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There were three soft, measured knocks on her front door.
Ivy stopped midway from watering her plants to listen closely. After several beats of silence, the knocks proceeded again, this time more firmly, more certain.
By the mere brush of the knuckles on the door, Ivy knew exactly who it was waiting on the other side.
She put her watering pot down on the kitchen counter and made a brisk trip across the living room. Her apartment was wide with plenty of space to allow for her plants to breathe and grow, but it made for feeling like constantly walking around for the smallest excursions.
She could hear the hitched sobbing before she touched the handle.
Harley Quinn, now the usual suspect for her occasional night visits to an unsurprised Ivy, was standing before Ivy’s doorstep in her rumpled jester suit, covered in bruises.
Harley attempted a cheery smile, but found it difficult with the swelling on her cheek from the purple bruise dusted from her bottom lip to the bottom of her ear. She was sporting her usual black eye which threaten to shut her lids. Blood dripped from her nose in a perfect line, save for running over her lips and to her chin. Harley's jester suit stretched and ripped horribly, evidence of trying to get away from the monster that caused this.
Ivy sighed.
“Why do you stay with him?”
Harley's faux cheeriness crumbled visibly in a matter of seconds. “Now Pammy, ya know how my puddin’ gets from time to time. We just had a rough night and I said some things that shouldn't been said. It's not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal my ass,” Ivy growled. “How many close calls have you had with the clown? Will it be a big deal the next time he decides to push you out of a building? Leave you for dead?”
“If you're not gonna help me, I'll go somewhere else.”
Ivy could feel frustration crawling up her throat as she moved aside to allow Harley into the apartment. Harley had a faint limp as she stepped over the threshold. She’s probably sprained somewhere, Ivy thought coldly.
“Ya know, Pam, I'm digging your new gig,” Harley started in her usual cheerful tone. “It's pretty groovy.”
“Yea, well, that's what happens when you go straight. When you leave your old life behind.” When you ditch your old ghosts, Ivy briefly thought to add, but decided against it. She doesn't want to push Harley away when she's in need of considerable medical care.
Harley didn't reply to that, maybe reading into Ivy’s undertone. Instead, she turns her attention to the unusual overflow of plants on the kitchen counter and the sink. “What's the deal with all these plants, Pammy? Turning your kitchen into a garden again?”
“Funny Harley,” Ivy said as she left briefly to grab her med kit from the bathroom. She also grabbed a syringe and a vial filled with a glowing green liquid she's yet to introduce to Gotham's elitists botanists.
Harley's lounging lazily across Ivy's couch, careful not to spill blood while trying to find a comfortable position. The last time Harley came over, she managed to trail blood stains on Ivy's carpet, spurring on the redhead’s choking frustration with the obviously fucked up cycle that's Harley and the damned clown.
That among..other things.
Ivy doesn't know when it started. She honestly cannot pinpoint when exactly these feelings blossomed. Whenever Harley's soft blue eyes would flood with glee and mischief, or the few genuine smiles that would stretch from ear to ear, or the gentle brush of her hand against Ivy's, you would think Ivy’s stupid heart was trying to flutter its way out of her damn chest.
Why can't you see that I'm here? I'm right here, willing and ready.
Ivy's done her best to ignore it most of the time, especially when Harley's taken a beating like this from her puddin’. At times like this Harley doesn't need a love confession, she needs a friend and she needs help. Ivy has forced herself on more than one occasion to put her feelings on the back burner for Harley's sake.
Ivy kneels down before the couch as Harley sits up gingerly. She preps the vial and the syringe.
“What's that you got there, Red? Is it that serum stuff you gave me last time?”
Ivy hummed. “No. This is a new type of serum I've derived from some personal research and a few favors from the Botany Research Department. It's a little something that I’ve been working on to increase healing abilities. Is anything sprained, Harley?”
Harley shook her head. “Just a bunch of bruises, is that why you got all those plants in the kitchen?”
“Yes.”
With careful precision, Ivy sinks the needle inside Harley's arm. Harley lets out a startled yelp and attempts to scoot away. “Pammy, ya know how I feel about needles!”
“Well, if you want to get better in a matter of a day or two you better suck it up.”
