AN: Hey, glad to be back! First and foremost thank you to everyone who has stuck around and been so patient with me when it comes to the fiction surrounding Nova. I know it's been a long time coming but it's here now and more is upcoming soon. Secondly, if you haven't read 'Nova' first you'll need to before you read this one, it won't make sense otherwise. Thirdly and most importantly I would like to announce that I have received permission from McStaken to use their original character Dead Switch in this story! Make sure to check out McStaken's work if you want to know more about Dead Switch and even if you don't just read all their stuff anyway because they are an incredible writer. Enjoy!


There's a canvas with two faces,

Of fallen angels who loved and lost,

It was a passion for the ages,

And in the end I guess we paid the cost,

(What a thing of beauty, I know - will never fade away)


There are a lot of things Nova despises about Arkham Asylum - the guards, the other inmates, the lack of sun, the absence of Ivy - but if she really had to choose just one thing that renders her time in incarceration torturous it's the innovative therapy sessions.

It's easy enough to fool the average well-meaning therapist in one on one sessions but eventually, every idiot with a PhD starts to come up with ideas for better treatment.

They really thought they were thinking outside the box when the Arkham staff threw Nova, Harley Quinn and Dead Switch in a room together - as if it was truly a masterclass in strategic thinking to group three women with similar roles and stories together and expect them to find common ground - and after a few of these group sessions, the guards around Arkham began to mockingly refer to them as 'Sidekicks Anonymous'.

How funny the meatbags thought they were.

In truth, it didn't matter how much potential any given idea might have when there is little thought given to the reality of locking three murderous criminals in a room together and expecting them to talk candidly about their childhoods. The psychiatrists who came up with this grand scheme failed to take into account the temperaments of the participants themselves. Despite her better judgement, Nova does start to sense a vague sort of camaraderie building between the three of them; terrorising medical professionals turns out to be an effective bonding experience. Still, though, the majority of Sidekicks Anonymous meetings go about as well as can be expected. Harley talks more than anyone else and hogs the spotlight, Dead Switch is about as cooperative as a grumpy wolverine and Nova prefers her self imposed misanthropy far too much to bother with those she considers to be lesser beings. The two things the three villainesses consistently agree on are that Arkham is a hellhole and that any in-depth discussion on either The Joker, The Riddler or Poison Ivy are forbidden. It's a code they all unexpectedly share, like an unspoken rule in Gotham's criminal underworld. Any time a therapist attempts to speak about their other halves the three of them fall completely silent, shutting down and refusing to speak for the remainder of the session. It's as if they'd unanimously agreed from the start to respond in such a way, even though it was impossible for them to have done so.

As much as Nova hates these group sessions, she's loathe to admit that they do keep her going in a place that seems content to let her wither away in isolation. The staff make little allowance for her needs and differing physiology - instead, they seem content to release a combination of weakening gases into her transparent cube on a near-constant basis - assumedly hoping that suppressing her will be the best tactic in the long run.

She can feel herself slowly wilting, as the months go by. It's a slow death only because she will occasionally be injected with a meagre mixture of nutrients that barely keep her alive and functional. As she gets weaker it gets easier to pretend that her lack of energy or interest in anything is due to a feeling of complete superiority rather than the disgustingly human process of dying. Nova is fairly certain that the only person who might have seen through this pretence is Dead Switch - but if she has she pities her enough to keep quiet about it - from time to time, Nova will catch the other woman studying her closely during Sidekicks Anonymous meetings; with those pale eyes that seem capable of piercing through to the very essence of her. It's an uncomfortably vulnerable feeling, one that Nova begrudgingly admits she resents less and less as time goes on and she realises that she feels slightly less alone because of it.

Time passes in a mindless, agonising vacuum and as Nova gets weaker and weaker she eventually becomes so desperate that she admits to herself - in the humiliating emptiness of her personal box of death - that it might be time to ask for some help. She reasons with her pride all night long, arguing internally that a bruised ego is far better than returning to the earth like this.

She puts her plan into action a week later. There is a cell she always passes when escorted from her box, and just as she had done with that guard a month into her sentence - small instances of exposure to her chemical influence proves to be enough for her to hold some sway. Of course, her previous attempt had been thwarted by Batman before it could succeed, but the masked menace hasn't been anywhere near her section of the asylum in weeks; there's little chance he'll decide to show up right now.

