Ivy's Third Session (Harley's P.O.V.)

Sweeping myself inside the institution, I see Dan and Rick in a secluded and darkened area of the asylum. I suggest myself to greet them, but noticed their hushed tones and decide to act unnoticed. As stealthy as I can manage, I nudge myself close by enough to hear their whispers. I'm tired of being so left out here, I want in the loop.

"Somethin's up, I know it," Dan speaks.

"Stay outta this. Don't get Joan involved, you don't know-"

"I know somethin' is up between her and that clown. And I'm gunna find out what. It'll take a day or two for the film to process, but I'm sure her recent tapes will show me what I'm lookin' for."

I peel away from the wall in horror. No! Ivy needs to get me those tapes now.

Before I step away from my newest fear, I catch a bit of Rick, his voice has now doubled in hostility, although I'm unable to hear what is being said. A firm pat of skin against wall is heard, a shuffle of feet and struggling quickly after. A smack against the floor and a moment of scratching is questionable, as I ease back into the wall to hear better. A door clicks quietly into place.

Holding my breathe, I scurry a good two feet ahead as I hear someone coming. "Oh, hello Harley- uh, Dr. Quinzel." And on passes Rick.

"Hey Rick. . Where's Dan? Did he come in today?" My heart flutters anxiously as he lies through his teeth.

"Don't think so."

...

I am extremely early and pass the time walking up and down the halls, thinking of how I am going to securely sneak Red's plant in without damaging it. She'd have my head for sure if anything happened to it. The poor rose was so delicate, I was afraid of sneaking it in my bra, the traditional way, would crush the petals. Not to mention it would hurt like hell, having those sharp thorns poking at my flesh.

Thoughtlessly, I end up in the elevator, and by reflex, I take myself down to the Rogue's gallery. The occasional threat or shriek is so normal to my ears now that I barely even notice. I pace, nibbling at the tips of my plum painted fingernails. Perhaps a visit to Mr. J will calm my nerves. He might even have a solution to sneak in the rose! Happily, I skip down to the end of the hall.

To my disappointment, his cell is without his presence. My giddy feeling of hope quickly descends to nothing as I realize I am on my own on this one. Wonder where Puddin' is. . .

I begin back down the hall when a voice stops me. Surprised, I realize the voice is for me, and I turn to address it. A slightly familiar over-bite grin comes into view from the darkness, the blonde hair is a bright gold when the light finds his face. "Come to express your fury to your clown? Too bad he isn't in at the moment."

"'Scuse me?" The Mad Hatter slightly chuckles at my confusion.

"Have you not heard yet, miss? Sadly, you've been taken for a fool. He had quite the things to say about you." He pauses for effect, I urge him to go on. "Said you were apart of his little game, just along for the ride, I'm afraid."

"N-. . . No! Mistah J would neveh-!" Angrily, I grit my teeth. "You're just jealous cause you have more relationship problems than even me and Mistah J do!"

Hatter has grown extremely angry and shoots me a most threatening glare. Probably isn't wise to pick fights with the most notorious of crazy, but hey. I need to defend what me and Puddin' have. I know it's real. Jervis goes to spout off negative comments to me, but is interrupted by a familiar rhythmic tone. "He's right, Harley."

I spin on my heel to face Ivy. "What?"

She sighs and shakes her head solemnly. "To be honest, I actually like you, Harley. And I am genuine when I say that I feel sorry for you. What Techt says is true." She gives me a dull expression of pity. "I was there."

Mr. J. . . Said I was apart of his game. . . ? Hatter I wouldn't have ever trusted, but I don't believe Ivy to lie. She is too straight forward to ever do so to me. I think we're almost becoming friends. I have nothing to say to the red head and ignore Jervis, who is muttering incoherent phrases to himself, every now and then hearing "Alice" within his soft-grumbling rant. Ivy puffs a sigh at my silence. "That's a typical man for you, honey," she says, referring to Mr. J.

...

"Here's ya rose," I say, exchanging the plant with Red. I had snuck the rose underneath the sleeve of my slightly large white coat. Less creative than the bra, but it worked for me. Ivy delicately places nurturing hands, cupping the flower and tags a spot for it on her lap, where the cameras cannot see.

"I'm surprised you gave it to me, I expected a fake, given your ridiculous infatuation with that mad man."

I bite my lip nervously. She knows. That must be sarcasm. I might as well spill my guts before she roasts me. "I'm sorry, Red! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me, Mistah J doesn't know where yours is! I gave you a different one!" I am gasping and biting and who knows what else, probably sweating. "I'm sorry!"

Ivy laughs, to my surprise. "Oh, but Harley, my darling is right here." She gestures a hand to Jack's drop-off rose.

"Someone else gave me that rose. . . Someone I don't know."

