Story: The Joke\'s on You (all chapters)

      The Joker sat at his desk, one hand busily scribbling notes onto the blue print plans of his latest scheme. The other gripped furiously at his thick green hair as he mumbled to himself. Free from his latest stint in Arkham Asylum, the clown had set to hatching his next move against the lauded dark knight.

      In sudden fit of blind rage, he tossed the pencil toward Harley Quin, who sat regarding the silhouette of Gotham, for once sulking away from him. He tore the plan in half, and then ripped it to bits before slamming his face into the desk, nearly cracking the cheap thing in half.

“What’s it all for!” He screamed aloud, pulling at his hair harder than before. In a flash he was up, smashing the chair through the window next to Harley. The jester girl barely flinched, her mind obviously somewhere else. Dejected, the smiling man settled onto a crate cross-legged. The remains of his rational mind cried out for answers. This obsession of his had started so many years before innocently. He only wanted to rip off a few stores and make a nice profit in this city. But the Bat had gotten in his way, every time foiling his every step, launching him back to that damned cell.

       In response he had upped the scale, running an intricate line of ploys for a simple heist. Still, however, the hero appeared to steal his triumph, always at the last minute. Finally he had abandoned profit altogether, laying traps meant simply to destroy a building or moderate percentage of the city’s population, at times even Batman himself. Every one failed miserably and after his fiftieth stay in Arkham he had decided that he needed a friend on the inside. Harleen Quinzel had fit the bill quite nicely. He cast a pointed glare at the former psychiatrist, that plan had disintegrated faster than sugar in water. Harley was easily his biggest failure yet, rather than a sympathetic psychiatrist he’d ended up with an overly loyal lunatic sidekick following him around. He glowered at her back for a few more seconds before standing to stalk off to find another chair.

      When he returned with a new chair, Harley had moved to sitting on the table he used for planning. She sat with her eyes down cast. “Mista J, I didn’t mean to throw off the plan that.” She intoned.

      “I know, Harley, I know.” He offered his tone uncharacteristically gentle. He closed his eyes and fixed his willpower against the rage bubbling up from the reminder of his most recent failure. He crossed the room in measured steps, his hands gripping the chair furiously.

      “I got the cues all mixed up, I wasn’t trying to put ya in the cage.” She explained toying with the scraps of the mess he’d made. The Joker slammed the chair down in front of her, but kindly offered her his hand.

      “Let’s get to bed, sweetheart.” The jester leapt off the table, instantly giddy. She’d thought she’d be out on the streets tonight after that ridiculous failure, but to actually get to sleep with her puddin’.

      “Really, Mista J, you mean it?” She questioned, turning around. The Joker roughly grabbed her hand and held it painfully tight.

      “Yes, Harley.” The clown promised, leading her a little too fast out of the side room and into their bedroom. Harley made a move to jump on him as he closed the door, but he managed to fend her off long enough to snap the deadbolt into place. Then she fell on him, lips meeting his jarringly as her legs wrapped around his waist. One of her hands found his hair while the other clutched his shoulder. He rested one of his hands in the small of her back. They kissed roughly, tongues battling back and forth, teeth trapping lips, noses flared as their only form of pulmonary relief. Finally Harley leaned back, but touched her forehead to his. She made a point of rubbing her pelvis against his suggestively. “Ain’t you happy to see me?” She questioned, her grin faltering. The clown beamed back at her.

      “Quite the opposite, dearie. Now why don’t you crawl down there and see if you can get Jack out of his box.” He finished with a kiss to her cheek.

      “Sure thing, Puddin’.” She replied, excitedly disentangling herself to drop to her knees. The Jester girl quickly undid the button and fly to his trousers, letting them drop to reveal green polka dot boxers. She rocked back on her heels as the underwear slid down, taking in the sight.

      Nestled in a thick patch of carefully dyed green pubic hair was Jack. Jack wasn’t overly big or thick. Now soft, his head drooped as Harley carefully took him in her hand. Jack was thick enough to leave a gap between her fingers and palm as she gingerly ripped his fleshy shaft. Harley leaned in and pressed her lips lightly to the crown, sliding her hand back gently. The Joker tilted his head back at the feeling of the soft cloth of Harley’s red glove on his most sensitive of skins. Jack stirred, a tine of color flooding his pale skin. The jester slid his head into her mouth easily, running her tongue across the smooth skin. The clown murmured lightly under his breath, bringing a hand up to tug on his own hair. Her fingers played softly on his shaft, a gentle pleasurable massage.

      Harley dropped her hands down to her sides, leaning into swallow more of Jack. Half of Jack’s length disappeared as she went. He hardened ever so slightly, twitching in her mouth. The jester continued bobbing away long enough for her jaw to begin to ache and Jack remained less than half-hard, really only just a bit tense. Finally the Joker stopped her, bringing her up to press a kiss to her forehead. “That doesn’t seem to be doing it, sweetheart. But I know something that will do the trick!” With a soft giggle, he punched her in the face. Harley let out a soft cry and fell back on the bed, sprawling out. Jack stood at half-mast now.

