Miriam

Poison Ivy's base is covered in vines. They move slightly as I watch, rustling. The effect would probably frighten someone who hadn't once fought a behemoth made entirely from sunflowers. Moving plants are nothing.

I knock on her door, although she's probably already sensed me. The door opens by itself. I walk inside, following the path with the least plants. Wouldn't do to crush anything. I don't fancy being killed by thorns.

“Hello? Ms. Ivy?”

“Just Ivy, remember? Come a little closer, dear.” She's sitting on a throne made of vines. It's a little pretentious. Her eyes glow a pale green.

“Hi there. It's nice to formally meet you. I'm Miriam.” I keep my tone simple and pleasant. Poison Ivy seems like the kind of person who likes to seem more powerful than other people. Then again, she probably is more powerful than other people.

Crane can't move anything with his mind. Killer Croc can't control plants. Bane can't steal hearts with a kiss, although Catwoman might be able to...I'm brought back to the present when Poison Ivy smiles at me, extending a hand. The tips of her fingers are green tinged. I shake, watching the green veins pulse beneath her skin.

“It's nice to meet you as well, Miriam.” She takes my hand, turning it palm up, and places a small vial filled with a sort of brown paste into my hand. I'm careful to tuck it away, safe.

“Thank you, Ivy.” She smiles at me and blows a kiss. I take that to signal goodbye. I grin at her and turn to leave when an explosion rocks the building, sending me tumbling. Poison Ivy's mouth flattens into a thin line.

“Joker.” It's too late for me to escape, so I stand still. My gun is a comfortable, heavy weight in my hand. Joker steps into the room in a cloud of smoke. Poison Ivy hisses as her plants die under his feet.

“Ivy, Ivy, Ivy. I'm here, ha, for a visit.”

I aim at his stupid, grinning face. Poison Ivy puts a hand on my arm and presses downward. “Don't worry, dear, this is how he usually arrives.”

The mousy scarred girl that follows him around...Quinn?...scurries in after him, eyes cast down. Her face is bruised. Joker probably hits her. I don't really care. She's weak. The last man who tried to abuse me died with his intestines round his neck.

Joker notices my gun, grins, and bows. “Have no fear, ha, Ms. Miri. I, ha, come in peace.”

“My name is Miriam,” I say flatly, taking the safety off. Joker holds up his hands and laughs.

“Of course, of course. Really, hoo, there's no danger here.” He pauses, smirking. “Well, no more than usual.”

Poison Ivy places a hand at my back. “You may leave, dear.” I shrug and head out, brushing roughly past Quinn. There's a crunch and something sharp pricks my skin. The room goes still. The vial, it must've broken in the explosion and now the poisons are inside me. Joker must sense something is wrong, because he's gone in an instant.

“Miriam?” Poison Ivy says softly. I feel weak and dizzy. I'm more afraid than I've been in a long time.

“What...is this?” I ask slowly, my mouth like mush.

“Belladonna, nepeta, a few other toxins. You won't die, Miriam.” The world is spinning and getting darker. “You'll hallucinate. It won't be pretty. I'll call Crane.”

Crane shouldn't be here. He's my employer. This is my fault. I don't have the ability to argue anymore, though.

I'm brought back to the first time a job went wrong, blood everywhere, holding my partner's hand as it goes limp. He was beautiful and funny and my best friend. Charlie was beaten to death, mouth swollen and bloody as he begged for me to make the pain go away. I held his head in my lap and cried for hours, then set the building on fire and went off the grid for a few weeks. I moan and lean over, vomiting. Poison Ivy's voice is far off and rumbling. I'm flashing through every awful moment of my life, every betrayal, every death. Monsters growl and snap at me from the shadows. I fall to my knees and shake.

Someone is touching me, warm hands along the ridges of my spine. There's a sharp pain in my arm, and the fear begins to fade. Poison Ivy is gone, but Crane kneels with my head in his lap. I'm reminded of Charlie, which makes me lean over and vomit again, the stuff white. Crane holds my hair back. I'm still shuddering, though my mind is clear.

“S-Sorry, sir. I ruined you-your vial,” I mumble, wiping my mouth.

“It's fine, Miriam. Are you alright?” I lift a trembling hand to brush his fingers and shake my head. “No-no, sir. I'm not.”

“I thought you preferred calling me Crane,” he murmurs, threading his fingers through my hair. His voice is lower than usual, concerned. I gather myself together and sit up. I've been through worse than this. Memories, that's all they were, albeit repeated in perfect detail.

“Let's go home. And don't try any pyschobabble on me,” I warn as Crane opens his mouth. He nods, body tightening.

“I did not find your fear delicious,” he admits, looking away. “I did not like to see you scared.”

I'm surprised when he reaches out to take my hand. I lean into him anyway. Then I realize he's limping and sweaty and remember his injuries.

“You shouldn't have come to get me, not when you're hurt,” I scold, but he just laughs.

“I'm fine, Miriam. I'm on enough drugs to keep me going for days. You were more important.” I flush and grin at him.

“Thanks, Crane.”