Ivy woke up that day with the sun in her face.  Just like any of her beloved flowers, she rose, stretched, and bloomed in its warm, life-giving rays.  Night was conquered once more by her lush, rich beauty.  Now this was how every morning should start!

     And it would too.  It wasn’t as if she’d be waking up under the vampiric florescent lights of Arkham Asylum any time soon.  And if Hagen’s reports were to be believed, the Rydbergii wouldn’t be shutting its doors in the near future either.

     Ivy wasn’t inclined to give Hagen the benefit of the doubt, but the proof was in the traffic on the lounge floor these past couple weeks.  Business was up twenty-eight percent, although considering how poor they’d done before, that wasn’t as enormous an uptick as it sounded.  Still, henchmen tended to drink a lot, and they weren’t important enough to run up much of a tab.

     They also tended to drink at the same bars as their employers.  That hadn’t happened here, which meant either that the situation at Jenna’s had become THAT intolerable, or that they expected the upper-echelon Rogues to arrive any day now.  It was a win-win for her.

     Well, a win-win with a dash of lose.  Since that first night where, for the enjoyment of the hoodlums gathered, she’d deigned to mix drinks for Hagen, she’d tended bar almost every night.  Clearly the customers got a rise out of watching her serve.  Watching her give some greedy, vile, repellent man whatever he asked for, like she was an ordinary serving girl.

     If anyone got the idea that this allowed them to pinch her somewhere, their suffering would be endless.

     But if making a spectacle of herself for neanderthals boosted receipts, she was willing to degrade herself by serving any pig who bellied up to the bar—in the short run, at least.  Once the Rydbergii could sustain itself without the patronage of these men, however… well, Penguin’s upstairs apartments could use major renovations, and greened men could still perform manual labor.

     Until then, Ivy had been forced to watch videos and read books on mixology.  She simply would not ask one of her own employees to teach her.  So far she’d learned enough to know that some of the names would have to change.  There was no way any of her customers would be asking her for a Flaming Orgasm, Tight Snatch, or Sex on the Beach.

     It was also yet another demand on her time.  You had to keep both of your eyes on the black market operations, Ivy had found, or they’d try to cheat you eight different ways.  Between that, teaching herself bartending, business hours, visiting Harley occasionally, and keeping the pile of unpaid invoices somewhat manageable, Ivy had little time to do anything else besides eat and sleep.

     Not today, though.  With things improving as they were, Ivy felt like she could finally take a day for herself to relax.  She hadn’t been able to pamper herself like she used to.  Gaia, she barely had time to look into a mirror.  She’d been forced to rely on her (admittedly tremendous) gifts of natural beauty and grace to get her through each day looking her absolute best.

     Today, however, Ivy was going to take advantage of a full array of her all-natural, herbal creams, lotions, and conditioners.  She was going to take a good, long soak.  She was going to have her hair done.  And she was going to update her wardrobe for the good days ahead.

     And who knew?  If things could start looking up here at the Rydbergii, then maybe Harley could, wonder of wonders, start looking up as well.

     Running her fingers through her hair, Ivy stood up, letting the sheets slide off and reveal her in all of her nude, natural, voluptuous glory.  It was time for the goddess to start what would be a divine day.

     On one level, Eddie had been looking forward to this.  It had been over two weeks since he’d seen Selina last, and that had been under less than optimal conditions.

     Which was the reason why he had also been dreading this.  Of all the women in the world for him to start dating… it's not that he thought friends had to approve and sign off on each other's romantic interests.  It was just that, to put it in the riddling form that made him most comfortable:

     Riddle me this, Lina my dear.

     Of all the women that I could hold near,

     Which is most likely to make you sneer?

     Answer:  “The Demonspawn”

     If he had gone out deliberately SEEKING the partner most likely to give offense, he could not have done better than Talia — and there was the rub. Because if Selina was to go out deliberately seeking a partner most likely to give offense, it was Batman.  And Eddie couldn't help but think that Selina would think he HAD done it on purpose.  Tit for quo.  Quid pro tat.  I boffed the spawn since you're boinking the Bat.

