Harley needs a distraction
Poison Ivy is doing her best to take care of Harley, but without the Joker or something to occupy her thoughts, she's going mad locked up in Ivy's 'home' beneath the city. She can think of nothing but the Joker, revenge… and him. Always him.
In a desperate attempt to cheer her up, Poison Ivy agrees to go on an outing to the sunnier side of Gotham- a putt putt course. Despite feeling ridiculous, she can't help but enjoy herself- and enjoy how happy it makes Harley. But the two of them are planning something, and it's just what the doctor ordered; revenge.
Harley fidgeted around in her bed. She glanced around, her fingers twitching impatiently. Glancing around the room, she sighed loudly. I'm going to go crazy sitting here. She had been stuck with her thoughts for too long. She sat up cautiously, wary in case it hurt.
Harley heard the tell tale rumble of the subway as it rattled by. She had guessed that this had been an abandoned maintenance or furnace room. There wasn't much about Ivy's room that was still concrete or metal. Vines and Kudzu wove a gentle canopy across the ceiling; punctuated by bright flowers that laced the air with their intoxicating scent. The concrete block walls were cracked with spiraling vines. Harley glanced at the table on the left side of the room; flowers wrapped arounds it's legs, but it was the only bit of furniture beside her bed that was not completely coated by or made of plants. There were pots of every sort of plant imaginable scattered across the scarred surface, and Harley spotted Ivy's 'baby'.
She ran a hand through her hair. You can't hide in here forever, Harley thought. Despite what Ivy wants. Standing up, she started to pace, ignoring her sore back and shoulders and the shooting pain it caused in her right leg. Being pushed out of the window had hurt in more ways than just physical. It had been surprising how little she felt about the Joker hurting her like that. It was like she had simply swept away all her feelings about him, like they had never been real. The psychologist in her knew they hadn't been, that she was sick, but she still thought she'd feel something now that it was over. She only felt regret with how she'd ended it. She'd been a fool.
You were going to break up with him that night and now you want him. Harley snorted. It was almost a tangible ache thinking about Dick, wondering what he was doing, what he thought of what she'd done, how much he hated her. Hated who she really was.
"What are you doing?" Ivy demanded, the door clicking closed behind her.
"Pacing," Harley said innocently. She turned to face Ivy, her lips pouting as she looked up nervously through her eyelashes. "Allie!" she cried, catching sight of the cat in Ivy's arms. She rushed forward and pulled the cat into her chest. Ivy had been fetching things from her apartment, but hadn't let her tag along. Harley's first demand had been clothes.
"You should be resting." Ivy took a step back.
"Ah!" Harley kissed the squirming cat's head. "Ivy-Pamela… Pam… Red," she finally decided. "I've been resting forever!"
"You fell out of a building." Ivy pushed Harley to the bed. Harley let the cat go and sat on the mattress. Allie scampered off, and Ivy glared at her as she sniffed a flower.
"You don't have to remind me," Harley muttered. "Ivy, what am I going to do?"
"Whatever you want," Ivy sighed. "Start over." She shrugged and sat beside Harley.
"But I don't want to." Harley groaned. "I want to get back at him. I want… revenge." Harley could feel the urge for it burning in her gut.
"Now that I can help with." Ivy grinned. "What were you thinking?"
"But I don't want to kill him," Harley added, thinking about Dick. I've killed enough people. I've tainted my soul too much. Ivy stood up, her back to Harley.
"This is about Dick, isn't it?" she demanded, her voice hard.
"Just because he hates me doesn't mean I can't try to be a better person for him," Harley admitted, blushing. Ivy smiled to herself. "Are you going to help me or not?"
"What are you planning?" Ivy turned around, her face neutral again.
"Well," Harley said slowly. "I'm sure he still wants to break the prisoners out of Arkham."
"No." Ivy glared at her.
"What?" she cried.
"If you aren't going to kill him, you are not going to betray him. That psycho will never rest till he kills you!"
"But-"
"-He already did a pretty good job trying to."
"But he didn't!"
"You are not trying for a second time," Ivy ordered.
"You can't tell me what to do!" Harley stood up, ignoring the agony the sudden movement brought. Her face was bright red. "I can do this without you. He's hurt hundreds of people, and I helped." She pointed an accusing finger at herself, eyes watering. "I can't let him hurt anyone else. I need to stop him." Her voice was weak and cracked at the end.
"Harley," Ivy sighed. "You don't have to stop him to negate your actions."
"You don't know that," Harley muttered, sinking back onto the bed. "You don't know what I did for him."
"Harley that's-"
"-You don't know what I did with him." She shuddered.
"I'm not going to help you kill yourself," Ivy said firmly, "out of some misplaced sense of guilt." Harley tried to interrupt, but Ivy kept talking. "You should forget the Joker and move on."
"Red!"
"No, no buts."
"Please!"
"We are done talking about this. Forget it," Ivy told her, crossing her arms.
"There's nothing to do but think about it," Harley whined.
"Well try."
"I can't! I need to do something. I need to get out of here," she begged.
"You're crazy." Ivy shook her head.
"I thought that was obvious."
"You need to stay here and rest."
Ivy wasn't sure how, but hour later, she and Harley were standing in line at a putt-putt golf course.
"We shouldn't be here," she grumbled.
