SUICIDE SQUAD HARLEY QUINN AND JOKER IMAGINES

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The joker struggled to move, he sat, still as a photograph, rubbing his frozen fingers against his numb knuckles. He sighed, and watched as his breath collected thickly in the air in front of him. He watched the condensed heat for a while, until it too dissolved into a phantom, and disappeared from sight.

The smoke clouded thickly around them, he reached for her, for a moment skin touched skin, but then her hand dropped, and she was gone.

The chair he sat in was uncomfortable, cold plastic dug into his body, he shifted and the body of the chair pressed solidly into his back.

He screamed for her, but his voice was choked and when he breathed in the air singed his throat, he coughed, and liquid coated his hands, he lifted them up, the shook under their Crimson colouring.

He was silent, just breathing quietly, at the moment just existing.

He couldn't hear her, not anymore, he stumbled to the right and collapsed. His eyes burned through the tears that slipped through.

He was nothing without her.

He lay on the ground, silent, eyes stinging from the smoke, his breathes were quick and shallow and dug with heated nails into his lungs.

The door clicked and the joker looked up. A women, not her, walked out, caught his gaze and fell back against the door. He studied her, and found that she was a nurse.

"Harley?" He whispered through the pain, his voice was swept away by the rumbling thunder of the Flames that engulfed them. Darkness embraced him.

"Harleen Quinzell- is she alright?"
The woman paled at his voice.
"Ah... Ah.."

He awoke in a stretcher with the night sky above him, he breathed in, and the smell of smoke was still thick in the air. He turned his head slightly, and saw her, small, burnt, and unconscious. He let his hand reach out, and touched the covering over hers. Darkness pulled him under.

He stood suddenly, anger flaring at her incompetence.
"Is she alright?"
He has meant to sound angry, he had meant to terrify her, but his voice betrayed him, and it shook with every syllable.

He didn't see her after that night. He woke, four days later,   And she wasn't next to him. For fourteen days he healed, then, when he could stand without passing out, he went to her.

"Q-Quinzell? She's stable."
"Can I see her?"
"She's in a coma."
"Show me."