Tempest: Chapter Forty-Seven: Daunting Conversations
Amara couldn't help but be stunned when she saw Roy standing there beside Sergei, his red hair swept by the wind. She never thought anyone, save maybe Jade, would know how to find her, but that didn't stop her from rushing forward on exhausted legs to throw her arms eagerly around him.
She was so tired that she almost fell short, but Roy caught her anyways, moving forward and winding his arms around her waist while Amara buried her face in his shoulder.
"You have a lot of explaining to do," he muttered in her ear and Amara's laugh was smothered into his clothing as she only clung tighter to him.
"I missed you," she mumbled.
"Good," he grumbled as they parted and Amara quickly rubbed at her eyes and Roy made a great show of blinking furiously in the cold air.
"Amaryllis."
Amara turned to look on the head priest.
"Perhaps you'd like to move this conversation inside," Sergei mentioned, his eyes flitting towards Roy and Amara noticed he appeared vaguely nauseous. "I believe the altitude is getting to your brother."
"It's probably just karma," Amara mentioned wryly, "you know, for climbing the mountain."
Roy glowered at her. "I voluntarily flew hundreds of miles to an entirely different country to find you," Roy muttered, sounding almost furious with himself, but Amara positively beamed.
So he let her drag him back inside, pulling him down the hall to a small room shut behind a door that Roy nearly had to bend to fit through.
He was surprised at how small it was, and how impersonal it was. In Amara's room at the Allens', her walls were covered. The wall itself had a DNA strand painted across it that had been a present from Wally and Barry, and pictures of her with her friends could be found throughout the room. But this one was far from.
It was little more than a bed and a rucksack that looked to Roy as though it had barely been touched.
"Homey," he said dryly as Amara plopped herself onto the bed, rolling her eyes for good measure before bringing her hands up to massage at her shins.
"Well, I wasn't planning to stay here forever," Amara muttered, soothing the burn of her muscles under her skin.
"You've spent the past two weeks…holed up in a mountain…training?" Roy couldn't help but stare at her blankly as he leaned heavily against the opposite wall, the color in his cheeks slowly returning and Amara frowned.
"You say that like I don't train," she said frowning. "I trained with Jade when I left Central City the first time."
"That was different," Roy disagreed.
Amara arched an eyebrow, wordlessly asking him to elaborate.
"That was survival."
"And this isn't?" Amara's laugh was humorless, and Roy didn't think he'd ever seen her quite so bitter. "I made that storm at Happy Harbor because I was just so mad at them…I couldn't even control that. Compared to the Priests of Perun, I'm practically a novice." She twirled her fingers, absently forming a cloud between the digits. That was something new; Roy wondered if it was subconscious or another trick she had learned from the Russians.
"How's Wally?" she asked after a brief moment of silence and Roy considered her.
"Terrible," he said and she looked up. "I think he's avoiding the Cave and Barry as much as possible…he misses having you around."
Amara rubbed at her eyes, chewing on the inside of her cheek, taking care to keep her eyes far from fixing on him. Roy was certain that Wally was her favorite, so much so that they were practically siblings. He didn't know how many of the pictures on Wally's phone were of him and his cousin, but he was sure there were a fair few.
"Apparently you left your phone behind when you skipped town," Roy mentioned.
"Phones are easier to track," Amara sighed. "I managed to spoof my location for my laptops, but I'm also keeping them powered down, so that helps." She cast a forlorn glance towards her rucksack where her personal laptop and the one with all her information on BlackNet no doubt were hidden.
"Amy." Her eyes shifted to meet his. "What happened in Louisiana?"
He could see a muscle jump in her jaw and her knuckles went white as she clenched her hands into fists. Amara hadn't even spoken about all that had occurred after she'd engaged Poison Ivy in combat, engaged her mother in combat. No one in the monastery knew her past or who her family was, let alone her real name.
"I sent Dick and M'gann on ahead," Amara said carefully, running a finger over her knuckles, her eyes narrowing just slightly, "I figured I could at least distract Poison Ivy long enough for them to blow up the plant…I got to close and she blew a sedative powder in my face and the next thing I knew I was waking up in Ella's apartment."