      The clown kicked his discarded clothes off of one leg and mounted the bed. Cackling, he grabbed the front of Harley’s costume—tearing it down to her navel with a single tug. Her breasts popped out comically, bouncing toward him enthusiastically. He took Jack’s semi-rigid mass in hand, stroking lightly with his thumb, and leaned over Harley’s prone form. The jester craned her head to the side, exposing her neck. The Joker pounced, his jaws snapping closed on his sidekick’s soft skin. Harley groaned. He bit down harder, feeling warm coopery blood fill his mouth. Harley squirmed, whimpering as his giggles became muted by her blood filling his mouth. Jack now stood stiff, in need of no support. The clown grabbed the remainder of her costume and ripped the bottom red side off completely.

      In one rough movement, Jack was buried up to his balls in Harley. The Joker bit harder, his hips pumping wildly. His cackling had died down to a low chuckling in his throat while he kneaded Harley’s torn flesh with his teeth. The girl let out strangled sounds of pain and pleasure. The smiling man continued on, mauling and humping until he was emitting breathy moans between snarling laughs Harley clung tightly to him, legs wrapped once again around his waist.

      The clown rolled onto his back, bringing Harley on top of him, though she still remained bent over him. He released her neck, watching the blood roll down from her neck to the flat part of her chest. The trail slowed, its source obviously tapering off, leaving a few droplets slowly rolling down to Harley’s breasts. He leaned up, teasing her nipple with his tongue. It hardened into bullet point, inviting his teeth to it. Harley whimpered at the sensation of his pearly whites closing on her soft tissue.

      Joker wiggled his hips, inviting her to ride. The first undulation brought a sigh to his lips, allowing the nipple to escape his ministrations. The clown lounged back, leaving his hands on Harley’s back. Joker began thrusting himself into Harley at the apex of her rising motion, allowing them to fall back together. He felt his grin widen as Harley’s breasts bounced up and down with the jack hammering motion. He let a soft moan escape and dug his nails into her back. The jester arched her back into the pain. A solitary guffaw ripped from Joker’s throat as he felt blood pool around his fingertips. He drew his fingers down her back, feeling his abdomen tighten as Harley’s face tightened into an expression of pure pain.

      The clown felt a slight spasm in his stomach as he noticed a stream of tears tracking down her cheeks. He rolled Harley over, withdrawing long enough to flip her over onto her stomach. He was quick to re-sheath Jack in Harley, while staring at the ten long rivets cut into her skin. The Joker cackled lightly at his canvas, watching with satisfaction as the furrows seeped blood. He leaned forward and licked a trail from the base of Harley’s back to her shoulder.

      He began to thrust into her slowly perhaps even gently. His focus was drawn to the bouncing blood drops spreading on her back. One hand moved to her shoulder to give his thrusts support while the other grazed the flesh on her back. Harley gave a few stifled cries, and Joker felt her contract around Jack.

      The clown withdrew from Harley, cursing. He grabbed her hood, purposely getting a handful of hair with it, and pulled her up into a sitting position with her head turned to face him. “You can’t get anything right, can you?” He questioned, a frown lining his usually happy face.

      Harley smiled dreamily at him, obviously still trapped in that post orgasmic high. “Sure, I can Mista J!” She declared.

      The Joker grinned menacingly back. “Well then, muffin, would you explain why, oh why, you can’t just lay still for a few more minutes without cutting off my few moments of bliss?” He asked getting louder with each pause, until he was screaming.

      Harley deflated, looking at once guilty and regretful. The Joker pouted, it was no fun beating her now. Jack had gone soft, right back into his box, the moment gone. Using her hair, he dumped Harley on the ground and used a piece of her costume to clean the blood from his fingers.

      He pulled his boxers and trousers back up to his waist and turned one last withering glare on Harley. Her face had swollen, and her make-up had run, leaving a comical tear stain through the white on her cheeks. The right side of her face had grown to three times the size of the left one. “Don’t be here when I get back.”

      He slammed the door to their room emphatically and stomped down the hallway. He ordered the nearest stooge to replace Harley’s costume before ascending the stairs to the roof.

      The dark Gotham skyline stood in greeting, purplish clouds floated between impressive skyscrapers. The stars occasionally poked through holes in the majestic cloud cover. The Joker leaned on the half-wall that prevented people from falling off of buildings, his lips drawn into a pout. He could never win, not even in his own sex life, there was always something standing in the way of his happiness.

       The clown tapped his fingernails against his jawline. It wasn’t fair, he never won because that stupid bat and his do-gooder meddling. Luck was always on the side of that self-professed hero, always showing up in the nick of time with his rough voice and cheesy jokes. Even his own henchmen seemed to aid Batsie in the destruction of his schemes. The Joker growled with frustration as he felt his stomach contract with rage.

      Behind him the door to the roof swung open noisily. “Didn’t I tell you never to bother me when I’m on the roof?” He screamed, turning with a raised fist. His knuckles connected with soft pliant flesh, rather than corded muscle. Harley cried out, falling on her ass with the force of the blow.

