Hazel slowly paced back and fourth in front of her desk, considering what she'd learned last night. After coming in to work that morning she'd spent time pouring over the file that the Batman had built up on Pamela Isley. Dr. Birch couldn't accept the idea that there was nothing to Pamela's original story, not because she was stubborn or because she didn't want to believe, but because she knew a simple truth: the most believable lies are the ones based from truth.
To give a performance as magnificent as Ivy's, Pamela had to be drawing from something real. There had to be a real pain, a real hurt, somewhere deep down inside her. There had to be something to motivate the pain and heartache and anger Hazel often heard in Pamela's voice during their sessions; but what was it? What was Pamela Isley's real pain?
It was an overcast day in Gotham City. The chance of rain was at 80% with a merciful 65% humidity, it was the sort of day when the locals of the city knew a storm would be on them at any time, but before the rain hit was the perfect time to enjoy a cool breeze on a comfortable day. Pamela spent the entire first half of her session with Dr. Birch staring out the window with a wistful look in her eyes. Dr. Birch, in turn, spent that time staring at Pamela in quiet contemplation. Finally the psychiatrist broke the silence, deciding to jar Pamela from her day dreaming.
"Pamela what was the Rabbit's name?"
"The what?" the green skinned beauty replied uncertainly.
"...The rabbit?" Hazel pressed, lifting her eyebrows inquisitively. If Pamela couldn't come up with a name for the bunny she had alleged to have it would certainly lend credence to Batman's belief that the whole thing was a lie.
"Capricorn."
"Capricorn? Why Capricorn?"
Pamela smiled and then laughed, covering her face with her hand. "It's silly..."
"Try me." Hazel replied with another gentle smile.
"I liked Apricots when I was young but I couldn't pronounce it right, I called them Capricots. That's what I wanted to name him, but mother and father thought it was a bit odd and that I'd end up wishing I'd named him something else, mother suggested Capricorn."
Hazel sighed softly and closed her eyes. Either Pamela Isley was one of the best liars she'd ever met, or she really was telling the truth about some of these things. The answers were just too simple and yet to ridiculous, the sort of answers you could only get from real life. Hazel decided to take a chance, to try and lure out some evidence either for or against what the Batman had given her.
"Pamela... What was your mother's name?"
"Michelle." Pamela replied promptly.
"And your father?"
"Francis. Doctor, why are you asking me all this."
"Just a simple test of mental faculties, Pam, preparing for the time when it's safe to present you as a candidate for release and monitored house arrest instead of staying in the asylum." Hazel replied smoothly.
"You really think they'll let me out, after all I've done?"
"I think there's a chance, if we can prove you've really reached a turning point. I'd even sponsor you."
"Really?"
"Of course, Pamela." the psychiatrist replied with a smile. "I have faith in you. Tell me, Pam, why were your parents getting a divorce?"
"Because my father couldn't stop gambling. He was putting us in debt... that and mother thought he'd started drinking again. He was a recovering alcoholic." Pamela explained.
Hazel's eyes lit up. There was a grain of truth in that statement, could there be more truth in things Pamela had told her?
"Pamela... How did your father know Hugh Manning? Do you remember?"
Pamela's shoulders stiffened and her jaw tightened. Hazel watched her eyes, watched them bounce back and fourth nervously; were they jumping because she felt like a cornered rat, aware that her lie was about to be exposed, or was it because she was trying to remember something her brain didn't want her to remember?
"I... I can't.. I can't... I don't want to!" Pamela shrieked, clutching at her own skull as if under the pressure of a tremendous headache. "No.. NO! Get away, Leave me alone, LEAVE ME ALONE!!!" Pamela screamed, tumbling from her chair to the floor, curling into a fetal position as tears streamed down her cheeks and the air began to smell sharply of lemon, a typical sign of Pamela's displeasure compared to the usual gentle scent of magnolia flowers that she exuded when she was happy.
"Pamela! Pamela it's all right!" Hazel exclaimed, leaping from her chair to kneel beside her patient. "Pamela look at me! Look at me!" Hazel shouted framing Pamela's face in her hands as the guards rushed in, drawn into the room by the shouts and screams. "Stay back!" Hazel ordered, not wishing to further upset her patient. Cooing softly she began to stroke Ivy's cheeks. "Shhh... Shhh.. It's all right, Pamela, it's all right. You're safe. You're safe. He's not here. No one is here but us, it's all right."
Slowly, like a child recovering from a tantrum, Pamela began to calm down. It took ten whole minutes before she could even make eye contact with Hazel, and another five before she could stand under her own power. Pamela Isley was escorted back to her cell to rest while Dr. Birch returned to her office to consider what she had just scene. It was too real to be a performance, she told herself... wasn't it?
No one could fake something like that, could they? She paced her office as she considered this, then she made her way to her desk and sat down to think. She lost track of the time, then her thoughts turned to nothingness as she drifted off...
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
In her dreams she was lost in a botanical garden, wandering the paths in circles, completely misdirected by all the signs. Finally she came upon a redheaded gardener in a beekeepers outfit, obscuring her face from view, this woman told Hazel to take the left path to find what she wanted. Hazel took the left path, and she came to a knew fork in the road. Here she found a gardener with blonde pigtails and a masquerade mask, who told her to take the right path to find what she was looking for. None of it made any sense, then a relentlessly buzzing filled her ears. Bees, a whole swarm of them, came hurtling toward her in a great cloud, chasing her wildly through the gardens. She ran in a blind panic, screaming for help and it came with a shrill shriek as a massive bat descended from the sky, swallowing the whole swam in a single snap of it's fanged jaws.
