I'm gratified at the response that this fic has gotten so far. However, I must emphasize that there is no guarantee whatsoever that this fic will get published as a full fic. It depends on one big factor: how many chapters I can write for it. I generally set about 8 chapters or 20K words as a bare minimum for most of my stories these days, outside of oneshots. I am most of the way through the fourth chapter as of writing this. Hopefully, you'll get to see it.


XENOGAMY (ORIGINAL)

CHAPTER 2:

THE HOLLOW MAN

Harley Quinn, formerly Dr Harleen Quinzel, hummed happily as she made her way through the botanical gardens. She was making the final preparations for Mister J's big homecoming bash, and she was in a good mood. Or at least she'd like to be. In truth, she felt…ambivalent. Because she knew Mister J would potentially try to take the opportunity to hurt or even kill some of the few people she liked in this fucked-up world. There were many things Harley would do to please Mister J. But harming those she actually gave a fuck about was not one of them. True, that list was pretty small, but that included her actual friends.

Until recently, that list only included Selina Kyle, the Catwoman, and Pamela Isley, aka Poison Ivy. The former, well, the kitty-cat burglar had divided loyalties, apparently wanting to get into B-Man's pants…well, tights, but Selina was a good sort. And Pammy…well, for all Mister J's many virtues, being good in the sack wasn't one of them, not that she would ever admit it to anyone but Pammy. He was more of a 'Wham, Bam, Thank You Ma'am' kind of guy where that was concerned. Whereas Pammy…well, the parts of Harley that weren't so loyal to Pudding thought Pammy was hands-down the better lover. Not because Harley preferred men to women. She didn't really care. But Pammy knew how to actually pleasure a girl, and Mister J didn't.

Of course, there was good ol' John Doe. He only really got added to the list recently. True, she'd seen him around Arkham Asylum. Hell, she was there as boring old Harleen Quinzel when he was first brought in as a kid. It was only because Pammy had an interest in him that she had an interest, though his helping her out when Mister J was hurting her for trying to make a joke. Of course, old Sharpie just thought him faking amnesia to get out of a murder charge, while Boles and a few other guards called him a zombie.

However, her opinion of him changed enough when Pammy and John Doe escaped Arkham last year. Harley and Mister J were at large at the time anyway, but it took Harley a while to find time to visit them. Mister J never really liked Harley being with Pammy, or at all chummy with John Doe.

She found them in the kitchenette of Pammy's current hideout, Pammy watching on as he made her breakfast. Pammy's eyes towards him were strange. Until that moment, Harley thought that Pammy took the young man because she wanted some sort of pet or boy toy. Not that Harley objected to that one bit. But…what she saw in Pammy's eyes was something wistful and concerned. Pammy didn't view John Doe as a pet or a boy toy or a potential henchman. She felt something for him. Not quite love, but certainly some attraction.

She knew Pammy preferred women to men, but Pammy also didn't mind men. It's just that the average personality of a man in Gotham City in general, and Arkham Asylum in particular, was pretty much like a cesspit. Combined with Pammy's general misanthropy, and you had someone who didn't generally go in for romance anyway. Harley may have been insane, and she had dumbed herself down for Pudding, but she still had her intelligence when she wanted to use it, and she knew why. Given that Pammy had been seduced by that prick Jason Woodrue before being tricked into being experimented on, well…the part of her that was still Harleen Quinzel, that was consciously aware that the Joker played her like a fiddle, no, a cheap kazoo, sympathised.

Harley had to admit, given the time she got to know John Doe, well, he was a sweet guy. He'd been, if not keeping Pammy on the straight and narrow, then ensuring her attacks weren't as indiscriminate as she had intended. While Harley didn't really care how much death and mayhem Pammy caused, in truth, Pammy confining her attacks to the corporate scumbags who attacked her plants actually seemed to ensure that the public was of two minds about her (and not in the way many people in Arkham were of two minds, especially Harvey Dent).

At one point, Harley dropped in, only to find the two in Pammy's bedroom, both naked, and rutting away…no, rutting wasn't the right term. That suggested something bestial and rough. What she saw was far more sensuous, and while Pammy was clearly taking the lead and calling the shots, she was also clearly enjoying John Doe's ministrations. When they realised she was there, Pammy, after a moment's shock, had smirked, and asked Harley if she wanted to join in.

And she was glad she did. Mister J may own her heart, but he could never do the things John Doe did to her body. Not anything like Pammy, but…hot damn, she was blushing just thinking about that night, and she was glad she had a rather heavy layer of white greasepaint on her face to hide said blush. A guy and a gal who knew just how to make her purr…oh, wait, that was Selina's schtick.

