What Love Is
By Semerket
Chapter 5: Inmates Interrupted
Ivy had to give Dr. Gadlow credit. She was one of the few psychiatrists at Arkham that was actually a professional. In the past, Ivy had always been able to fluster or drive her previous doctors to distraction with her irritating histrionics, but not Leslie. Leslie seemed to have infinite reserves of patience for dealing with the people in her care. She also received the more difficult cases as a result. Though in Ivy's opinion, patience should be a requirement for anyone claiming to be a psychiatrist. It wasn't like most of them would actually get better.
Dr. Gadlow gave Pamela a few moments to adjust to being in her office again. She had been under quarantine for about a week. That was when they kept new prisoners isolated to determine whether or not they posed a threat to the others, although Ivy could hardly be described as a 'new' inmate so much as 'chronic' one. She was Poison Ivy; she always posed a threat. The green woman took in the familiar bland surroundings and her eyes narrowed. Nothing had changed since her last visit.
"Is there anything in particular you'd like to begin today's session with?"
She replied flirtatiously, "I'm flattered at all this special attention I've been getting from you and the staff, and that mandatory douche for seeds was truly inspired! But how about getting this thing off my face?" She referred to the medical mask that was covering her mouth. She was also wearing a white straight jacket. Both items clashed terribly with her green complexion and Arkham standard-issue brown pants, and to add insult to injury, they even stuck her in a wheelchair for good measure.
"Actually, I think that's an excellent place to begin." Dr. Gadlow continued; she made no effort to acquiesce to her request. "So, Pamela, I noticed that you've taken to spitting now." She noticed Ivy's body stiffen as she looked like she was about to explode with outrage.
She glared, "Have you now?"
"In the past you preferred kissing?"
Suddenly the innuendo was back, "I do prefer kissing, Leslie."
She ignored her tone, "Then why spit?"
"Because some people aren't worth putting my mouth on." She snapped, "It's not rocket science. And honestly, I wonder why it hadn't occurred to me before."
"Would you say that you've recently been feeling angrier than you have in the past?"
"That's a very personal question, Leslie. Why should I talk to you about things that are private?"
"I'm your psychiatrist, Pamela."
"I don't know. I don't think so." Well Harley had been missing in action for some time…
"But you're unsure?"
…And she had been really worried. Her voice had an edge to it, "I guess."
She was definitely more temperamental than usual and for Isley that was saying a lot. "Have you been experiencing any anxiety lately?"
"No!"
"I don't believe you."
"Being wheeled around like a lunatic would create anxiety for any reasonable person!"
She added dryly, "You aren't exactly known for being reasonable, Pamela."
"What do you want from me?"
"I just want you to be honest about your feelings. Everything you tell me is confidential."
If she wanted honesty Ivy would give her more than she requested. After fulminating about her perceived mistreatment at the hands of several staff members she stared at Dr. Gadlow expectantly.
"Pamela, have you ever considered being polite?"
"What do you mean?" The redhead was aghast.
"I mean have you considered treating others with respect?"
"You're serious aren't you?" She laughed heartily. As if she should be polite to people that were keeping her locked up against her will. Grow up, Leslie. "Well, in case you were unaware- they're the help." She said the word with disdain, "I'm not required to be nice to the help they're required to be nice to me. It's their job, that's what they get paid for. I'm the guest here!" She insisted haughtily as she shifted around in her straight jacket.
Leslie wanted to laugh. It never ceased to amaze her how the rogues seemed to think of Arkham as some kind of 1 star hotel they chose to patronize instead of a prison for the insane. She decided the best way to get a response from the redhead was to blindside her.
"Pamela, are you a homosexual?"
Ivy blinked. Talk about from left field… Um, was she? Leslie could tell the green woman hadn't seen that question coming, although considering her recent behavior she probably should have.
The redhead arched an eyebrow. "Interested?"
"I'm asking you a serious question."
"Ditto."
The brunette sighed, "Ms. Isley…"
"Sexuality is irrelevant." She muttered through gritted teeth.
"Is it? I'm surprised to hear you say that considering how heavily you rely on sexuality."
"It's a tool, nothing more." She said dismissively.
She could tell Pamela was about to clam up so Leslie tried another approach, "Yes, it's obvious why you flirt with men, but have you been genuinely attracted to any of them? Ever?"
"No."
"Have you ever been sexually attracted to another woman?"
Ivy would be crossing her arms if they weren't already being crossed for her in the crazy-coat. There was a painfully awkward silence that went on a little too long. "Leslie, if you want me you should just say so, instead of all this beating around the bush… pun intended." And here we go again with avoidance. Leslie did roll her eyes this time.
