A great deal of red tape surrounds the trial of a criminally insane patient being considered for rehabilitation. Pamela was two-thirds of the way through her share of it. She's passed all the doctor's examinations and reviews, she'd peacefully co-existed with normal patients and hospital staff in the minimum security ward of the hospital for a month, and both she and Harley were being given praise for good behavior and assistance provided to the staff.

All of this, however, was a cake walk. It was the easy part. The hardest aspect of being released on probation was passing the review board. By most patients and prisoners alike who faced such a scenario it was considered one of the most difficult things a person could go through.

Complete strangers would come before you, interrogate you, judge you, and then decide whether or not you would be allowed to join society again. In order to be approved for release the patient needed to be able to prove herself of sound mind and body by way of a face-to-face discussion with these judges.

The board review board held some of the most well known names in Gotham, well known amongst the criminal community at least. Commissioner James Gordon, Mayor Adam Grange, District Attorney Gloria Welsh, Dr. Timothy Roland, and Mr. Bruce Wayne.

The first three members were there on behalf of law enforcement and the people of the city. If one of Arkham's criminal patients was up for release, he had to stand up in front of the very people who had locked him away in the first place. Those three didn't concern her.

James Gordon was a man of the law, an honorable one, and she knew that he would clear her if she could show him that she regretted her previous actions. Mayor Grange was a kindly man but he was a politician not a judge of character (much less sanity), he'd side with Gordon no matter what the Commissioner decided. Gloria Welsh might prove challenging, but even she had shown compassion when it came to seeing the patients at Arkham being cured of their various mental challenges. She would rather see a patient released under the notion of reform than see them break out and cause chaos once more in their criminal guise.

The fourth individual might be more challenging. Doctor Roland was a peer of Dr. Arkham's, he ran a calmer, safer (and according to rumor, far more efficient) mental health clinic up the coast nestled between Metropolis and Gotham. The Blackthorn clinic was not a facility for the criminally insane, but it's doctors were some of the best in the nation outside of Arkham itself and Dr. Roland was the best choice to provide professional opinion on whether a patient truly could be considered 'cured' of insanity.

Finally, there was Bruce Wayne. She couldn't understand it, why on Gaea's green earth was Bruce Wayne on the review board? It boggled Pamela's mind to try and figure out why that bumbling, air-headed playboy was allowed in. Yes, he made donations and yes, the Wayne family grant was what allowed Arkham to become one of the premiere mental hospitals on the east coast, but how did that justify putting this buffoon on the panel that would decide her fate?

Pamela Isley had met Bruce Wayne, he had never appeared to be anything more than a five thousand dollar suit, slicked back hair and a smile that blatantly revealed that the lights were on but no one was home.

He once took a rose from her while she was disguised as a bag lady. The rose was poisoned, naturally, and within moments she had him deep in the green, wrapped around her finger and fawning over her like a school boy crushing on his new teacher.

These thoughts came upon her in a rush as she sat in the visitor's room, a place she'd only been in once before, the very first time she went to Arkham. They never let her have visitors anymore after that, not until now, not until she'd come this close to a legitimate release from the asylum.

"A bag lady of all things! I was young, new to the whole routine, and still he bought it! He got hood-winked by a 26 year old with a moth eaten shawl over her shoulders masquerading as a 70-something homeless woman!" she exclaimed in irritation to her visitor. "All I'd done was avoided washing my hair for five days and stopped drinking anything about three hours earlier so my throat would be dry and my voice raspy. It barely even qualified as a disguise, but he fell for it fully, I had him kissing my feet!"

"Yes, I remember, Pam." her visitor replied, her tone turning disapproving.

"Oh don't take it that way, it was years ago, and at the time I had no idea that you were dating him, much less that you were- Well, you know!"

"Yes, and you had no hesitation to sic him on me like an attack dog when I showed up to stop you."

"How was I supposed to know you were having dinner with him that night? We were all just getting started, and you weren't exactly in the inner circle to begin with. Honestly, it was a simple mistake... Speaking of mistakes, just what did you see in him at the time anyway?"

Her visitor's nose wrinkled in faint irritation for a moment, then she let a soft sigh hiss past her lips. "He's not always like that... It's this facade. He's smarter than he lets on, he runs one of the most powerful business empires in the world Pamela, you don't keep a corporate juggernaut like that afloat without knowing what you're doing."

