Dr. Joan Leland entered the Baby Gap late on a Saturday morning. It was her granddaughter's birthday, and even though she knew the girl's mother already spoiled her, it was a grandmother's duty to do the same.
The world was currently going through a superhero obsession, and her granddaughter was no exception to the craze. But Joan cringed when she asked her daughter who the girl's favorite was and the answer was "Poison Ivy". When Joan tried to remind her daughter that Poison Ivy was a psychopath and not exactly a great role model for little girls, her daughter replied with an annoyed, "I don't know what to tell you, Mom. She thinks she's pretty. She likes her hair, and she likes flowers, OK?"
So now here Dr. Leland was…buying her granddaughter merchandise modeled after a mass murderer who also happened to be a former patient. It was odd. Joan used to feel proud about the work she'd done with Ivy. How Ivy had successfully reformed. But now it was like the world was on Ivy overload. You couldn't walk two blocks without seeing a giant billboard of her or watch an hour of TV without seeing her in an ad. Joan wasn't sure if the Justice League was pushing the environmentalist angle this hard to placate Ivy, or because they actually believed in its importance…but either way, Poison Ivy was like a ghost from Joan's past that she couldn't seem to shake.
There was a family in the next aisle over. Joan could hear the wheels of a stroller or something similar being pushed across the wood floor and their attempt at hushed chatter was carrying through the rack of clothes.
"No, I wanna push Mama," little boy's voice came.
"Honey…" a clearly frustrated woman began with a sigh. "You've already crashed her twice."
"I'm a big boy, I can do it!" he protested.
"He just wants to be helpful," second woman attempted to appeal.
"But that's just it," the first woman responded, her voice a bit harsher now, and familiar somehow… "He's not being helpful. Knocking over the displays is not helpful, it's stressful."
"Mom, I won't crash again, OK? Pinky swear."
Judging from the boy's speech patterns and tone of voice, Joan guessed he was about 4 years old. Cute age, but tough age, especially for boys.
The first woman acquiesced: "Fine." Joan heard a gentle smack of lips which she guessed was the boy receiving a kiss on the cheek. "Be gentle, please. It hurts Mama when you knock her into stuff."
Joan smiled, but the clacking of heels stopped her snooping, reminding her of the task at hand.
Superheroes, superheroes…she rid herself of the distraction and scanned the aisles until she found what she was looking for.
The sections were divided into "boys" and "girls", and the girls' side was considerably more pink, which was odd seeing as how Joan couldn't think of a single female superhero that wore pink other than Starfire, and she couldn't imagine her merchandise being very popular with children.
Joan rolled her eyes at the "Super, Girl!" graphic t-shirt that included a print of Supergirl giving the 'thumbs-up'. She walked past the pink Wonder Woman stuff and over to the Gotham Heroes section, which included a red Batwoman option, as well as a yellow or powder blue Batgirl variation. Joan grabbed the yellow one in the hopes of promoting a more appropriate hero.
She groaned out loud when she spotted the Poison Ivy stuff. "Pretty Poison", "Kiss Me" …these weren't shirts kids should be wearing. Clacking heels approached and came to stand beside her. Before Joan could turn and look, the owner of the heels was groaning as well.
"So fucking stupid," the woman mumbled. And then she addressed Joan: "Can you believe th—," her voice trailed off, and Joan turned—curious—until she saw who it was.
Poison Ivy—the real one—was staring at her dumbly. Joan didn't speak either. She couldn't. She hadn't seen this woman in person in about 18 years. But yet, here she was, standing in a Baby Gap, barely even disguised in civilian clothes. Joan had assumed she would at least wear a wig or colored contacts now that she was attempting to maintain a secret identity. Although her skin did look tanned and altogether human rather than her usual emerald coloring, so maybe that was enough to throw people off the scent.
Joan didn't know how long they'd been looking at each other, but the silence was broken when a little boy bounded over and flung himself around Ivy's legs. "Mom, can I get s'more Flash stuff?"
