"Good morning, Pamela."

"Good morning, Doctor." Pam replied, rising slowly from her kneel in the gross. Her arms stretched out behind her like wings and her head tilted back, turning her face toward the sky. For a moment she was a bird ready to take flight as the morning sun bathed her face and body. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"It is..." Dr. Birch agreed, glancing up toward the sky, powder blue dotted with long, wispy, white clouds. Spring wasn't quite here, but winter was giving its death throws, something made very clear in the Arkham Gardens.

Since Pamela Isley had been given permission to enter the gardens everything had changed. There wasn't a dead plant in sight, those that hibernated in the winter seemed more like sleeping children than withered plant life. This place was usually as grim and dark in winter as the rest of the Asylum, but now rich meadow grass had spread throughout the yard, and leafy shrubbery grew full and hearty all around. Even the trees, normally gnarled skeletons in winter, remained full and strong, buds already seen on their spindly branches waiting to unfurl in the first days of spring.

"Your mind is else where this morning, Hazel."

"Huh?" Dr. Birch's eyes fluttered as she reeled her thoughts back in, trying to focus on the session. "I'm sorry. I've had a lot going on."

"Don't worry, I understand, you must be rather busy right now. Meeting with Arkham, sponsoring my rehabilitation, meeting with my outside sponsor and with the police... And of course there's Batman."

"How did you know?"

"Doctor, I spent the last few years in a villainous social circle, few know better than us just how the system works. If anyone would be suspicious of such a smooth rehabilitation process it would be Batman, of course he's going to visit you, and knowing him he's likely badgered you too. Let me guess, he's there when you come home from the office at night isn't he?"

Hazel nodded. And Pamela's dark green lips drew into a satisfied smile. "And when you work late, he comes here. Usually around one-thirty to two in the morning, am I right?"

"Always."

"By one in the morning we're tired. It's how the body works, it doesn't matter if you're an insomniac, a sloppy beat cop, or a three time wrestling champ, if it's 1 AM you're tired. It makes it easy for him to sneak in, and even easier to interrogate you. See, if it were 3 or 4 you'd be starting to recover. The hours from midnight to 2:30 are the hardest ones to beat when you're pulling an all-nighter, after that a couple of cups of coffee can keep you functioning till sunrise. If he wants information, the best time to get it is when you're fighting your own desire to sleep, you're too distracted to resist giving him what he needs to know."

"Sometimes I don't even have to say it, sometimes-"

"He figures it out by looking around the room then watching the way your eye twitches." Pamela surmised with a curt nod. "Yes, believe me Hazel, we've all been there."

"We?"

"Your patients, Hazel... No one knows more about him than us."

Dr. Birch's mental wheels began to turn. This was another topic they'd never really had a chance to broach before now, and one she thought she and Pamela ought to cover before Isley was released back into the world.

"So, what do you know about him, Pamela?"

"Probably more than he would like," she confided with a smile, "more than some of the others, for certain."

The green woman laughed softly, shaking her head at some personal thought, causing her luxurious red hair to bounce and sway in a way that made Hazel's eyes follow Isley's ever turn and movement. "The three of us can pick up more than the others-"

"Which three?" Hazel asked quickly, hand now darting into her coat pocket to retrieve her note book and pen.

"Catwoman, Harley, and myself. Women tend to pick up more on little things than men do, as I'm sure you're aware. No one could tell you more than the Cat, but I can tell you a few things," Pamela looked at her therapist with a playful smirk, "If you're interested."

"Of course!" Hazel exclaimed, almost frantically.

Pamela laughed and then moved to one of the Garden benches, sitting down and patting the bench beside her. Hazel came to sit next to her, pen at the ready. Pamela glanced at her and laughed again. "...like a student in her favorite class."

"What?"

"Nothing, you're sweet when I'm talking about something you're fascinated by."

Hazel smiled brightly. She'd never really thought of herself as sweet, friendly or easy-going, but no one had ever called her sweet; it made a nice day nicer. "You were beginning to talk about Batman?"

"Yes, of course, don't worry Hazel I'm not going to leave you wondering." Pamela responded, while leaning back against the bench, stretching her arms across the back of it leisurely. "Let's see, where to start... For one thing, he doesn't like the scent of honeysuckle."

"What? How do you know?"

"His nose tightens under the mask when he smells it, his nostrils narrow, like he's hoping to block the spores out of his nose. His lips tighten too, and those lenses turn to narrow little slits because he's glaring at me from behind them. That's why I used to keep honeysuckle in all my lairs. It was just enough of a distraction to keep him from being able to work at his absolute peak. Such a strong, sweet scent tends to cloud the mind; even more so if you don't like the scent." Pamela sighed softly, shaking her head in lament. "Too bad, it's one of my favorites."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm... We had a honeysuckle crop at home, just outside the back windows. You see, my mother actually grew up in Alabama; much of my childhood was driven by her southern roots. She loved the smell of honey suckle on a summer day." Pamela explained, a reminiscent smile crossing her lips while a sad, hollow longing lingered in her eyes.

"Mother was raised very traditionally. Women were house-wives, meant to tend to the laundry, fix the meals, raise the kids, nothing more. That's what drove her to become such an advocate of women's rights."