     And then she’d found out in the worst way possible.  He felt as guilty today as he had that night.

      But they had to get this out of the way if they ever wanted to have a normal conversation again.  It was one big clusterfuck, however you looked at it, and they simply had to get past it.  Eddie felt the need to apologize for the demonspawn.  He didn't think Selina would apologize in return for sleeping with the Bat, but an explanation would be nice.  Still, realistically, he wasn't likely to get that much.  “A cat thing”.  She didn't explain.  She didn't apologize.  She licked a paw or sharpened her claws as she saw fit, take it or leave it.

     The tricky part had been the meeting place.  Eddie obviously couldn’t invite Selina back to the hideout he was sharing with Talia.  He certainly wouldn’t be welcome at the manor.  And talking in public probably wasn’t a good idea, considering what they had to discuss was pretty sensitive material.

     Selina had eventually suggested meeting her at one of her lairs, the Cats Cosmetics warehouse.  Eddie knew it could only be a lair for appearance’s sake, since it wasn’t possible that Catwoman could be stealing and sharing a home with Batman at the same time, but he was still nervous.  It was her territory, and while she’d sounded relatively normal over the phone, he still felt like the proverbial fly entering the parlor... or at very least, the mouse venturing out of its hole and strolling right between the catnip ball and the scratching post.

     When he got there, however, he found only Selina in full costume, sitting on one end of a large, wide sofa.  Seeing nowhere else to sit, he went to the other end and waited for her to say something.

     “What do you think?” she suddenly asked, gesturing about their surroundings.

     “It’s, um, nice,” Eddie said, surprised.  “Seems a little spartan, though.”

     “Well, until recently I was renting it out to Victor.  The sofa’s just the first step.  Although this wasn’t quite the first use for it I had in mind,” Selina said.

     Eddie nodded.  “It’s good to see you, ‘Lina.”

     “You too, Eddie.  But we could have talked about this a lot sooner, you know.  I wasn’t going to scratch you to ribbons just because you’ve been—” Selina shuddered theatrically.  “Making a mistake.  A tremendous, monumental, life-altering mistake.”

     “It’s not that bad,” he said uncomfortably.

     “Yeah, it really is.  You just don't know it yet.  Where is she?”

     “What?”

     “Where is she, Eddie?  Still in her hotel room?”

     He tugged at his collar.  This was why he’d waited so long.  It wasn’t being “scratched to ribbons”.  It was what she’d say.  What she'd ask.  And what he'd have to answer.  Doing it was one thing.  Saying it was another.  Eddie had a feeling, once he heard it put into actual words, he was going to be struck by the monumental stupidity of his situation.  Yeah, it really is. You just don't know it yet.

     “Er, well, no.  She’s at Kittlemeier’s for, um, a fitting.”

     Selina stared at him like he’d proposed opening a private detective agency together. 

     Yeah, it really is. You just don't know it yet.

     “A sidekick?  Eddie, are you fucking nuts?  Don't you know her track record?  Haven't you seen Fatal Attraction?”

     “It wasn't like this was planned!  I didn't plan on having drunken sex with her, and I certainly wasn't pining for her after she left or expecting any kind of sequel,” Eddie said defensively.

     “No, I wouldn't think so.  But your expectations aren't the worry when we're talking about Talia al-Ghul.”

     ...You just don't know it yet.

     “She's an emotional vampire, Eddie.  A black hole of needy psychoses, in constant need of validation.  You fill that role once, you're rolling the dice.  You do it twice...”

     “REALISE NUT TOURS?”

     Selina stared.

     “Russian roulette,” he explained—and she nodded.

     “Come on, Eddie, this whole situation is absurd.  You're not the type to wake up one morning and say ‘Things are going too well, I should get into bed with a delusional nutjob.  That'll spice things up’."

