Harley didn't see Ivy for the rest of the day. This was mostly because after repeatedly running against the door to her cell, the guards ended up chaining her to the wall so she literally couldn't see Ivy. And when she was finally released at dinner, Ivy was still asleep and Harley didn't want to disturb her.
"The kid's probably tired out from all that yelling," she said to Jonathan Crane at dinner. She looked around. "Where's Harvey?"
"He said he wasn't feeling well," replied Crane.
"Huh. Must be something going around," said Harley, shrugging. "Maybe a bug or something."
"Yes," said Crane, glancing suspiciously at his food and gently pushing it away. If it was food poisoning, he had no desire to share in it.
Harley had no such qualms, devouring her meal enthusiastically. "Johnny, can I ask you a favor?" said Harley, smiling sweetly at him when she was done eating.
"Of course, Harley, anything," he replied, sincerely.
"I really need to bust outta here. Mr. J needs me – he doesn't cope very well when I'm not around. He just misses me so much, and I can't bear to think about him being upset."
Crane looked at her skeptically. "Yes, I'm sure he's a broken shell of a man," he said, sarcastically.
"Yeah, he really is, Johnny," sighed Harley. "I'm glad you understand. So I was wondering if you could help me escape, maybe with a little fear gas attack on the guards, what do ya think?"
"That would involve me getting my hands on my fear gas, which I understand is contained in the high security vault in the basement," he retorted.
Harley waved her hand. "Piece of cake, Johnny! At least, it would be if Mr. J were here, and he ain't," she added, her face falling. She suddenly smiled again. "But don't you worry, I may be blonde, but I ain't dumb. I'll find a way to get into the vault, as long as you promise me that in return you'll help me bust outta here."
"Yes, fine, Harley," he agreed, resolving not to hold his breath.
He was completely dumbfounded later that night when Harley Quinn literally dropped into his cell from a vent in the ceiling. "Evening, Johnny!" she exclaimed, cheerfully.
"H…Harley?" he stammered, astonished. "How did you…"
"Mr. J and me sometimes use the vents to slip into each other's cells for a little playtime, y'know," said Harley, grinning. "The pipes run all over this joint, and luckily we're both skinny enough to fit through 'em. Lucky you are too, Johnny. Let's go," she said, standing up on the bed and pulling herself back up.
Crane struggled to follow her, not being as athletic as Harley, but she helped pull him up and then crawled along the series of ventilation tunnels with him trailing behind. "I ain't ever been to the basement, but it can't be too hard to find as long as we keep heading down," she said. "There might be some other useful things down there besides the fear gas – maybe weapons or something we can use to break out with. They must have confiscated all kinds of fun stuff from us over the years. Come to think about it, I'm missing a little jester staff you could shoot the head off of, and I know Mr. J lost a batch of Joker fish products. Maybe we'll find them down there. You can have them if we do – I hate fish. That was the worst of Mr. J's capers I've ever had to endure, but you gotta admit it was a great scheme, just like everything he plans. He's just such a genius, and so handsome too, my gorgeous, perfect, precious puddin'…"
Harley continued to babble adoringly about the Joker, and Crane tried to tune her out, concentrating instead on the fact that they appeared to be sloping downward at a gentle incline.
Suddenly, Harley let out a shriek as one of the grates she was crawling over suddenly gave way, and she fell through. "Are you all right?" called Crane, hurrying over and looking down.
"Yeah, fine!" she called, standing up and rubbing her backside. She looked around and then called, "Hey Johnny, you might wanna get down here! I think I found it."
Crane climbed gingerly down to join her, in a large chamber shrouded in darkness. A small window in the top corner of the room gave a sliver of illumination from the moonlight that shone in, and Crane could dimly see some cannisters in the far corner of the room.
"Are those it?" asked Harley, as they headed over.
Crane studied them. "No," he murmured. "No, it's not my fear gas. I don't know what it is."
There was a label on it, and Crane squinted to make out the writing in the moonlight. "Panacea," he read.
"Pan of whatta?" asked Harley, puzzled.
"It's a word derived from the Ancient Greek, panakeia," murmured Crane. "Meaning a kind of miracle cure. Something that will solve all problems."
Harley had been exploring the room while her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and saw that there were a series of chains hanging from the walls. "Guess they used to use this as a kinda jail," she commented aloud. "To lock up prisoners. Either that or Amadeus Arkham had an S&M fetish. Wouldn't be surprised, but this ain't a patch on our dungeon at home, or as Mr. J calls it, the fun-geon…"
Crane suddenly held up his hand. "Do you hear that?" he whispered.
