Eve awoke in the dark very early the next morning, wrenching herself back to reality as a terrified scream died on her lips. She lay trembling, clinging to the edges of the bed like it was a life raft in a stormy sea, breathing hard. Her heart was pounding in her chest, strong and afraid and alive, and although it hurt the pain was reassuring; it told her that she was still here, that this was real, and the burning and blackness of her dream was not.
Slowly, rubbing her chest with one hand, she sat up and untangled her legs from the blankets. Apart from the monitor, the beeping of which was now beginning to slow down to a more regular pace, the room was silent. The only light came from the red glow of the standby button on the TV, and the faint orange of the streetlamps seeping through the blinds from outside. Eve wrapped the topmost blanket around her shoulders over the thin hospital gown and slowly shuffled her legs around so they were hanging off the edge of the mattress. She knew she couldn't get very far when she was still hooked up to the monitor, but she desperately needed to move around. She placed her feet on the floor and stood up a little shakily, her legs complaining after not being used for almost a whole day. The floor beneath her feet was cold, but not unbearable, and she wiggled her toes against it, appreciating the solidity. It was another tangible thing she could use to anchor herself in reality, and leave the horrid dreams behind.
She had never dreamt of her own death before, and she hadn't realised how strange it could be. In her dream, she had been back in the lab, running from Mortimer with Ivy's hand in hers...except this time, Ivy had gone down first, her beautiful face stained scarlet as blood flowed from a bullet wound in her skull and across the tiled floor. Eve had barely had a chance to react before she'd felt the hot metal piercing her chest, and the pain that immediately followed when her body realised something was very wrong; her legs had given way, and she had collapsed into darkness with Mortimer's face staring down at hers.
None of it was real, just a mixed-up memory, but she hoped fervently that the nightmares wouldn't last too long. She knew that Ivy was right; it would take time for her to get over this, particularly as somewhere down the line all the memories would be dredged up again when it all eventually went to trial. While she could accept that, she didn't like it all. It was something awful that had happened to her, something you read about in papers and tutted over, and she really just wanted to put it behind her.
The best she could do for now was refuse to let it take over her life; the nightmares were horrible, but they would pass, and her body would heal. Her life with Ivy hadn't been torn away, but was once again a possibility. She could come back from this, and then they would be able to move on together.
She fumbled in the darkness and reached for the bedside cabinet. Sat on top were two remote controls; one for the television, and another nifty little one that controlled the lights and the blinds, for those patients who weren't able to move around at all but still wanted some autonomy during their stay. After a couple of false starts, she found the button for the blinds and opened them fully so she could see the world outside properly.
It was snowing again; the city had that eerie silent quality that came from everything being muffled under a freezing white blanket. It looked so peaceful, and so clean, as if nothing bad could happen there. Eve wondered how many criminals were wandering the streets at that moment - briefly, her mind turned to Mortimer, who had spent the night in prison. Had he slept any better than she had? Or was he plagued with dreams of what he'd done, of how he'd almost killed her? She hoped it was the latter. Any positive feelings she'd ever had for him had been destroyed by his actions, leaving only hatred and anger in their wake.
Instinctively, her right hand drifted up and onto her chest, resting over the injury. The bandages were bulky, but it still felt so small, so insignificant a thing to have caused her so much pain. Slowly, she sat back down on the bed, moving carefully so she didn't dislodge any of the sensors that were stuck on her body. She hoped they'd be removed soon; it was pretty clear that her heart was working fine, and she really wanted to be able to walk around again, even if she had to take the morphine drip with her. There were so many unnatural things attached to her body at that moment - the cannula in her arm, bandages, cardiac monitor sensors and wires - she couldn't wait until she could feel like herself again. She wondered what Ivy would bring her from her apartment; hopefully a hairbrush, at least, and maybe some pyjama pants.
She smiled to herself. If someone had told her a few months ago, before she'd even met Ivy in person, that someday she'd be in her home packing a bag for the hospital so she could take care of her, Eve would have laughed in their face. It was still incredible to her how much their relationship had changed, how there had once been a time when Ivy hadn't been in love with her. She could barely imagine it now; she didn't want to.