     “Look, I’m sorry, all right?” he burst out.  “I said, it wasn’t planned.  It couldn’t have been planned.  No one could have planned that night.  Besides, do you really think I would intend to sleep with someone who you disapprove of so much?”

     “...”

     There it was.  Eddie would have done anything to take the words back, but now, there it was.  Did she think he would do it on purpose?  To get back at her for Batman?  Quid pro tat.  Spawn for Bat.

     “Lina, you can't think that.  Or that I wanted you to find out like that?”  Eddie smoothed his hair with one hand.  “I just figured, as long as I'm in this deep, as long as I'm sharing a bed with her, as long as she's going to be hanging around the lair, then at least she can wear spandex.”

     Selina looked at him thoughtfully.  “Unlike Doris, you mean.”

     He winced.  That had been the implication, but he would rather she hadn’t said so out loud.  “Unlike Doris,” he agreed.  “It’s one big mess, Selina.  I have to take VIRGIN ILLNESS - silver linings where I can get them.”

     “Eddie, you say that like you're stuck with a situation when it's  entirely of you're own making.  If you don't want her around, you don't have to make the best of it.  Break it off!  Or at least, you could try.” Selina suggested.  “Granted, it can take multiple attempts.  I mean, you are aware that she's never been on a first name basis with realities that don't suit her.”

     Eddie chuckled.  “She’s become a Riddler henchwench, Selina.  How can you see this as a reality that would suit her?”

     “It would suit her,” Selina replied calmly, “if she’s using you to get to Batman.”

     “Ah,” he said.  “Yes, that.  My new girlfriend would rather be with the Batman.  It’s a familiar refrain, eh, Selina?”

     “There are about six different ways that's a catastrophically stupid thing to say, Edward.  Do you want to clarify which one you're going for, so we're both clear on what ditch you're trying to dig yourself out of?”

     He waved a hand.  “Fine.  We’ll save that for later.  As for—”

     “No, we will not save it for later, Eddie,” Selina said flatly.  “My relationship with Bruce is not relevant to this conversation — at least it better not be.  Because if I thought it was connected to whatever's going on with you and Talia, that's bad in too many ways to list.”

     Yeah, it really is...

     “Selina, are you kidding me?  You’re sleeping with Batman.  And you kept it a secret from me!”

     ...You just don't know it yet.

     “No...” she began firmly.  “I've never hidden my relationship with Bruce.  That’s never been a secret.  Bruce's secret, on the other hand—Eddie, think about that for ten seconds and realize how idiotic you sound.  If I was sleeping with Vladimir Putin, do you think I'd give you Russian missile codes?”

     “Well—” Eddie tried to respond.

     “You, however, had a one-nighter with the demonspawn, and I’m guessing you had no intention of telling me.  Am I right?”

     Eddie looked down.  “Yeah, but—”

     “So if anyone was keeping their relationship a secret from the other to a degree that isn't quite kosher between close friends, it was you.  So I don’t think you have the right to get self-righteous with me,” Selina said.  “If you want to be angry about Bruce and I, that’s your prerogative.  But I won’t apologize for being happy, I won’t say I regret it, and if you can’t deal with it, then I guess we don’t have anything more to say—.”

     “I’m not asking you to break up with him or anything,” Eddie said anxiously.  It was hard to stay angry when she was the one giving the ultimatum.  “But, I mean... if you’re with him, then this means you’re not a thief any more.  You’re not one of us any more.”

     “I know,” she said softly.  “And it tears away at me sometimes.  Those are the times I could use a friend.  Those are the times I'd like to say 'that night at the MOMA, I’d just come home from an assignment. First job I've had in months, and even if I had to wear a not very flattering jumpsuit, I had a blast'.  I'd like to do that and have you listen and... and tell me that it counts.  Because even if I'm not stealing for fun and profit anymore, even if I put my relationship with Bruce before all that, I'm still me.  That's what I'd like a friend to say, Eddie.  That 'us' is you and me and Harvey, so of course, I'm still one of us.  I’m just not a part of them.  I never was.”