"What?" asked Harley. And then she did hear it, a low moan, coming from a door at the end of the room. Harley's eyes widened in fear, and she clasped Crane's arm tightly.
"Is it a…a…ghost?" she stammered.
"Highly unlikely," he retorted. "Most so-called ghost sightings have been proven to be tricks of a nervous mind brought on by the suggestion of fear…"
The moan was repeated. "Sounds like a ghost," whispered Harley.
"Nonsense, Harley, no such things exist," he retorted. "There's absolutely nothing to be afraid of, and I'll prove it to you."
He strode over to the other side of the room and threw open the door. "There, you see? No ghost."
But Harley's face was as white as if she had just seen a ghost. "Red?" she stammered.
Crane looked inside to see Poison Ivy chained to the far wall, staring straight ahead, her eyes wide and vacant. Harley approached her tentatively and lay a hand on her shoulder. "Red?"
Ivy's empty eyes moved slowly up to look at Harley. "Who are you?" she murmured.
"I'm…I'm Harley, Red," she stammered. "Your best friend. You know me. You…you gotta."
"Harley," Ivy repeated blankly. She shook her head slowly. "No, I don't recognize that name. Are you a colleague of mine?"
"Yeah, you could say that," agreed Harley, slowly. "We've fought the Bat together a couple times, remember?"
"Bat?" she repeated. "What Bat?"
"Batman, Red," replied Harley. "C'mon, you gotta remember Bats! He's our nemesis, the guy we're all trying to beat, me and Mr. J and Johnny here…"
"Mr. who?" asked Ivy.
"Mr…Mr…J," stammered Harley, tears in her eyes. "You gotta remember Mr. J, Red! My boyfriend? The Joker? You hate him, remember?"
Ivy shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. "I don't…remember," she murmured. "I don't remember you or him."
"But…but you gotta, Red!" gasped Harley. "You gotta remember something…"
"I do," she interrupted calmly. "I remember that I am Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley. I am a promising botanical biochemist researching rare plants and the benefits they can provide society. I am currently holding a research post at Gotham University, and plan to give a lecture on my findings within the next few weeks. I don't know you, or this Bat or Mr. J, so I think you must be mistaking me for someone else."
Harley stared at her in astonishment. "No, Red, no," she murmured. "Red, you're not that at all. You're Poison Ivy. You're locked up in Arkham Asylum because you're a homicidal maniac, just like the rest of us."
She stared blankly back at her. "I am Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley," she repeated. "I am a promising botanical biochemist researching rare plants…"
"Snap out of it, Red!" cried Harley, seizing her and shaking her. "C'mon, wake up! You're acting like somebody in a dream or a nightmare or…"
"Or under the influence of drugs," murmured Crane, quietly. Harley turned to him, horrified.
"Drugs?" she repeated. "She's been drugged? But…but who would drug her? And why?"
"Perhaps someone who wants to cure her," whispered Crane. "And all of us. Provide us with a panacea."
"You mean…"
"I don't know, Harley," he interrupted. "I don't know yet. But I'm going to find out."
He returned to the cannisters, reaching into his pocket for a vial and spraying some of the gas into it. He shut it tightly and then said, "We'd better go. There's nothing we can do to help her right now."
"But…we can't just leave her like this, Johnny!" exclaimed Harley. "She's talking crazy!"
"No, Harley," he murmured. "She's talking perfect sense. That's the problem."
He went over to her and gently put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to analyze this drug when I return to my cell," he murmured. "I will try to find a cure for her. But there's nothing else we can do but wait."
Harley nodded slowly and touched Ivy's face gently. "Red? If you can hear me, we're gonna help you. We're gonna be back, ok? Don't be afraid."
Ivy just looked at her without recognition. "Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley," she repeated. "A promising botanical biochemist…"
Harley heard her murmuring to herself as she followed Crane back up into the vents. She couldn't prevent her tears from falling.
They returned to Crane's cell. "You…you will be able to help her, won't you?" asked Harley, gently. "You will be able to bring Red back?"
"I'll do my best, I promise," said Crane. "You go back to your cell now, Harley. Get some rest."
She nodded and obeyed him. She looked through the window at Ivy's empty cell and then lay down, crying silently to herself.
It was pitch black when she awoke to hear her cell door slowly creak open. She sat up suddenly to see shadowy figures approaching her. She was numb with terror, and before she could react, she was seized and her arms held behind her back in a firm grip. One of the figures approached her, and in his hand, by the light of the pale moonlight, she saw the shape of a syringe, and a long, thin needle.
"No," she gasped, tears trickling down her face. "No, please…"
She felt a sharp pain in her neck, and then nothing.