Chapter Three: Enemies for Allies

Harley was quiet.

Actually, Harley was completely silent. Her expression was totally blank. Calm. Her hands were resting lightly in her lap in the passenger's seat of the Batmobile. Her eyes were fixed on the road ahead of them. She had yet to try to press any of the innumerable buttons on the dash in front of her. She didn't speak and she didn't move.

Batman had never felt more terrified of a totally unarmed woman in his life.

Normally, he preferred to drive quietly. It was peaceful. He could think. But now, his eyes kept drifting to the woman in the red minidress, wishing he'd found some reason to leave her behind. After he and Dr. Beauchamps had filled her in, all emotion had drained from Harley's face. Her muscles had released the worried tension. She had even been... polite... when she'd informed him that she would be coming with him.

He'd been so taken aback by her demeanor, all objections had eluded him. He'd braced himself for tears or a violent outburst. He could have handled a temper-tantrum. But this? This reserved shell, this lack of reaction? He had a sense of what might be going on beneath it. It made him think an unthinkable thought...

'God help the Joker...'

(:)

'Stupid, Pamela,' she scolded herself before she'd even opened her eyes. 'You allowed yourself to be distracted!'

The plants had been screaming in pain, in fear, in rage... Their agony had become hers. But that was no excuse! She shouldn't have focused on anything but the Joker and his men until the threat had been eliminated. She could only hope...

'Harley!'

Now Ivy's eyes flew open. She saw no trace of the blonde in the small, empty room. In fact, she saw nothing but cement block walls and a rusty metal door. When she reached out, she could feel no plants of any kind - not even grass - for more than a mile. She was trapped in a concrete desert. But plants tended to gossip, and they didn't twist information to suit their own purposes the way humans did. The grasses and the shrub she found at the edge of her cement prison quickly got word back to her from the greenhouse.

Harley was with Batman.

Relief washed over her. Now she could focus on her own predicament. Thick silver duct tape wrapped around her body from her shoulders down to her hips, trapping her arms like a straight jacket. Her legs had been bound together from her knees to her ankles. She couldn't move at all, not even to shift her weight. Then she realized there was a good reason for the immobility: the tape across her torso was also wrapped around a pole that supported part of the ceiling, as if this small room had once been part of a larger space.

She could produce thorns from her body to break herself loose, but it would take time - time she likely didn't have. Ivy could think of only two things the Joker could want with her: bait for Harley... And revenge for taking away a woman he considered his private property.

She scoffed to herself. The Joker thought of himself as fearsome, but, at his core, he was nothing more than another weak, pathetic man who hurt women for fun. Just like Woodrue.

At least she knew the Joker wouldn't be winning Harley back this time. There would be no fear that her girl would leave her. Ivy felt secure in the relationship now; rooted as if she'd finally found the right soil to grow in. Harley had assured her the feeling was mutual.

"When I wake up there, with Mis - with the Joker... I wake up feelin' like... Well, like I need ta hurry up an' get home... But I don't get that feelin' when I wake up here... With you... So, do you think, maybe... I could stay? Move in with you, like... For good?"

"For as long as you can stand me, Love."

"Th' rest a' my like it is..."

The door opened and Ivy snapped back to the present. She hadn't meant to let her mind wander. Then she remembered the bean bag round. It dawned on her that she probably had a concussion.

A young, skinny man - no. A skinny teenager slipped inside and carefully closed the door, looking as if he were creeping back into his own house after sneaking out to a party. He had that sort of guilt about him... In his hand was a plastic red cup, almost brimming with liquid. He carefully crept toward her and knelt, holding the cup to her lips. Suspicious, she resisted.

"It's just water, promise," the boy said softly. He took a sip himself to prove it. Then he moved the cup back to her face, and this time she drank. In fact, she drained the cup, but needed more.

"D'you... Uh..." the boy stammered. "I -I don't want ta be rude, but... I know you're part plant... D'ya need, like, more light or special food or anything?"

"Are you working for the Joker?" Ivy studied him critically. "You don't act like one if his errand boys."

The kid laughed nervously, running a hand through his mop of dark, messy hair. It took him a moment to answer. "Well, ma'am, I'm just workin' for him long enough to get me an' my little sister outta Gotham..." He pulled a battered photograph of himself and a younger girl from his pocket and showed it to her. "See, the city's too much for Kylie. She's got Asperger's Syndrome and Sensory Processing Disorder... It's just me an' her, now... 'Cept, nobody knows it... If they did, we'd be in foster care an' nobody they'd stick us with would really get my sister..." Then he flushed red and hastily returned the picture to his pocket. "Sorry, ma'am... Sorry... Ya don't need my story... 'Specially right now... Look, th' boss said for me ta take care'a'ya... So... That's what I'm gonna do."

Ivy found herself smirking, amused by him in spite of herself. "You know he only meant for you to guard the door and keep me from escaping, right?"

The boy ducked his head, grinning, though he still managed to look like a guilty child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Maybe," he admitted. "But he was vague... Vague enough for me ta take it how I want... If ya need somethin', tell me. I'll do my best."

She expected him to leave, but he only moved to the door and sat down. Ivy took him in. He looked no older than sixteen. His features were vaguely Asian, but with European overtones. Biracial? He wasn't just skinny, either, not as she'd first surmised. He had a gaunt, malnourished look to him. When had this child last seen a proper meal?

Ivy was startled to feel a wave of rage and sympathy for this boy rise in her. She tried to tamp it down, tried to convince herself that this was some ploy of the Joker's... But instinctively, she knew that couldn't be true. Giving her a false friend might be something the Joker would do to toy with her, but he would never be so transparent about it.

"What's your name?" Ivy asked after a long silence.

"I'm Tobias, ma'am," he answered. "But the guys here call me Toby. Well, mostly, they really call me 'kid', but..."

Ivy smiled. "What do you prefer?"

"Tobias."

"Tobias... I'm Dr. Pamela Isley. You can call Pamela."

Tobias and Alice... She was making all sorts of new friends today...

'Even if it's a trick,' Ivy thought. 'It could work to my advantage... And if it's not, maybe I can get this child out if here before the Joker ruins him...'