Across the city, Ivy stood on the roof of the Gotham Police Department headquarters, cloaked in leaves to protect her against the snow that had gathered in drifts around her feet. She too had woken up very early, having slept soundly on Eve's bed, and she had been at a bit of a loss as to how to spend the time until the shops opened or she could visit the hospital again. Then, it had occurred to her who was most likely to still be awake that that time.
So here she was, standing under the falling snow, half in shadow next to the enormous spotlight she had seen illuminating the Gotham sky too many times to count. It was lit now, except the symbol standing out against the snow-swollen clouds was a bit different to the usual; Ivy had encouraged her plants to grow over the bat shape and instead produce something resembling an ivy leaf. She hoped that would get his attention.
"That's not meant for you, you know," came a familiar voice from the shadows.
"Well how else was I meant to contact you? You never gave me your phone number," Ivy replied, watching steadily as the Batman emerged from the darkness and stood before her. There was still tension between them as they faced each other, but now also a sort of mutual understanding. This didn't mean either of them was any less dangerous, however, and they kept their distance on either side of the rooftop.
"What do you want?"
Ivy traced her hand against the side of the spotlight, silently calling to the plants until they retreated from the glass and gathered themselves around her arms. The gesture was casual, but it gave her a chance to think about her next words. "I want...to thank you," she began carefully, not catching his eye. Batman watched her carefully, giving nothing away. "I couldn't have found my Evelyn without your help - or if I had, it might have been too late. The fact that you helped me, after everything I've done...well. I suppose that's why you're the good guy."
"You're welcome." There was a moment of silence. "So, you're leaving Gotham. Do you think you'll ever come back?"
It was a relatively casual question, coming from someone so imposing, but Ivy could detect the underlying meaning, the euphemistic use of come back instead of cause trouble for me again. Ivy shook her head. "I shouldn't think so," she replied. "Gotham may be the place for me if I'm alone, but not with my Evelyn. We were always going to leave before...everything happened, and now it would just be a reminder. She needs to move on, and I need to help her."
Batman grunted in acknowledgment. "What about the trial?"
Ivy raised an eyebrow. "I doubt that Mortimer will plead not-guilty. If he does, then we'll come back for that; I won't let Evelyn go through that by herself. You won't have any trouble from me regardless."
They stared each other down for a few seconds, as if they were each expecting the other to make a sudden move. Their tenuous truce was apparently still in place, however, as neither attempted any sort of attack or takedown. Instead, they circled, Batman's boots crunching against the snow as he crossed over to the spotlight, and Ivy's graceful footsteps leaving delicate tracks that were soon covered up by the snowflakes that still fell. She could tell that while he wasn't going to attack her, he was studying her, like he always did.
Eventually, she stepped back and onto the edge of the roof, standing half-illuminated. "Much as I love spending time with you, I've said all I needed to say. My Evelyn needs me now," she said, spreading her arms wider; vines slithered down her body, wrapping themselves around her legs and gripping the edge of the roof, rooting themselves against the snow-covered bricks to lift her in the air. With the poise of a ballet dancer, she held herself suspended above the street, shoulders back, hair floating in the light breeze, her shoulders dusted with snow, looking down at the Batman. It felt strangely poignant, which she hadn't expected; almost like the end of an era, but one upon which she was definitely content to close the book. There was no unfinished business between them.
"Wait," Batman said suddenly, moving closer to the edge of the roof. "You said you won't be coming back, and you seem very confident that I won't be coming after you. I'm not restricted to Gotham either, you know. If I hear about anything..." The threat was there again, that undercurrent beneath his words that made them buzz like angry insects.
Ivy just smiled down at him. "Why do you think I haven't told anyone where we're going?" she purred. "When I say we want to be left alone, I mean it - we won't draw attention to ourselves. But, if anyone does want to hunt us down, to hurt me or my Evelyn, well...I can't make any promises."
With that, the plants released her and she dropped out of sight.
Down on the street below, her feet covered in leaves to protect her skin from the freezing drifts of snow, Ivy wandered through the silent city in deep thought. She thought that she'd feel different after her impromptu meeting with Batman - lighter, somehow, as if she'd had the weight of a huge responsibility lifted off her shoulders. Granted, she did feel relieved to have sorted things out, and to not be owing him any kind of gratitude or obligation any longer, but she couldn't shake the sensation that something else needed to happen to make her feel like herself again.
