A plan is in motion.

Poison Ivy has her own motivation to help the Joker's with his plan, but that doesn't mean she has to enjoy working with him. Her blueprint is lining up perfectly so far, and nothing is going to get in her way.

The Joker is losing his mind, if he hadn't already lost it. Delusions of love that he never knew he had for Harley are blurring his entire reality, and he only has one way to fix the obsession. A temporary fix, but a fix nonetheless.

Ivy sauntered past some of the Joker's men, too annoyed to be pleased with how they watched her walk away. She pushed open the door to the Joker's study.

"I do not like being summoned. Nor do you have the right to," she snapped. Joker spun his chair around, smiling at her.

"Yet here you are," he stated.

"What do you want?" Ivy hissed.

"You're a part of my plan," he told her, standing up. "You are my plan." He paced around her. "And I don't like being distanced from it."

"Fine. What do you want to know, you little freak?" The Joker smiled, like she'd just called him a term of endearment.

"Just how things are going. That's all." He ran one hand along the lapel of his jacket. "Any complications? Any acquaintances?" he hissed.

"You called me here because your little girlfriend is in Arkham. Not my department," she snapped.

"Have you seen her?" he demanded. Ivy glared at him.

"No."

He growled, looking like he was going to lunge at her- Ivy wished he'd try- before restraining himself.

"You try my patience," he said shortly, his clenched fists shaking. "Why is she alive!?" he shouted, kicking over his desk chair.

"I'm not the one who tried to kill her." Ivy leaned against the desk.

"I don't give a damn who or what you are, Poison Ivy, I want to know how she lived." Joker turned slowly, glaring at her over his shoulder.

"What was that thing about you killing people up close so you can feel they're life leave them? Did you actually make sure she was dead?" She sounded bored.

"Why would I want-" he stopped short, his head cocking a bit. His hands twitched at his sides and then he waved them, shaking his head. "No, no, that isn't right," he muttered, fidgeting nervously. "There was no way she could have survived that."

"Well I guess you're losing your touch. I did come up with this new plan of ours." Ivy smirked at him. Joker whirled on her.

"Don't tell me my business, whore! I have my own plans in motion," he snapped furiously, advancing toward her. He again stopped short and turned away, cocking his head, as if listening to something. "Shut up…" he hissed quietly, his fists clenching.

"You know, if you keep talking to yourself, people might think you're crazy," Ivy told him. He glanced at her, twitching; as if every word she said infuriated him.

"Find out how she lived."

"That's not my job. Don't you have little puppets for that sort of thing?" She waved her hand at the door.

"I want you to do it," he breathed, crossing his arms after smoothing his hair. The curls fell back in front of his face. "Unless you're incapable of completing a simple task, of course."

"No can do, boy-o." Ivy stretched her arms above her head. "The medical director is a bit suspicious of me. I've got to keep my head down."

"I'll take care of that," he waved his hand dismissively. "I make one phone call and it's done." Ivy eyed him suspiciously. "Now what can you do for me!? Right! Find out how she survived that fall!" the Joker shouted furiously, taking a step towards her.

"You're the one who pushed her. Why do you care?" Ivy snapped, her back stiff. The Joker's jaw clenched.

"Stop saying that."

"Why? Do you regret it?"

"Stop bringing it up!" he shouted.

"You're the one who keep asking me to look into it," Ivy countered.

"And you're the second-rate criminal who can't do as she's told," he hissed, face to face with her. Her phermones were useless, and he wasn't afraid.

"I'm the second-rate criminal who is making your plan work." She stood up, cocking her hip. "All those plans you have in motion? Nothing without me."

"I'd figure something out," he snapped, and then closed his eyes. "I need to know how she lived- Ivy," the Joker said slowly. It was the first time he'd actually said her name without utter disdain in his voice.

"Why should I do you any favors?" Ivy didn't soften a bit.

"I need to know," he repeated weakly, turning his back on her.