The serum, while not exactly perfected to Ivy's taste but surely safe enough to inject in Harley, will work its course between now and the next 24 hours. After that, Harley’s healing abilities will do wonders for whatever chaotic escapades she finds herself in, including the clown…
“Ya mind if I crash here for a couple of days? Me and Mr. J...we need some space.”
Ivy shrugged. It wasn't the first time Harley staked it out at Ivy's place for days. Hell, there was a point some years ago where she swore to never return to the clown and lived with Ivy for five solid months. Those months were the most amazing months of Ivy's life, but like all good things, they came and went. Harley's relapse would get the best of her every time. Ivy knew what she was to Harley, where she stood in her life. To confess the feelings that's been gnawing at her for years now was pointless.
“Harls, you don't even need to ask. The answer remains the same.” She said without looking.
There was a happy squeal. “Thanks Pammy! You're the best! Gosh, I'm already feeling better!”
That's what I'm here for, right Harls?
Two weeks fly by in a blissful daze. Mostly Harley causing her usual chaos around Ivy's apartment and (unintentionally) terrorizing the poor plants.
The sky is bleeding violet as the sun sets over Gotham City. Ivy is just returning home after being invited to one of many charity events by Bruce Wayne himself. What exactly possessed him to invite a former eco terrorist to a posh event is beyond her. Though the man seemed genuinely pleased when she offered her opinion on the possibility of opening up a museum based solely on plant research and their ecosystems. Though, Ivy had the distinct feeling that the playboy Bruce Wayne was more inclined to study her than actually listen to what was being said. Weird.
As soon as Ivy walked into the apartment, she smelled something burning.
“I swear, if any of my plants caught on fire-”
“No, no, no! Relax Red, I uh...I was attempting to make dinner.”
Ivy sauntered to the kitchen to see exactly what Harley managed to burn. And of course, Ivy found herself annoyed.
“You burned my tofu? I thought you didn't like it. You complained every time I offered you to try it, said ‘it wasn't real food’.
“Yeah yeah well, I wasn't making it for me, really. I've crashed at Wayne's charity events and galas plenty of times to know he's not exactly vegan friendly.”
Ivy blinks. “Well, yeah, I suppose he wasn't. That's thoughtful of you...sadly I'm not really hungry.”
Harley grumbles something about all her effort going down the toilet while she tossed away the burned contents in the skillet. Harley's a good friend, but cooking is something of a rarity to her, and the evidence is still wafting in the air.
“What's the occasion, anyways? You don't go out of your way to do that, and probably for a good reason too. No offense.”
“Har har Pam. I just..I wanted to break the ice with ya about something that's been botherin’ me for awhile.”
Puzzled, Ivy led the way to the living room and plopped on the couch. Harley followed on her heels.
Harley has healed considerably. The bruises that claimed her skin had faded completely after two days, and her limp was non existent. She now resembled the woman Ivy adored so much, out of the jester suit and in a clean T-shirt and drawstring shorts. Her blond hair was put up in a messy ponytail and cleaned of the muck and grime that had build up however long prior to coming to Ivy.
Harley sat criss cross on one end of the couch while Ivy occupied the other.
Harley seemed unsure of what to say. What could be on her mind? Was she considering leaving the clown again? If that's the case, Ivy would do her best to keep Harley on track, though it's near impossible if Harley isn't completely willing.
And maybe then, I can make her see what she's always had right in front her.
Ivy shakes that thought away. Put it on the back burner.
“Pammy, I've been wondering...I know I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer-maybe I'm reading this all wrong. I don't know..”
Where was she going with this?
“Um, geez...this is dumb...m overthinkin’ it-no, no. Look, Red, we've been friends for awhile, right? You know I like you, as a friend, right?”
Oh.
“You're ah, free to correct me and call me stupid. I just, ya know I notice that you do a lot for me, huh? I appreciate it, endlessly. But ya know, I been, uh, getting vibes the last few times I've come over here. Haha, you're free to call me stupid about it.”
Oh.
“Well shit, and here I thought I was being pretty reserved. Am I really that obvious?”
The silence was so stifling, neither of them hardly breathed. Harley's face was unreadable for the first time in awhile and her body language melted into something uncomfortable.
It seemed like time ticked on forever until Harley broke the silence.
“You know I love him, Pamela.”
