those white teeth, and I smashed my gun into them.

His head snapped back, and he struck the edge of the table. The syringe started to rill off, but I caught it and jammed it into the pouch on my leg. "You're a joke, Jason," I said. I'd never loathed him more. "The killing joke. Now give me the chemicals you took."

"No, Harley, no, no! What are you doing!" Ivy shrieked, pulling her hair.

Jason just spat out some blood and glared at me. I could see he wanted to kill me himself now. I reached around him and took the chemist's vial, stuffing it next to the syringe.

Then I screamed in his face.

Instinctively he shut his eyes and winced. When my high-pitched wailing came to an end, he opened his eyes again. "If anyone has a right to be angry, it's me," he told me.

After a few seconds, I mentally disagreed. The Phantasm hadn't shown. I had a better right to be pissed.

Still, Jason couldn't summon help from the plants surrounding us without taking his eyes off of me, or moving his hands. And if he did, I'd pull the trigger first. I'd pull the trigger if Ivy leapt at me too. Of course, neither alternative left much room for escape, but if Jason died now, Ivy probably wouldn't want me alive anyway.

I never even heard them coming. Heavy vines snapped out of the foliage with more speed than I thought plants were capable of, and Jason never even blinked. Which meant it had been Pammy. I'd hoped her mixed feelings about me would prevent her from acting on her near-psychic ability to control plants.

I was wrong. What a surprise!

"Thank you, Ivy," Jason said as I was hoisted into the air. Vines were wrapped tightly around my shoulders and ankles. "Although you'll forgive me if I don't ask you to finish her off for me."

"I'm sorry I waited, rosebud," she said. "I just - I was sure she'd accept!"

"Yeah, yeah, how could I, what was I thinking?" I said before Ivy could. "Pammy, he's been deceiving you from the day he created you. When he altered - "

Jason imperiously waved a hand, and the vines gripping me started pulling in opposite directions. I bit off a yelp as I realized I was being put to the rack.

"I have no more need of your foolery, Harley," he said with a sneer. "And Ivy is all the assistant I'll ever need."

I had a feeling those vines could tear me in four pieces in an instant, but naturally he had them increasing the pressure gradually. I was going to die slow. "Jason will never need you for who you ARE, Pammy," I said, feeling beads of sweat break out on my forehead. "Only I will."

"You should have given me what I needed and taken his offer!" she shot back, but she was starting to look pretty uneasy again.

Of course, not as uneasy as the girl whose limbs were about to be ripped off.

Then the room began to fill with a dense black smoke, and I breathed a sigh of relief. At last, someone who WASN'T screwing me over. And Jason was distracted enough that the vines stopped pulling.

"Fire!" Ivy cried out in terror. "The babies!"

"I smell no fire," Jason said. "And I recognize that smoke. It's my old friend, Phantasm. Isn't that right, my dear?"

The Phantasm stepped out from the smoke. "Let the girls go," she commanded, her mask back on. "And then die like a man."

"I'd rather you died like a woman," he said. "Ivy? Take care of her like you did before. I have Miss Quinn to finish off."

"She doesn't look like much," Ivy said, snorting. It was easy to forget I was in mortal danger AGAIN when she could focus on the new threat. "A few tears in the costume that weren't there before, but I suppose there aren't many seamstresses in Hell."

The Phantasm DID look strangely shabby. There were rips and tears in her outfit, like she'd been in a fight . . . that was why she'd been late. Was the Bat nearby?

"Sorry about that," the Phantasm said. "I had a run-in with the Judge a few moments ago. He should be here any second now."

Jason grunted in annoyance. "Well," he said. "This is shaping up to be a very interesting night."

There was a smash downstairs, like someone chopping the door down.

"Jason?" Ivy asked uncertainly. I could empathize a little. The Judge might be coming for the Phantasm, but he'd certainly be willing to make time for the Floronic Man on his busy docket. Or me, considering our last encounter.

Woodrue frowned. "First things first," he said. He swept his hand down, picked up the gun, and pointed it at the Phantasm. "They say you can't kill a ghost, but I say - "

"Too much," the Phantasm interrupted as she swung her arm in an arcing motion. The hook separated from her wrist and whirled towards him, striking him in the hand. He yelled as the hook knocked the gun from his grip and left a bloody slash across where his thumb joined his hand.

"Jason!" Ivy screamed. She looked at the Phantasm with hatred. "When I'm through poisoning you, your blood will be gushing from every pore!"

"Wish I hadn't promised not to kill you," Phantasm muttered as she dove out of Ivy's way.

As Ivy was getting to her feet, a dark form materialized in the doorway. "Phantasm!" the Judge ordered, hefting a sword like the one carried by Blind Justice. "Fugitives from my court are dealt with . . ." He seemed to notice for the first time the other people there. "Harshly," he said. "I thought you killed these people, not consorted with them."

"When it comes to the Floronic Man," Phantasm said, "consort is hardly the appropriate word to apply to me."

Jason sighed and snapped his fingers. Immediately I felt the vines begin their inexorable pull again, and I grimaced. "Ivy, I do believe we have a vigilante problem. Perhaps we should vacate the premises until an exterminator can be called?"

"Court is still in session!" the Judge thundered.

"Geez, can't you talk normally for two seconds!" I asked, exasperated. Then I remembered I was being drawn and quartered, and I cried out.

Ivy looked at me, distracted by my scream, and the Judge took advantage. He pulled his custom-made manacles from his sleeves and hurled them at Ivy. They sailed downward and locked around her feet. She squawked as she felt her ankles pulled together, and despite her attempts to stay upright, she keeled over.

"Stay back," the Phantasm warned the Judge. "You can't hurt either of them."

The Judge hefted his sword at the unarmed Phantasm. "Someone has to execute them. And since the Floronic Man thinks he can delay justice, I shall have to pass judgment on one of you."

I looked around and realized that Woodrue had darted out in the commotion.

Bastard.

Ivy raised a hand toward the Judge, but nothing happened. I guess the plants were too busy taking care of what was important - in other words, whatever Jason wanted.

One of us was unarmed, one of us couldn't walk, one of us couldn't even move, and the only one who deserved to die had fled the scene.

I hate tragedies.

To be continued . . .