Ivy held the delusion that all men were in love with her on some level; this was triggered by her bizarre plant-related medical condition and pheromones, but now it seemed she had extended that belief to include women. Dr. Gadlow had never known her to hit on women before. Her pheromones didn't even work on females. She wondered what had changed.
Dr. Gadlow wondered if perhaps Ivy's erotomania was being frustrated on her because she was also a female and therefore immune to her toxins. It had been a source of tremendous irritation during their first few sessions several years back, but eventually Pamela had gotten over it. Now that she was a patient again the resentment seemed to have reappeared.
"You didn't answer the question."
"It's none of your business." She grumped.
"That sounds like a 'yes' to me, Pamela."
She sighed in exasperation, "I don't see how this is relevant to anything."
"Are you ashamed or…"
"No."
Ivy was not in the mood to discuss anything. She was still worrying about Harley. It had been weeks since the blond had abandoned her and she had no idea what had happened. Why did Harley lie and tell her she'd come back? How could she have been so cruel? Did her feelings mean nothing to the blond? Did Harley just see her as some piteous shut-in, someone that would just be a good roll-in-the-hay? Ivy became angrier and angrier the more she thought about it. She'd been considering storming the Joker's hideout to take her fury out on the blond and her disturbingly hideous boyfriend, but then the Bat had snagged her during a routine flower liberation attempt.
"Then if you-"
Ivy shrieked, "I don't want to discuss it!"
Her sudden outburst would have been shocking to most people, but nothing shocked Gadlow anymore. "Why is that?"
"This conversation is over."
"Are you sexually frustrated, Pamela?"
She replied sharply, "Were you going to assist me in that area, Leslie?"
"Answer the question." The truth was, if Leslie had responded positively to Ivy's attentions it would have sent the plant-hybrid running and screaming in the opposite direction; it would have served her right too.
"I'm fine. Thanks for asking." She said smartly.
"You prefer to seduce people that are unlikely to genuinely love you back without some form of coercion. Do you have a fear of rejection, Pamela?"
Who didn't? "Psychiatry isn't real medicine." Now she was resorting to petty personal attacks. Ivy's eyes narrowed as she watched Gadlow jot down several notes on her clipboard.
"Did it occur to you that if you answered the questions the session might end sooner?"
"What do you want me to say? I hate people. Men and women."
"Pamela," Leslie leaned back in her seat and pulled off her glasses. Folding them neatly, she slipped them into the chest pocket of her white coat. "Something is clearly bothering you." She said sympathetically, "If you won't discuss it then you're only denying yourself an opportunity to feel better about it."
Ivy sniffled as she worked to suppress her tumultuous emotions. She was not going to let herself cry in front of Dr. Gadlow. Depression and sorrow were not places that Ivy dwelled, instead she allowed herself to settle into her comfort zone: homicidal rage. She spoke calmly as her emotions boiled under the surface, "I just have a lot on my mind. That's all."
That was the understatement of a lifetime. All of the inmates were suffering from 'two much on the mind.' "Why don't you elaborate for me?"
Elaborate? Ivy wanted to elaborate her foot up her ass. She had been so close to leaving this dump behind- so impossibly close. Screw Batman! And screw her fancy new designer sedatives! And this mask…
"I want this thing off! Now, goddamn it!" She exploded.
"Screaming is not the way to get what you want, Pamela." The doctor replied evenly to her outburst. That would teach her to stop assaulting the staff. "It will be removed when you are placed back in your cell." Leslie waited for over a minute to see if Pamela would calm down. When it became apparent that she would not, the brunette calmly hit a button on the side of her desk. An orderly came in and wheeled her out of the office. Her shrieking could be heard up and down the halls as the redhead misbehaved severely on the way her back to her cell.
[[[[[[[[[]]]]]]]]]
"Slow down, Mistah J!" Harley yelled as she leaned out the passenger side window to return fire. The Batmobile was right behind them, and behind it she could see police lights. She gave up quickly since the Batmobile was resistant to gunfire. If only she had her bazooka.
"I can't!"
"Whaddaya mean ya can't?" She shouted as she gripped the armrest on the passenger door for dear life. Just because he was driving Harley's car didn't mean he shouldn't know how to drive it. They were all the same: gas, breaks, steering wheel… She braced herself as the Accord bounced along the two-lane road at breakneck speeds. Fortunately, it was in the wee hours so there was no traffic in either direction. "Hit the brakes already!"
"They're out." He said through gritted teeth.