Of course, Eve being well once more would be a big part of it, but it wasn't that. It was something less tangible, something…
Her thoughts were interrupted by a crash of a window breaking in the next street, the sound amplified in the silence caused by the snow. Intrigued, she walked silently around the corner and waited in the shadows, watching events unfold.
Further down the street, four men in balaclavas were having a muted argument while trying to break into an empty house. From what Ivy could ascertain through their body language, breaking the window hadn't been part of the plan, and now they were looking around nervously in case someone had heard the noise. Apparently reassured when no lights switched on in the surrounding houses, they continued with their mission, two of them working on jimmying the door open while the others kept watch.
Ivy watched with almost lazy curiosity as they each entered the house through the front door and vanished from view. The snow had stopped, and she was warm enough to stand in her spot and wait. You can't prove anything yet, she thought to herself. Wait until they've actually taken something. Then you can show them a thing or two. Her lips lifted into a small smile. Maybe this was just what she needed - a chance to have some control, some power over something again. She would keep it reined in, no killing or severe injuries; just a bit of fun, a bit of a show, to spook them. To prove to herself that she could still do that if she wanted.
Several minutes later, the four of them reappeared. Two of them carried a large flat-screen television between them, and the others were laden with bags filled with whatever they could carry that might be worth something. Ivy had to admit, they had done a good job - minimal noise, fast in-and-out, and they had done well to hide their identities and fingerprints with the balaclavas and matching sets of yellow rubber gloves.
As they loaded up the waiting black van with what they'd taken, Ivy took a quick look around. The street was a dead end - they'd have to drive past her when they made their getaway, and slowly too, if they didn't want to crash the van. With that in mind, she coaxed some vines down her arm and aimed her hand across the street, watching with satisfaction as the plants slithered under the snow that covered the road and vanished from sight. There they waited, until the van started up and the thieves started to drive at a very slow crawl across the snow.
With a whisper of a thought, Ivy waved her fingers through the air. Instantly, the vines hidden under the snow emerged like crocuses in spring and latched onto the undercarriage of the van, bringing it to a halt with a shudder and a groan. As it had been going so slowly, nobody inside was hurt, but two of them immediately stepped out into the snow to see what the problem was, looking under the car and muttering urgently between themselves.
That was when Ivy decided to make her presence known. With predatory grace, a state that was suddenly so easy to slip back into, she emerged from the shadows and made her way over to the van. All four of them, inside and out of the vehicle, froze in place and stared at her as she approached.
"Who the hell are you?" the driver cried, winding the window down and sticking his head out.
"Dude, you blind?" hissed another, sat in the passenger seat. "That's Poison Ivy, man." He was staring at her openly, and even though she couldn't see his face she could tell that he was admiring her body. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he ducked his head quickly.
A third man, on his knees by the front wheel of the van, laughed. "No way! Ivy's in Arkham. It's a costume or somethin', gotta be."
Smirking, Ivy crooked her finger and watched with satisfaction as her plants retreated from under the van, sliding up her shapely calves and encircling her hips. All four thieves stared at her in shock. "I suppose you haven't heard, then? I haven't been in Arkham for a while; I actually almost destroyed part of Uptown a few days ago. But let me guess; you were otherwise engaged, busy breaking into people's houses while they're away for the holidays, right? Tut tut, boys. Where's your holiday spirit?"
The thief on the ground stood up and backed away, his hands raised. "Look, lady, we don't want nothin' to do with you. We're just tryin' to make a few bucks…"
"Shut up!" shouted the driver of the van, as loudly as he dared without risking waking up anyone else on the street. "We don't need to reason with her - she's on our side. No way Poison Ivy's a good guy now." He chuckled, and after a second, the others joined in too. They thought they were safe, that she wouldn't try and stop them from committing a crime. Of course she wouldn't - she was a villain herself.
Ivy laughed with them, just for a few seconds. "No, you're right. I'm not a 'good guy'." Suddenly, she raised her arms and brought forth her plants, sending them shooting through the air towards the van. They pinned the two thieves to the sides of the vehicle with a crunching sound, and almost crushed the doors of the cab so the others were trapped inside. "See, the thing is, boys," she continued, getting closer and stopping in front of the still-open driver's window, now cracked but not shattered.. She reached through the space and ran her finger down the side of the driver's cheek, making him gulp in fear. "I've had a pretty bad time of it lately, and I really need to blow off some steam…"