     “No, that’s true,” Eddie acknowledged.  Just because she associated with the Scarecrow didn’t mean she had anything in common with him.  “But what about the other them?  The Bats and the capes and—”

     “Eddie, if you ever suggest I’m a crimefighter, or that I’m anything like those super-schmucks, then I will have to start scratching,” she warned him.

     “Right, gotcha, not one of the SUCKERS-CHUMPS,” Eddie said quickly.  If he was being honest with himself, the idea of Selina sleeping with Batman was less troubling than the idea that Selina might start fighting people like him.  It didn’t make it a lot easier.  But… “I guess I’ll have to deal with it then,” he said.

     “Good.”  Selina looked pleased briefly, but then she turned serious again.  “So let’s get back to the spawn then.”

     Eddie groaned.

     “I had asked you,” she continued, “if you’d considered that she was using you to get to Batman.”

     “And I was going to say that I had,” Eddie said.  “But I don’t think that’s what’s going on.  I just think she’s out of options.  Look, she wrecked LionCorp, so what little life she'd built for herself in Metropolis is gone—and  yes, before you say it, I know she didn't build it herself.  Lionel handed it to her, but that's not the point.  She failed.  She screwed it up on a scale nobody would have thought possible before it happened.  She proved to herself that she hasn't got the stuff to make it on her own.  So what can she do?  Go back to her father, who scares the snot out of her?  Or find somebody else to keep the rain off her head.  I think she realizes that Batman would just bring her into contact with Daddums again, and in whatever ways you ladies may find the old Nigmeister inferior to the perfect ideal of manhood that is Bruce-gag me with a spork-Wayne, I've got one thing he can't touch.  Never met Ra's, don't plan to.  So for her purposes, I'm a darn good 'protector'.  And I’m willing to work with that for now.  She’s an improvement, believe it or not, over the groupies.”

     Selina sighed.  “Okay, maybe that's all true.  Now.  Maybe right now, she doesn’t look so bad compared to your past girlfriends.  But what about when it's over?  ‘Over’ isn't a concept she understands, Eddie.  She imprints on a man.”

     Eddie shrugged.  “I can always just give Greg a call.  I’ll have his boys ship her back home.  If her father gets hold of her, she makes it sound like he’s going to ground her for the rest of her life.  My very own Talia kryptonite.”

     Selina looked a bit startled.

     “What?”

     “Nothing.  It’s just you’re not the first person I’ve heard use ‘Talia’ and ‘kryptonite’ in the same sentence.”

     Eddie decided he didn’t want to know who the first person was.  “Or worse, he’ll try to marry her off again,” he went on.  “According to her, years ago he tried to arrange a royal European wedding for her.  And she would have gone through with it, even after she found out the boy was gay as a three-dollar bill.  Lucky for her he died in the war.”

     “Which one?” Selina asked.

     “What do you mean, which one?” Eddie said blankly.

     It was the second reference in as many minutes that hinted at Selina knowing more about his girlfriend than he did... which was a little discomfiting.

     “Never mind.  Okay, so you’re saying she’ll do anything to stay over here.”

     He nodded.  “We’ll see if she can follow my orders as well as she followed her old man’s.  Starting with whether she can be as punctual as Kittlemeier requires.  Then we’ll see how she looks in green.”

     “And the—” Selina grinned impishly and used a fingertip to trace a question mark across her chest.

     “I haven't decided between making it purple or yellow, but yeah, even that.”

     “Yellow,” Selina said instantly.  “Edward Richmond Nigma, so help me—

     “I think I’ll defer to your judgment,” he interrupted, going back to feeling nervous in an instant.

