We're gonna lose.

The fight has just begun, and already Harley is shaking her head, trying to clear it of traitorous thoughts, un-Harley-like thoughts. Foolish, irrational optimism is kinda her thing, right?

But – but – they had a plan. It was a long shot, yeah, but they were talking strategy and making bombs and all those good brave people were ready to fight – and then it all went to shit.

Betrayal. Nazis. The world is exploding in red and black, and not in a good way, not in a Harley way.

The plan had felt like . . . hope.

This feels like a last desperate stand.

Focus, Harl! We have BATWOMAN. Do they have a Batwoman? I don't think so. Harley's self-talk is actually working (well, a little bit anyway). Chin up, buttercup! Let's do this thing!

And then the gas hits, and Harley is coughing, helpless. And worse, she sees Batwoman coughing, helpless.

But then.

Then she hears HER.

Hears the voice of her love, ringing out above the din, cold with derision and burning with fury.

"Poison? You thought you could use poison . . . against me?"

Harley's still coughing, eyes still watering, but now she sees her.

And maybe it's the gas . . . maybe it's that she's sunk to her knees trying to expel it from her lungs . . . or maybe it's her feelings, complicated and the simplest thing in the world . . . but she swears Ivy towers over them all, suddenly appearing out of the fog like – like a goddess who's been wronged, an Amazon in the heat of battle, a really angry piece of broccoli (Harley giggles, maybe she breathed in a little too much of that gas).

But god. She's never seen anything more beautiful, more deadly. Ivy's hands are raised for battle. Her eyes blaze. The gas itself seems to shrink away from her, as if its very molecules know to fear her.

It's the sexiest fucking thing Harley has ever seen in her life.

She forces herself to focus. Red is speaking again, putting the Nazis in their place. "You thought we could be controlled – like pretty flowers in a hothouse garden. You thought we were roses and daisies and shrinking violets – but we are wild things."

Hell yeah, that's my girl! thinks Harley, taking an experimental breath. The gas is already starting to wear off, to slink back into its canisters, to run from her avenging angel.

The idiot Nazi is jabbering on about some anti-magic ring, but her Red cuts him off:

"You idiot boy – this isn't magic. This is science."

And her vines suddenly surge up, everywhere at once, crushing cans of poison with precision like they were made of paper, inconsequential in the face of such righteous violence.

"This. Is. Me."

She is terrifying, unstoppable, literally a force of nature – and, Harley remembers suddenly, probably super sexually frustrated from when they got interrupted in the kitchen.

Those bastards don't know what hit 'em.

But then something shifts, the Joker's Daughter calls another Raven who isn't their Raven but maybe is the real Raven? (because MAGIC IS REAL) and then the ground is rumbling and Ivy has done all she can with the gas.

As the team regroups, they run to one another, knowing they shouldn't, it's not the time, but screw that and now Harley's in her arms, clinging to her, kissing her face desperately and nothing else matters.

"Pamela!" says Selina.

"Seriously, you two!" says Renee Montoya.

Harley blushes and jumps down, pecks one last kiss on Ivy's nose as the battle rages around them. "Love you, babe! That was super hot! And I'm going to finish you off later, don't you worry about that!"

Now Ivy blushes a deep green, and even Montoya can't completely hide her smile.

Batwoman says, "Harley!" and as Harley skips off, she calls back, "We can catch up later, Other Red – it's time to go do my Harley thing!"

We're gonna win.

Harley is back, baby, and it's time for some action. She throws herself into it wholeheartedly: denting helmets, breaking kneecaps, wreaking havoc of the mallet variety wherever she can.

Finally, the tide starts to turn. (Just like Harley knew it would.) Giant Real Raven seems to be on their side now, and Joker's Daughter is getting desperate.

And then she sees it. It's big, brown, and glorious.

Harley knows just what to do.

A German pun here (come on Harley, you're better than this!), a well-placed mallet strike here – and the giant water barrel comes crashing down on the Nazis. On their tank, their heads, and – oh, did the wittle baby lose his special magic ring? HA!

Harley just looks at 'em. "You really wanna knock 'em dead – you're gonna need a bigger hammer."

And she skips off to find her next fight.

We won.

The battle is over. Baseball players, magicians, socialites, giant magic ladies, friends, neighbors, lovers – they came together and defeated evil.

The war's not won, but they'll live to fight another day.

Harley and Ivy stand with the others, back to back as Harley comforts a little girl and Ivy tries to rationally explain to a little boy how her plants were able to neutralize the poison gas. (It makes Harley giggle. Ivy is so adorably inept with children.)

"Ives?" Harley says, still resting her hand lightly on the little girl's shoulder.

"Mm?" says Ivy.

Harley leans back against her a little. "What you said today . . . when you were being a super hot green goddess of vengeance . . . I keep thinking about it."

"Which part?" Ivy asks.

"Well," says Harley carefully, "you made me realize that Mister J – hell, every man in my life, from my father on down – wanted to see me as a flower to be controlled. But you, Red? You let me be a wild thing."

She can't see Ivy's face, but she hears the smile in her voice. "Chère, I don't 'let' you be anything. You are a wild thing. A foul-mouthed, optimistic, bad-pun-making wild thing. And . . . I love you for it."

Now Harley spins, pulls Ivy around to face her, nuzzles against Ivy's neck as they hold each other tight. For once, she's speechless.

Ivy murmurs, "I've been thinking about what you said, too."

"Hmm?" says Harley absently.

"Oui," Ivy says, mischief creeping into her voice now. "And I don't know where we're going, or what lies ahead – but I am going to take you up on your offer to, how did you put it? – finish me off."

Harley lets out a surprised laugh and pulls back to look Ivy in the eyes. "Win a battle, make a joke?" she says. "Dr. Ysley, I do believe I might be rubbing off on you."

Ivy pulls her close again, buries her face in Harley's hair and says, "More than you know, my love. More than you know."

There's a flash of white light, growing brighter and brighter until they can't bear it.

And suddenly, they're not in Berlin anymore.