      “I’m sorry Mista J, but I thought I’d come apologize!” She squeaked, covering her face against further blows. Her appearance only incited his rage more. He’d told her to leave! Plus she’d showered and changed into a light blue T-shirt and blue jean daisy dukes, knowing full well how much he hated seeing her without her costume.

        “I’m sorry Mistah J!” He mocked in a squeaky voice, lashing out with another punch, hitting her on the forearm and knocking away the protection to her face. He slapped the bruise already forming on her left cheek from the first punch. He kicked her stomach, stomped on her hands, and let his hands rein slaps all over her body until his palms began to sting. Finally he stopped beating, panting and sweaty from the effort. He picked her up by the front of her shirt and breathed into her ear. “I think you should go out, Puddin’.” He tossed her over the side of the warehouse, letting a giggle escape his throat. “Much better.” He exhaled, dusting off his hands and turning back to the door.

Poison Ivy was busy carefully watering and trimming her exotic plants when the monitor hooked up to the motion sensor at her front popped on. She set aside her clippers and glanced up at the screen. Harley Quinn stood in the view of the camera, bruised and beaten. Ivy frowned and pushed the button to unlatch the door and activate the speaker above it. “Come in, Harley dear.”

The jester grinned at her before limping through the door. Pamela Isley removed her spectacles and left them on the desk as she stood and strode out of the greenhouse portion of her hideout. She paused at the heavy steel door that secured the foyer from her precious plants. The red head punched a twenty three digit code into the zero to nine pad on the wall. The pad chirped cheerily as the steel slab slid to the side with a soft hiss. Beyond the door, her foyer waited. When she’d moved in, she’d built the small room out of sturdy steel and placed only a small couch and coffee table in it, a staircase stood behind the couch that lead to her bedroom and bathroom. Across from the vault door was her heavy security door with only an electronic latch to prevent break-ins, and along the adjacent wall was an open doorway that led to her kitchen.

Harley lounged on the couch, obviously in pain by the grimace that twisted her face. The image on the monitor had not been clear, but it was clear that her friend was in rough shape. Ivy steeled herself as she approached. The jester was out of costume, dressed in the tattered remains of a thin blue t-shirt and a pair of jean short-shorts with her face unpainted and blonde hair uncovered. Pamela felt her stomach clench into angry knots at the sight of Harley’s numerous wounds; it seemed that there was more blood on Harley than in her. She took a deep breath and cleared the anger from her mind so she could begin to catalogue the other woman’s injuries. She started at her head, finding that her left cheek was purple and bulging and her right was three times the size of the left one, swelling shut her right eye as well. Her lips were split and bloody, leaving trails at the corners of her mouth and down her chin.  There was a bloodied scabby mess at the base of her neck that looked like a bite mark. Her left arm was friction burnt from her pinkie, which was skinned almost to the snapped bone, to her armpit. This left whole chunks of her soft tissue either hanging raggedly from her muscle and bone or missing completely from her body. The pattern continued down her whole left side to her ankle, leaving her shirt ripped on that side completely and fraying her jeans as well. The brush burn had managed to bleed horrendously across her body, soaking her shirt and shorts. Her right arm was lacerated from her shoulder to her elbow, with small stones and pieces of sharp trash like aluminum and glass sticking out of it, as though she had fallen from a great height onto the street. Both of her hands were swollen and at least three of her fingers looked broken and the rest were at least skinned or cut badly. Her right thigh had a huge gash cut into it, one that had run blood down that leg.

The blonde noticed her hovering and offered her a tragic smile. “Hey Red, sorry I didn’t call ahead.” The jester bounced off the couch with a soft whimper. “Mista J tossed me out. You mind if I crash here tonight?”

Ivy leaned in and touched the tip of her nose to Harley’s forehead. “Of course you can stay the night. Let’s get you upstairs.” She released the girl and gestured to the staircase. The blonde bounded up the stairs with her usual exuberance, much too quickly for Ivy’s liking, she was after all in the worse shape that the red head had seen in her yet. Poison Ivy followed her up the stairs to her bedroom. “Do you want to shower?” She asked gently. Harley closed her good eye and thought before nodding slightly.

“Yeah, that sounds wonderful. Just no soap, okay?” She replied. Ivy smiled and began tugging the elastic bands that barely held Harley’s messy pigtails out of her tresses. Her friend leaned into her touch and allowed her to carefully smooth her hair down to fall messily to her neck.

“Do you need help undressing dear?” She asked lowly, carefully placing her arms around the tops of the jester’s shoulders. Harley glanced up at her and caught her eye. She saw the blonde’s mouth twitch into a slight frown for a brief second before it relapsed back into her smile.

“I can manage; you go and get the medicine kit.” She chirped. Pamela nodded and carefully pulled away from Harley. She crossed the room to the adjacent corner to the trunk that she used for storage. She took her time sorting through the contents while Harley struggled with her clothes. Finally she heard the blonde flop down on the bed with an exaggerated grunt. The red head seized the brown suitcase that contained her medical supplies and closed the trunk.