"Oh come on! Cheer up." Harley was practically bouncing up and down. She looked ridiculous wearing a long sleeve shirt and jeans to cover her bandages in the muggy heat. Ivy was wearing a pair of high waisted black shorts with a flowing green chiffon tank top tucked in that Harley had lent her. She felt odd. Her ID was in the wallet in her pocket, and her skin was pale. She hadn't gone out as Pamela Isley to do anything fun in years.
"This is ridiculous," she grumbled. Harley ignored her, paying for the both of them at the window, grabbing them two balls, and pulling Pam toward the putters. She handed her a purple one and grabbed one for herself.
"No one can be pouty during putt-putt. It's in the rules," Harley told her.
"It is?" she asked, glancing at the rule sign. Harley laughed at her.
"Have you ever been mini golfing before?"
"No one has ever taken me," Pam said stiffly.
"Well, we're going to change that." Harley handed her a green golf ball she'd chosen for her. Pam glared at Harley and her red ball; Harley flashed her a smile and skipped to the first hole. Pam smiled gently down at her ball and putter for a moment before following.
"How does this work?" she droned, looking down at Harley's ball on the green turf.
"You take the stick," Harley held her putter up, "and you hit the ball into the hole." She grinned. "I think there's more to it than that, but that's how I play." She lined the head of the club up behind the ball. "Watch and learn Red."
Harley smacked the ball. It ricocheted off the edge of a rock, to the wall, past the hole, to the opposite wall, and rolled to a stop beside the rock.
"How informative," Pam sneered.
"Your turn!" Harley pushed her into place. "Since it's your first time, I'll give you a Mulligan on this hole."
"This is a place for children. I don't think we should be drinking."
Harley laughed. "A Mulligan is a do over in golf. Just hit the ball." Pam dropped her ball on the turf. She lined her putter up, and hit the ball. It rolled to a stop on the opposite side of the rock from Harley's. "The battle is on." Harley went up to her ball, carefully aiming at the hole; she winced slightly as she bent over the putter.
Pam watched her seriously, not wanting to bring it up. Harley seemed like she had forgotten her problems for the moment and was having fun. Pam didn't want to remind her.
Two more putts, and Harley made it in. "Yay! Beat that!" She plucked her ball up and stepped aside, grinning at Pam.
"This is stupid," Pam muttered as she hit her ball around the hole.
"Try not to have too much fun, Red. You might hurt yourself." Pam glared at her as the ball finally clattered into the cup. "Come on." Harley waited impatiently for her to pick up her ball and dragged her to the next hole.
It only took three holes for Harley to start losing, yelling "Get in your home," at her ball as she hit it seven times around the hole. The fifth hole was the first trick hole. There were two tunnel shoots, and only one led close to the hole.
"How about you go first."
"That's cheating!" Pam cried.
"I've gone first four holes in a row. Your turn."
She glared at Harley. "But I still don't know what I'm doing," she countered.
"Oh, come on," Harley complained. "Branch out, spread your leaves, reach for the sun, open your petals, bloom-"
"-Fine! Anything to make you stop talking." Harley grinned as she went first. Pam's ball barrelled down the first tunnel, coming out a long distance away from the hole.
"That's unfortunate," Harley mocked with a big smile. Pam rolled her eyes as Harley lined up her putt for the second tunnel. Her aim was close to accurate, but two feet from the opening, a web of vines criss crossed the tunnel, and the ball bounced off. It trickled slowly down the incline close to the wall and ended up in the fuzzy turf 'sand trap' even further away from the hole. "You cheater!"
"What?" Pam looked up from pretending to examine her nails.
"Oh it is so on now," Harley warned. On the next hole, Harley elbowed Pam as she was putting, and her ball splayed over into the shallow puddle that was the lake of the hole. "Oh, I'm sorry," Harley laughed. "I didn't think it'd go in the water." Pam glared at her.
"I have to stand in that puddle now."
"I'm so sorry," she sniggered.
"You will be," Pam assured her.
"No!" Harley brandished her putter like a sword between them still laughing. "Stay away!" She lined her putter up, glancing between Pam and her ball. "Take a step away from me," she warned.
"Oh I have two more holes to get my revenge," Pam said sweetly, taking the step back.
"You don't scare me," Harley said. Pam was quiet, just waiting for her to putt. Harley hit the ball, and it rolled within a few feet of the cup.
Harley eyed Pam as the walked along the fence to the eighth hole. Pam shook her head, amused until she caught sight of something. In the cul de sac outside of the fence, was a newspaper dispenser. She ignored the headline, looking at the article beneath it.
Nightwing on a spree. Prison cells are filling.
The picture below was cut off, but it looked like the tops of heads; some of the people were wearing police hats. She glanced at Harley's back, hoping she hadn't seen it.
Harley stared at the newspaper. Her bubble of happiness had burst, and she suddenly wanted to lay down. She turned to face Pam, and forced a smile, lining up her putt.
The both of them were quiet as they putted, neither of them doing well on the hole. After she picked up her ball out of the cup, Harley automatically headed toward the last hole. Pam grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop.
"If we're going to do this," Pam sighed, glaring at Harley. "We do it my way."
"It's just the last ho-"
"Not putting." She stared at Harley until she understood. "Are you sure you can handle this?" Harley nodded. "Good because if you do something stupid like die, I'll kill you."