"Ella?" Both of Roy's eyebrows rose at that. He'd heard a great deal about Amara's coworker from Bouquet Boutique. Amara had clearly liked her very much and Ella must have felt the same way, because she had gotten Amara a birthday present despite not needing to. "Ella from the flower shop?"
"Pamela Quinley is an alias that she was using while in Central City, her real name was Pamela Isley, or Poison Ivy, depending on who you talk to," Amara said, running a hand through her hair. "She told me everything, well, she told me that she was my mother and gave me her blood to run against my own to prove it."
"Maybe it wasn't hers," Roy suggested.
"I can make flowers grow without even touching them, I can manipulate pheromones to make people highly suggestible, and her blood was a perfect match for what was already on file and it was a fifty percent match to mine," Amara said, crossing her arms and cocking a brow for good measure. "Children have fifty percent of their parents' DNA. My mother is Poison Ivy and Barry knew the whole time and lied about it."
"You're still mad at him," Roy noticed and the air around them grew frightfully cold. Amara had rather terrible control over the temperature of the air. She didn't generally try to affect it outright, but the cold just sort of…happened, though only when she was a bit more than furious.
Amara's lips thinned into a line. "If you're here to—" she said, suddenly aggressive that Roy actually had to pull up his arms in an attempt to placate the fire from her mouth.
"Whoa, easy!" Roy stepped forward off the wall in order to come a bit closer to her, trying to show he hadn't meant to sound accusing. "I'm not here to do anything, well, apart from making sure you weren't wallowing in your misery."
Amara gave him a petulant glower. "I don't wallow."
That coaxed a snort out of Roy. "Sure you don't."
His partner only crossed her arms and huffed for good measure and Roy watched her, trying to ascertain when would be the best moment to speak. "Come back to the states with me."
"And do what? Go home to Barry and Iris?" Amara asked bitterly, yanking hard on a lock of hair.
"You can come and stay with me…you don't have to go back to the Allens," Roy promised and he never thought he'd seen her look quite so torn, because no matter her current feelings towards her father, Iris hadn't lied to her.
"I want…" Amara floundered, indecision flickering in her eyes. "I want to see my mother."
"Iris or…?"
"I want to see Pamela Isley."
Departure from Mount Elbrus was rather melancholic for Amara, even though she'd only been there for two weeks, but it wasn't as though she'd been anticipating staying long.
"I hope you learned something valuable during your time here," Sergei said when she informed him of her intent to leave.
She wasn't surprised that he wasn't surprised; he was a very serene man.
"I think so," Amara said, giving him a faint smile. "You've taught me more about control than my biological father ever did."
"Good, good," Sergei said, before withdrawing a long and thick silver chain, the end of which held a pendant that all the priests and priestesses, as well as the acolytes. Amara smoothed her thumb over the grooves of the Gromoviti znaci in surprise. "A gift," he mentioned as her silence continued.
"I, um, thank you," Amara managed with a bit of difficulty.
"Perhaps we will meet again, Amaryllis," Sergei smiled and Amara could only bob her head in agreement before going off to rejoin Roy, looping the long chain around her throat, the metal cool against her skin.
"You going to miss this place?" Roy asked her when she grabbed her rucksack where it was waiting by his feet.
Amara shrugged. "The people are nice but there's not really any internet this far up."
"That's the thing that bothered you the most?" Roy arched an eyebrow.
"A girl's got to make a living," Amara grinned. "Besides, everyone here is kind of…quiet…and I'm…not." She scratched her cheek awkwardly and Roy stared at her a brief moment before laughing.
"I hate you," Amara muttered.
Roy and Amara took the first flight out of St. Petersburg, this time in first class and Amara fell asleep half an hour into the flight. Amara was back to wearing her spelled earring that turned her hair red and glasses perched on her nose. When she and Roy had walked up to have their tickets scanned, they could've been taken for brother and sister and their passports only furthered that belief.
