On some intellecutal level, Harley realized how she'd regressed. Two days ago she'd been a professional woman. Thirty-six hours and a fever later, and she was back to being a passive child again. Part of her resented the way she went back to bed, curled up and tried to hide, feeling the release of responsibility and self possession, and smiled at Selina bringing her soup and sitting up on a heap of pillows to eat it. Stressful and frightening responsibility on the one hand, and madcap danger on the other made her want to hide, want everything to be happy and good again.

And the focus of that desire was Poison Ivy. Harley felt something deeply out of joint about Ivy's behaviour towards her.

It was already nearly six o'clock – Harley had slept most of the day – and she could feel her fever starting to spike again, when she saw Ivy. The cottage was small and this bedroom opened right onto the kitchen, which had a little living area off to one side with a fold out sofa where Selina was camping and then Ivy's room beyond.

Ivy had apparently come into the kitchen just as Selina was doling out her own soup and some for Ivy, and Harley called, "Hey, Red!"

Ivy turned incuriously to look at Harley, and came to the door and asked, "What is it Harley? Do you need tea? Medicine?"

Harley blinked owlishly, "Well, if you've got something for the fever, that'd be swell, but mostly I just wanted to see you."

"Oh," said Ivy, glancing over her shoulder, "We're just about to eat out here."

"It's okay, Ivy," said Selina from the stove, "Take it on in and you two can catch up."

Ivy looked for a long moment back into the kitchen, and then reappeared with a tray, a bowl of soup, and a couple of ibuprofen and a glass of water, which she proffered to Harley.

Harley set her own bowl aside long enough to swallow the pills and the whole glass of water, then retrieved the bowl, took a spoonful and beamed at Ivy.

"How are you feeling?" Ivy said quietly.

Harley swallowed more minestrone and said, "Tired, and I'm still a little sore, but at least it's nice and cozy out here!"

"Those pills should help," Ivy said, concentrating on her soup.

Harley's smile became increasingly strained as Ivy kept her eyes downcast. Finally, Harley asked, "Are you mad at me, Ivy?"

That brought Ivy's gaze up, and Harley looked into those green eyes which had charmed her so and now looked so…dead.

"Harley, I haven't got the energy to be mad at you anymore. We've been through this so many times, and I just can't care anymore."

"Look, Ivy, I know I screwed up, but this wasn't like before!"

"It could have been," Ivy said, her voice shaking, "If I hadn't been there, yet again, would you really have walked away?"

Harley fell silent.

"Exactly. So why should I even bother? Why should I risk my life for a flower that won't bloom and grow? That just stays in a little box forever?"

"Hey," said Harley, remembering the phrase from the letter, "I didn't go right back, did I? I was – I am – working. I've got a job, and it's an important one, too!"

"Yes," Ivy said and she nearly sneered, "I heard. I also heard your press conference. The one where you severed ties with your old life?"

Harley's face paled. "Oh, Red," she reached out to set her hand on Ivy's. The hand balled into a fist under her touch.

"That really tore me up inside, Red. But I didn't think I'd be able to see you again, unless you went legit too, y'know?"

"Well," said Ivy, standing up, "I think we can agree that's not likely to happen. So I'll get you well again, and then let's agree to go our separate ways." She turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Harley set her bowl aside again and slid under the blankets, totally devestated. A rational part of her mind said that she should have expected this, that she really couldn't have done anything but parted with Ivy and…

Nuts to rational, she thought. I don't care how much sense it makes, this is wrong! Her and Ivy were a team, friends, whatever you wanted to call it, and why should a little thing like a psychiatric assessment stand in the way?

Angry and grief-stricken, she rolled over to face away from the kitchen door.

Selina looked horrorstruck as Ivy stalked back into the kitchen and planted her tray down on the table.

"Pamela, what in the hell was that?"

"It was," Ivy said coldly, "none of your business."

Speechless, Selina just stared across at Ivy, who was devouring her soup as if it had mortally offended her.

Harley's fever finally broke that night, Harley was feeling lethargic but well enough to rise, shower and make her own breakfast before the rest of the house was up. While she was physically exhausted her mind was working. That was partly why she had risen so early, unable to keep ideas and thoughts at bay.

There was a phone jack in her room – cellphone reception was non-existant in this forest – and with a little rummaging she located an antiquated office landline phone, plugged it in and managed to dial Wayne Manor.

"Hey, can you tell Mr. Wayne it's Harleen," she said to the voice of Alfred Pennyworth.

"Harleen!" Wayne's voice was bright but concerned, "How are you feeling?"

"Lots better thanks," she said, "Sorry to bug you on a Saturday but I've been so out of it and I need to know what the situation is!"

"It's good news," Wayne said. "I know Selina's already said it, but we owe you an apology for letting that fiasco get to the point that it did."

"Nah," said Harley, casually, "I should've been taking better care of myself, and anyway, I ought to have done a little prep with all the bands before we threw them together."

"That's your responsibility and mine too, Harleen," Wayne replied. "But anyway, it's all working out pretty well. The Waterfront Four invited the others to jam at their studio. I was there and they're really coming together, and all in your honour!"

Harley's heart fluttered and she blushed a little. "Wow, that's great! I want to hear them. And I didn't get the chance to tell you I found the perfect company to provide the trees, so we can start looking at the other stuff…"

This went on for half an hour or so, until Wayne insisted that Harley stop working and get some rest. She laughed, wished him a good weekend and rang off.

Then she pushed the switch for a new dial tone and dialled another number.

It rang and then a voice said, "Ha-ha-ha-hallo there!"

Harley gulped and said, "Mister J?"

"Harley!" Joker's voice exclaimed over the phone, "Baby! Where have you been? I simple can't figure on being without my Harley-girl!"

"I dodged the Bat, puddin' and I'm laying low just outta town."

"Out of town, eh?" Joker said smoothly, "Where? I'll come and get you?"

"No!" Harley said, feeling a sweat break out on the back of her neck, "I'll come to you."

"Well don't be too long, Harley! You've got to be at work soon, don't you?"

"Er," said Harley. She hadn't expected that, "I got the week off. Down with the flu."

"Aw," Joker was all commiseration, "Well take your time then, Harley-girl, but be back at HQ quick as you can."

"Yessir," Harley said obediently.

"You're my secret, Harl, don't let me down!" He hung up.