     “If you put a millimeter of purple anywhere on that woman’s body I’ll scratch - “

     “All right!” he told Selina.  He glanced at his watch.  “She should be there now.  I’ll call her now.”  Eddie pulled out his cell phone and made a quick call.  “Talia?  Tell Kittlemeier I want yellow, not purple… well, it wasn’t up to you anyway, but it’s nice you approve.”  Then he hung up.

     “Ugh,” Selina said.  “You have the spawn on speed-dial.”

     “It’s not like I have a wide circle of friends,” he said apologetically.  “And you’ll be thrilled to know that Talia is in total agreement on the choice of colors.”

     Selina made a face like she’d eaten something spoiled.  “Well, if you do get her in green with a big yellow question mark, I’ll pay to see it.”

     “Does that mean you’ll play nice the next time you see her?” Eddie asked.  “Relatively speaking, anyway.”

     “I always play nice,” Selina purred.  “It unnerves them.  - Now, you do realize she’s going to be a pretty useless sidekick?”

     “Someone who has zero chance of hurting your boyfriend, you mean?  Probably for the best.”

     “Well, aren’t you sweet.”

     Eddie paused.  “Did you want me to explain how she and I first hooked up?”

     “No, Eddie.  It’s safe to say that I do not want mental images of you and the spawn in bed together.”

     “I’m not that gruesome a sight, you know.”

     “Eddie.”

     “Right, sorry.”  

     Ivy took several deep breaths.  It was going to be all right.  She had clarity now.  Clarity was a good thing.  She could see clearly that—that she really didn’t want to see herself in the mirror right now.

     So she smashed the one over her sink, and the destruction was complete.

     “Ivy?  Is there perhaps something this devious devotee could help you with?”

     Ivy spun around in horror.  Penguin, who had undoubtedly heard the commotion, was standing in the doorway and looking at her.  While she was naked.

     She wasn’t sure what upset her more—that he was seeing her without any clothes on, or that he was seeing her at all.  “GET OUT!” she shrieked, shoving him backwards and slamming the door behind him.

     Now she was all by herself.

     Ivy suddenly burst into helpless tears.  That was it.  She had nothing left.  This grand experiment was over.  After tonight she was packing up, moving out, and slinking back to Robinson Park to reclaim her old life.

     The pampering session had spiraled downhill almost immediately.  Whether it was because of negligence, denial, or most likely a combination of the two, Ivy had let herself go to a degree that was completely unacceptable.  Oh sure, it was hard to look your best after a few weeks in a cell at Arkham.  But at least there she’d made some effort to maintain herself.  Here, she’d made none.  She hadn’t had the time.  She just spent every day sitting at a desk.

     That new sedentary, indoors lifestyle was almost certainly to blame for what she’d found when she looked at herself, really looked at herself, in the mirror.  The circles under her eyes had darkened, probably due to poorer circulation.  Her curls had lost some of their body and bounce, making her hair look limp by comparison to what it was six months ago.  Her face looked wan, except for a few oily spots around the nose, and she had a miserable suspicion that she was getting something that resembled a pimple above her upper lip.

     Most importantly, she was forced to admit that she’d put on weight.  Not just a pound or two—it was closer to ten or even fifteen.  And most of it had gone right to her midsection.  Those extra calories were there for all to see in her thighs, her belly, and her ass.  Of course her breasts had gotten a little bigger too, but not in a good way.  Her clothes had been fitting a little more snugly than they had in the past, but she hadn’t really thought much of it.  (Or more likely, ignored what was right in front of her.)  It seemed counter-intuitive, since she was barely eating these days, but Ivy guessed that her metabolism had responded by slowing to a crawl.  That might explain why she’d felt even more tired than usual lately.

     She was certainly tired now, but that might have more to do with the fact that she’d just torn apart the bathroom in a fit of pure rage.

     She hadn’t been eating, she hadn’t been exercising, and even with the recent upswing, she’d been worrying constantly about the Rydbergii.  And Harley, of course.  She looked awful, and she felt worse.

