Knock-knock? Who's there? Cash! Cash who? No, thanks. I prefer peanuts.

Arkham Asylum.
Wayne BioChem Biohazard Secured Facility.
Inmate Quarters. 600 hours.

"Good morning, Red!!!!!!!!!!!!! Rise and shine Sleepy Head!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" [jumps out of cot]

"mmmmmmmmm........." [figure sleeping in adjacent facing cell stirs]

"Come on, Red!!!!!!!!! I know there's no sun and ya not a morning person till ya had ya second cuppa of hot water ............" [presses face against Plexiglas panel at sleeping figure in adjacent facing cell]

"mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm......." [sleeping figure in adjacent facing cell covers head with pillow and turns away]

Hey.......Get up Red!!!!!!! Don't go back to sleep!!!!!!!!........Don't make me come over!!!!!!!!!!!" [waves frantically at sleeping figure in adjacent facing cell]

"mmmmm....................." [sleeping figure in adjacent facing cell snorts and pulls blanket over head]

"RED!!!!!!! HEY RED!!!!!!!!!! IVY !!!!!!!!!!!! PAMMMMMMIE" [shouts and bangs fists against Plexiglas panel]

INTERCOM "Quinn, Step away from the Panel" [hazard warning lights blink]

"Hi handsome and how are we this morning?" [leans against the Plexiglas panel]

INTERCOM "I repeat, Step away from the Panel" [hazard warning lights blink faster]

"You'll let me out too won't ya, handsome?" [continues to lean against the Plexiglas panel]

INTERCOM "Quinn, Step away from the Panel. This is your last warning. " [hazard warning lights become a blur of motion]

"OK, OK, OK.........don't get ya panties in a twist... Shsssh the nerve of some people" [steps away from the Plexiglas panel. Hazard warning lights blink off]

"Come on, Red!!! Get up, Puh-Leeeeze!!!!!!! It's Wednesday. We get to go out for Garden Therapy. RED!!!!!!!!!" [goes on bended knees and wails at sleeping figure in adjacent facing cell]

"............zzzzzzzz......" [figure in adjacent facing cell continues sleeping under covers]

Knock-knock? Who's there? Guess! Guess who? Gestapo.

Summer in Arkham is beautiful. The moors break out in a riot of wildflowers turning the air thick and alive with their pollen. It's strange that she never noticed that before. Perhaps she wasn't looking or more likely she was looking for the wrong thing from the wrong person in the wrong place. She does that sometimes, play the fool's game hoping to win.

Pamela is lying on her back on the grass, her face haloed by windswept red; sensuous green eyes half closed in the brilliant sunlight. Pamela is wild and terrible and so beautiful it brings out a lump in her throat. She wonders why it is that stolen moments like these are the sweetest.

An hour in the open grass behind the shed when they should be dirtying their hands in the vegetable patch. She knew that Pamela won't have minded it either way. Pamela was happiest when she was out in the sun, where the green grew and the flowers sing.

They called it garden therapy, their name for forced labour. Labour was the first price, the original purchase that paid for all things. It was not by gold or by silver, but by labour, that the wealth of the world was originally bought.

A stolen hour purchased with a fist full of dollars. People speak contemptuously of money; she wonders if they had ever tried to do without it. Such a shame about Smith's mother, all those medical bills and no insurance.

She reaches over and runs the tips of her fingertips lightly over Pamela's dark ripe lips. She watches as Pamela smiles at her touch, lips opening wider ever so slightly. She knows Pamela will try to suck her fingers if she can. Pamela is such a tease but she is not in a mood to be teased.

She has spent the past week looking across a gulf of desire at Pamela; watched her purse her lips as she flipped through that thread bare copy of Silent Spring; watched her curl up like a fetus, alone and cold in the long cool nights; watched her smile and coo to that pathetic pot of wild rose they allow her to keep. Watched, and wanted and longed to smell, hold and touch. If Hell has three gates: lust, anger, and greed, she has travelled through them all in turn.

Her fingers deftly trace their way down delicate cheek and chin to the hollow of that inviting neck. She finds she cannot resist the lure of flesh for spirit is weak where flesh should be strong. She places her hands slowly around Pamela's deliciously exposed neck and feels the rush of blood under the cool pale skin as she tenderly presses down. Pamela doesn't even stir. Pamela knows her too well.

