Sapphic September

Soulmate!AU

(Harley Quinn x Poison Ivy)
(The soulmate tattoos are lyrics from the Joan Jett cover of "Crimson and Clover". I do not own the song or the lyrics.)

She knew how the soulmate system worked, of course. She wasn't stupid. She'd just kidded herself into thinking that their marks could match, that the placement was simply a mistake, some blip in the workings of the universe. And now she was being paraded down a grimy corridor in her former workplace by seven guards, wearing a starched orange jumpsuit, handcuffs and a gag.
It was embarrassing, and honestly a bit disappointing. She'd expected Batman catching her to be spectacular, impressive, and highly deadly. But all she had were some shallow scratches and bruises, and a large cut on her forehead.
One of the guards unlocked the door to a brightly lit cell with fluorescent lights, linoleum floors and a small bed in one corner. The walls were tarnished white bars, already damaged in a relatively new section of the asylum. Thankfully, the cells on either side were empty, and the back walls was against exposed brick.
One of the guards shoved her into the cell, throwing her to the floor. The door was slammed and she heard bolts sliding and locks clicking on the other side. They hadn't bothered to take off her handcuffs.
"Have fun, princess," one of the guards laughed, staring down at her through the bars. She glared up at him, waiting for the guards to leave before she crawled to the back of the cell, her back pressed against the cold metal of the bed.
There, Harley Quinn hugged her knees to her chest and cried, low aching sobs because she knew she'd been abandoned.

At exactly nine o'clock the next morning, a metal baton clanged against the bars, shaking the whole cell. Harley's head snapped up, her eyes snapping open despite the red puffiness. There was a guard standing outside her cell.
"C'mon, princess," he called. "Get up and get out."
Harley stood, her muscles aching from being hunched over the whole night. She was still wearing the red and black mismatched sneakers she'd been caught in, and for the first time she was thankful she wasn't in heels. She stumbled over to the door and out of it, the ground changing from linoleum to concrete. The guard grabbed her arm roughly, yanking her towards the wall. Harley crashed into it, staggering back to regain her balance. Locks of her white-blonde hair, died pink and blue at the ends, fell into her face.
She shook her head, took a deep breath and faced the guard.
He laughed. "Okay, princess. This way."
He led her down the hallways to the canteen. The layout was exactly the same as it had been when she was a therapist there, meaning her plans to change the layout every six months and maximise security had been ignored. Typical.
The canteen was just as she'd remembered it - scuffed plastic floors, gritty concrete walls and aged, cracking and rickety metal tables and chairs.
The guard removed her gag roughly, red lipstick staining the discoloured cotton. She held up her wrists to be unlocked and he laughed, slapping her hands down.
"Enjoy, princess," he mocked, strolling to stand by one of the walls.
Harley walked slowly across the canteen, standing to join the queue of inmates waiting for breakfast. A red plastic tray was shoved into her hands, with a reusable cup of water and already mushy muesli. Harley watched the spoon sink slowly into the milk as she shuffled away, awkwardly balancing the tray on her hands.
She scanned the canteen but didn't see a single familiar face. She knew people who'd been in here before, but no one who was imprisoned currently. The canteen was a sea of uncaring strangers, deep in conversations she wasn't invited to.
"Hey, Blondie!" A voice called. Harley looked up to see a woman with luscious red curls and light green skin beckoning her. Harley walked over to her table, which was empty except for her. Her feet were propped up on the table, dark green heels glinting in the canteen strip lights. She was leaning back in her seat, arms resting on the back of her chair. Her jumpsuit was tighter than regulation, and there was something dangerous glinting in her emerald eyes.
"Take a seat," she said, gesturing to the chair opposite her. Harley sat down, carefully sliding her tray onto the table. The woman looked her up and down, nodded, and swept Harley's tray onto the floor.
"Hey!" Harley snapped, on her feet before she knew what she was doing. "That was mine!"
The woman shrugged. "What are going to do about it?"
Harley scanned the tables around her. One of the prisoners had a plastic fork lying next to his plate. Harley snatched it up and lunged across the table, knocking the woman to the ground. Harley was on top, holding the woman's throat down with her left hand and pressing the fork against her windpipe with her right.
The woman smiled. "Excellent. There's the fire I wanted." She pushed Harley's hands away, sitting up. "Remember. You're no one's princes. You rock and rolled with the Joker and came away stronger. We can run this joint."
"We?"
The woman held out her hand. "Poison Ivy, pleasure to meet you."
Harley shook her hand mutely, still a little stunned. She stood, helped Ivy to her feet and sat back down at their table.
Ivy sat down opposite her, smooth her hair and wiping dust off her jumpsuit.
Even the uniforms were the same, Harley thought, scanning the canteen again. The overly starched cotton, the bright garish cotton, the tiny useless breast pocket with A. A. stamped on it, the way PROPERTY OF ARKHAM ASYLUM was still printed on the back. Not a single thing had changed, least of all the guards' attitudes towards girl-on-girl violence.
Ivy reached under the table and, after a second of fumbling, produced half of a tuna and sweetcorn baguette. There was masking tape attached to it and a thin layer of dust, but it was still a hundred times better than the crime scene of a tray on the floor.
Ivy held up the baguette. "We'll split this, and then discuss our escape."
"No," Harley said, plucking the baguette out of Ivy's slender green hand. "I'm going to eat this, and then tell you everything wrong with your plan."
Ivy laughed. "I like you." Her eyes flicked over the guards standing against each wall, her gaze making each guard turn away. "But not here."
Ivy stood, looking down at the half-eaten baguette in Harley's hands. "I'll come to your cell at midnight. We can plot there."
Harley nodded, swinging her feet onto the table. "I'll wait up."