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The drive to Gotham had been long, but uneventful - at least up until the end. The end had been the sight of a man, or a thing, covered in lamia, slowly walking down alongside the highway.
It took Janet but a few moments to recognize him: he'd been an employee at the chemical plant where they'd met each other for the first time. The one Pam had filled with lamia spores, where she had taken pity on only one, small little human among dozens.
She put him out of his misery.
She was disconcerted, though.
Half an hour later, she met Harley on the edge of Slaughter Swamp. Harls had brought a welcome home sign, and a bouquet of flowers stolen from a funeral home. "Hi there, gorgeous," she said. "Took you long enough."
There was a lot to tell her. Fandom. Janet. The wild lamia. But Pam put it all aside. She was home at last. The world could wait. With Harley in her arms, all she wanted to do was lock it all out, and cover herself in love.
---
And it worked, for a week. Pam woke up every morning to a dream: Harley's apartment, Harley warm in her arms, the sunlight filtering in through the windows. Birds singing outside. Heaven.
Unfortunately, she couldn't stay there. And so on Monday morning she got up, made her way down from Harley's apartment, and stepped back into the filth of Gotham City. A place she'd hoped never to set foot in again. A place where not seeing things was as important a survival skill as not being seen.
( So. You're back. )
[[ nfb due to distance! taken from Poison Ivy #13 by G. Willow Wilson. this has definitely taken five times longer than I wanted but we're almost there. ]]
It took Janet but a few moments to recognize him: he'd been an employee at the chemical plant where they'd met each other for the first time. The one Pam had filled with lamia spores, where she had taken pity on only one, small little human among dozens.
She put him out of his misery.
She was disconcerted, though.
Half an hour later, she met Harley on the edge of Slaughter Swamp. Harls had brought a welcome home sign, and a bouquet of flowers stolen from a funeral home. "Hi there, gorgeous," she said. "Took you long enough."
There was a lot to tell her. Fandom. Janet. The wild lamia. But Pam put it all aside. She was home at last. The world could wait. With Harley in her arms, all she wanted to do was lock it all out, and cover herself in love.
---
And it worked, for a week. Pam woke up every morning to a dream: Harley's apartment, Harley warm in her arms, the sunlight filtering in through the windows. Birds singing outside. Heaven.
Unfortunately, she couldn't stay there. And so on Monday morning she got up, made her way down from Harley's apartment, and stepped back into the filth of Gotham City. A place she'd hoped never to set foot in again. A place where not seeing things was as important a survival skill as not being seen.
( So. You're back. )
[[ nfb due to distance! taken from Poison Ivy #13 by G. Willow Wilson. this has definitely taken five times longer than I wanted but we're almost there. ]]