She withdraws her hands and a quiet sigh escapes from her companion's lips. She wonders if Pamela understands that to know someone well is to love and hate them in turn. Pamela is lying very still on her back in the cool grass seemingly oblivious to everything except the sun in her face. She is the taller and stronger of the two. If Pamela is afraid of her, Pamela doesn't show it.

She wonders what diabolic schemes are being played under those half closed eyes and whether they involve her. They were sometime partners in crime. In the beginning there was Harley and Ivy, two girls trying to make their way in a man's world. She wonders how and when those lines started to blur and fade. Now they were Harleen and Pamela.

She leans over and starts kissing Pamela's neck gently; careful not to leave incriminating marks on that perfect expanse of skin. Pamela smells of mint, and lemon-grass and fresh apple pie out of an oven. Her senses filled to intoxication, she is in walking dream naked and running free and wild in a rain-forest; it is vibrant, vivid and serenely bliss full.

She feels Pamela's hand on her chest feeling for the zipper of her standard issue orange jumpsuit. She smiles to herself and gently pushes Pamela's hand away. She has not been the only one the past week watching, wanting and longing. With a fluidity born of practice she catches Pamela's zipper while moving to straddle her and in a smooth motion opens her from sternum to crotch. Pamela is beautiful so beautiful half naked under her that it almost takes her breathe away.

Pamela's eyes are now open and she sees her own hunger reflected in those curious emerald greens. Nothing stirs and shapes one's desire like another's. She feels Pamela's hands tug urgently at the shoulders of her jumpsuit pulling her down. She resists. She is not ready to feed Pamela's need. Not just yet. Pamela fights her resistance and the green eyes begin to cloud over. She feels Pamela's increasing frustration give way to the first stirrings of fury. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but lust's passion will be served; it demands, it militates, it tyrannizes.

She leans over the woman stretched out under her, their bodies barely touching and breathes heavily into her ear as if to say this is for the time you let me watch you flipped through that worn out book when you knew I wanted to smell you on my skin; this is for the time you let me watch you sleep when you knew I was awake with thoughts of holding you; this is for the time you let me watch you play with that stupid plant when you knew I wanted to touch you in your most secret of places.

Pamela laughs a soft low sound and turns to face her; emerald green to baby blue and tells her the three words she wants most in the world to hear.

Please. Harley. Quinn.

Knock-knock! Who's there? Nay Answer me; stand and unfold yourself!

Arkham Asylum.
Wayne BioChem Biohazard Secured Facility.
Inmate Shower Area. 1500 hours.

"This is the life isn't it, Red? Nothing like a nice relaxing hot shower!" [vigorously soaps herself with bath sponge]

"mmmmmmmmmm.........." [nude figure stands motionless under adjacent shower spray]

"I'm Sing'in in the Rain....Just Sing'in in the Rain.....What a glorious feelin'................"[starts soaping nude figure under adjacent shower spray with bath sponge]

INTERCOM "Quinn, Step away from Isley" [hazard warning lights blink]

".............I'm happy know Red, we need to make you hap hap happy more often....." [starts shampooing adjacent nude figure's hair]

"mmmmmmmmmm.........." [adjacent nude figure stands motionless with hair covered in shampoo suds]

INTERCOM "I repeat, Step away from Isley" [hazard warning lights blink faster]

"Aw c'mon! Lighten up its Wednesday" [continues to shampoo adjacent nude figure's hair]

INTERCOM "Quinn, Step away from Isley. This is your last warning........." [hazard warning lights become a blur of motion]

"Now, don't ya feel better, Red" [washes soap and shampoo off adjacent nude figure]

INTERCOM "Quinn, Step away from Isley NOW!!"

"Ya, ya, ya.......I heard yous the first time......" [turns shower off]

"mmmmmmmmmm.........." [adjacent nude figure starts walking away from shower]

"You can say that again Red.........Shushes it's getting so a girl can't have a shower with her best friend in peace no more........" [pulls adjacent nude figure by the hand into the locker room]

Knock-knock! Who's there? Zippy! Zippy who? Zippy dee-doo-dah zippy dee hey!