"You do if you're letting your lackeys do all the actual thinking for you."

Selina Kyle hissed and Pamela withdrew slightly into her chair, waving her hands gingerly. "Down girl. If you really think he's so much more than he seems why don't you tell me how to work him."

"No."

"Selina-a-a-a," Pamela cooed encouragingly, "Come on, it's just a little secret between friends, I won't tell anyone else."

"We aren't friends Pamela. You've tried to kill me; let me assure you, you aren't on my Christmas card list these days."

"Don't I know it..." Pamela muttered irritably under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing. Look, Selina, I'm grateful you came. I need someone reliable, and you're the best shot I have. Come on, we've made up since those... Misunderstandings. And I'm a new person now! I'm sorry for all that, if I could go back and..." the green goddess trailed off, closing her eyes for a moment and pressing her lips tightly together.

Initially Selina watched incredulously at first, but as seconds ticked by she saw the little glint of light reflecting of moisture forming at the corners of Pam's closed eyes. Behind her dark lips Selina Kyle's teeth clenched in an unseen snarl as she wrestled with her better judgment. There were few rogues she ever saw eye to eye with and Poison Ivy was not one of them, but to see her in a pale orange jumpsuit with a prison I.D. on the back, left breast and right shoulder, hunkered down in a chair with tears in her eyes; this just didn't look like Poison Ivy at all. For once she was talking to Pamela Isley, and no one else, and that realization came as a genuine shock.

"Pam... Pamela, stop.. All right, all right, end the water works; I'm sorry I got snarky. I'm here aren't I? If I wasn't willing to talk I wouldn't have come, so let's talk, why did you send someone to ask me to visit?"

Pamela lifted a hand and wiped the tears away, taking a deep breath to calm herself down. "I'm... This is embarrassing Selina, I may be reformed but I'm still- Well, pride has always been an issue for me, hasn't it? I hate to say it, but, I need help."

"That's why you've been in Arkham for over a year, to get help, I'm not sure what I-"

"After Arkham, Selina, I'm going to need help."

Selina's eyes narrowed suspiciously, provoking a hurt expression to cross Pamela's face as the red head vehemently shook her head. "Not what I mean. Nothing illegal, I just... I need a sponsor."

"A what?"

"I need a friend who will agree to keep an eye on me, someone with a clean record, in good standing with the general public."

"You want me, Me, to be your sponsor?" Selina repeated slowly, hoping she'd somehow misheard.

"And Harley's too if you're willing..."

"What!?"

"Selina please, once I'm out I have to show them I can carry a normal life, part of a normal life is normal friends and I need someone I can trust who will support me!" Pamela exclaimed, her voice trembling with a sudden desperation that was reflected just as strongly in her eyes.

For a moment they stared at each other before Selina gave a disgruntled murmur to herself and then nodded. "Fine. But so help me if you two suddenly show up at my pent house unannounced at two in the morning-"

"We won't! It's over, Selina, I'm not doing anything like that anymore. I just want to live a normal life, with people I can trust and count on, and... Well, I know we've had our share of squabbles but you were the first person I thought of."

This slowly brought the thief's attention back to the prisoner sitting across the table from her. "I was the first person you thought of?"

Pamela nodded.

"... Pam, I'm not sure if that's flattering or heart breaking."

"A little of both, I suppose." Pam conceded with a sigh. "It's not like I can look to my family... My mother's dead, my father... He's in witness protection after speaking against me at my own trial, I can't exactly count on him. I don't have any normal friends beside you..."

"What about Harley?"

"She may be up for rehabilitation but she's never going to be normal, Selina, even before J got his claws in her I doubt anyone would call her normal." Pam replied flatly, her eyes now staring solemnly at the table surface, seeming incapable of meeting Selina's gaze anymore.

Another soft sigh from the infamous thief finally brought Pamela's gaze up again.

"What do I need to do, Pam?"

"Just speak with my psychiatrist, Doctor Birch. She'll ask you a few questions about me, make sure you understand what you're agreeing to, explain all the details and things."

"And I have to do this for Harley to?"