John Doe was nice and polite to her, but he asked questions, pointed questions. Okay, they were ones those shrinks and B-Man and Selina and even Pammy asked all the time. But he knew that he, like Selina and Pammy, seemed concerned about how Pudding treated her. He viewed her as a victim of Mister J, and while that rankled with her, it was nice to have someone relatively normal concerned about her, and genuinely so.

She hated that air of weary resignation around him, like, despite his amnesia, he knew that his life would go from bad to worse. Too young, too. He wasn't that much older than the Robins B-Man kept training up.

Those were some of the reasons why she was trying to find him in the botanical gardens, having snuck in to avoid the guards. And she finally found him, pottering around in Pammy's favourite haunt. Thankfully, most of the guards had been pulled away to deal with Pudding's arrival, not knowing that the joke was on them.

"Here's Johnny!" Harley cooed, gently hugging him from behind. She had to admit, she felt affection at the least for the young man. "You okay?"

"…Yeah," he said, before he gently broke from her hug, and when he noticed what she was wearing, giving her a flat look. "…What the devil is that you've got on, Harley?"

"You like it?" Harley twirled, showing off the outfit, not unlike a fetishized nurse's outfit. "I thought both you and Pudding would like it."

"What's the occasion? And what are you doing in Arkham anyway? I thought you and the clown were still at large."

"Look, it's a surprise. But…I'm gonna give you a heads-up. Stay in here. Pammy's not on the list, but I'll free her anyway, send her to you."

"…What do you mean?"

"Please, Johnny. For me?"

"…Okay, but…try not to kill any of the good doctors or guards, like Cash."

"Can't promise that, Johnny, especially where Mister J's involved. But I can promise you, Boles is gonna get what's comin' to him."

"…Good." A whole lot of emotion was packed into that single syllable word. Hatred. Anger. Contempt. Boles seemed to have it out for John Doe, and there were rumours that Boles was the one responsible for an incident that had John Doe assaulted by a number of the other inmates in a locked room. Only the lucky presence of Cash saved the then-teenager from being sodomised by one particularly deranged inmate, and even then, it was a near-thing. Boles and John Doe had a mutual grudge ever since. "You're gonna give him the Smylex treatment?"

"If time allows, yeah." She didn't tell him that Boles was going to help them cause the breakout. Better he not know. He was a good…well, a bit old to be a kid. But Boles wasn't going to be living through tonight, nosiree!

Of course, she hoped that John Doe survived the night too. But with Pudding on the warpath, well, she hoped she didn't have to try to stop him. It wouldn't end well…


John Doe watched her go, a distinct sashay in her hips as she did so. He knew he shouldn't feel anything like the affection he did for her, any more than he did for Pamela. Both were hardened criminals, with a fairly high body count that could be laid at their door. The Batman could be right, that all he felt for Pamela was a form of mutual Stockholm Syndrome and Lima Syndrome, and that what he felt for Harleen was related, a form of lust and desire for a broken young woman who happened to be Pamela's friend.

And yet…he felt something within him yearn for them. A void that cried for something to fill it. Something that raged within him, seeking recompense for a wrong. Was it the rage that drove him to commit murder, or was it rage at being framed for it? He hoped it was the latter. But…he knew Pamela and Harleen could change for the better. Not completely. He knew they were too set in their ways. But he felt they could do more to help Gotham with their actions than harm it, hence his persuasion of Pamela.

They had bonded over their mutual love of plants. John Doe had only the vaguest of memories from his time before Arkham, but he remembered being forced to garden. Still, he did like the activity when he wasn't being forced to do it. And Pamela, when she noted the care he gave to her plants, began speaking to him. At first, he thought he was going crazy. But now, they spoke often whenever he could via the plants.

When Harleen had left, he gently whispered, "What do you think she meant? I know there was that weird fire at Blackgate, and they have a whole bunch of Joker's minions shipped over here, but this seems like something more."

The voice sounded like the rustling of leaves that somehow came together to make a distinctively breathy voice, an erotic whisper. If a dryad whispered, they would sound like this. "…I don't know. But my children…they are screaming in pain…you couldn't find it?"

"No. I couldn't get past the guards. All I know is Dr Young is involved. But…she's scared. I think she doesn't want to do it anymore."

"And yet, she did it in the first place. That stench I smell through my children…it smells like Venom, that vile tonic Bane uses. Still…it seems the clown has plans for Arkham. If Harley does decide to release me, I will head over there as soon as possible. And yes, I will avoid killing any guards you favour. But if I encounter Boles, I intend to give him a slow, painful and humiliating end."

"If you can, bring him here," John Doe said, remembering the man's taunts, beatings, and that time he locked him in a room filled with some of the more vicious inmates (that weren't supervillains, anyway). "Ditto that creep Strange or Sharp."