"I had no idea..."

"No one does," Pamela replied promptly, "well, except for him probably. He need takes us on without studying us first. I'm sure he knows more about me than I know about him, and we're both uncomfortable with how much we both know."

"What else do you know about him?"

"Hm! Well, I'll tell you this... A man wearing full body armor," she grinned almost lecherously as she fixed her eyes on Hazel again, "gets very uncomfortable when he gets a hard-on."

"Oh my!"

Pamela laughed again while her psychiatrist blushed beet red and fumbled with her pen and paper. "Relax doctor, my goodness I suppose I shouldn't tell you a thing about what he looks like beneath it all."

"You've SEEN him!?" Hazel asked with mounting disbelief.

"Not all of him... Never his face. No matter how strong my hold on him he's never shown me his face. I tried once; he broke my arm."

"He- Why?!" Hazel asked indignantly. "Why would he be so violent about it?"

"Well I was trying to unmask him doctor, and there's nothing more precious to him than keeping his identity secret."

"So he broke your arm. That's unnecessary force."

"He's not a cop, Doctor. Jurisdiction, force, all of that... There's no rules for him except the ones he imposes upon himself. He's sent the Joker back here with 7 broken ribs, a dislocated leg, broken arm, broken nose... Heh, that was the best night's sleep I had in weeks"

"Why?" Hazel sputtered, looking at Pamela in confusion.

"Oh Goddess, don't feel sorry for him, Hazel; don't. Harley does enough of that for the entire world, the moment you start feeling sorry for that disgusting pile of swamp soil I'll be forced to spank you."

Hazel turned her eyes back to her notes while Pamela chuckled, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Why whatever is the matter, Doctor... Do you want me to spank you?"

"No!" Hazel exclaimed in embarrassed protest. "I'm your doctor, Pamela, of course I don't- Why would I!?"

Pamela chuckled and broke eye contact looking out over the garden. "Oh I'm sure I haven't the foggiest idea, doctor. Maybe it's just curiosity... An unsatisfied desire to explore that you didn't sate in college? Maybe you've got a suppressed masochistic tendency you've denied since child hood..."

"Now you're starting to sound like the psychiatrist."

Pamela laughed and looked back at Hazel with a vibrant, engaging smile, while dropping her arm from the back of the bench to resting comfortingly on Hazel's shoulders. "I'm only teasing you, Doctor; but, woman to woman, I can tell it's been too long since someone tended your garden."

Hazel blushed deeper, pushing her hair back away from her face before meeting Pamela's gaze. "Eric has... Well-"

"He didn't come back." Pam deduced with a sympathetic nod. "I'm sorry, Hazel."

"Are you?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Pamela asked in surprise. "Of course I am, I never wished any ill will on your personal life, Doctor. You've sponsored my initial release, you've done more for me than I could ever ask Hazel. I wish I could help make you as happy as you make me... But Hazel, why are you lamenting the loss?"

"What?" Hazel asked, caught off guard, sidetracked by the newly gleaned information that she made Pamela happy.

"This boy, Eric, we've talked about him before, the last time we discussed him you were actually pleased he was gone. He was jealous, manipulative, the typical over-bearing persona of one of Gotham's law enforcement types. They all tend to have it, whether good or corrupt, they have this sense of ownership, of control. That's not what you want, is it? To be with a man who is constantly trying to control you?"

"No... No it's not, but- It's just not that simple. I know I don't want it but I feel..."

"Logic doesn't affect love. You know he wasn't good for you, but you still miss him because you loved him."

"Yes." Hazel admitted with a forlorn sigh. "He wasn't always like this, you know? It wasn't till I started treating you, he claims I started to change. He said I was obsessed with you, obsessed with my new job, but he was the one who really started to change."

"How so?"

"He got distant. It was like my desire to help others somehow put him off."

Pamela Isley gave a little 'mmh' through her lips, nodding thoughtfully. "Simple enough. You were paying more attention to me then you were to him... Last time we speculated that he was jealous of your career; I still think that's true, but what if there was more than that going on? What if he was jealous of the attention you gave me? Perhaps he felt he was being neglected, not receiving your full attention. You brought your work home, didn't you?"

"Well yes, but every psychiatrist at Arkham brings work home. None of us want to spend every waking hour here."

"You needn't justify yourself to me, Hazel, I understand completely; Arkham's a far cry from the happiest place on earth. But was there more than that?"

"What do you mean?"

Pamela stared at Hazel for a moment, and then the Doctor felt her patient's hand sliding from her shoulder to the back of her neck, soft green fingertips tickling her own skin gently right along the base of her hair line.

"Pamela, I'm not-"

"You don't sound convinced," Pamela replied with a smile, "Are you trying to tell me, or yourself?"

Hazel closed her eyes a moment, trying to clear her mind. There was such a lovely scent on the air, roses? Magnolias? No, Lilies. Stargazer lilies, they had such a lovely smell. It made Hazel's heart flutter and a warm smile spread over her lips as she relaxed once more.

"Good girl..." Ivy soothed, fingers stroking along the spine of Hazel's neck beneath the psychiatrist's soft brown hair.