Dread and cold rage trickled down Ivy's spine. A million thoughts flashed across her mind, hurtful ones invented to spite. This was a conversation she knew was not needed because despite giving up her old life of crime, fighting back the hateful urges that threaten to spill out of her like a fragile dam, her vengeful pessimism was a persistent trait that lived in the corner of her thoughts.
“He doesn't love you. He never did and he never will. He doesn't love anyone-”
“That's not true-”
“-except for the fucking Batman, maybe-”
“You take that back!”
“I don't fucking have to because you already know this! You're not stupid Harley!”
Harley jumped up. Her face was turning as a red as a tomato. “You're...you’re just jealous! You don't have what we have!”
“I don't want what you have, I want what he has because he doesn't deserve it!”
Ivy could feel all the rage she's ever held back, the cold thoughts she's bit back whenever the clown girl found herself on Ivy's doorstep.
“Yeah, I'm jealous,” Ivy exclaimed. “So what? What does it matter any damn ways to you? It doesn't change the fact that he's been beating the ever loving shit out of you! Doesn't matter, you'll crawl back to him asking for his forgiveness! And I'll be waiting for you like I always do, I'm always here for you and you know that!”
Harley didn't have much of a rebuttal, though she was visibly bristling as she was wracking her brain for something.
“I know I'm your plan B when shit blows up, I'm only a priority when things get bad.”
Harley's face shifted to something more sympathetic. “You're not a plan B, Red…”
“Yes I am,” Ivy was getting heated. She didn't want Harley's sympathy. “You will go on weeks, months without a word to me. The only times we see each other is when you've got nowhere else to turn. That's never been a problem though, despite how I feel for you...I just want to see you get better, and away from him.”
“Red, I can't leave him. I know you don't get it, but he and I have something special. I can't just let that go because of a little tiff.”
Ivy felt like yanking her hair out of her scalp.
“It's not a tiff! Why can't you see that-!”
Harley continued. “And I love you too. But don't make me choose between you and him.”
Ivy shot up immediately and stormed away to her room. There was no point arguing anymore.
The clock read 3:26 a.m on Ivy's nightstand.
Ivy tossed over again, kicking the blankets off her feet. It seemed sleep was evading her, leaving her with thoughts she's denied any consideration for a long time.
It's him. It'll always be him. And she'll take every punch before she ever truly leaves.
Or be with me.
The chilling thought to leave the apartment and rain hell on Gotham popped in her head, but she squashed it.
Ivy wouldn't rob herself of this...civil life. She felt somewhat normal again, as normal as she can be anyways. Her psychotic tendencies have dialed down over the last two years since she decided to go straight, but every now and then a twisted thought, a whisper of madness would breeze over her conscious and she would feel the dark desire to do something vile, to hurt someone.
The plants on her windowsill could sense her yearning, and they moved with quiet agitation over the penetrable glass.
Ivy took deep breaths to calm herself, she doesn't need her babies shattering her window for a fifth time in a row.
The breathing exercises helped a little, she felt her eyes growing heavy with sleep and her body feeling languid. Peace was falling over her, finally damnit.
Time passed before it registered to Ivy that her bed had dipped with the weight of a another body. Warm breaths brushed lightly on her neck and soft fingers gently ran over her hips. Ivy turned around to see two blue eyes, unsure and timid.
Ivy didn't make a move to push her away. Harley scooted closer and settled her face in the crook of Ivy's neck, fingers continuing their motion of softly running over her hips.
Ivy sighed. “What are you doing, Harls?”
Harley shrugged. She started to tangle her legs in Ivy’s and press her body closer. At that, Ivy decided to move away and sit up.
“Don't do that. Don't string me along like that. I don't want your...pity affection.”
Harley sat up next to her. “It's not pity. I don't know what I feel right now, but it's not pity.”
When Ivy didn't move any further, Harley pressed her back against the bed and slid on top of her. Ivy didn't protest when Harley leaned over and pressed a featherlight kiss to her lips.
The night grows intense from there as breaths and lights moans mingle in the air, hands gripping soft flesh with need and two bodies moving with heady fervor and lust.
The spot that was occupied by Harley is empty. The only evidence of the night spent together is the light bruises she left on Ivy's neck and thighs in the heat of the moment. She probably won't be coming back for a long time. Ivy doesn't bother getting out of bed for the rest of the day.
‘Not a plan B’ my ass. She thinks as she fight back the knowing tears.