"Strange isn't here at the moment, the last I heard. He's gone back overseas. But Sharp…yes…I will have a good time with him if I catch him."

John Doe nodded. He was sure that Sharp was the one keeping him here, somehow. He gently reached out and touched one of the broader leaves. "…I want to see you soon, Pamela. While Batman's no doubt busy cleaning up the mess the clown will make, once we're sure, we'll find a way to get out of here, only, we'll stay out this time. That being said…I want to talk to the Batman at least once before we go. I want to find out if he's made any progress to finding out who I am."

"Are you sure? Do you think he would have made any progress at all?"

"I don't know. Or even if I should find out. I mean…what if I don't like what I find?"

"We've been over this. Whoever you are, I am sure that you are better than you think you are. Though it would be nice to have a proper name. I keep hearing 'John Doe', and thinking you're in the morgue. Sorry, that was in bad taste."

He gently stroked the leaf again, and heard her moan softly up the line. "…See you soon, Pamela."


In a containment cell on the other end of the Arkham Asylum complex, green eyes opened. Pamela Isley, now Poison Ivy, stretched as she got off the hard floor of her cell in the Green Mile of Arkham's penitentiary wing. She frowned as she noticed one guard officer in particular go by, so she rapped hard on the reinforced glass that comprised most of her containment cell. The guard whirled, aiming his weapon, but relaxed, albeit only a little, when he saw her. The dark-skinned Aaron Cash, while very much a professional, was nonetheless someone whom she could trust, insomuch as she could trust one of the people keeping her in this damned place.

"What do you want, Ivy?" he asked. He could tell he was trying hard not to look at her body. She was currently dressed only in panties she grew herself from leaves, and an asylum uniform shirt with only a single button done up. She did this partly to troll the guards. She knew very well that Cash was happily married, unlike some of the idiots they had employed, and while she would kill him if need be, and wouldn't care that much if he died, he at least didn't treat her as antagonistically as other guards did, or Sharp. Harshly, yes, and he would probably pay for his insolence in the future, but he had less malice against her than other inmates.

Like the one who took his hand.

"Many things, Officer Cash. However, I want to know, is the Batman coming to Arkham?"

"Bringin' the damned clown in tow as we speak," Cash said. "The hell do you care?"

"While I don't really care about the Batman or the clown, you know I care about John Doe, and I know you do too. I presume you'll be with your people to ensure the Joker doesn't cause any trouble when he's brought back, so you'll be presumably able to talk to the Batman. I want to know if he's made any progress in learning John Doe's true identity."

Cash's expression softened a little. "Got it. Doubt I'm gonna be talking too much to Batman, given how busy we're gonna be. I've gotta get Croc transferred right now before the clown gets here, so I can't stay here, but I'll try to talk to him. I don't know whether he's found anything, though, so don't get too hopeful."

"I'm not. It'd just be nice to have a name to him other than 'John Doe'. And to know whether he deserves to be in a cesspit like this asylum."

Cash nodded in reply. "I'd like to think he doesn't deserve it…but you never know with these things. But I hope he doesn't. Gotham's already filled with too much injustice, it wouldn't surprise me if this happened. And hey, if he regains his memories and still likes you…well, you've got someone at least. Just don't throw that away, Ivy."

As Cash left, in something of a hurry, having given her some backhanded if well-meant kindness, Ivy nodded, sitting back down, cross-legged. For all Batman's opposition to her, he had his own code of honour, and if anyone could find out who John Doe was, it would be him. But would the Joker's plans interfere with that? She hoped not.

She wasn't sure what she felt for John Doe. She was well aware of her misanthropy, tending to misandry, thanks to Woodrue's not-so-tender mercies. But…she knew she felt some affection for him, more than one would feel for a pet or a cicisbeo. Maybe it was because he was like how she used to be, so passive and naïve and yet…so caring. Perhaps it was because he represented what she had lost. Not quite innocence, as one couldn't remain innocent in a shithole like Arkham Asylum.

Perhaps it was hope. Hope that she could, one day, find a life that was not so dark and bitter. He had redirected her wrath, true, and that had nearly earned him punishment for his insolence. And yet…and yet…she found her new direction, more targeted and directed than she had intended, to be very satisfying. There were humans who actually began wondering whether she was actually in the right, rather than a vicious eco-terrorist, a label the walking meat liked to slap on her.

Her mission hadn't changed, just how she did it. But if the damned clown did anything to harm John Doe, then Ivy knew all bets were off. So he'd better leave John Doe out of his little party, or there would be hell to pay…a strangling hell writ green…

CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:

So, some insight into Harley and Ivy's psyches, along with 'John Doe's, as well as some insight into why they're in a relationship.

No numbered annotations this time.