"As in professional curiosity so you can kill her properly the next time?" Ivy pried.

Joker was silent for a long time, standing utterly still as he crossed his arms tightly. He didn't look at her or turn around. "It was an accident," he finally said, his voice wavering. Ivy watched him suspiciously.

"You accidentally pushed someone out of window?"

"It wasn't supposed to be like that," he whispered. "I didn't mean- She just- I was just so angry, and…" he closed his eyes, biting down on his tongue as he covered his ears. "She was never supposed to die and now she won't stop talking-" he let out a wheezing laugh, tugging on the hair at his temples.

"There you go. That's the reason. You're crazy."

"I am not crazy!" he screamed furiously, pressing down harder on his ears.

"Pretty sure there's a cell with your name on it in Arkham. Maybe then you can see your little girlfriend again." Ivy brushed an imaginary speck of dust off her arm.

"I am not crazy," he repeated darkly, turning on her. Tears cut lines down his face through his makeup. "You want to talk about what makes a person crazy, what kind of a past does that- Harley's lined up. Mine never did. Don't call me crazy. Sweetheart, you don't know what crazy is."

"Oh I do." She moved closer to him. "It's not killing you right here and now. And don't ever call me Sweetheart."

"I can call you whatever I want," he snapped. "You're under my employ. Don't think I don't know about your ulterior motives for getting into Arkham."

"You don't know anything." Ivy gave him a bit of a smile, moving back over to the desk and looking at the mess of papers he had scattered about. He followed her and slammed his hand down over the drawings and notes, but not before she'd seen several mediocre drawings of Harley.

"I know more than you think I know, Dr. Isley, honest," he said earnestly, as if they were in a therapy session. "I know that you want to break Bane out of Arkham. I know about your street informants; their names and their locations, their specialties." He cocked his head a bit, his face inches from hers and twisted in fury. "I know about your soft spot- your affections towards the broken one. The bloodied, damned Robin boy, calling himself Red Hood."

"I'm not very impressed. I expected better," Ivy admitted. "You completely missed my desire to kill you and that the Robin annoys me."

"What's the fun in stating the obvious?" he waved a hand dismissively, twirling a razor-edged Joker card between his fingers. "Tell me, Ivy, how fast do you heal with this antitoxin of yours?"

Before she could react, the Joker had slashed across her forearm with the card, a laugh rising in his throat. Ivy hissed, grabbing the wound.

"I will kill you where you stand."

Joker genuinely laughed this time, grabbing a handful of her hair and twisting it in. His gloves blocked the poison of her touch. "No, you won't actually," he whispered. "Call it intuition, but I think you're biding your time. Until what, I don't know, but you are definitely hiding something. You won't kill me," he grinned devilishly above her, yanking her hair as he let her go. She straightened back up, arching her back.

"You're right. I won't. Yet."

He ignored her words and grabbed her forearm, examining it. The cut had already mostly healed, and a grin spread across his face. "Fascinating," he laughed, releasing her. "Just… fascinating."

"Mr. J?" A voice came from the hall, and Ivy froze. The heavy metal door scraped open and a harlequin hooded head poked through, hat tips dangling from a painted white face. Ivy's breath came out in a hiss at the sight of her. Joker glanced with satisfaction at Ivy's reaction, and then turned to the impostor.

"Harley Dear, what is it now? Can't you see I'm entertaining a guest?" he asked lightly, giggling a bit at his own words. The new Harley Quinn shook her head.

"Sorry, I just wanted to-"

"-Step in, Dear, and speak up." Joker snapped irritably. She quickly jumped into the room.

"The things you ordered? They're all here!" she said brightly. She was shorter than her predecessor and had wider hips, the curves accentuated by the black and red contrasting costume. The Joker clapped excitedly.

"Delightful. Thank you, Harley," he waved her away, with a glance at Ivy. "Do visit again. I enjoy our talks." Ivy strode toward the door, with not a glance at either of them.