"Well, it must be someone your maniac lover-boy knows, cause this is my rose." Her term 'lover-boy' stings a little, remembering Hatter and Ivy's talk with me earlier. "I have a certain rhythm with the soils chemistry with the seed, creating a particular pattern to the development of the thorns and the specifications of the way they grow. Ultimately foiling into the perfect flower, the petals in impeccable folds." With a small but swift movement, the stem grows along her finger as she speaks. She looks up and grins. "See?"

I don't understand. . .

Then. . . Who is Jack White. .?

"What is that dreadful noise?" Ivy spits, breaking my thoughts. I stretch my neck in an effort to hear. Small, but sharp, fragments of tune reach my ears. It's becoming more and more effortless to hear, but I am still unsure. . .

I know. Only a red-lipped grin whistles that tune. It must be a good day.

"So, if you say you didn't get the rose from the Joker, who did you get it from?"

I gnaw my lip in stressful thought. "I'm not so sure. . . " Thoughtlessly, I check the time. "We're almost out. You gunna snatch those tapes for me, Red?"

Ivy's pale minty flesh illuminates in such a way under the light. It contorts her face in a way I can't quite peg. "You're going to have to do one last thing for me before I can do that."

What!? We made a deal! I am in no mood to argue however. The love for my Puddin' has left a sick pit within the walls of my stomach, threatening to do me in for the day. "What do I have to do now?"

Ivy points to the bottom of the stem. "See this? I have control of it's growth, yes, but not enough. It's been uprooted, the poor dear, it will need a steroid of a sort to be strong enough to break me out of here."

I am confused as to what she is asking of me. "What am I supposed to do?"

Ivy's peach lips curl into a smile. "You're gunna have to go to Stonegate Penitentiary."

Stonegate? "Why? What kinda steroids ya gunna find in a prison?"

Ivy motions a hand over her arm and flexes. "You're gunna have to make a deal with him."

Uh-oh. . .

Bane.

Session 20 (Joker's P.O.V.)

She barely acknowledges my presence. This is new. Even the slight laughs at my jokes are a bit forced. . . No, no, this won't do. "Not funny, Harls?" She stares ahead of her, looking at nothing in particular. "Pooh?"

Her spiritless gaze does not sway or break, her response almost robotic. "Yes, Mr. Joker?"

I am taken back by the sudden term. My neutral expression downcasts into a displeased frown. "Back to basics, I see, Doc. . ." Harley only continues to stare through me with those blues that are anything but soft today. They don't even have a glint of confusion in them. They are utterly emotionless. "Did I do something wrong, Harl? You've been unpredictably quiet." Harley says nothing and carelessly takes out her pencil, almost tiredly. "Not have your caffeine yet, toots?"

She ignores me and pulls out her note sheet. "So, anything you'd like to talk about, Mr. Joker?" Before I have time to comment on her odd professionalism, she tosses her notebook behind her. "No? Okay."

Rage boils my blood and I am itching to slap her, show her who she's dealing with. But I force myself to stay put in my seat. I can feel my watchful glower pierce through her, but she remains nonchalant. This broad was practically begging for your affection and suddenly she is giving you attitude? This is completely unacceptable, but clearly it's because she's pissed at me. So I need to squeeze out some charm before I straighten her out. "Harley, pumpkin, tell daddy what's wrong?" I pat my thigh, inviting her over.

Shockingly, she even dismisses this. She instead, plays with her nails, chipping the lacquer off, then blowing it around the table, resembling the violet flakes of vegetation swept by wind in Autumn. Her cheek sags over her knuckles, bored, as she sighs and begins to stare at nothing.

As the moments pass me by without a single word, I begin to notice something off. Something Harley never does. She is refusing to look at me. Harley is so unprofessional in her games of staring, that it's almost pathetic. I always catch her gloating, her famous sweet blues, and a seductive simper. But I am annoyingly shunned by my dame. I dust off a theatrical sigh and sad eyes as I pout at her. "Harley, sweets, I can't help if you neglect me this way." I growl under my breath when she doesn't even peek. "Harley, look at me."

Harley reluctantly faces me. I soften my jaw and try my best at sapping her up a little bit more, now that I have her attention. I stand sluggishly, opening my arms for her. "You win, kiddo. Daddy's sorry, 'Kay?"

A few tears flow from her glassy eyes, passing her cheeks and absorb into her skirt as they fall from her chin. She stumbles slowly from her chair and finds her place in my arms, but it doesn't have Harley's normal passion and warmth it usually does. She doesn't even tighten her arms around me. No, she softly stands closely to me, then pulls away more quickly than I would've betted my money on. I grab her arm before she leaves and I force her to sit as I tower over my blonde. I try once more a sweet approach before "kicking the puppy," so to speak. I tickle her chin and cradle her face in my pale hand. "Did someone hurt you, Harl?" The question sounds odd to my own ears, as I notice I am missing a mental filter that hasn't caught an emotion that has swept into my voice. Hot rage. Frankly, I never really needed a filter. This is new. Images of my gloved fingers, squeezing the last of life out of this unknown prick who thinks they can harass Harley, that's my job.