     What the hell had happened to her?  Ivy’s beauty wasn’t a privilege, it was her goddamned right!

     Another unpleasant thought struck her.  (What was one more?)  Just because Ivy had been ignoring the changes in her looks, that didn’t mean everyone else had.  Was that why everyone wanted to see her serving drinks at the Lounge?  So they could laugh at the all-new, bigger, fatter Poison Ivy?

     “No more,” Ivy said to herself.  She was a proud woman.  Sometimes her pride kept her going when nothing else would.  But her pride had been battered beyond recovery by now.  Everything had changed the night Joker died.  That would always be a good memory, but every decision she’d made afterwards had been a mistake.  She would have cut her losses and gotten out long ago if she’d been able to admit that sooner.

     Well, if there was a silver lining here, that was it.  The face in the mirror had woken Ivy up.  Tonight would be the last night the Rydbergii Lounge would be open for business.  After tonight it would be open season on every man who ever came to the Lounge to gloat.  Jenna’s would no longer have any competition to worry about, but Jenna wouldn’t have long to enjoy her victory.  With Ivy returning to her criminal roots, she could exact her vengeance on the former groupie any way she chose.

     And Ivy would devote the remainder of her spare time to getting back the incredible beauty that her image and reputation demanded.  She’d even hire Selina as a personal trainer if necessary.

     She closed her eyes and sighed.  Harley would have to fend for herself.  The doctors certainly wouldn’t let her visit any longer.  Perhaps it was for the best.  Harley’s condition had only made her more depressed.  If Ivy was going to cut her losses, then Harley would be just one more loss.

     Tonight the Lounge would open as usual, and everyone would believe that Ivy was still tamed.  She’d smile and serve drinks and let them point at her waistline behind her back.       

     And tomorrow, Poison Ivy would strike.

     Talia looked dubiously at herself in the mirror.  Other than the fishnet stockings, which made her look like a whore, it was a fair approximation of what the little old tailor was preparing for her.  Green, form-fitting spandex hugging her whole body, from her neckline down to her ankles.  Oversized gloves, boots and belt in an abhorrent shade of purple.  And a large question mark on her chest in that same appalling color, the upper curve caressing the swell of her breasts.

     At least Edward had decided to make the question mark yellow instead of purple.  It had not been her right to have a say in the matter, but she had sincerely hoped it would be yellow.  The purple, well… it was all too reminiscent of the dreadful she-cat.

     What rotten luck Talia had, she thought bitterly.  After years of chasing her Beloved, only to lose in the end to the detestable Catwoman, she had now fallen in with a man who had made it very clear - Selina Kyle was his best friend, and if she forced him to choose between them, Talia would be "on the slow boat back to Mongolia".

     Still, Talia could find some solace in the fact that Edward had taken her in, despite the Cat's own disapproval.

     Talia sucked in her chest and leaned forward a bit more.  Then she sighed.  How she looked wasn't the problem.  She had maintained her figure over the years, and even in the unforgiving spandex, she would not disappoint Edward.

     The problem - oh, hells, why not be honest?  There was more than one problem with the outfit, with this whole situation. 

     Fishnets or not, the outfit would have been considered a monstrosity in her father's court.  In the society she had been raised since birth, any woman, even the Demon's Daughter, would have been viewed as the worst kind of criminal for dressing so.  Clearly Gotham was not her father's court, judging from the way people like Catwoman or Poison Ivy dressed.  But Talia's world followed her wherever she went.  She looked in the mirror with ancient eyes and thought Harlot.

     It was also, undeniably, a uniform.  She'd found these clothes in a large box in a closet while looking around Edward's lair.  The profusion of green tights, masks, and belts, everything covered with question marks, had made it clear.  These things had all been worn by her predecessors.  And now it was Talia's turn.