Poison Ivy turned back to face her bed and returned to Harley’s side. She carefully set up the suitcase on her bedside table before allowing her eyes to fall on Harley’s naked form. “I’m going to check to make sure none of your bones are broken before the shower, alright? Sit up for me.”

The blonde happily complied. Ivy began tapping her toes, running her hands up the jester’s feet. The plant woman frowned as she felt a small fractured bone in the top of the jester’s right foot. The girl’s legs were bruised and scraped up, but Ivy found no fractures. Bruises colored her inner thighs, fresh like her other injuries. “What happened?” She asked probing Harley’s bruised abdomen for internal bleeding.

“I screwed up again, got Mista J locked up for a few weeks. He got home tonight. I apologized and we went to bed. Things were going good, but I uh-“She sucked in a breath as Ivy tapped a sore rib. “I finished early, and he got mad. It’s my fault; really, he just stormed up to the roof. I followed him there. He wasn’t happy about that. He threw me off.” She finished with a soft grunt as Ivy ghosted over the rest of her ribs and found a broken one. The red head nodded and carefully added Harley’s new set of injuries to her list of pains to inflict on the Joker should he give her the chance.

The blonde allowed her to finish checking her shoulders, arms, and hands with-out much of fight. Though she squirmed considerably when she started poking the bleeding rash on her left arm, she never pulled away.  Her arms were a bloody mess but miraculously neither had a fracture or break. Her hands, however, were a different story. The pinkie and ring fingers of her left hand were skinned and broken; the fine bones that made up her wrist were shattered. Her right had a large piece of glass sticking out of the palm and her ring finger looked broken. Pamela spent a few extra minutes kneeling in front of Harley with a pair of tweezers, picking the glass and stones out of her right leg and hand. Her face was fine, though she protested loudly when Ivy began checking her jaw and cheek bones. “I’ll go turn on the water.” Ivy informed her as she rose from her knees and padded to the bathroom.

She crossed to the bathtub and turned the faucet for hot water and flicked the switch down for the shower. The water rushed, streaming out of the shower head. Harley limped into the room behind her and wrapped her arms around Ivy. The red head felt her friend’s lips settle on her collar bone. “Harley!” She warned.

“I know Red.” The jester breathed into her ear, giving the rounded tip a playful nip. “Mista J’s, the only one that’d rev me up looking like this.” She brushed past the other woman and stepped into the shower. “You want to jump in with me?” She offered.

“I’ll undress.” Ivy replied curtly. Harley nodded and stepped into the warm spray of the water. The heat and gentle touch of the water soothed her aches, washing away the dirt and blood from her wounds. She almost didn’t mind the stinging as it tapped against her wounds. She allowed herself to relax, let her arms fall to her sides and raised her face to the stream of the water. The dull ache of the water falling on her badly bruised face hardly registered as the water brought a calming cleansing warmth to the damaged area.

Harley stiffened slightly as Ivy slipped in behind her. She could her friend’s gaze crawling up her back. The soft gasp was enough for her to guess the woman’s reaction, revulsion. “Oh, Harley.” She murmured. “My poor dear, why?” She intoned dramatically.

Internally, Ivy was fuming but anger would not help her here. Harley’s back was a mess of blood and scabs. “They’re just scratches, Red. I liked that part.” Harley offered. Pamela found herself disagreeing with the statement silently. Her back was not simply scratched; rather deep furrows of her flesh had been torn away, leaving blood wells down to the girl’s flank. Worse was the number, not only had the Joker man’s eight fingers dug into her, but also the thumbs, leaving ten horrific trenches from her shoulder blades to her lower back. She longed to make him pay, to cut apart his flesh and watch his blood flow and bones crack as he had done to Harley so many times. Ivy shook her head and closed her eyes. Losing control, even of her thoughts, was unbecoming and she refused to let that deplorable man cause it to happen.

The blonde turned to her, drawing a quick breath as the water hit her injured back. “It’s not so bad, Red. I don’t mind.” She whispered. “I deserve it anyway. I always screw something up. Anyone would get tired of it. I know he ain’t perfect but Mista J loves me. He’s the only guy for me, he makes me laugh.” Ivy entwined her fingers in Harley’s long beautiful hair. The jester rested her head on the plant woman’s chest, in return Ivy dropped her forehead onto the girl’s temple and snaked her arms around her shoulders. They held each other until the water ran ice cold.

It was only while carefully drying Harley that Pamela trusted herself to begin talking again. “You don’t deserve it, Harley.” The blonde sighed, they’d been down this road before countless times. “You don’t screw up either. We’ve pulled off dozens of heists together. The clown just blames you for everything, you’re his scapegoat.” She wanted to tell her friend that the Joker didn’t love her, but even she knew that it wasn’t true. The psychopath did have some strange affection for his former psychiatrist, but it was that Harley would never the damned fool. A part of her accepted that, but every other part sought to break them up, to make Harley see reason.