Harley sniffles, breaking my thoughts and wipes another intrusive tear. "You did."

...

"Think you can handle the recreation room, this time? I mean it, no funny business," the Warden is asking me. I pick off a piece of lint from my Arkham issued shirt as I giggle at the man.

"But funny is my only business," I retort. I receive only a sigh, as I am escorted by two big brutes and a doctor to the "playroom."

"Please behave this time, Jok- uh, patient 447-"

"Patient 4479, blah blah blah, I know, I know. Sheesh!" With an eye roll and one last sigh of a doctor-given-up, she lets me inside.

The bland atmosphere is harshly intruded with my supreme, infamous presence, cackling with my entrance. "Lovely to see you all again, and in such a pleasant mood, might I add!" Ivy grimaces and returns back to her program. Johnathon and Jervis are currently playing a round of chess, and revert back to their pawns. "Oooh! I love chess!" I seat myself, meddling with a few pieces. I thumb the horse into my palm and gallop it around the board. "Gettyyup, Crane! Yeehaw!"

"Give me that!" He shouts, swatting my hand away.

"Must you interfere, Joker?" Hatter sighs. He helps Crane set the fallen pieces I had toppled over to their original posts. I giggle at their tasteless frustration.

"You say that as if it were a bad thing, Hats!" I pat him atop his head, messy with blonde. He growls and slaps me away. "Well, you don't make much of a 'Hats' without the hat, do you Tetch? Hahahah!" He stops fixing the shaggy mess, swishing an arm across the board angrily, sending a queen tumbling into Jonathan's lap. Crane remains bored, as he flicks the queen onto the floor with his middle finger.

"How do you propose I enjoy a simple game of chess with this careless imbecile around?" Hatter growls to Scarecrow.

"Quite the riddle indeed," Nygma joins in, gaining a seat at the small table. "And the answer is, you don't."

"It seems that way," Jervis agrees.

The prying presence of the Clown Prince has mellowed as I see the asylum air grow still once more. The aging sentence to this gaudy building that has yet seemed to find it's own freeze frame. A standstill photo in hand, as the corners wither between your fingers in seconds. It was hauntingly marvelous. The dust collects quicker than an hourglass in the hands of the timekeeper himself. I sweep my eyes around the room, losing interest.

I ditch my seat, striding over to Ivy. My visit was long overdue, although she may argue the very opposite. "How is my favorite gardener?" I ask in a friendly tone. Ivy turns to look at me, bewildered and irritated. I give her an expression of shock and lean to look past her. "Wasn't talking to you, Pamela. Why, there is a rumor Harvey has yet again replaced one of your beloveds in the backyard!" Ivy looks slightly lost, so I give her direction, chortling in a low sinister growl. "But- no one will miss those doctors. They're more replaceable than your flowers!" I look past Ivy, to Two-Face who sits across the room from Ivy. He doesn't laugh at the joke, but I do believe I see a slight lift in the corners of his mouth.

Pam scoffs. "You're insane, Joker."

"I know you are, but what am I?" I retort. Yes, it's an oldy, but hey. I giggle at the remark anyway.

The plant woman smiles. "I'd be careful on the topic of the demise of doctors, Joker. Seeing as how you're swimming deep with fishes as it is."

"What?" What is she talking about? "Smoke too many of your plants again?" I go to laugh at her, but she cuts me off.

"Hatter knows what I'm talking about." She waves a few dainty, thin fingers, flagging down his attention. Jervis catches sight of the lady and grins when he realizes what she is getting at.

"Is this some sort of unspoken rule I don't know about?"

Ivy smirks, Jervis joining her. They quietly snicker among themselves. The other rogues become distant as my focus is directed to strictly Ivy and Jervis, my hot tempter growing wildly. How dare they laugh at me like that! I have had enough of this! First Clayface and Wesker, now these two. A growl builds through my throat as I approach them, but I am quickly broken in step by a simple whistle of attention. I turn my icy glare towards the guard in the doorway who takes his steps towards me quickly before I "show my hand" to Ivy and Tetch. "What is it?" I snap under my breath.

Rick keeps a rigid stare as he looks me in the eye. "How am I supposed to do my job if you aren't doing yours?" His eyes quiver immensely and they dart to the floor after he takes notice in his tone towards me.

"What!?" My furious tone is no louder than a hushed whisper and gives no attention to the guard and I.

"Sorry, Mr. Joker," he redeems himself. His eyes check the walls before he says "uh. . . The doc is out."