Dr. Leeland blinked, then her gaze shifted down to the boy. He was wearing darkly washed jeans over bright red sneakers that matched his argyle sweater vest. His button down was a pretty shade of periwinkle that brought out the bright blue of his wide eyes and highlighted the auburn hair that fell in soft curls on his head. Honestly, the boy looked like he'd materialized out of one of the store posters, he was so perfect.
"Mom?" he tugged on Ivy's blouse, pulling it out from where it was tucked into her jeans.
"I told him yes, but no Reverse Flash stuff. I think it sends the wrong message to—," the woman approaching in the wheelchair now trailed off as well, having come close enough to realize who Joan was.
It was Harleen. Of course it was Harleen.
"D-Doctor Leeland!" the blonde stammered from her chair. "What are you—I didn't—it's been a while, huh?"
Joan nodded slowly, looking from Harleen to the boy hanging off of Poison Ivy's leg. Those were Harleen's wide blue eyes she saw in his face.
The boy was now looking back at Joan, regarding her curiously, critically, even. "Mama, who is that lady?"
"Anthony…" Harleen cleared her throat. "This—uh—this is my boss, Joan."
"This is your son?" Joan asked. She knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it anyway. From the primary source.
Harleen nodded. "Anthony. Yes. And this is…" she looked over at Ivy who hadn't moved- her posture or her expression. "This is my wife."
Joan wasn't exactly sure why she wasn't completely surprised. Maybe she'd just spent too many years talking to the mentally ill. Maybe her perception of what was and wasn't acceptable or plausible was distorted. And she'd wanted this for Pamela, right? Or else why had she spent 12 years treating her? Why had she signed off on Harleen's sanity plea for her? All that time, all that effort…and now here she was, looking normal and healthy in jeans and a blouse with her son wrapped around her leg, helping her paralyzed wife through the department store.
So maybe seeing she and Harleen together didn't surprise Joan, but what she—herself—did was certainly unexpected. Joan turned her attention to Ivy and held out her cellphone. "My granddaughter is turning six today. You are her favorite hero…could you…record a message for her?"
Pamela studied her for a moment, both cautiously and critically, just like her son had, before reaching out and taking the phone. "What's her name?" Ivy asked as she opened the camera function.
"Layla," Joan told her.
Ivy nodded and exited the store, Joan assumed in search of a place where she could revert back to her usual skin color.
Harleen was staring into her lap. She looked good, though. Healthy, which was a relief to Joan. By her calculations, Harleen was in her early 40s by now—although she didn't look it—which made Joan feel very old indeed. They spoke on the phone occasionally, but hadn't really seen each other since Harleen resigned, which was...well, 4 years ago, she supposed. Joan knew Harleen had been married some years ago, but they rarely discussed their personal lives. Joan hadn't even thought to ask if she'd married a man or a woman, and certainly not whether she'd married a supervillain.
"Did you know my Mama when she was little like me?" The boy—Anthony—asked.
Joan was a bit surprised, not at the question itself, but at being asked one. There was a fascinating confidence within the boy that Joan found endearing. "No, I did not. How high can you count?"
"Thirty," Anthony announced proudly.
"Oh…" Joan was beginning to smile despite herself. "You must be a very smart boy, then."
Anthony nodded emphatically. "Mom says I'm the smartest boy she ever knew."
Joan almost laughed. This little boy had no way of knowing that was just a way for Poison Ivy to sneak in a slight on the male sex. Joan had quickly deduced that Harleen was referred to as "Mama" while Ivy—or, Pamela—was "Mom". "She was 26 when I met her," Joan told him.
"I can count to 26," Anthony informed her.
Joan remembered Harleen, fresh out of medical school, the prettiest thing most of those patients at Arkham had ever seen. She'd strolled in that first day with her tight skirt and heels…Joan had nearly laughed at the naivety. And then the young woman had surprised her by walking right up to Poison Ivy's cell and snapping back at her taunts.
…oh…
Joan realized she'd never seen Ivy show legitimate affection for anyone, maybe that's why she couldn't tell the difference.
