At five O'clock she was inside, accompanied by Dr. Hazel Birch, a young woman who had contacted her and insisted on meeting with her face to face. Birch was quite persistent, and was already determined to come to Cherrywood, Wisconsin and meet her. When Birch told her what it was about, she gave in, she agreed to meet Birch at the airport and let her stay over for a night so they could discuss it all in detail. Her only demand was that Birch catch an afternoon flight so that she wouldn't have to get up to early, or stay out to late in order to pick the young woman up. She didn't like to be caught out of the house during the dark, be it early morning or late night. The dark wasn't a safe place for her anymore, it never would be, never could be.
She escorted the younger doctor into her house, then turned around and locked the door. She unlocked it immediately afterward, checked the lock, then locked the door again. Next she flipped the latch-lock, then she connected the chain lock, and finally she fastened the dead bolt. Paranoia was putting it mildly.
Hazel had to admit, other than her obvious fear of crime, Belladonna Hayes seemed to be a relatively stable and intelligent individual; after retiring from Arkham she'd moved to Wisconsin and opened a private psychiatry practice where she treated anyone who needed it. She frequently dealt with Police who had encountered a traumatic experience in the line of duty, and children who had suffered loss through crime. In many ways, Hayes still worked in the world of crime, but she no longer seemed comfortable interacting with the actual criminals. It made Hazel wonder just what on earth Crane had said or done that night that made the well-respected doctor—a verifiable legend in the field of criminal psychiatry—lose her nerve.
Once Dr. Hayes felt secure she beckoned for Hazel to follow her, then she led the younger psychiatrist through her house and into her kitchen where she began to brew a pot of tea. As Hazel followed her hostess she began to look around the house and look over the woman herself, examining things and trying to learn what she could about Dr. Hayes through simple observation.
Dr. Hayes herself was in her mid-forties and as her name implied she was of clear Italian descent. Belladonna meant beautiful, and Dr. Hayes clearly had been at one point, with her curly black hair and her rich olive skin tone, but her experiences in Arkham aged her prematurely. The 42 year old psychiatrist looked like she was well into her 50s. Her pale green eyes were ringed by dark circles that made her look as if she had gone too long without sleep and her hair, though held back in sensible bun, was frizzy and frayed. Fortunately her aged features only served to further enhance a demeanor of motherly reassurance, the perfect sort of persona for a successful mental health doctor to exude while on the job; but Belladonna's seemed to be natural rather than an acquired trait.
In contrast to her weathered appearance, Belladonna Hayes's house was immaculately clean and well furnished. Most people collect more and more furniture, trinkets and bric-a-brac as they get older but Hayes didn't seem to fit that pattern, there was no room with more furniture than was needed, no shelf overcrowded with items. The doctor's neurotic obsession seemed to extend beyond re-locking her doors, a house this meticulously well kept was likely monitored. Hazel easily imagined Doctor Hayes checking every room in the house before leaving in the morning and then coming home to check the house again, making sure everything was exactly where it had been when she left it.
"You have a very beautiful home." Hazel said, smiling politely as Belladonna gestured to a seat at the kitchen table.
"Thank you." The older woman replied, with the faintest hint of an Italian accent. She had a slow deliberate pattern of speech that was innately soothing and Hazel found herself quite as ease as she settled into her chair.
"So... you said you wanted to speak to me about one of my former patients, Miss Isley, and much to my irritation you have been very persistent. After three days of constant calling and pleading for me to agree to see you, I certainly hope I can provide enough information to make your flight worth it. So, Hazel, just what is it you needed to know so badly that it could not be discussed over the phone?"
Hazel sighed softly, pausing to consider how to begin before she replied. "Well, as you may have heard, when you left... Well, the void it created was hard to fill. Six new doctors were hired to make up for your loss."
"I'm flattered that the institution thought so highly of me, but I fail to see why this means you needed to fly all the way to Wisconsin."
Once more Hazel stalled. She sighed, breathed through her nose, closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. As she sat there a hand came to rest on her shoulder. She lifted her head to look up at Dr. Hayes in surprise as the older woman smiled kindly down at her.
"Doctor Birch, relax." Belladonna smiled and moved around to sit down across from the other doctor. "Just tell me why you're here, believe me, I've heard far worse than anything you can tell me."
"I'm trying to rehabilitate her I read your final journal entry about her and I want to try and put your theory into practice so I need to learn all I can about it and wanted to hear it all directly from the source so I don't screw up." Hazel gushed in one huge, blathering run-on.
Dr. Hayes blinked slowly, trying to follow the quickly blurted words. Slowly she tucked her bottom lip into her teeth in thought, her eyes shifting up and to the left as she considered what had just been said. After nearly two whole minutes of this Hazel shifted uncomfortably in her chair, she was about to say something when Dr. Hayes finally spoke.
"Have you been seeing a psychiatrist of your own, Doctor Birch?"
"What?"