Amara pillowed her head against Roy's shoulder, breathing and out deeply in her slumber while Roy flicked through the news on his phone, checking to see if anything had been happening lately in Star City with one hand, with the fingers of his other one interlocked with Amara's.
The flight attendant gave him a soft smile as she walked past to see if anyone needed anything, and Amara stirred faintly beside him. Roy looked up from his phone to glance to Amara.
Her eyebrows knotted together and her face grew tight like she was in pain. Roy squeezed her hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.
A message popped up on his phone and he opened it, seeing that it was from Jade.
How's my girl?
Roy rolled his eyes. Sleeping. Are you still in the states?
Peru, came Jade's response. I'll be back next week. I'm going to take you out.
Roy arched an eyebrow at the successive texts before smirking at the last one. Assassination or date?
Oh, Red, the fun's in not knowing.
He could just imagine the wink she would have been throwing in his direction if he'd been in the room.
You are so bad for me, he said instead.
Oh, Harper, it's just one of the many things you love about me, Jade preened.
Are there many? I wasn't aware. He was grinning now. If Oliver could just see him now, flirting openly with an assassin who he was currently dating, though neither of them would classify themselves as each other's boyfriend and girlfriend, he would definitely blow a gasket.
But when had Roy ever cared what Oliver thought about his love life?
You wound me, Harper. How will I ever finish the job with such a fatality? Jade's words proclaimed with a dramatic air.
I'm sure you'll manage, Roy responded dryly.
For a few moments he didn't get a reply, but that wasn't completely unexpected.
How was Russia? She asked instead and Roy was almost annoyed that she hadn't given him Amara's location despite knowing it as well as the current alias she was using. But that was Jade for you.
Amara slept terribly on the plane, but that didn't come as a surprise when she awakened just as they were touching down, severely startled by the wheels of the plane touching down in Gotham City.
Roy twisted to look at her, concern flickering in his eyes. "Hey, you all right?"
Amara raised a free hand to rub at her chest where the arrows of Merlyn had once struck her before she'd fallen from the roof of Queen Industries. "Bad dream," she muttered.
The fractal scarring on her chest was just visible over the edge of her shirt collar, but the jacket couldn't hide the circular scar under her clavicle from one of Merlyn's arrows.
It wasn't hard to guess what Amara had been dreaming about and Roy's eyes narrowed as he followed the trail of her hand.
"I thought your nightmares were getting better," he said quietly as the other people in first class began to shift, grabbing their things from the compartments above their seats.
"They were." Amara rubbed at her eyes some more. "But Dinah was helping me and…after everything…"
She pushed the glasses up on her nose where they had slipped while she was asleep. When she was younger, she always associated therapy to mean that there was something wrong with her, but people went to therapy for a variety of reasons and continuous nightmares and trouble with acceptance and trusting others just happened to be Amara's issue.
Roy pursed his lips. She looked as exhausted as she had been before she fell asleep.
Amara pulled her rucksack up from where it had been shoved under her feet and Roy grabbed his pack before they both stood to exit the plane.
It was still light out and the sunlight filtered through the windows into the terminal as they walked silently, but Russia was seven hours ahead of St. Petersburg, so that made sense.
"I need to borrow your phone," Amara said suddenly and Roy arched an eyebrow.
"You're going to call Poison Ivy?" he asked in a voice that clearly said that he thought it was a terrible idea, but Amara only glowered, extending a hand.
"Don't make me use my pheromones on you," she warned.
It was an empty threat and Roy knew it, but that didn't stop him from scowling and complying with her request (more like her demand, if he was being completely accurate).
Amara thumbed in the number she'd memorized before she'd left her phone in her room in Central City. The phone rang twice before it was picked up. "Hello?"
"Ella?" Amara asked carefully, playing with the zipper of her jacket.
It was hard to hear the background on the opposite end of the phone, but Amara was sure that Pamela had inhaled sharply. "Amy! I –hi!"
Amara didn't think she'd ever heard Pamela quite so relieved to hear from her. "Um, hi," she said, shifting uncomfortably as Roy went off to give her some privacy and to hail a taxi. Her words were strangled from her lips briefly as she tried to form the right words. "I'm in Gotham City…I, um, I'd like to talk."