She gasped, "What? Why?"
Joker snapped in annoyance. "Because I cut them, you imbecile!" Then on seeing her horrified expression he began laughing maniacally.
She gestured animatedly, "Why wouldja cut my breaks? Are you tryin' ta get us killed?"
He kept laughing. "Oh, Harley girl, I'm just trying to kill you!" Suddenly the Batmobile darted past them along with a police car. As the two vehicles moved in front of them, it became clear that they thought they were going to slow them down. Now they were flanked on all sides by law enforcement vehicles. As Harley stared into his vacant and sinister eyes something clicked inside her obsessive brain, and she had an epiphany.
Ivy was right about everything.
It had taken her forever to have this revelation, but better late than never, right? He was actually going to kill her this time. She was going to die. Not in a week, or a month, or some other far off and intangible date, but right here and now. She was going to die tonight. She was going to die and Red was going to see it on the news. Harley was going to break her promise. The blond's eyes filled with tears as she thought about how much she failed at life.
Harley allowed her attention to settle on the lights of the city as they darted by in a blur. Joker was driving like a maniac (no pun intended) in his efforts to lose the police. Fortunately, he possessed a great enough interest in his own self-preservation that he had taken his foot off the gas several minutes ago, allowing the car to gradually decrease its speed.
Her babies were still in the back seat. They were whimpering and barking and utterly terrified. She could hear the hyena's paws scrambling about as they slid around with the momentum. They didn't like riding in the car on a good day. Harley wondered if the cops would shoot them. That would be her fault too.
She glanced at the speedometer: 45mph. It was still way too fast for these tight urban areas, but it was better than the 125mph they were gunning on the open highway. Harley wanted to talk to Red. She'd know what to do, and even if she didn't they could at least say goodbye- for real this time.
Harley yelped as one of the police cars side-swiped them on the driver's side.
Joker shouted, "Damn these pigs! I'll show them what happens when they hit your car that I stole!"
Joker put his foot on the gas. "No, Mistah J! It's too fast!" The blond pleaded fearfully as tears streamed down her face.
He cackled maniacally as he sped into a hard left turn. "That's what makes it fun, Harley!" The tires screamed as they barely gripped the pavement. She felt the vehicle lift on the driver's side, but then it settled back down. Harley thought they would flip for sure.
The cop car in front of them slammed their breaks to force them to slow. Joker swerved to avoid them, but he was going so fast that he over compensated and started losing control. There was a police barricade ahead at the end of the block and there was no way he could stop. Harley held on for dear life and shut her eyes. 'I'm sorry, Red'.
"Tsk. Tsk. Harley girl…" She could hear sinister cackling in the distance and she could make out flashing lights. There was a buzz of activity around her, and even though everyone was moving fast; they all looked like they were going so slow.
"Harley." She could hear a familiar chastising voice as a soft hand gently stroked her face. She could smell flowers.
"Puddin'?"
"Harley?" There was a tapping noise. The blond's focus snapped towards the sound. Dr. Gadlow was tapping her pen against her clipboard to gain the blond's attention. She was concerned, "Harley? Did you hear what I just said?"
"Um… not really." The blond muttered tiredly. She was on so many pain medications that she had difficulty focusing- more than usual. Her face was covered in fading bruises and cuts and her right leg was still in its Velcro brace.
Leslie was sympathetic, "Where did you just go?"
The blond shook her head as she fidgeted with the armrest of her wheelchair. "It was nuthin'. I just gottalot on my mind." She seemed uncharacteristically melancholy.
"Were you revisiting the accident?" Dr. Gadlow stared at her expectantly. Harley already had enough issues, now the doctor was worried she might have PTSD on top of them.
"Yea, I guess." She kneaded her scraped hands. Her injuries had been so severe that they were still healing weeks later.
"You mentioned Puddin'?"
Harley's eyes filled with unshed tears and she whimpered pathetically, "Yea, I just miss my Puddin' is all."
"So what is it about the Joker that you miss?"
"Joker?" Harley was confused.
"Puddin?"
Her eyes widened. Ivy was now 'Puddin' in Harley's mind. "Oh, I didn't mean him. I was thinkin' about someone else."
"And who is that?"
"Red."
"Red?"
"Ivy."
"Oh." That got Dr. Gadlow's attention. "Do you often refer to Ivy as 'Puddin'? I thought that was your term of endearment for the Joker."
"Yea…" Harley said uncertainly, "It was, but I… don't wanna be with him no more. And he ain't exactly endearing, ya know what I mean?" The blond had a far off look on her face as she remembered quite vividly the way he whipped the car so that the impact would be on the passenger's side and not his. Mistah J had never been big on chivalry.