"A psychiatrist, have you seen one?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Because you're talking about reforming a world renown super villainess, one of the most dangerous and powerful foes of the Batman, one of the most lethal killers in all of Gotham City, a person who can enslave a man's mind and subvert his free will so thoroughly that he will blindly obey her every command. You're not just talking about some run of the mill psychopath, or a typical criminal, you're talking about someone who has power over plants, a woman who can create new species of plant life for the soul purpose of destroying living flesh. Have you read her files? Have you seen the photos of her crime scenes and her victims?"
"But- But your revelation about her- You seemed so certain that she could be reformed!" Hazel stammered, surprised by how vehemently Dr. Hayes opposed her idea.
"Yes, well, that was before."
"Before what?"
"Never mind." Belladonna replied dismissively, waving her hand as if to ward away the topic of discussion. "If you really want to know more about my theory, so be it, you came all this way I won't turn you down now. But, remember this: Every rose has it's thorns, Doctor."
Thousands of miles away, Pamela Isley sat calmly in her cell. Dr. Birch was out of town for the weekend, and though Pamela told her caring psychiatrist she would miss her she assured the diligent doctor that she would be all right for a few days on her own. "I'm a big girl, Doctor, I'll manage..." She'd promised.
She was keeping her promise, too. As the day wore on she spent most of her time sleeping. During the summer months in Gotham City, even in a generally cold, air-conditioned, and drafty place like Arkham Asylum, one still ended up feeling rather lazy during the afternoon. She'd slept most of the day away, only rising to eat lunch when it was served and skipping dinner in favor of milk and two cookies. Ever since her rescue of them Margaret and Holly had been kinder towards her. Nothing that broke protocol, these two were too smart and too dedicated for that, but they were more social with their prisoner, wishing her a good evening when they came on duty and even asking her how her day had been. Tonight when she'd said she wasn't hungry it was Holly who offered to at least bring her the cookies.
"Think of it as a thank you." Holly had said with a smile.
"Well, I suppose... But I'm going to end up having to do extra exercise tomorrow because of you." Pamela had replied with a playful smile.
Holly laughed. "Well, I think your taste buds will thank you for indulging them." She said with a wink, then she and Margaret made their way back to the guards station, leaving Pamela to enjoy her treat.
"Your sure did make yourself some gal-pals when ya saved them." Harley mused from her cell. "So... What's the plan?"
"Plan?" Pamela asked innocently, dunking one of the cookies into the plastic cup of milk.
"Y'know, for gettin' outta here! Why else would ya be getting all buddy buddy with Birch and the guards?"
"You've got it all wrong, Harley; I'm on the level this time. I want out, for good. I'm getting out of this game, Harley, I'm tired of playing it."
"Wha?! You gotta be pullin' my leg, Pammy! Out of the game?! But it's so much fun!"
Ivy laughed. She couldn't help it, it rolled over her tongue and off her lips like a babbling brook in spring time. The sort of luxurious, decadent sound one would find more befitting of royalty at a dinner party than a patient in an asylum.
"It is fun... Isn't it, Harl?"
"Golly-gee, yeah, Red! Come on, think of all the fun we've had together, and you're just going to give all that up?"
"Oh, Harley... you know me better than that. When have I ever given up? No, no, my lovely... I play for keeps. Heh heh heh. Yes... yes I do..."
As the kettle began to whistle shrilly Belladonna excused herself to prepare the tea, leaving Hazel to consider what she had said. When the older woman returned to the table all trace of her foreboding mood had disappeared and she was once more a kind, smiling woman.
"I must say, I am flattered you came all this way to here my theory. I will tell you all I can of it, though I doubt you will actually find it helpful. As you know doubt gleaned from the entry, my basic hypothesis is that Pamela Isley is something akin to a Spanish Inquisitor. A Zealot, someone so deeply entrenched in her beliefs that they are absolutely unshakable. When someone speaks out against her beliefs it drives her into a homicidal frenzy. For Isley, seeing a plant killed by man would be akin to one of the Inquisition hearing a peasant speak blasphemy to the Lord. It's so traumatic, so upsetting and unsettling, that she simply loses all control of herself. She responds in the only way she can see to, she silences the opposition, no matter how violent she has to be to do so."
Hazel nodded in understanding of the premise so far, gentle stirring some sugar into her tea. "And what exactly are her beliefs, do you think, Doctor? You mentioned neo-Paganism-"
"Yes, but I've reconsidered that since I first wrote the theory-- after all it was just a theory. The primary tenants of neo-paganism, especially the Wiccan traditions, are fairly similar to most religions. Bring no harm to others lest harm be brought to you, be at one with the world the divine gave you, so on and so forth. Obviously, Isley doesn't care at all about the principle of live and let live and acceptance of people despite their faults. I honestly doubt Ivy applies herself to any specific religious belief. She does show some similar tenants to classical druidism as it was practiced during the ancient times of the Celts." Belladonna explained, pausing now and then to sip from her tea, leaning back in her chair and tilting her head back in thought. As she spoke her eyes seemed to go out of focus and her voice lightened to the point that it seemed like she was talking to herself more than to Hazel. Somewhere, under the trauma of her experiences with Jonathan Crane, Belladonna Hayes was still a skilled criminal psychiatrist, and she clearly still loved what she did.