The blonde soaked up her words as she carefully dried and brushed her hair. They returned to the bed, where Ivy began patching Harley’s myriad wounds. As usual, the jester whine and fussed as she sprayed the sterilizing agent into her cuts, huffed as she bandaged her scrapes, and pouted as she painstakingly reset her fingers and wrapped them. After cleaning the deep furrows on her back, Ivy resolved to let them air. They were after all only scratches. By the time she finished Harley’s left arms was completely bandaged, her right was white from the elbow down. Both hands were completely wrapped, as were her ribs and right thigh. She’d dealt with the mess on her neck by slapping a large bandage over it.

They lay together on the bed in a tense silence before Harley reiterated her usual reply. She lifted her head from Ivy’s breast. “He loves me, Red. He needs me and I need him. Without me, he’d be lost and heartbroken. I love him, I understand him in a way no one else does. I’ve seen things, done things that no one else has. I know you don’t understand, I don’t think anyone could but me and him.” Ivy’s mouth twitched back into her customary frown reserved for all things Joker. She understood well enough that the two shared some bond between the mentally ill, but that was irrelevant. No person deserved the treatment Harley got from the clown and no healthy relationship involved this many bruises or trips off of high surfaces.

The plant sympathizer carefully brushed Harley’s golden hair out of her big blue eye as her mind worked furiously. She debated dropping the the bombshell that she’d been biting back since nearly the beginning of their friendship. Finally a look of resignation darkened her eyes, but her frown sloped up to a tight line. “I love you too, Harley.” She admitted.

The jester let another sad smile find her face. “I know, Red. I’d have to be blind not to notice.” Pamela frowned once against and propped herself up on one elbow. Harley rose with her, her body directly on top of Ivy’s. She scooted up to rest her hands above her friend’s breasts and her chin upon her hands. Their eyes met, both sad for a few agonizing moments before Harley made her own admission. “I love you too, Red.”

Poison Ivy felt incredulity rise inside her, but she couldn’t doubt the honesty in her eyes. “You can’t love two people.” She replied icily. Harley looked crest fallen.

“Yes you can, because I do. I love you and Mista J. You and me, Red, we got a bond like sometimes I can just feel what you’re feeling and it’s like you just know what I need.” She declared. Ivy let herself drop down again. She cast her eyes down to Harley, who was smiling at her again.

The jester raised herself off of Ivy and slid upward once again. One of her hands came to rest above her friend’s head and the other alighted on her cheek. Pamela guessed the blonde’s intention well enough but found that she wanted the kiss just as much as Harley. She knew that the venom in her lips was deadly and that no antidote existed. Still those bruised and cracked lips inched closer. Harley’s good eye closed in anticipation. Ivy tilted her head into the expected kiss. She felt Harley’s breath on her lips and in that moment realized what was transpiring.

On pure instinct she brought her hands up to shove Harley to the side, and off of the bed. The Jester whimpered as she hit the ground but didn’t complain. Ivy leaned over the side of the bed. “I’m sorry Harley, but I couldn’t have done much else. You would have-“

She was cut off by Harley’s expression as she looked up. Disappointment had crumped her whole body, she slouched back, and her head low above her chest. Her face though, made the whole scene much more depressing. Tears leaked from under the puffy eyelid of her swollen eyes while her left eyes held a steely blue sadness, her mouth folded down into an ugly frown. Sobs were beginning to rock the blonde’s body. “I know!” She wailed. “I know I would have died.” Harley sniffled. She quieted quickly and continued in an even tone. “I just figured that because you love me, it wouldn’t affect me.  Stupid, huh?” She gingerly rubbed her drying tear tracks.

          Pamela stood from the bed and fell to her knees in front of Harley. “It’s not exactly well reasoned, but you’re not stupid, dear.” She crooned, scooping Harley into her lap. The jester brought her head to rest on Ivy’s shoulder. The other woman stood holding her friend and placed Harley on the edge of the bed. She paused as an idea struck her. “I might though be able to make you immune.” She mused, the jester put a finger under Ivy’s chin and tilted her face upward so their eyes could meet.

          “What are ya thinkin’?” Harley questioned a small amount of light returning to her eye.

          “I’m immune to poisons and toxins through my DNA, but I could use some of my blood, mixed with some venom as a sort of vaccine. I could potentially make you immune to my kiss!” She clasped Harley’s wrists in her hand. “If you’re willing to try.”

          The blonde brought Ivy’s hands to her mouth and placed a chaste kiss on both. “Of course, I wanna try!” She grinned. “How long will it take?” Pamela bit her lip before replying.

          “I’ll start working on it right now; you go ahead and take a nap.” She suggested as she stood and went to her closet to don another set of clothes. Harley simply nodded and crawled farther onto the bed before closing her eyes. Ivy paused to cover Harley before stumbling down the stairs and striding to her lab.

          “This time…” She mumbled absently as she paced her lab, inspecting all of her venomous plants and a few of her special herbs. “This time things will be different.” She finished with determination. A plan was forming in her head; this would be more than a vaccine. It would make Harley stronger; she would fight back against that damn clown’s fists. “This time, the jokes on you, you dirty clown.” She growled as she picked up her glasses and clippers and set to work.

