SUICIDE SQUAD HARLEY QUINN AND JOKER IMAGINES

Stay

Harley stood staring into the bedroom, quivering arms braced against the frame. The frigid air blew inwards from the open window, intent to sweep across his body and swirl around her's like wind from the Antarctic. She shivered against the brutal force, and continued to watch him.

The Joker's body was illuminated by the silvered light of the moon, he lay still, completely out of it, the only sign of life the solid rise and fall of his chest.

How long could Harley stare, before she remembered that she had to go?

His words sliced at her from the recess of memory, hateful words, hurtful words. Repetitive words. How many times had she heard such things from him? How many times had she flinched away from his voice because what he was saying stung worse than any blow he could deliver? Too many times. But that was not why Harley was leaving. She could handle that; the swearing, the yelling, even the hitting, because he had loved her, and maybe, just maybe, that love could be enough to get her through it.

Until today.

They had been fighting, the same fight, the same words even. Over and over again, as if the fight was the only thing keeping their relationship going. As if, without the fight they would have nothing.

Harley wanted a ring, but the joker didn't want marriage. He had made that clear, abundantly clear, but Harley would not, could not, give up. They had been together for almost a decade now, and Harley realised that she was getting older, she was 29 now, 29 years old with no husband or child, how long would it be until she would no longer be able to run as she once had, until she couldn't jump or leap or summersault? And when this day came, would their love be strong enough to carry them through.

After all, without a ring she was only his sidekick, and sidekicks were replaceable.

So Harley had left him an ultimation, she had bit her tongue, turned violently, and spoke the words with her most authoritative voice, there was no misunderstanding, no logic lost.

"I cannot afford to waste the rest of my life chasing this dream that we will one day get married, so tell me right now, are you going to marry me? Because I am wasting my time if you're not." Her voice had shook, and she had ignored the fear brewing from within her, because if he said no- if he said no...

"Harley, I love you-"

"Answer me." She turned her back to him, wrenched herself away from the hand he lay on her shoulder.

"I love you." His voice had shook as much as her's, and stupidly-luckily, she had turned.

Harley had turned and she had seen the blank look on his face, the emotion in his voice devoid of that area, and she had known that he was lying.

"That's not enough."

"Harley, we'll go to bed, we'll sleep on it, and we'll figure it out tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay."

But Harley had already seen what she needed, she didn't need another answer. She didn't need his bullshit or his lies.

Harley stood, leaning against the frame of the doorway, toes just brushing the threshold, staring in at the man who she had given the last decade of her life to. The man who didn't love her. The man who never would. She swallowed and stood properly, then Harley turned, and without stopping, left the house. She walked all night, knowing that if she stopped she would turn back and go to him, she walked until dawn painted the sky and she had reached the one place she knew he would never look.

"My name is Harleen Quinzell, and I come seeking asylum."

The man raised an eyebrow and looked at the girl.