Ficlet: "May Old Acquaintance Be Forgot", Rated T. Harley/Ivy (references Harley/Joker)
Title: May Old Acquaintance Be Forgot
Author: Sionnain
Fandom: Batman
Pairing: Harley/Ivy, references Harley/Joker
Rating: Teen (references the Joker doing bad things in a vague way)
Summary: Harley never knows what to write on Ivy's Christmas card.
Word Count: Approx. 750 words.
AN: A short little ficlet, written for the Theatrical_muse prompt "Old Acquaintance". Thanks to Carlos_thedwarf for the beta!
May Old Acquaintance Be Forgot
Harley never knows what to sign on Ivy's Christmas card.
Hey, Ivy. I miss you, and I hope to see you soon! sounds so vague, so cheerful, so fake. Harley sounds that way a lot of the time, but Ivy always knows it's a lie.
Why haven't you called me? I know you hate him but you could at least call me, couldn't you, Red? No, that won'tt do, either. It sounds plaintive and weak, and Ivy hates it when Harley is either of those things, so Harley doesn't write that, either.
I hope you have a Merry Christmas is too boring, and Harley hates being boring, boring people get left alone and no one wants them and she is never, ever going to be boring, no, not her, not Harley Quinn.
Harley writes six cards and scratches them all out, tearing them up into little pieces and throwing them on the floor; they flutter down into a little pile, like snow. She's careful when she reaches for another card, not wanting to pick up one of Joker's. Her cards have snowmen and penguins on them, holding hands and ice skating, and underneath is written Snow Pals in glitter. His cards have something bad inside that smokes and burns, and Harley doesn't want to send Ivy one of those by mistake.
She drinks a glass of wine, a deep rich Merlot, ignoring the screaming coming from her bedroom. (Joker's idea of "celebrating Christmas" has to stem from some terrible trauma, she thinks--it's best to just let him work it out in his own way rather than interfere, isn't it? She's a psychologist, she knows these things, knows how it must feel to be trapped and afraid in your own mind. She just wishes that he would use his room, because getting blood out of flannel sheets is really hard and they're new, she bought them for herself and she'd really liked them.) Harley stares at the card for a long time, and she doesn't realize it's been an hour and she's on her third glass of wine when finally she begins to write.
Dear Ivy,
I know why you won't send me a card this year. Because I'm back with Joker and because you think he's bad for me. Ivy, sometimes I fall asleep at night and I wish you were here. I never feel safe with him, not like I do with you. Maybe you could call me sometime and we could go have lunch, together, steal something shiny and pretty and expensive?
I bought a poinsettia because it was red and green and it reminded me of us, but it died because I can't take care of it. I can't take care of anything. You're really good at it, though. Taking care of things. Taking care of me.
I miss you.
Love,
Harley
Harley stares in horror at what she's just written. She can hear Joker's laughter, sharp and brittle like breaking glass, pouring out of the bedroom. In a few minutes he'll want her to come in. Papa has a present for you, Harley-girl, yes he does.
Harley takes the card she wrote for Ivy and rips it into little shreds. The dead plant, the poinsettia, is sitting in the corner. She buries the strips of paper (upon which are the traitorous words, words she doesn't mean, words she can't ever mean) in the earth, which is brittle and dry beneath her fingers. Maybe all it needs is some water. I could put water in it, put it somewhere sunny and bright. Maybe it isn't dead after all. Maybe I could take of it and bring it back to life and it would be okay.
Joker's laugh is something inhuman, something maniacal and terrifying. Harley stares at the plant at her feet, and takes it outside so the frost will kill it.
She doesn't send Ivy a card. There's too much she doesn't know how to say.
Author: Sionnain
Fandom: Batman
Pairing: Harley/Ivy, references Harley/Joker
Rating: Teen (references the Joker doing bad things in a vague way)
Summary: Harley never knows what to write on Ivy's Christmas card.
Word Count: Approx. 750 words.
AN: A short little ficlet, written for the Theatrical_muse prompt "Old Acquaintance". Thanks to Carlos_thedwarf for the beta!
May Old Acquaintance Be Forgot
Harley never knows what to sign on Ivy's Christmas card.
Hey, Ivy. I miss you, and I hope to see you soon! sounds so vague, so cheerful, so fake. Harley sounds that way a lot of the time, but Ivy always knows it's a lie.
Why haven't you called me? I know you hate him but you could at least call me, couldn't you, Red? No, that won'tt do, either. It sounds plaintive and weak, and Ivy hates it when Harley is either of those things, so Harley doesn't write that, either.
I hope you have a Merry Christmas is too boring, and Harley hates being boring, boring people get left alone and no one wants them and she is never, ever going to be boring, no, not her, not Harley Quinn.
Harley writes six cards and scratches them all out, tearing them up into little pieces and throwing them on the floor; they flutter down into a little pile, like snow. She's careful when she reaches for another card, not wanting to pick up one of Joker's. Her cards have snowmen and penguins on them, holding hands and ice skating, and underneath is written Snow Pals in glitter. His cards have something bad inside that smokes and burns, and Harley doesn't want to send Ivy one of those by mistake.
She drinks a glass of wine, a deep rich Merlot, ignoring the screaming coming from her bedroom. (Joker's idea of "celebrating Christmas" has to stem from some terrible trauma, she thinks--it's best to just let him work it out in his own way rather than interfere, isn't it? She's a psychologist, she knows these things, knows how it must feel to be trapped and afraid in your own mind. She just wishes that he would use his room, because getting blood out of flannel sheets is really hard and they're new, she bought them for herself and she'd really liked them.) Harley stares at the card for a long time, and she doesn't realize it's been an hour and she's on her third glass of wine when finally she begins to write.
Dear Ivy,
I know why you won't send me a card this year. Because I'm back with Joker and because you think he's bad for me. Ivy, sometimes I fall asleep at night and I wish you were here. I never feel safe with him, not like I do with you. Maybe you could call me sometime and we could go have lunch, together, steal something shiny and pretty and expensive?
I bought a poinsettia because it was red and green and it reminded me of us, but it died because I can't take care of it. I can't take care of anything. You're really good at it, though. Taking care of things. Taking care of me.
I miss you.
Love,
Harley
Harley stares in horror at what she's just written. She can hear Joker's laughter, sharp and brittle like breaking glass, pouring out of the bedroom. In a few minutes he'll want her to come in. Papa has a present for you, Harley-girl, yes he does.
Harley takes the card she wrote for Ivy and rips it into little shreds. The dead plant, the poinsettia, is sitting in the corner. She buries the strips of paper (upon which are the traitorous words, words she doesn't mean, words she can't ever mean) in the earth, which is brittle and dry beneath her fingers. Maybe all it needs is some water. I could put water in it, put it somewhere sunny and bright. Maybe it isn't dead after all. Maybe I could take of it and bring it back to life and it would be okay.
Joker's laugh is something inhuman, something maniacal and terrifying. Harley stares at the plant at her feet, and takes it outside so the frost will kill it.
She doesn't send Ivy a card. There's too much she doesn't know how to say.