     Over the years her rank had exempted her from DEMON dress codes.  She had always dressed in her own unique style.  The last time she had actually worn some kind of uniform was when she was much younger.  Her father had sent her to Eger for three moons to undergo the training of the League of Assassins.  It had been a formality only, so she could take her place as its leader, a role befitting the Demon Head’s daughter.

     And, for someone who had lived the pampered life of the Demon Head's daughter, every day had been like being struck with a bucket of cold water.  She had been humiliated to learn that she could not perform up to the standard DEMON demanded.  They had all seen it, her fellow students, her instructors.  And yet she had been there among them and destined to be placed before them all.  They had not hidden their contempt and hatred.  The training was grueling and each day it grew worse, but she had stayed because her father demanded it.  Stayed, that is, until she flunked out before making fifth-tier ajax.

     It was not long after that her father had begun crafting schemes that involved marrying her off.

     So Talia could be excused if she thought the big question mark on her chest was most fitting, since she had to wonder if this new experiment would be any more successful than the last.  Or if Edward would be shipping her off a month from now.  As far as she knew, being a criminal's sidekick in Gotham wasn't the same as being a DEMON assassin, but there had to be similarities.  Was she doomed to fail here as well?

     For the first time in years, Talia also found herself thinking of her mother.  Had she felt like this before she married her father?  Had Melisandre doubted herself before she became an extension of the Demon's Head?

     Talia had no way of knowing.  She barely remembered her.  She'd mostly been raised by female servants and male tutors.  And then she'd been assassinated while Talia was still a child.  All her father would say of Melisandre was that she was very beautiful, and that she came from one of the best families.  Perhaps that was all he knew of her.  Anything else would probably have been irrelevant to him.  For all Talia knew, her mother had been a genius - or dumb as a bag of sand.

     She had no other example to learn from, though.  Her mother would have been told to remain quiet, to look beautiful, and to serve her liege and husband.  Talia could always do that.  She'd been trained to do that her whole life.

     She was not sure that was what Edward wanted, however.  Certainly the sex had been different.  Talia had never made love to a modern Western male before.  Apparently Edward wanted her to enjoy it, and to show her appreciation during copulation, rather than lying still and waiting for the man to do all the work.

     And remaining quiet wasn't always going to be possible.  Edward could talk without stopping for fifteen minutes at a time about subjects which she was quietly embarrassed to discover she knew little about.  He was an absolutely brilliant man, perhaps almost as much as Beloved, and he expected her to tell him how smart he was.  But he also expected her to try to keep up with him.  It was very hard, but like the League of Assassins, she had tried.

     The first step, Talia had found, had been deciphering Edward's language.  It had taken time for her to understand that the ungrammatical and oddly constructed phrases which he would toss about, were actually anagrams of what he really had on his mind.  If she wasn't going to look like an utter dolt, she had to figure out what those anagrams meant before she was left completely behind.

     Her first minor success had come two days ago.  He had paused for breath long enough for Talia to ponder the meaning of BROAD CHASERS and hesitantly ask, "This 'rare chessboard', how much security is there?"  Edward had looked at her with something approaching satisfaction, and then told her how much.  Talia had glowed inside, much as she glowed now thinking about it.

     The Riddler hadn't been what she was looking for when she was searching for a new protector.  And becoming a costumed sidekick hadn't been what she had in mind for herself.  But Edward obviously found her attractive, and she suspected he would find her more attractive yet when he saw her in her new green (and yellow, let it be a good omen it was yellow) outfit. 

     It felt different to be wanted for something as simple as her looks.  Father had wanted her because she was his heir.  Beloved had wanted her only for her relationship to her father.  So had Leivermore—and she’d proven just as unqualified at Lioncorp as she had at the League.  Edward just wanted her because he was attracted to her.  He liked something about her.

     It felt different, and good, and easier somehow.

     In fact, now that she thought of it, Talia rather thought she'd leave this older costume on until he returned.   