With a sudden yelp Hazel was jarred from her sleep. Someone was banging on her office door.
"Dr. Birch!? Dr. Birch are you in there!?"
Hazel recognized the frantic voice as that of the afternoon security team's captain, James Marlow. He was a good man, calm and strong, he'd mastered in criminal psychology in college and was an ideal captain of the guard there at Arkham Asylum, knowing just how to deal with the patience to be firm yet encouraging, ensuring that they were generally fairly cooperative with him. In his 7 years at Arkham he was the only security captain never to be injured in the line of duty. The Patients liked him. Even Patient J liked him, because he had a sense of humor and knew how to put up with the clown's odd-ball antics whenever he was locked up. Hazel had never heard Marlow sound like this before, it was not in his nature to panic.
"What is it, Captain?" She asked as she opened the door.
James stared back at her, wide eyed, his hair askew, his chest heaving as he panted for breath; clearly he had run straight to her office. "Ma'am..." He gasped, trying to catch his breath. "She... She has... She has a flower."
Dr. Hazel Birch stared at the security officer, while the blood slowly drained from her face and her heart began to bounce around in her chest like a cornered rabbit. "...Who, Captain?" She stammered, hoping her worst fears would prove to be wrong.
"Isley, Doctor... She has a flower."
An intern, a rookie guard, even one of the newer doctors, might not understand the severity of such a statement but both the psychiatrist and the guard captain knew what this meant. Pamela Isley with a flower was like Patient J with a yo-yo, in her hands a dandelion was a lethal weapon.
"Tell the guards to stay back, Captain... Keep only Pamela's guards close, put all the other cells into lock down, we can't afford to have her freeing anyone else. Order them not to engage her, we can't afford to antagonize her." Hazel ordered, quickly snatching her lab coat and pulling it on. She adjusted her glasses and checked her hair in the mirror while Marlow quickly issued orders over his radio. At times like this they had to present a facade of control and authority, they had to seem calm and collected; whenever a patient was the one who was actually in control of the situation was when you had to try your hardest to prove otherwise.
"What are you going to do, Doctor?" following her out of her office and escorting her towards the Maximum Security cell block.
"Talk to her... She's scared right now... I pushed to hard in our last session, I shouldn't have... I don't think she wants to hurt anyone, I think she feels like she needs protection. What she needs it to feel safe, if we can make her feel safe, I think we can get her to surrender without a fight."
As they neared the Max. Sec. Corridor Hazel saw that the emergency lights were flashing above the heavy titanium doors. Hazel swiped her key-card through the scanner and the first set of doors slowly began to roll open. She and the captain stepped through and the first doors rolled closed once more. For a brief moment they stood in a dark 8 x 8 chamber before the second set of doors began to roll open. Just inside the Max. Sec. Corridor Hazel found 16 armed guards, in full riot gear and gas masks. They carried taser guns and stun batons, and she could see in each ones eyes a look of fright. The bravest men in the world would be scared at a moment like this.
"Easy boys." Marlow announced, exuding an air of calm and confidence as he entered the corridor, instantly helping his men relax.
Hazel lifted a hand for Marlow to stay with the other guards as she began to move down the corridor. The other cells had all been put into lock down, with heavy steel reinforced gates dropping down in front of the bulletproof viewing windows for each cell. As the psychiatrist made her way down the corridor Holly Madison and Margaret Oak—the woman she initially believed had sent her the flower—fell in step with her, escorting her towards Ivy's cell at the far end of the hall. These two women were the personal guards for Poison Ivy during the afternoon-evening shift. They were good friends, they even looked alike, both were 6' 1" with powerful, athletic frames and calm stern faces. Both had light brown hair and soft green eyes. They had been in the army reserve together, and when Holly got a job at Arkham she helps arrange to have Emily get a job too once she completed her service. Hazel had gotten to know both women well, and the three of them all knew their patient well.
"All right, Ladies, let's keep calm about this. We all know Pamela doesn't fly off the handle very often. I think she's just scared, I want to talk to her, so I need both of you to act like this is just a standard visit, understood?" Dr. Birch asked aloud, looking from one guard to the other.
"Yes, Ma'am, we'll do our best." Holly replied, licking her dry lips as she walked briskly down the hall. As they neared Ivy's cell Holly called out to her. "Hey Pam? Dr. Birch is here, she'd like to talk to you."
There was no response and the three women continued their approach. As they came into sight of the viewing glass to Isley's cell Hazel looked inside and saw Pamela sitting on the floor. The sight was jarring, and unsettling... Pamela had shed her jumpsuit, leaving her curvaceous green body completely exposed. She sat cross legged as if in meditation, and her head was bowed. Her hands rested in her lap, and in her hands she held a small bulb of a dark maroon hue.
"Pamela?" Hazel called out, trying to garner Pamela's attention using her most soothing and gentle voice.
"Shhhh..." the green skinned beauty hissed quietly. "The babies still sleeping."
Hazel lifted her eyes slowly, she'd never been in contact with Pamela while she was near flowers before now. She was in unfamiliar territory, and she knew she had to tread lightly. "Pam... the guards told me you have a flower, can I see it...?"
Pamela lifted her head and smiled softly, then she turned her head to the right, showing Hazel the left side of her face... and the flower in her hair. The psychiatrist stared like a dear in the headlights at the pretty purple flower with five broad petals, which Poison Ivy proudly displayed. A single blossom, from the Brunfelsia that Dr. Birch had sitting on the coffee table in her apartment.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to get this up, folks, family drama delayed my free time to work on this little side project. Chapter 7 is in the works right now and I might even be able to get it up by this evening.