"Unfortunately we know very little about classical druid teachings. We do know they were—in many ways—similar to the Christian monks; they were scholars, teachers, priests and judges all at once. In this respect, Poison Ivy is similar to them. She judges humans based upon how they treat the world around them, someone who fails to take care of her mother earth is quick to earn Ivy's contempt and animosity. Of course, this similarity is shared between numerous cultures and traditions within the ancient pagan tribes and societies. Honestly, if I were to have a chance to interview her now... I think I'd just ask her. Let her tell me about her beliefs; Isley is an inherently vain person, she loves to hear herself talk."
Hazel chuckled at this, inclining her head in agreement. "That's true... Sometimes all I have to do is ask the right question and she'll spend an entire session talking."
"Precisely. In this case, that's exactly what you want, but you don't want the simple self-indulgent blather that the inmates tend to prattle on with, you want to get her talking about what's important to her. Keep it in perspective, Birch. Isley views herself as an extension of the Mother Goddess, as such she feels obligated to educate others upon that. If you ask her about the goddess, and her connection to nature, she will talk; likely in vivid and intense detail well beyond anything you possibly could have asked for." Belladonna replied, a wry smile twisting at her lips.
Hazel considered the new information in quiet contemplation. Playing to someones inherent flaws and faults wasn't something she normally did, but this was a special situation and she felt that Hayes's idea had a great deal of merit to it. "All right... If I do this, I need to have some comparisons, some way of continuing the conversation if she stops talking. What can you tell me about goddess worship from what you studied?"
Dr. Hayes gave a slight shrug, setting down her now empty tea cup. "Not a lot more than your average library book on the subject. The mother goddess is an aspect of almost every pagan religion, regardless of nation or culture. She is often called the triple goddess because she manifests as a young maiden, a woman in her motherly prime, or an elderly crone, depending upon either the situation or sometimes depending upon the time of the year. Numerous goddesses throughout many pantheons are all considered to be living embodiments of one central deity. Most believe this to be a more recent adaptation, a neo-pagan way of embracing all pagan pantheons into their religious beliefs, but the general principle of all goddesses being an embodiment of one actually dates back a very long time."
"How so?"
"Well, consider Gaea in ancient Greek mythology. She's the titan goddess who gave birth to all the Greek gods, even her own husband and other lovers. She is, essentially 'the one above all' in the Greek pantheon. Everyone of them can trace their origins back to her in one way or another; as such, every goddess of Greece is an extension of Gaea. This sort of symbolism can be found in religions from all over the world, Native American beliefs, European tribes, Asian mysticism, middle eastern practices; they all come back to the idea of a great mother giving birth to, well, to the world, essentially. I would be very surprised to learn that Ivy's beliefs are any different from this general concept." Belladonna explained, a thoughtful expression on her face as she once more slipped back into the old habits of a trained psychiatrist thinking on the mental and psychological applications of a spiritual belief. "All Isley's done is bypassed the low tiers of the pagan worship and gone straight for the top of the pyramid. If you'd like to know more I have quite a few books to on it in my reading room, but please make sure you put them back where you found them when you are done."
Hazel smiled brightly at thanked the doctor for her insight, then agreed to accept the offer of looking through the books. Dr. Hayes had agreed to let Hazel stay for the night and then to drive her back to the airport the next afternoon for flight back to the east coast, because of this generosity Hazel ended up staying up long into the night, falling asleep in the chair she had sat down in rather than retiring to the guest room Belladonna had kindly made up for her. At 11:30 Dr. Hayes woke her and gently urged her to bed; at nine o'clock the next morning she was woken just as gently and invited to come down stairs for breakfast.
Once shew as settled at the table Belladonna presented her with a plate of French toast and a bowl of diced fruit, as well as fresh orange juice and cold milk in a pitcher. Hazel was surprised by the amount of effort Hayes had put into the meal, and she felt a small pang of sadness for the older woman. This was what had happened to Belladonna Hayes after a stunning career in criminal psychiatry, she'd fled the city she grew up in, an extremely well paying job, and all her friends. She'd come out to the west side of the country and had settled here far from everything she'd once known. She lived alone, paranoid of threats from the outside world and meticulously keen of exactly how her house was kept. After years of helping others the kind woman lived a lonely, sheltered, hermit-like existence and the generosity she'd shown to Hazel screamed of just how desperately she missed being able to interact with people on a normal basis. While trying to brush the sad thoughts away Hazel made a mental note to keep in touch with Belladonna, it was obvious the woman wanted—and needed—a friend.
"So, how did you sleep?" Hayes asked, smiling as she took a seat across from Dr. Birch.
"Very well, thank you. I really can't express my gratitude for you doing this for me, for letting me come out here and agreeing to see me, and even giving me a place to stay." Hazel replied, smiling at the other woman as gratefully as one possibly could.
Belladonna Hayes smiled back, but then her smile faltered. "I must confess, Doctor Birch, there was an ulterior motive for my agreeing to let you fly out and meet me. I knew that the only way to convince you was to meet you face to face."
"Convince me...? Convince me of what?"