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          Hours later, Poison Ivy returned to her bedroom weary from her work. The bright late morning sun shone cheerily onto her empty bed. Pamela glanced back at it with a disgruntled sigh. Empty, indeed. She kicked off her flats and collapsed wearily onto the soft mattress. It was still warm surprising. She couldn’t call Harley’s disappearance a surprise, not after all of the similar nights before it.

          She closed her eyes and blocked her weak human emotions until she felt her mind sliding into nothingness. She felt the bed dip next to her, and jumped up instantly ready to fight. She blinked to unblur her vision and adjust her eyes to the glare of the morning sun. She could make out the distinct shape and colors of Harley’s costume. “Didn’t mean to wake ya, Red. Just thought I’d bring ya breakfast while you were working.” The jester chirped as she eased through the window carefully. “Ya didn’t answer when I came around front, so I figured the window would work.” She flopped down on the bed. “I stopped by the warehouse to pick up some clothes; the ones I wore here are dirty.” She held out a paper bag to Ivy.

          Ivy accepted it and sat next to her, reaching in to pull out a fast food omelet. “You do know that I eat sunlight.” She emphasized, grimacing at the greasy yellow blob.

          “Yeah, you eat food with me all the time, though.” Harley retorted. “And I’ve seen you eat eggs.”

          “Okay, Harley. I’ll eat your attempt at kindness. Just to please you.” Pamela relented. “But our first kiss better be magical.”

          “Oh, it will be. Red, trust me!” Harley exclaimed with all of her usual exuberance, and Ivy found it easier to believe with her bruises hidden under cloth and makeup.

Pamela lifted her head from her desk, wiping away the drool that had accumulated at the corner of her mouth. She scanned for the disturbance that had woken- interrupted her. Her eyes drew upward to the monitor rigged to the motion activated camera above her front door. She expected Harleen Quinzel, either battered or homeless, but found Selena Kyle standing there. She hit the button to unlock the door and quipped a quick greeting into the microphone.

She left her lab, striding through the greenhouse to the vault door, then out into the foyer. The blonde was already leaning against the steel frame. “You look like you just broke out of Arkham then took a trip to Blackgate.” She whistled.

“You don’t just drop by Selena. What do you want?” She clutched her head as her vision swam, migraine. How long had she been in the lab? Catwoman quirked her eyebrows but said nothing for a moment.

“It’s been a month since Harley left my place and she hasn’t been back. I figured the two of you would patch things up but Batman says that she’s just been sticking things out with the Joker. She’s pretty banged up, he won’t admit it but he’s worried about Harley. He’s going to raid the hideout and throw them both in Arkham again. Without someone to there when they rip her apart, I don’t think she’s going to go back together right.”

Ivy got her drift, Harley was too fragile to be in Arkham. She had to get her friend out before Batman did. The plant woman let go of her aching head to look up at her volatile friend. “Thanks Selena. I’ll look into it.” She swayed, lost her footing and stumbled into Catwoman. The other woman caught her easily.

“First, let’s get you to bed, sun’s almost up. You’ll absorb the light as you sleep. I’ll leave water.” She began carrying Pamela toward the stairs. Poison Ivy fought for a second before grinning in and moving herself forward to the best of her ability. After the arduous journey up the stairs, she sunk into the pillowy softness of her bed.

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Selena Kyle slipped out of Poison Ivy’s hideout, glancing around the lightening business district. Batman melted from the shadowy nook of a façade. “I told her, she needs rest though.”

“What’s she working on?”

“She’s pretty tight lipped, but Harley says that it’s an ant venom for her lips. Whatever it is, it’s sure important to her. She looks like a living train wreck.”

“Harley’s important to her.”

“Harley’s important to everyone that she meets.” Selena sauntered off into the hazy dawn.

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Pamela woke with a start, and then immediately regretted the sudden action. Despite the bright mid-afternoon sunlight bathing her room she felt drained. Her head hurt, eyes burned and her muscles ached. She mentally chided herself for spending so much time away from the sun. Judging by her current state, she’d been cooped up in the lab for the better part of three days. Her vaccine was taking longer than she’d hoped.

After the rats, she thought her path had been clear but most of equations were guesswork so she’d required a few human test subjects to dial in her numbers. That meant carefully acquiring one of Gotham’s homeless and then carefully disposing of her failures, which took time. Not to mention the time it took to go over her results and formulate a new vaccine. She was certain that she’d finally perfected the vaccine with her latest strain. She’d managed to load it into a syringe before passing out. She just needed to get a test subject, her last one had died of a rather large cardiac event after twenty days of poison immunity and rapidly improving strength. She’d fixed the marker that had caused the adrenal spike, so she would be ready to inject Harley within two months. That was plenty of time to apologize for her earlier action, but that was all pretty far down the road. She had to get Harley out of the Joker’s hideout today!

