SUICIDE SQUAD HARLEY QUINN AND JOKER IMAGINES

Gone part five

He was numb. Completely, unrealistically numb. Her voice had disappeared and what was left was a soft ringing and the sound of his heart beat pounding in his ears. He could hear his enraged blood smashing itself through his veins. And all that he could see was her.

The scar, a pale whisper against her skin. Her body, too skinny, too small. The ring, that she had put on, that somehow hurt him even more that she was wearing it.
The scar.

The scar.

His vision focused on that point and he had to stop the growl from leaving his throat. Someone had done that. Someone had cut her. Hurt her.

He hadn't protected her.

"They tried to kill me."  Harley repeated her words and the haze was shattered. The joker could feel it, a slow heat building within him, a slow fire beginning to burn the remains of his sanity, growing larger and larger until it was him. Until he was that rage.

He would kill them.

He would string them up, he would burn them alive, rip off their ski-

"Because of you." Her words cut into him, sudden clarity that ripped through him with the force of bullets.

She still sat on the couch, her body curled in an almost fetal position. The expresso untouched- did he make it wrong? In her hands. She hadn't even taken a sip, almost as if she wasn't even there.

Because of him.

"How?"

"You killed one of the students and asked for me. They blamed me for you showing up. They blamed me for that boy's death."

Her words shook him. They cut him. They destroyed him. He had never thought about what would happen after he left, he had never thought about how his actions would affect her life without him.

"Then they decided an eye for an eye. And that night they burnt my house down and when I got out one tried to strangle me." Her fingertips traced the scar and the joker had to choose between following her with his eyes or looking away.

My fault. She almost died. I almost killed her.

He choose the latter and instead walked to the wall, he placed a hand on it to steady himself.
"And why, why did you change the house?"

"To make it ours."

"It was ours, and now I've come back and everything I knew and loved was gone."

"It was what you wanted."

"Why the fuck would I want the walls to look so ugly?"

He turned to her, his movement so fast he thought he had harmed himself.
"Ugly?"

"They look disgusting."

"Well I painted them for you so what do you want me to do now?"

"Change them."

"No."

"This wall looked better without bookcases."

"Bullshit."

"This lounge set is harder than rock."

"You only sit on your special chair anyway so why should you care."

"Because you're going to sit on it, and you're going to live here, and you're punishing yourself by choosing things that you know you hate, just so you can have some justification as to why you should resent me."

"What?"

"That's why you're doing it. So that you can sit in your hard chair, and you can stare at the disgusting walls and you can touch every book I ever told you about, and you can convince yourself that you hate me for making you change yourself."

"No."

"But I never asked you to change yourself! I never told you to paint the walls the colour of cement. I asked you to be you. But here you are trying to become me just to get some closure."

"That's not true."

"You know it is."

He turned from her, grabbed a book that she had loved, intent to throw it, to break it. But it was her favourite book, so he put it back.

"That's not true."

"Then why did you put the book back, even though you know you wanted to throw it."

"Because I love you. And I refuse to destroy your stuff."

"I painted this room the first time. You painted over it. I chose the couches that you replaced. This house was ours. And now it's as foreign to me as it is to you."

The joker just shook his head. He wouldn't speak, he wouldn't even look. He could hear the tears in her eyes, he could feel the sadness and anger radiating from her. He just hoped beyond all hope that she couldn't feel his fear.

"Are you going to leave?" His voice was quiet, and he clenched his fist to stop it from shaking. Almost, his voice betrayed him, almost. He closed his eyes.

"Do you want me to go?" Her voice was soft, but she didn't bother hiding the fear in her voice.

"No." He answered too quickly, he gave her the power, her answer could destroy him, he leant harder against the wall.

"No." Her hand lay against his shoulder, startling him, bringing him back to reality.
"I'll stay."

"Thank you."