A/N: This was originally a oneshot, but is no longer.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I just play with their stories.

A soft thump came from Ivy's front door. She had been tending to some new plants she bought earlier that day and, although the sun had already set, was arranging them in her small, recklessly-made greenhouse. The unidentified sound echoing back from her front door broke her concentration. She stood up slowly and placed down a half-full clay pot of various small succulents at her feet.

"Hello?" She tentatively asked the humid air around her. There was no response. She tiptoed into her living room and glanced around looking for an object she could use to defend herself in case there was something threatening outside of her home. She spotted the worn broom she kept propped in the archway leading into her small, cracking kitchen. She walked over to the broom and grabbed it in a single lithe hand.

Holding the broom in front of her she leaned down next to her front door.

"Hello?" She asked again. Still no response.

She grabbed the handle of the door and counted softly to herself. One. She raised the broom, just in case there really was something outside. She just got out of Arkham again. If someone had already ratted her out there would be hell to pay. Two. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes. Three. She yanked the door open and looked outside. Nothing. She let down her guard and lowered her broom.

"Red?" She was about to close the door again when soft voice arose from the ground in front of her bare feet. She looks down quickly. A small, blonde woman was shivering at her doorstep. Her wet blonde hair was plastered to her face and neck.

"Oh, Harley." Ivy's face softened and she leaned down carefully, "What did he do to you this time?"

Harley just shook her head and Ivy helped her to her feet and into her small half-timbered bathroom.

"I just wish he treated you better, Harls."

"I know, Red."

Ivy let go of Harley so she could sit on the edge of the tub and grabbed a faded blue towel and some of Harley's pajamas that she left behind once from a small closet outside of the bathroom door. It was Harley's favorite towel. It had definitely seen it's number of days, both good and bad. It's frayed edges exposed this much. No matter how old it got, though, Harley demanded that Ivy keep it. And, of course, Ivy did.

"Here, love. Get warm." Ivy helped Harley wrap herself in the towel and laid the clothes on the bathroom counter, "I'll go grab you some hot chocolate."

It had become tradition, albeit a very painful one, that every time Harley came over Ivy would help her settle in with some comfy clothes, hot chocolate, and a warm bed to sleep in until Harley felt ready to get up. Harley never wanted to talk about what had gone on which led her back to Ivy's doorstep and, although Ivy always asked, she never pushed to hard. That wasn't to say that she didn't make her disdain for Harley's other companion abundantly clear, but she always gave Harley a break after a while. She knew Harley was doing her best and that yelling at her about the Joker wouldn't make anything better. It never had.

Ivy walked into her kitchen and cleared some old seed packets off of the counter. She grabbed a mug from above her fridge and wiped out dust from the inside. When she finished making Harley's hot chocolate she took a sip and, deciding that it was good enough, carried it back to Harley.

Upon walking back into the bathroom, the first thing Ivy noticed was that Harley was dry, dressed, and completely passed out in the bathtub.

Ivy chuckled to herself, "Harls." She placed the mug on the counter with a soft click and looked into the mirror.

She examines herself closely and, sighing, she turned to leave again when she heard a quiet scuffling behind her.

"Pammy?"

Ivy smiled to herself and looked over her shoulder, "Yes, sleepyhead?"

"Come back."

Ivy leaned next to the tub and looked into Harley's blue eyes, "What is it?"

Harley shuffled to the side and patted that space in the tub next to her.

"Harley, I'm not gonna get in the tub with you. Let's get you in bed." Harley shook her head and pouted up at Ivy, patting the floor of the tub again. Ivy shook her head, but flipped the light switch off and climbed in anyway. Harley closed her eyes and leaned against Ivy, smirking to herself. Ivy kissed the top of Harley's head, "The things I do for you."

When Harley began to quietly snore, Ivy traced the veins on Harley's arm with her finger, noticing the difference between Harley's pale skin and Ivy's own green skin. Ivy always questioned why Harley was so easy to accept their differences. At this point, Ivy was more plant than human and Harley was probably the only thing really keeping her from converting all the way. And yet somehow Ivy's strange genetic alterations didn't sway Harley in her love for Ivy. It didn't phase her at all. Ivy knew Harley was extraordinarily accepting - look at how long she's put up with the Joker for - and Ivy was never one to really doubt herself, but when it came to Harley she couldn't help it. She knew that she was better for Harley than the monster she was currently residing with. For some reason, though, she felt like even she, herself, wasn't even that great. Sure, she'd look out for Harley through anything and everything, but a life of crime isn't an ideal life for anybody. There wasn't much she or Harley could do about that now, though. They'd been in the game for too long.