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Harley landed at the bottom of the stairs in a heap, the collection of bruises that decorated her body came to life at once, spreading the ache of the fall into her very being. She winced with each resounding foot fall as Mr. J made his way back to the study. She pouted as she slowly pulled herself to a sitting position. There was nothing to do! She’d fed the hyenas and the goons, cleaned the whole hideout, done the laundry, and even walked the hyenas! When her thoughts turned to her super villain friends, she saw only hostility and unavailability. There wasn’t anything for her to do at all. The goons were quietly playing one of their games around the kitchen table, so they were a dead end. “Sure wish I had something to do!” She exclaimed as she flopped down on the couch. Her backside flared with pain at the action but she ignored it. She was going crazy just stuck in the hideout.

A faint but insistent knock sounded on the door, Harley perked up. She’d already been through the list of preoccupied villains and B-man or any of the other heroes wouldn’t have knocked. “Hello?” She called out. There was no reply, just a continued knocking. It was getting louder. If it continued like this Mista J would-

“HARLEY! Answer the door, you sniveling buffoon! Can’t you understand that I need peace to work? Humor doesn’t just happen you know!” He paused for breath, giving Harley a few seconds to quip.

“Yes Mista J!” She crept toward the door, her mind trying to place the knock. The person behind the door just kept on knocking, just trying to provoke her puddin’. Finally she reached the door and tore it open. With an indignant shriek she slammed it and turned her back.

“HARLEY! What did I say? Quiet, peace, not hard to simply not do anything is it? I’m running myself ragged and you don’t have the presence of mind to keep your mouth shut for five minutes!” Joker raved, his screaming tapering off as he marched angrily across the warehouse toward her. “Why are you giving me that look? Who’s at the blasted door?” He demanded with a scowl.

“It’s Red.” Harley admitted, her frown twisting her face.

Joker smiled, let the expression carry into a grin and then chuckled at her. “Well why don’t we invite her in?” He spun toward the door with a malicious gleam in his eyes.

“Please Mista J, I don’t want to see her. She’s so mean, she lied to me, just send her away!” Harley begged.

Joker paid her no attention and snatched the door open. He leaned on the frame, grin splitting his smug face. “Why Pammy how nice of you to drop by! Harley dear doesn’t want to see you right now but I can take a message.”

Ivy scowled and made a move to shoulder past him. He stepped aside, allowing her to stumble through the threshold off balance. “Well alright, but she won’t be happy.”

Poison Ivy took a few seconds to locate Harley. The blonde stood in her costume, arms crossed over her chest and face turned away. She was the very picture of dismissive. Ivy hadn’t expected a warmer reception, but it still stung. “Harley, I know you’re angry. I know I deserve it, but I have to tell you something, privately.” She beseeched.

Harley turned her back completely. “I don’t want to talk to you!” She snubbed.

Pamela frowned, this was the very reason she’d stopped getting involved with humans. She always got hurt trying to do the right thing. They were too unpredictable, manipulation of them was never sure or exact and right now she needed both of those things. She needed to get Harley out of here before nightfall, or she wouldn’t have a human to manipulate. The other option was pulling off a heist to distract Batman but that would only get her a night, and she’d be in Arkham, sharing a cell with Harley, who would be broken and angry at her. The situation was impossible. It made her angry, she could feel her rational mind slipping.

She stalked up to Harley, grabbed her should and spun her around. She met her best friend with a poisonous kiss half way through the turn. Harley slumped into her arms, mouth forming confused words. Ivy hoisted the blonde and turned. The Joker was for once dumbstruck, his mouth dropping open.

Poison Ivy walked out of Joker’s warehouse hideout holding her dying friend accosted. She was long gone before Joker had gathered himself enough to address his goons. “Go figure out where Vine’s hideout is hideout is and when you do, get Harley’s body.” He gestured flatly, utterly deflated. “Make sure you come back to feed the hyenas before tomorrow. I’ll be in my study, working on the next bat-trap.”

                   ___________

What hell had she been thinking? She’d gone to that hideout to reason with Harley, to talk her out. Instead she’d kissed her, practically murdering her in a fit of passion. She was curing, a speeding along with Harley hacking blood into her lap. “I’m sorry Harls. I’ve finished the vaccine, it should take care of the kiss. Keep fighting, we’ll be there in less than five minutes.”

Harley’s face was bloating as she reacted to the poison. She was whimpering between the hacking coughs and choking. Her wet gurgles were often the muted beginnings of words that died off after the first syllable. “Shush, don’t speak. We can talk all you want after I give you the vaccine.” Ivy soothed, her fingers running through sweat soaked hair. The blonde coughed more, spurting blood and bile into Pamela’s lap.

Ivy pulled up to her hideout and sprung out of the convertible with ease. She threw open the door, crossed the foyer, punched her code-fuck- screwed it up, tried again. The vault door slid open. She raced through the greenhouse into the lab and grabbed the syringe out of the cold storage vault. The chances that this vaccine would work were fairly high, besides she had already kissed Harley so what if her kidneys failed or her liver dissolved in a few days, weeks or months at least she would live out the hour.