"Yeah, of course," Pamela said eagerly and Amara didn't even realize the woman had managed to worm a smile out of her. "Harley's out, but I'm still at the house…I'm glad I heard from you."
Amara bit the inside of her cheek. "Roy's coming with me," she added, glancing to where her partner was and he looked up from speaking with a man with a taxi to crook his fingers towards her, clearly indicating that he'd found them a ride.
"He's more than welcome," Pamela assured her before giving her the address to the house and hanging up.
"I've got an address," Amara said as she came up beside Roy. "Still want to tag along?"
"You know it," Roy said and Amara grinned.
They drove out of the city along a dirt road and Amara kept her eyes fixed on the window, watching as they passed by many trees and a river.
"She lives kind of out of the way, doesn't she?" Roy muttered.
Amara shrugged. "Ella likes the outdoors; nature's her thing." Which made sense, seeing as she was Poison Ivy.
They rode in silence for another ten minutes before they came across a house at long last. Amara stared at it from the window. It was a two-story Victorian-styled home, large enough that the owners clearly had money, but also small enough that they didn't have an insane amount of money that would be more common with a mansion like the one Roy had once lived in with Oliver.
It was tasteful and not really the kind of place you would expect Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn to be living in.
The taxi pulled into the driveway and Amara hopped out while Roy paid the taxi driver.
"Well, if I was looking for two villains, this is the opposite of where I'd look," Roy said once the taxi had sped away. Amara threw him a glance that said she didn't much like the mention of her biological mother being considered a villain, despite the truth. "What? It's the truth."
Amara rolled her eyes, pulling the strap of her rucksack up her shoulder where it had slipped, before making her way towards the door on which was hanging a carved ivy leaf with diamonds like from a playing card. If that didn't scream 'Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn live here, beware', Amara didn't know what did.
Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as she stood before the door, raising her hand to knock only to pause before her knuckles meet the surface of the door, indecision roiling in her stomach.
Knowing Ella was different from knowing her mother. Amara had liked Ella, but she'd always kept her at an arm's length, seeing as she didn't know anything about her work with the Justice League; Amara didn't know her mother, not really.
Amara exhaled her sharp breath of air, but before she could actually knock, the door opened so suddenly that Amara had to take a step back.
Pamela had opened the door and Amara's tongue felt too heavy in her mouth to speak. It was easy to see their likeness now that Amara wasn't so furious that her blood could feasibly boil in her veins. She could see it in the shape and color of her eyes, the sharp cheekbones…it seemed so obvious now that she felt so stupid for not seeing it.
"I wasn't sure you'd want some and see me," Pamela spoke first, for which Amara was grateful, "you were very upset the last time we spoke."
"I was a bit…shocked," Amara managed with difficulty. "I needed some time to cool my head."
"I'm sorry," Pamela said with a grimace. She'd only meant to tell her child the truth, but it had startled her much more than she'd anticipated. "Please, come in," she invited, stepping aside to allow Amara to walk past before Roy fixed his eyes on her.
"Roy Harper," he said shortly, scowling, "I'll be the one riddling you with arrows if you break my partner's heart."
"That's fair," Pamela said agreeably, before extending her own hand, "Pamela Isley."
Roy eyed it suspiciously, making her smile. "No matter what you've heard, Roy Harper, the toxicity of my skin is something I control, not the other way around."
Their handshake was frightfully quick, mostly because Roy wasn't entirely certain who should believe Poison Ivy concerning her own toxicity.
On the other hand, Amara had entered the house, looking around with interest. It was bigger than Barry and Iris' place, with a lot of space to move, but that much had been clear from the outside. The house was a bit big for two people, if you asked Amara, but that wasn't any of her business.
She'd stepped into the living room, appraising it silently. There was a long sectional sofa that curved around the TV mounted on the wall, just above the fireplace. She could just see the kitchen and the dining room and the staircase that led upwards to the second floor.
"In here should be fine," Pamela suggested, gesturing around the living room before sitting on the edge of an armchair, giving Amara the opportunity to choose to sit far away from her if she wished; Amara ended up choosing a halfway point.