"What do you mean. . The doc is out?" I can only assume he means my little blonde dame, but I am unsure just how he is referring to her. The man nods to Ivy and Hatter.

"Another pawn on the board," he tries. "Ring a bell?" He finds my face and shudders a bit as I take a step closer, realizing just what he's getting at. "You can blame them two," he says, referring to Pam and Jervis.

My fingers tingle to find both necks and crunch them between my knuckles, like pinecones. Force a tube down their throats and pump my laughing gas until they choke. Watch their skin peel and decay into the floors of this asylum. I get the last laugh.

But that can wait. They've been bumped down on the list of priorities. Right now I need to focus on the first.

Harley.

Visit a Stonegate Prisoner (Harley's P.O.V.)

I am completely out of place and my insides are icy, but I walk with confidence. I can feel my face frame with fear. Each step becomes fainter as I lose myself to my own thoughts.

How have I managed to plummet so low to have found myself striking up a deal with not only Ivy, but Bane, to save myself from being exposed for falling for an insane comic? How? If only daddy saw me now. . .

If only I could pack up Mr. J and maybe even Red and just drive away into darkness. Simple.

"Name?" The man gets his pen ready. His tired eyes find mine as he waits impatiently. My throat catches as his one word question draws me from the depths of my cranium.

"Um, Harley. . ." My mouth is dry. The stress sucking every ounce of me and forming it into sweat. "Harley Quinn."

It's a bit different actually using the name now. But a good different. A mischievous different. A Mr. J different. I smile after saying the name. The man flashes a questionable suspicious look, but dismisses it, marking me down for a visit. "Visiting who, again?"

All distraction from the truth has now become a mere fistful of sand, as it slips right through my fingers. I try and try to snatch a bit of it in the air before it falls, leaving me alone. But I am left to look only at my hands. ". . .Bane."

...

Pebbles of sweat roll off of my palms, wiping them onto my skirt is not enough. If anything, it allows me to feel them perspirate all over again, faster each time. My voice is that of a weak begger. "I've come to make you a deal. . ."

Bane continues to glare into my eyes. His sinister stare enough to raise goosebumps all over, blanketing me whole. He says nothing but stares from the darkness. It's eerie atmosphere gives depths to the chills that are already surfaced. So I continue on. "I need a sample of your. . ." I motion my arm in a body builder position.

To my surprise, Bane chuckles, causing my hair to raise at first, but I quickly settle. He, I'm sure, can see the popping in my eyes, as I sit in the dim light. "What is a young lady like you wanting with my venom?" His thick Latino accent gives him even more character than he appears to have in the newspapers. There's something almost soothing about it, but I quickly remember who he is. A threat. The assassin type to be exact. He could easily snap me like a stick of gum without the help of his liquid enhancer.

"It isn't exactly for me, ya see. . . It's for Ivy. She sent me." He raises a brow, taking note in my skirt and professional attire. "Don't worry, I'm not really who you think I am. . . I'm in pretty deep too, she's savin' my skin. In return I'm. . ." I lower my voice to a whisper. "I'm helpin' her ditch the nuthouse. But we can't spring 'er unless you help us out. Whaddya say?"

He cracks his wrists and neck. "What's your part of the deal?"

"What room numba are you?"

"Why?" His demanding tone leaves me a bit in a knot, but I tease him in with the final piece.

"Can't leave ya in here all by ya lonesome." My words pierce through his mind and he tests it a bit, I can see it in his face. Finally, leaning into the light I see his smile.

"Deal." I begin to squeal with delight that I have smooth talked such a brute as himself to help me out, but he cuts me off. "Only thing is, they've unhooked me."

I stop in the dust, well that completely ruins everything. I suppose I was dimwitted for believing he would be. It is a prison after all. "So. . . The deal is off?"

"I didn't say that," he says with a smile. "Go see if you can get a hold of a plastic bag or a tube or something."

"A tube. . . ?" I sink into thought of any nearby object that might qualify what he's asking for. Luckily, I carry around my small pen-sized glasses kit, in the shape he's asking. I pull it out and dump the tools back into my purse. "Will this do?"

"Perfect," he says. He motions for me to hand over my glasses. Thoughtlessly, I toss them across the table, into the darkness. He pops out a lens and without warning, slides the glass into his flesh, right over a large vein. He holds the tube against the wound as it oozes into the container.

"What are you doing?!" I whisper loudly.

He chuckles once more, almost sarcastically, as if I should know. "They might've taken my tubes away. But there's still some venom left in my blood." He pulls away the tube once a good amount is contained. "Here." I take it back and look inside. The wet red will certainly work to our advantage. Ivy will be pleased. I smile and stand up to leave, but he catches an arm.

"You better keep your part of the deal. Otherwise. . ." He squeezes my arm tighter, enough to leave a welt. I wimper under his strength. "You know I will come find you and your little plant-loving Scarlett."