Joan was roused from her thoughts by a tap on the arm. Ivy was back, and holding her phone out to her.
"There you go," Ivy said, glancing around somewhat nervously. Joan could tell she didn't want to be spotted, but she must have been feeling pretty safe not to disguise herself further.
It was so truly bizarre seeing Poison Ivy like this. Dr. Leeland was, honestly, having a difficult time wrapping her head around it. Around any of it. Poison Ivy had married her doctor and they were now raising a child together? That's insane! Almost as insane as Poison Ivy was. But, strangely, all that came from Joan's mouth in response was "Thank you."
The three woman stood there in silence, Harleen still looking into her lap like a schoolgirl who'd been caught passing notes. Not even Anthony moved for those moments. No one did, until Harleen reached her hand out and took Ivy's in hers, finally raising her gaze to look Joan in the eye.
"It's really good to see you, Joan," Harley said. "Isn't it, Paula?"
Ivy nodded subtly. "But you didn't really see us, did you, Joan?"
"But, Mom…" Anthony protested. "We're right here. We're not ghosts."
"Brilliant observation," Pamela said, distractedly, her focus remaining fixed on her former doctor.
Leeland cleared her throat. "Wonderful to meet you, Paula. Anthony," she gave the boy one last smile before walking past them, towards the checkout counter where she paid hastily before heading out the door.
Joan didn't take a deep breath until she'd made it to her car. For 12 years Poison Ivy had been her patient. For 15 years Harleen had been her employee. Arkham was Dr. Leeland's Asylum. She was the head psychiatrist and she hadn't known one of her doctors had married a former patient.
With a sigh, she checked her watch and realized her shame spiraling was going to make her late to the party, so she put her car in gear and headed out.
The smell of pizza hit her the second Joan opened the door.
"Mom? That you?" her daughter's voice carried from the kitchen.
"It's me," Joan hung her coat up and made her way into the kitchen. She gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek and smiled.
"Gift?" the young woman asked.
Joan held up the bag in her hand as proof. "Where's Layla?"
"Living room," her daughter told her as she bent over to take one of the pizzas out of the oven.
Layla was on the couch watching some cartoons when Joan entered. "Hey, Sweetie. Happy birthday."
The girl smiled broadly. "Hi, Grandma."
"I—I have a surprise for you," Joan said, sitting down next to her. "Someone very special would like to wish you a happy birthday."
Layla looked at her curiously and took her phone, waiting as Joan leaned over and pressed play.
Poison Ivy showed up on screen with her distinctive green complexion. Joan felt the girl's body tense beside her.
"Hey, Layla," Ivy was smiling pleasantly at the camera. "I'm not sure if you know who I am…"
"Poison Ivy," Layla breathed.
"...But an old friend of mine told me that it was your birthday today, is that true?"
"Yes," Layla replied, excitedly, like she was watching Dora the Explorer.
"Well if it is, then I hope you have a very happy birthday, and if I really am your favorite hero, then I must say, you have excellent taste," Ivy winked.
Joan watched as Layla grinned.
"Evidently, you're turning six, which may be a bit too young to become a member of the Justice League, but you're never too young to be a part of my army of environmental warriors. Anyone can be a hero for Mother Nature."
"I always recycle," Layla whispered.
"When I was six years old, my favorite toy was a magnifying glass," Ivy informed the camera. "I'm not sure what yours is, but that magnifying glass helped me learn a lot about the world. It helped me answer questions that I didn't even think to ask. See, before I became 'Poison Ivy', I was just a girl named Pamela who wanted to be a different kind of hero: one that wore a lab coat, not a cape. I was a scientist. And anyone can become that kind of hero if they're curious enough. So Layla, happy birthday, and I sincerely hope you keep asking questions," Ivy ended the video by blowing a kiss.
Layla slowly turned to Joan, eyes wide with amazement. "Grandma, how do you know Poison Ivy?!"
Dr. Leeland had no choice but to laugh. "Like she said, we're…old friends."