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THE WAITING ROOM was the hardest part for Freya. Chato sat beside her as every other member of their team was under the care of hospital staff. Rick was only getting a small bandage on his chest, a side effect of what they had planned.
"What happened to Rick?" Chato questioned quietly, looking to Freya, who had curled in on herself in her seat.
"The Joker wanted me to kill him." Freya said softly, sighing. "He was wearing a bulletproof vest, so I knew he would be okay. The red, the blood in the water, it was all fake. He needed to act dead. For Harley." Chato nodded along slowly, as a doctor walked into the waiting room.
"Quinn?" Freya shot up, standing in front of the doctor.
"How is she?" She asked quickly, wringing her hands together. The doctor, Freya's eyes scanned over her name-tag, Doctor Petra Kim.
"She's obviously suffered through multiple harsh beatings, and there are signs of head trauma. Amazingly, there are no broken bones. However, her ribs are bruised and that doesn't take away from her horrible condition due to the beatings." Doctor Kim frowned, flipping through the files. "But, she's awake now, if you'd like to see her." Freya looked back at Chato, who gestured for her to go. Freya nodded, smiling forcefully at the doctor.
"Please." Doctor Kim nodded, waving a hand at Freya in a motion for her to follow. Following closely behind her, Freya's footsteps were light and nearly silent as her boots connected with the tiled floor of the hospital. Her heart hammered away in her chest the closer she got to Harleen Quinzel's room. Freya had seen parts of the bruises during their, in all honesty, brief, battle with the Joker. The image of how battered she must look sent a chill down Freya's spine, her nerves kicking in. She wasn't a nervous person. She used to be a mercenary that killed for money; nervousness wasn't a factor that was ever even considered. Although she was almost a surprisingly nice person, brutality was in her blood.
"Here we are." Freya was snapped out of her thoughts by the doctor stopping in front of a door. "I'll give you two some time alone."
Freya approached the bed that Harley laid on while the doctor left quietly, giving them some time alone, like she promised. Thick leather cuffs wrapped around Harley's wrists, keeping her bound to the bed. They weren't as tight as perhaps they should have been, and Freya assumed that it was Doctor Kim's doing. She made a note in the back of her mind to thank her, for everything.
"Hey, doll." Harley said, trying to sound like her usual self. Her voice cracked and it didn't carry the same cadence that she usually had. Her voice sounded dull and broken. Harley Quinn was broken and it made Freya's heart ache.
"Hey Harls." Freya said softly, sitting down in the uncomfortable chair next to Harley's bed.
"Are they okay?" Harley asked, her eyes wide, red and puffy from both tiredness and crying.
"Yeah, they're okay, Harls. Or, they will be. We'll be okay." Freya stumbled over her words, remembering that her team was mostly incapacitated.
"That's good." There was a moment of silence that settled between them before Harley asked the one question Freya had been anticipating. "Where is he?"
"Where he should be." Freya spat venomously. "The closest thing to Hell we can find here." Harley nodded, and after a moment, tears sprang to her eyes.
"You gotta understand, doll. He's my Puddin'! I love him, he loves me!" Harley exclaimed, and it almost sounded like she believed the words that were falling from her mouth. Freya stood abruptly, chair flying backwards, making Harley jump.
"He loves you?! Harley, look at what he's done to you! Love doesn't look like bruises and fear, Harley. Love looks like protecting one another and never wanting to let go of that person. Always wanting to make sure they're safe and happy and, oh my god, being near them is the best thing in the world." Harley was quiet before her voice, clearer than before, floated up to reach Freya's ears.
"Like you do for me?" She asked softly, not meeting Freya's eyes. Freya inhaled sharply, and her heart pounded almost painfully in her chest.
"I have to go." Turning sharply on her heel, Freya exited the room, ignoring Harley's calls for her to come back.
–•–•–
Freya's mind raced as she wandered through the halls of the hospital, checking room tags for anything, or anyone, that felt familiar.
"Are you okay?" It was Doctor Kim, who was looking concerned and as if Freya was a frightened child who needed consoling. "Can I help you find someone?"
"Jones," Freya gasped between hyperventilated breaths. "Waylon Jones." Doctor Kim nodded wordlessly, gently grabbing Freya by the arm and steering her down hallways and turns before lightly pushing her into a room, where Waylon Jones sat on a metal table, bandages wrapped awkwardly around his shoulders as a nurse scurried out of the room.
"Freya?" He asked, surprised as the woman stumbled into his room, face flush and eyes red with unshed tears. It was clear that something, someone, had made her feel so vulnerable and so completely drained, that she had lost all sense of her surroundings. Despite the burning and stinging pain of his back and shoulders, Waylon jumped off of the table, making his way towards Freya, who was in the middle of a panic attack. "Breathe, Freya. It's okay. What happened?" Freya sobbed, her heart hammering away in her chest again.
"I can't love her, Waylon. How could I do that to Maya?" It didn't take long for him to know who she was talking about. Everyone on the team with functioning eyes could tell that Freya had a heart-eyes inducing fondness for Harley Quinn. Instead of giving her some half-assed answer about something he knew nothing about, Waylon pulled her into a hug, and tried to calm the girl that everyone knew to be their rock, their strength. He calmed the girl who had finally been through too much.