Pamela sprinted back through her hideout and arrived at her car. She carefully laid Harley out on the seat. The blonde turned her face toward her and moaned at her. Her abdomen was beginning to distend. Ivy debated the injection point for a few seconds while she ran through the human circulatory system in her head to determine which would get the vaccine to the liver fastest. She stabbed the needle into Harley’s arms after a few seconds.

Harley let out an actual sob and tears rolled down her swollen face. She was surprised that Harley could still manage tears at this point, her tear glands should have swollen shut. She pulled the syringe from Harley’s arms and let it drop into the back seat.

Based on her current state Harley would live for approximately forty six minutes. Her vaccine, if it was the right one could work as an antidote to her toxins. The major factor here was time. She’d never calculated metabolic assimilation under any circumstance, so she had nothing but faint hope that she hadn’t just killed her only friend. Harley sputtered so she slipped under the blonde’s limp form and turned her over. Blackish gore poured out of her mouth onto the seats. She sat with Harley for the next twenty minutes, talking to her and rubbing her back.

It was clear that it wasn’t working. She was going to watch Harley die here. In her damn car in front of the fucking dockside fish packing plant she’d turned into a supervillain’s lair. As time wore on her lap filled with liquid Harley as her friend coughed and vomited her insides up. Toward the end there was less to puke up so Harley was pulling in deep wheezy gasps of air. “I’m so sorry Harley. I didn’t mean this, damn it! I didn’t want to kill you, I didn’t even plan to touch you. I just acted. It’s pitiful that I’ve killed you and all I can is make excuses about it.” She dropped her head onto Harley’s back with a sob. She felt Harley’s wheezing breaths growing shallower and it took her a moment to realize that the girl was attempting words. She put her ear next to Harley’s mouth.

“Lo-Love yo-ou, Red. D-d-ou-nn-t cry!” The blond rasped out. She summoned her strength and twisted herself to face Ivy. Her breath escaped in a sharp gasp. She regained it a few terrifying seconds later. “Gimmie a last kiss.” She requested.

“Oh Harley don’t say that!” Ivy pleaded. “We still have a few minutes, it seems to have slowed down some.”

“Little late.” Harley replied. “Please, kiss.” She slumped down and drew in a raspy series of breathes. The blonde gagged a little but managed not to heave more bile onto Ivy. She pushed herself up as much as possible. Pamela leaned down and enveloped her dying friend in her arms. It wasn’t a glamorous kiss. Harley stank of death and she was covered in her own liquefied organs. She met the blonde’s lips gently, ignoring the cold vomit on her skin, the acrid scent of her and the acidic taste of the vomit in her mouth. Ivy kissed Harley like she’d always wanted to, lips heavy, tongue probing deep and demanding into her mouth. Harley responded with weak flutters of her tongue and soft spasms of her lips. They broke for Harley’s wheezes every few seconds.

Each time their lips met, Harley responded more. She felt strength returning to the blonde’s limbs. Her breaths were becoming less wheezy and the reflexive gag she was suppressing became less noticeable. At first she thought that it was simply Harley’s last grasp on life, but then Harley physically sat up without breaking a kiss. Ivy pulled back from Harley with confusion on her face. Harley gave her a tired smile.

“I don’t understand it, but I’m getting better. I don’t hurt as much and I feel like some stuff is regrowing.”

Pamela hopped out of the convertible and opened the door. She scooped Harley into her arms and headed into her hideout. “I’ll clean you up and set you up with some IV fluids.” She said as she bounded up the stairs. “I’ll steal some more medical supplies. If I’m right, the first kiss was poison and the subsequent kisses were anti venoms. They must have interacted with the partially metabolized vaccine to create some kind of one off healing ability. I can’t explain that, but I assume its accelerated cell regeneration.” Ivy rambled as she moved. By this point she’d begun a warm shower and ripped Harley’s soiled costume off. She eased the girl into the tub before taking off for her lab.

She collected all the drip racks and I.V. bags she could get her hands on. She carried them to her bed and set up the equipment in an organized fashion before retrieving Harley from the shower.

It took a few minutes to insert all of the needles into Harley due to the girl’s hatred of sharp pointy things, and then a few more to say goodbye. She left her own hideout covered in human waste to go rip off a few hospitals. She vaguely considered the possibility of spending time in Arkham for the crime, but decided that Batman would be tied up with the Joker heist he was planning. In the end she shrugged it off, deciding that it would be worth it to save Harley.

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Letting go was hard. She’d had Harley all to herself for nearly a month while she was healing up and Ivy was monitoring her organ functions. Finally Harley had declared that she needed to The Joker.

They’d fought over that. Harley hadn’t spoken to her for the rest of that day. She’d relented and apologized for being so controlling. It hurt to watch Harley walk out her door with plans to go spring the Joker from his cell at Arkham. Harley was giggly as she talked about it. “Won’t he be so surprised that I’m alive?” She squealed. “Puddin’ll love it.”

“Yeah, great Harls.”

“Hey Red.” She turned to Harley who met her with a lingering kiss. “He may be my man, but you’ll always be my gal.” She’d left then and Ivy hadn’t seen her for a few weeks, except for headlines of her and Joker running rampant all over Gotham.