Her puppet falls under her control a lot quicker than she had been expecting, and soon the two of them find a way to talk to each other in the middle of the night, while locked up in their respective cages across the way from each other. It's a process that weakens Nova further, but if it pays off she'll be free and able to get back to Poison Ivy - a prospect that makes every step closer to death gloriously worth it. Her puppet tells her that her name is Emilia or something, and Nova cares so little that it's a real struggle to remember it for the next four days until she can finally use it and subsequently forget it when she gives the order that sets things in motion on the big day.

Ten minutes into that day's Sidekicks Anonymous session and an unexpectedly passionate discussion about explosives between Harley and Deborah is interrupted rather abruptly when the therapist is forced to rush out of the room, having been informed by a colleague that one of their patients is in the midst of an explosive meltdown and refuses to speak to anyone but them. The door is locked behind them, and the three sidekicks are left to their own devices for the first time in just under a year.

Dead Switch looks around the room expectantly, evidently waiting for either of the other two to show their hand.

"Oooh, dramatic!" Harley wriggles around in her restraints a little so that she can lean forwards a little in her chair. "That was good, you guys! I'm so proud! Didn't account for the guards or the doors or the restraints or the rest of the island but it's a good start! We can work on this, it's got real potential." Harley nods eagerly, eyes wide and bright with excitement. "So, which one of ya... not enough explosions to be Death Wish over here-"

"Dead Switch." Interrupts Deborah, irritated expression not at all dissimilar to that of her boss - complete with slightly twitching eye and everything. She regards Harley's unapologetic grin for a few seconds before reverting back to cool indifference. "You're right, though. I'd have at least rigged the quack's head to explode or something."

Harley and Deborah turn to the last candidate in the room. Nova frowns back at them, silently despising everything about the situation she's been forced to put herself in. Even strapped to her chair her posture is tense, shoulders held slightly too high as if she were a dog with hackles raised. Vulnerability is disgusting. Admitting weakness is vile. In all honesty, she reckons she would rather die than go through with asking these women for their assistance, but she knows that Ivy is locked away in The Green Mile with death on her doorstep too. There was no way she could ever allow that to happen.

Nova bristles, practically forcing words out through clenched teeth. "Get me a plant."

Harley guffaws, throwing her head back and trying to kick her legs in delight against the bonds that hold them in place. Deborah raises a singular pale eyebrow, lips curving into some semblance of a smirk. "Excuse me?" She asks in a tone that comes across far too taunting to communicate genuine curiosity.

"I need access to organic matter, or I will die," Nova admits, luminous green eyes glinting with even more toxicity than usual. If looks could obliterate.

"Well, that sucks." Dead Switch responds almost immediately. "For you, that is."

"You need a little water, honey?" Harley prompts, sympathetically. "You ain't lookin' so fresh these days."

"I'm not asking you to do me a favour, Deborah." Nova seethes, wishing she had the strength to buck against her restraints to demonstrate her level of irritation. "All I need is a healthy plant - if I can get that I have everything else in place to get out of here - if you help me I'll set you and Riddler free on my way out. The same goes for you and Joker, Harley. I'm talking about soon, too. We could be out within the week."

Dead Switch looks to be taking this all into genuine consideration, the cogs in her mind almost visibly whirring as she thinks it through. Her eyes flicker towards the door, no doubt expecting their reprieve from therapy to come to an end soon. "Fine. I'll see what I can do." Deborah turns her attention back to Nova now, piercing eyes provoking that uncomfortably vulnerable feeling as they always do. "But if you fuck us over, I'll find a forest and turn it into a crater. Understand?"

Nova wants to spit some of that legitimately poisonous substance she has swirling around in her mouth at the woman, but previous instances of her attempting to do so have subsequented in her being forced to wear a guard over the lower half of her face during these meetings. She can still speak and be heard through it, but launching any spit based toxic projectiles becomes quite impossible with it on. Instead, she is forced to simply narrow her eyes at her friend/adversary and nod her head.

Harley chuckles darkly, uncharacteristically quiet as she watches them make their deal. Nova doesn't trust her when she's like this, knows better than to assume it's just Harley acting a little out of character - but there's little she can do about it in her current position - so she takes note of Harley's little knowing smile and files it away for later. She'll worry about it when she's no longer dying.


I see your eyes,

I know you see me,

You're like a ghost how you're everywhere,

I am your demon never leaving,

A metal soul of rage and fear

(Cause we lost everything - we had to pay the price)