Dr. Gadlow's eyes bulged. Christ almighty! Was one of her craziest patients about to have a break through? She schooled herself to remain calm and professional, but inside she was doing a victory dance. "So Harley, are you saying that you no longer believe yourself to be in love with the Joker?"
She shrugged, "Well, yea I guess so. I'm in love with someone else now."
Uh oh. "And who is that?"
"Red."
"I see." The victory dancing ceased. Dr. Gadlow wanted to roll her eyes. It figured Harleen would go running from one nut to another. She supposed Ivy was a step up from the evil clown man; she was attractive, at least. Considering Harley's dependency problems, it might actually be detrimental for Ivy to have a 'hanger on'. Ivy's mood swings cycled faster than the Joker's and her misanthropic views might actually lead to her killing the blond more readily than the Joker actually would. The Joker relished tormenting his victims. Ivy relished destroying them. She resisted the urge to sigh.
Harley studied the doctor's reaction. "What? No, 'you just had a breakthrough' talk? I thought you'd be happy for me." The blond needed her daily dose of approval, damn it.
"You have a-"
Harley snapped resentfully, "Dependency disorder with anti-social tendencies and obsessive blah, blah, blah?" She crossed her arms defensively, "Yea, I know what that is, thank you very much!" Harley had been a psychiatrist at Arkham before her disorder manifested, causing her to become dangerously obsessed with the Joker.
Dr. Gadlow allowed herself a small smile. She didn't bother mentioning the rest of Harley's diagnosis. It was almost as long as her criminal rap sheet. "I meant no offense, Harleen."
The blond rolled her eyes and huffed petulantly, "I hate being called Harleen!" It was so humiliating being a patient in the same hospital she used to work in. Leslie began working at Arkham a few years after Harleen Quinzel had become Harley Quinn. The blond was assigned to her because they had never been colleagues, which helped bypass the awkwardness that she experienced with her former peers that still practiced at Arkham.
"I'm sorry, Harley." She corrected herself. "Do you think that perhaps you're simply transferring your dependency issues onto someone else?"
Harley shrugged; there was no reasoning with these people. What the doctors referred to as 'obsession,' 'dependency,' or 'addiction' Harley called love. "Red takes good care of me."
"She does?" Dr. Gadlow blinked. This was a revelation. Pamela Isley takes care of something or someone that isn't a plant? She had formed a real relationship? Something beyond a criminal arrangement? Perhaps she had been wrong. This could be a breakthrough for both of her more difficult patients. "And what is it that you like about Pamela?" She had to hear this.
"She's my best friend. And she's…" A bright smile erupted on her face as she nearly swooned, "In love with me." It wasn't the usual empty-headed clown look Harley would get when she would delude herself about the Joker. It seemed genuine. "And she's so gorgeous!" She was on a roll and babbled excitedly for several minutes like a love struck school girl. Then she added, "She also likes making all the decisions and that's fine by me 'cause I'm terrible at that stuff."
"How does Pamela make you feel?"
"She me makes me feel good… about myself and she makes me feel appreciated."
"How do you know she's in love with you?" Was Dr. Gadlow dreaming? She wanted to pinch herself.
Harley replied, "Because she told me so after she yelled at me that Mistah J was gonna get me killed."
Wow. Was Harley Quinn actually experiencing love? Real love as opposed to masochistic dependency? This was clearly more than just another unhealthy obsession that she couldn't distinguish from the real thing. The way she went on about Pamela Isley, it became clear that this was about more than just someone new to obsess over.
The brunette was writing so furiously on her clipboard that her hand was starting to cramp. "What does Pamela do to make you feel good about yourself?"
"She says nice things to me… And she rocks my world in an environmentally friendly way," Harley chirped. Dr. Gadlow had learned more useful information about Pamela Isley in the last fifteen minutes with Quinn than she had in the last fifteen sessions with the redhead. Then she began to put two and two together…
"So would you say that the two of you are in a romantic relationship now?"
The blond's demeanor changed and she looked sad, "I'm not too sure about that. I mean, I wanted too, but I left again and I promised I'd go back, but I didn't 'cause I got hurt and she's probably real mad at me because she doesn't know what happened. So I'm not sure." Her eyes started to water as she thought of their last night together.
If Pamela was angry about the current state of things with Harley, that might explain the recent and severe lapses in her mood and behavior. Not to mention her new tendency to make suggestions to female staff members. Apparently, the fairer sex wasn't immune to Poison Ivy either.