"No... But it would mean a lot to me if you did."

"You owe me so much..."

Pam smiled hopefully. "More than I likely will ever be able to repay."

Normally they would be all over her the moment she walked in the front door. With six cats in the house getting in her own front door was one of the most dangerous things she did each day. Today, however, there were no cats, not even any signs of cats. In any other situation she would have been cautious, set on high alert by the sudden absence of her usual companions, but today she knew why they had gone into hiding.

She walked down the hall and turned, stepping into her living room with a little smirk tugging at her lips. She saw him immediately, standing in the corner, back to the wall like a desperado in a Dodge City saloon.

"They really don't like it when you show up without me home." She declared casually as she entered the room. Behind her a pure black cat emerged from her hiding place and followed the femme fatale through the doorway into the living room with it's tail held high. As Selina sat down on the couch and began to take off her shoes the cat leaped up onto the arm rest then crawled into her lap, interrupting her work.

As if on cue the rest of the pride came out of hiding and the couch was soon over run with her companions. The entire time he watched silently from the corner as she greeted each of them then finished removing her foot wear.

With a single flick of one bare foot the cats scattered to the armrests and back of the couch, providing room for her to stretch out across the cushions in a rather provocative fashion before turning her gaze back to him with a tempting smile.

He ignored the appealing position, and the inviting glance, but he knew she would be quite content to wait him out while doing any number of things to distract him from his job. He would have to speak first if he wanted to get any information.

"How did she strike you?"

Selina laughed. "I'd love to see her try."

He narrowed his eyes in a 'you know what I meant' glare and she gave him a little pout.

"You're no fun." She quipped, then she shrugged her shoulders. "You're right, she seems... Genuine. She wants out. She wants out legitimately. Why, I don't know, but she seems intent on doing it all in a perfectly legal fashion."

"Long cons aren't her style."

"But you think this is one."

He didn't reply. She gave a coy smile, sitting up slowly, which made her deep purple sweater stretch across her chest in a way that would leave most men slack-jawed, drooling on the floor.

"You're incredibly sexy when something you can't answer is bothering you."

"She's up to something."

"And if you don't know what it is yet, you'll figure it out later. Something will tip-you off eventually."

"She asked you to sponsor her?"

"See, you knew she'd ask that, and I sure didn't see that coming."

"You said yes."

"I assumed you were counting on me to do so, so yes, I said yes."

He grunted in approval.

"I can't do much in that position though," she confessed seriously, the playful smile, husky purring tones, and alluring gaze replaced by a solemn expression. "I'm not one of your sidekicks, and I can't put myself into a jeopardizing position with the rogues. They consider me one of them, 'Gotham's old guard' Cobblepot calls us; it's my ace in the hole, the one thing that keeps them from targeting me as a means of getting at you."

"You can take care of yourself."

"Yes. And this is me, taking care of myself. I'll do what I can to help you out, but if I have to choose between a pissed off Batman and a pissed of Poison Ivy? I'd rather take my chances with you."

"And you're hoping that I'm wrong." He concluded. "That Ivy really is gone."

"I'll admit, there's a part of me that would be thrilled to see someone like Pamela be able to break away from this psychosis... To finally be able to reclaim her normal life, to be sane."

"I'm not sure there's any sanity that needs reclaiming." he murmured thoughtfully as he moved toward the balcony doors.

"Whoa, hold on." She exclaimed, rising from the couch after him. "You don't get to disappear on me, handsome... Now what did you mean by that?"

He looked back at her and for a moment they stared at each other in silence. She felt her heart beat increasing with each second that ticked by as she very slowly grew closer and closer to him.

"Talk to me." She said, her voice barely above a whisper, her body almost touching his.

"Be careful... This isn't what it seems."

Before she could grab him he had pulled away. By the time she'd reached the balcony door he'd already vaulted the railing.

She squinted after the black shape as a line fired out and yanked him through the air towards the shadow-veiled side of another skyscraper. With a disapproving cluck of her tongue she stepped back inside, closing the balcony doors and scooping the black cat up in her arms, smiling as it bumped it's hid against the underside of her chin.

"He wouldn't even stick around long enough to reject my invitation to dinner." She said, pouting playfully at her pint-sized pride of friends.