     She thought with some satisfaction that she could make him forget all about the hellcat for a while.

     Clayface looked dubiously at the glass Ivy had just set down in front of him.  “This is a Clay Pigeon?”

     “No, it’s a Greyhound,” she said sweetly.

     “I ordered a Clay Pigeon.”

     “And I don’t care.”

     He leaned back.  “Geez, you get a few extra customers and suddenly you think you’re home free.  Customer service never hurt anybody, you know.”

     Ivy smiled slyly at him.  “Oh, don’t worry, Hagen.  Starting tomorrow, everyone here tonight will begin receiving my full and undivided attention.”

     Clayface looked a little troubled by this.  Ivy resisted the urge to burst out laughing.  She supposed she’d leave him alone after tonight.  He’d done exactly what she asked for.  It was nice seeing him obeying her orders.

     But if he ever pulled a repeat of that potpourri incident, all bets were off again.

     Ivy continued to be all sweetness and light after that.  She even sauntered a bit as she monitored the lounge.  They could sneer and laugh behind their hands now.  It’d be the last thing they enjoyed in quite some time.  She felt FREE.  They all thought she was there for their own private enjoyment, but she was enjoying it most of all. 

     The only problem would be Penguin.  He would be due for another dose of pheromones later tonight, but there was no point.  It wasn’t like she could bring Cobblepot with her to Robinson Park, or like she even wanted to.  He was adequate when it came to menial chores, she supposed, but she really didn’t need another sidekick.

     Not that she had any, not as long as Harley…

     Ivy shrugged a bit uncomfortably.  It was all up to Harley now.  Did it hurt to see Harley like that?  Yes, but Ivy had a new set of problems to worry about now. 

     Anyway, Penguin would probably be a little angry with her once he regained his senses.  Okay, probably a lot.  She’d cost him a great deal of money.  It wouldn’t be such a big deal if he simply chose to stick with her renovations, but knowing him, he’d insist on spending all that money to turn it back into an iceberg.

     She’d let him rant and rave at her, but it wasn’t like he could DO anything.  Ivy certainly had no plans to stop using her special herbal supplements.  If he thought he could keep her out of the Lounge without her turning everyone inside into male zombies and female BFFs, he was welcome to try!

     She smiled to herself.  You know, she might actually enjoy seeing the Batman again.  It had been so long since she’d tried to kill him.  It really brought back fond memories.

     No matter what happened with Batman or Penguin or Jenna or anyone else, one thing wouldn’t change.  The Joker was still dead.

     Gaia, that would always be enough for her.

     “Ms. Isley?”

     Ivy turned around.  “Raven, what is it?”

     “There’s a phone call for you.  It’s Dr. Bartholomew from Arkham.  He says it’s important.”

     She raised an eyebrow.  What on Gaia’s green earth could be important enough to call her about at this hour?

     A bolt of hope suddenly shot through her.  Maybe Harley was better.  Maybe Harley had escaped.  And when Ivy returned to Robinson Park, Harley would be there waiting for her.

     She almost fancied she could hear birds bursting into song.

     Walking briskly to the front podium, Ivy picked up the phone.  “Yes, doctor?” she asked pleasantly.  “Mm-hm?… What?… What?”

     The phone dropped from fingers that had gone numb in an instant.  Ivy slowly turned to look at Raven.  Whatever the hostess saw in Ivy’s face, it made her blanch.

     “I have to go,” Ivy said blankly.

     “Ms. Isley, what—”

     “Close up without me,” Ivy added.  “I won’t be back tonight.”

     Then Ivy turned and bolted out the front doors.  She didn’t even think about how she was going to get to Arkham at this hour.  All she thought about was what Dr. Bartholomew had told her.

     Harley had escaped from her cell.  All well and good, but she hadn’t gotten far.  They found her in a restroom, unconscious, the scissors she’d used to slash her wrists still in one hand.

     To be continued…