SUICIDE SQUAD HARLEY QUINN AND JOKER IMAGINES

Dreaming p2

He was there again. Behind her.

His arms enclosed her and instead of fear she felt warmth. He breathed onto her skin, something that he had never done in real life. And he pressed the most gentle of kisses against her body.
"I'm sorry." He whispered, and Harley knew it was a dream; because he would never apologise in real life.
He repeated his words as his fingers danced across her scars, and his lips gently landed on her bruises. She didn't move, she didn't cry out, instead she lay still and relaxed in his arms.
He leant into her, pressed a kiss to behind her ear and whispered again.
"Don't leave me." She swallowed and didn't answer. She lay there, refusing to move, refusing to even turn and acknowledge him.

"Please don't leave me." She pressed her eyes shut, trying to hold back the fear and sadness.
I can't, please understand that I can't.

When she opened her eyes to say this she was facing the desk, in a foreign room without him. Sunlight danced with dust to create a halo around her being.

She felt queasy. Her stomach rolled and she cursed before slipping out of bed and rushing to the bathroom.
Her stomach clenched as she threw up just like she had for the last months since the night that she ran from the joker.

She held a hand to her stomach and rested her forehead against the seat. She cursed as her palm rested against her no longer flat stomach.

She sighed and wished that she could have told him. But the joker was made from violence and a child couldn't survive in that environment.