Roy sat down beside Amara, still eyeing Pamela warily.
"I have some questions," Amara said, interlocking her fingers and rubbing her thumbs together as she leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees.
"Of course," Pamela said, bobbing her head in understanding.
"You didn't know about me before," Amara started with a frown, "not like Mardon did…how did you find out about me?"
If Amara hadn't known about her mother, then how had Pamela found out?
"Someone dropped me a hint," Pamela said, her brow wrinkling as she spoke. "Your father."
"Mardon?" Roy leaned forward in surprise. "Her father told you she was your kid?"
Amara's scowl deepened, thinking about the last time she had asked Mark Mardon about who her mother was.
"It was never of interest to me, I don't believe the woman who handed you to me actually knew who your mother was, barring that she was a villain."
"He's not an exactly pleasant individual," Pamela conceded, "but my interest was piqued…so I hired someone to look into you." Hired wasn't exactly the right word; she'd cornered him and poisoned him, threatening him within an inch of his life to do what she said or he wouldn't get an antidote.
"Merlyn," Amara muttered bitterly, remembering well what Merlyn had said as he stood over her as she bled out on the pavement.
Unbridled fury darkened Roy's eyes. "Merlyn nearly killed her," he spat wrathfully, "he put her in a wheelchair for months just so you could find out if she was related to you?"
Pamela opened her mouth to defend herself, but Amara touched his arm.
"That was because of Mardon," she said, frowning as she remembered the words, "Merlyn was trying to get even with Mardon by almost killing me…that wasn't her fault. She just wanted proof of relation."
Roy and Amara shared a glance and Pamela couldn't help but admire their relationship, watching as the anger slowly abated from Roy.
"I'd always wanted a child," Pamela admitted when their eyes had flicked towards her and she took that to mean that she should continue, "but I'd never been able to given my…toxicity." She grimaced. "When I found out you were mine, I packed up and went to Central City."
Amara chewed on the inside of her cheek, wrinkling her nose as she thought hard. "You knew who I was for over a year…and you didn't say anything?"
Pamela uncrossed her legs looking a bit uncomfortable. "I wasn't entirely sure that you would take it too well if you knew your mother was Poison Ivy," she said bitterly. "I thought knowing me a bit more personally would help…and I'm still willing to give up being Poison Ivy for you."
"But you've been Poison Ivy for forever," Amara said flummoxed, startled by that admission.
"Since I was just barely out of college," Pamela agreed grimly. "But Poison Ivy isn't exactly a safe person to be…and I want you to be safe."
Amara scrubbed viciously at her eyes. "If it'd been you that Dr. Spence gave me to instead of Mardon…would you have liked that better?"
"Oh, Amy," Pamela's eyes softened. "Of course I would. I already love you more than he ever could."
"It doesn't take much," Amara said blandly. "He's not exactly loving father material."
Or perhaps it was more to do with that he'd never wanted her in the first place.
But when she looked at Pamela, all she could was love, like how Iris looked at her when she was happy or proud. Thinking about Iris made her think about Barry, and that still stung.
"Did you poison Mardon?" she asked with dawning realization.
Pamela was startlingly sheepish. "I admit it wasn't my finest moments. I am sorry that you ended up going to Belle Reve to see him."
Amara had never had someone actually poison another person for her, granted, Mardon deserved it, but still…
Roy crossed his arms and scowled at the mention of Mardon, but Amara's thoughts were hundreds of miles away.
"I want to try it," Amara blurted out suddenly and Pamela's brow creased in confusion. "Try this, living here, living with you."
"Amy," Roy said sharply and Amara cast a glance towards him.
"She's my mother, my biological mother," Amara pressed as Pamela felt a gleeful happiness bubbling inside her and relief poured down her spine, "I'm not going back to Central City, to Barry."
"Then you can come stay with me," Roy said decisively and Amara gave him a dry stare.
"You live in a shack outside Star City, Roy, not exactly an ideal living environment," Amara pointed out.
Pamela wondered if the pair of them had forgotten she was in the room.
