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It always starts the same.
Since that first night Ivy found Harley unconcious — almost dead, if she's completely honest — after the clown tricked her and sent the young woman into the sky inside a goddamn rocket so she could die.
His reason? He found her presence to be... distracting.
Ivy had found her sprawled in the wreckage, broken and bleeding. A weak, fragile little thing.
She wanted not to care. Not to look at her twice. Oh, how easy it would've been, to turn around and simply let her die.
She really did. She was Poison Ivy, after all. Humans meant nothing for her.
And that woman, that pathetic excuse of a doctor, laying on the ground was not worth it.
But of course, Ivy's heart had other plans.
So she did the only thing she could, she took care of Harley.
-
Harleen Quinzel, once a brilliant woman, fell for the worse kind of parasite possible. A coward, a maniac.
A man.
Abusive and violent, who had no problem in beating her, shooting at her, having Harley almost killed time and time again.
The blonde always forgive him. Some love.
It was only obvious to let her die.
She was a human, after all. And Poison Ivy had no compassion towards meat sacks.
"Hello, my name is Harleen Quinzel, I'm going to be your therapyst from now on. I really hope we can work together!"
"You're an exceptional woman, Doctor Isley."
"I know you don't care for humans, so I brought you a plant!"
"Ivy, you won't believe it! I finally conviced the guards to let you out of that straight jacket!"
"Okay, don't tell anyone, but I'm pretty sure if you keep behaving well, we'll be able to get you to go outside once in a while. I know how you miss feeling the sun in your skin."
"I'm here for you, Pamela. I promise, you can trust me."
Harleen Quinzel. Meat sack. Terrible work ethics, irresponsible, maniac, addicted to being in an abusive relationship with Gotham's most deranged criminal, and... Ivy's only friend.
The first psichotherapist who listened. The only one.
Ivy hated to admit but Doctor Quinzel had reached her. Something inside of her heart that she thought was long gone, buried next to Woordrue's body in that basement she exploded.
But Harleen had found it, nourished, as if she was the gardener and Ivy the plant. Without meaning to, Ivy flourished. And life almost had meaning again, outside of her mission, outside of Mother Nature's calling, Ivy almost felt as if she could be something more.
Until him.
The worst part is that Ivy warned her. Time and time again, and it wasn't just Ivy. Waylon did, too. So did Eddie, and even Selina. Even goddamn batman.
No one is the same after the clown. Not even Doctor Leland, said to be Arkham's best psychiatrist, could reach him.
But Harleen, as great and kind-hearted as she was, also had a sick, twisted side to her.
She wanted a taste.
Wanted the clown's poison spilling out of her lips, wanted a death's kiss.
It took months for him to break her, but eventually, he did.
And Ivy was alone again.
Until she wasn't anymore.
At first, it had been a coincidence. Ivy went to steal some important chemicals and accidentally activated the place's alarm. And Harley was there, too. Stealing money to try and impress the clown after a "rough breakup".
Ivy never meant to escape with her. Never meant to take Harley home with her. Never meant to give her a temporary shot to make her immune to Ivy's literal weapon, just so the girl could stay with her.
She never meant to get attached, and yet.
Of course, he came to take her back, and Harley went along happily. No goodbyes.
Leaving Ivy to her plants company once more.
-
The pattern that would build from there persisted on and on.
Harley would spend months away, no sign of her except for the news and a funny sticker at times. The clown didn't like Harley texting Ivy, not that the eco-terrorist even enjoyed using a phone, those wretched things.
But even so, Harley found ways to go to her. It being in Arkham, when they happened to get caught in similar periods of time, or by invading her home, by reaching out to her in robinson Park or on her Greenhouse. Even showing up to "help" her in a heist because she "heard" Ivy would probably do it - not at all having been told about it by Selina Kyle...
And Ivy found herself letting the former therapist become a part of her life.
A crack in her armour.
Not quite a friend, like Selina was. Not quite something to tend for either, like her baby plants, although most times she did enjoyed taking care of the blonde.
Something else, something Ivy couldn't figure out, but something exciting nonetheless.
Thrilling, addicting.
Heartwarming.
She wasn't alone.
How long had it been since Pamela could say that?
-
Their first kiss was supposed to be a tease, a joke mixed with a friendly flirt by Pamela. She was Poison Ivy after all, and kissing was an easy way to find out if her shot had really worked in making Harley immune to poison for good.
Ivy hadn't expect that kiss to be a point of no return, for both of them.
With no intentions, she fell for Harley.
And so did the blonde.
Everything seemed perfect, again. Even more so.
Pamela was so happy.
For the first time in years, or maybe even in her whole godforsaken life, she had someone. Trully had someone. A person to love, to care for, to trust, to give and to take. Oh, what a lovely, lovely dream.
Pamela didn't even realize how much she craved for connection until she found herself aching for the other woman in ways she had never felt before. And she could be the little spoon, how amazing was that?
At first she had her doubts but Harleen was so, so incredibilly amazing, she felt caught in a fever dream, completely vulnerable at the mercy of her lover.
Pamela never wanted it to end.
-
But of course, there is no happiness in Gotham.
There's no happiness anywhere, not with humans.
She should've known. She did know.
But she let herself be dragged into that pain anyways.
Time and time again.
Harley never stayed, even when she promised, even when Ivy did everything or nothing, even when the Clown sent her a bomb in the form of a present because she had spoken in the wrong moment.
It was always the same with her.
Harley would be with him, the clown would find yet a new way of blaming Harley for some stupid, unbelievable reason and try to kill her for Gaia knows what time, and Harley would get hurt.
Somedays, she'd only get cuts or small bruises.
On other days, Harley would pass out in her frontdoor, only for the plants to warn her something had happened to the younger woman.
Ivy became her safeplace, but more so, she became Harley's accomplice.
Everything was fine, until it wasn't.
She recovered, said she wanted nothing to do with him.
And Ivy believed.
Oh, she believed it so many times. How funny, to be the most dangerous villain in Gotham and let herself be defeated by a jester.
For someone seen as the Joker's dumb girlfriend, Harleen was a natural in manipulation. It came as easy as breathing to her. It was so easy believing in her.
Everyday Ivy's bed would be their bed, until one day, there would be an empty spot.
-
Pamela walked to the kitchen, not bothering to put on her robe. She knew she was alone. The plants told her so.
"The pretty girl left again, mother." a flower said.
"She was crying, as always" said a plant.
In the kitchen table, there was a small paper. A note.
Ivy dreaded notes these days.
"Couldn't stay this time, puddin' needs me. M'sorry. Love ya, pammy"
Ivy stood still in her kitchen. They had made plans the night before, right after they made love for the third time that day.
Harley had asked for pancakes, the sickenly sweet ones she loved to eat while watching an old cartoon.
She made Pamela promise to cook for her, once they were awake.
Pamela promised without a second thought even though she herself didn't need eating.
And for what?
She was alone.
Ivy would always be alone.
"Mother, why are you crying?" asked a ficus.
Ivy stared at the note, heart breaking in pieces for the tenth time that year.
"I can't seem to get rid of a weed."