"I was thinking about getting an apartment." Roy's cheeks turned pink and Amara narrowed her eyes.
"It's because of Jade, isn't it?" she asked knowingly.
"Shut up," Roy muttered, only for both to jump as the door opened and Harley came through bearing a bag.
"All right, I may have gone a little overboard," Harley said, moving into the kitchen and walking right past Amara, Roy, and Pamela –with Amara and Roy peering over the couch with interest– and into the kitchen. "I found these amazing mugs, all right, well, not just the mugs, but I thought to myself, maybe I should be stealing these—"
Amara arched an eyebrow at Pamela who shook her head in exasperation.
"—But they were on sale, so that's practically stealing," Harley conceded, dropping the bag on the counter before peering out of the kitchen and into the living room, and it was only then that she noticed they had company.
"This is Harley," Pamela informed them helpfully.
Amara appraised her mother's girlfriend silently. Her blonde hair was pulled up into two high pigtails, the dye almost completely gone, but the ends of each were still red and black. If that didn't prove her to be Harley Quinn, then the collection of four diamonds sewn into the thigh of her jeans right where it was on the old black and red jester outfit she'd worn when she first started out as Harley Quinn was.
"Hello," Amara said, looking the blonde woman up and down, "I'm Amy…this is Roy."
Harley looked from Amara to Pamela, taking in their likeness in a matter of moments. "Hi," Harley said, grinning widely, "Amy like Amara?"
"Well, it's not a really common name, is it?" Amara said flummoxed.
Harley laughed in a way that made her eyes light up and Pamela gave a lovesick glance towards her partner.
"You're the one that got me that lipstick knife," Amara mentioned as the blonde sat on one of the arms of the armchair her girlfriend was sitting in and Pamela reached a hand out automatically to cup her hip.
Harley grinned widely. "You liked it?"
"She likes hiding weapons on her person," Roy spoke dryly and Amara turned pink.
"Amy wants to try living with us," Pamela told Harley, smiling brightly.
"That's so cool!" Harley crowed and Amara was startled by the enthusiasm, though she was distracted by a wide yawn.
"Do you want to see your bedroom?"
Amara blinked, looking at Pamela in surprise. "I have a room here?" she asked dubiously, making both women laugh.
"Come on," Pamela said, standing up quickly, "I'll show you."
There was a definite bounce in her step and Amara grasped her rucksack, following her up the stairs and down a hallway to a flap in the ceiling with a long chain connecting to it.
"My room's in the attic?" Amara cocked an eyebrow.
"It's the loft," Pamela corrected, "and it looks nothing like an attic; an attic would be jealous of this loft."
Amara snorted as Pamela pulled on the chain, letting the ladder fall to their feet. Pamela climbed up first and Amara followed after a bit more cautiously.
She sat on the edge and pulled her feet up with her, and then standing upright.
"Whoa," Amara said, her eyebrows drawing high on her forehead.
The walls had a definite slant that was no doubt evident from the outside, though the slant was higher above their heads, so there wasn't any need to bend, and light was pouring in through the window on the wall. There was a desk was pressed against a corner, and there were two sliding doors, one to the bathroom and one to the closet. The bed was covered with a simple red duvet, and close to it was a chaise, while, mounted on the wall opposite the bed was a TV.
There wasn't anything really personal in the room, just simple furniture, but Amara was struck by how much effort they had put into setting up a room for her even before she'd known about Pamela.
"Do you like it?" Pamela asked a bit nervously as the silence between them stretched on.
"Its, um," the words caught in Amara's throat. "I think you're spoiling me."
Pamela beamed, even as Roy poked his head through the opening, looking around with casual disinterest.
"Eh, I've seen bigger," he said and Amara threw a scowl his way.
"You grew up in a mansion, Roy, that really doesn't count for anything."
And Pamela could hear Harley sniggering on the lower level.
"Heights were more of your thing," Pamela added, "so I thought you might like the room farthest from the ground."
She couldn't quite identify the emotion in Amara's eyes, but considering her previous nervousness about living there, Pamela thought they were off to a good start.
