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Building up or breaking down of Harleen Quinzel	By : Risen86 Category: DC Verse Comics > Suicide Squad Views: 6735 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Suicide Squad, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 13
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- 15
13
Do you people think that I don't realize this is overkill; I do, it is; yet here I am and somebody (three guesses who) is going to die tonight. Reaching down to the golden retriever pup (urgh) beside me, I let it chew into my fingers playfully as I watch the man.
"I don't get it Dead Man." I take my fingers away from the puppy to pull Harley's black glasses out of my pocket. Dom The Dead Man is on the floor again his eyes swollen and black from bruising (ouch); his nose equally black and enclosed in a white splint (tsk, did I do that?). You would think that I would have let it go by now, huh? Well the image of this buffoon sitting across from her at the table has been playing on repeat in my mind for the past two days. I'd be less pissed off if it had been, well nobody really, except maybe Batsy (he is rather fascinating).
"I can't see what it could have possibly been." I lean closer, place my elbows on my knees, my fingers still clutching the glasses then balance my chin on the back of my hands. I've been sitting here for the past 30 minutes and I still can't figure it out; he's so -"Unexceptional". He snivels at the word and I stifle the urge to stomp on his knees.
"I was once told by a psychiatrist that I need to relate more with other people, you know, so I can see things through their eyes…I thought about gouging Harley's eyes out and bringing them along but, when I tried that with the shrink, it didn't work…" I pull open the temple frame of her glasses "I also happen to like here eyes right where they are so," I lift up her glasses and show them to him "you think maybe these will work?"
He shakes his head at me, tears streaming down his cheeks as I put them on. I look at him through the lenses, lift the glasses up look at him without the lenses, pull them back down then shake my head. I take them off, wipe them down on my shirt, put them back on and repeat the process.
"I gotta tell you Deadman," I take them off my head and put them back in my pocket "I still don't see it."
"Please… Please." I get up from the couch and walk to where he rests on the floor, hands cuffed to the banister, legs (broken knees and all) splayed out in front of him and I sit straddling his hips.
I place my hands on either side of his face, "Shhhhhhhh." I put both my thumbs on his lips without moving my hands "You're going to kill the mood."
"I didn't know Mr. Joker. I didn't touch her. I didn-" his lips tremble under my thumbs.
I pat his cheek "I know, I know. I believe you, I do. Unfortunately that's not the point."
"It's not?" he's looking confused and more than a little scared (petrified is more like it).
I exhale sharply and roll my head back on my shoulders; I can feel the frustration bubbling in my gut (I will not rant… I will not rant… I will not rant). I push myself off his lap then begin to pace in front of his feet (All right, fine! I guess I'm ranting).
"I have been a bachelor for a very, very long time now, Dom The Dead Man, and that's never been a problem. No attachments. No distractions. No complications. It's been great;I like it that way! But over the past weeks she's been… giving me those Moon Eyes! Buttering me up with that accent, crying on my shoulder, rubbing herself all over me, shooting Basty in the back and well it's given rise to …stirrings. I mean, I am just a man after all, right? Who can blame me? So now, I'm stuck with those -Unwanted! Upsetting! Confusing! Distractions -that I can't get rid of! One second I'm fantasizing about stabbing her to death the next I've got a raging boner– do you know how annoying that is? Do I look like a pimply faced high school dweeb who just touched his first tit!" I stop pacing to take a deep breath and my head pulls to the side in a tic "Sorry, that was an over share and a complete side note."
I take another deep breath and discreetly pull the gun out of my chest holster. "The point is, Dead Man, she's mine to please and she's mine to break. You were sniffing around my waterhole and I don't like it."
I step closer and aim the glock at him.
"Please… please don't kill me! Please, I don't want to die. I'll do anything! Anything!" I lower my weapon and look him straight in the eyes; my lips pull up in a smile.
"Aaaanythiing?" My eyes wander to the puppy.
"Yes… please anything" Smirking at him I shoot the chain of his handcuffs then hand him another gun that I'd holstered at the back of my pants. I place the gun in my hand against his forehead "Shoot the puppy and you're free to go."
I'm delighted when, without a moment's hesitation, he lifts the gun and fires at the puppy. The gun pops lamely and a flag with the word 'BANG!' appears at the end of the barrel. He looks at the weapon confused then at me as I collapse into peels of laughter.
"Did you really think I'd give you a loaded weapon?" I guffaw some more "I mean… I'm crazy not stupid!"
I fire three shots in his chest then walk back to the couch to watch as he falls on the ground and blood fills up his lungs. When his body finally goes slack the tension immediately leaves my shoulders (aahh… that's better).
Anyway, as I was saying before, I do realize this is overkill but every once in a while even lions gotta piss on a few trees.
Abandoned, that was the first thing I felt when I woke up in hospital with my pain medication wearing off, my lower right side on fire and the dreary grey room empty. Then, when I turned to buzz for a nurse, I saw it sitting on the table beside me; it was a clear cylindrical flute vase holding a single purple tulip. There was a tag with blurry writing on the stem so I reached over, patting the table in search of my reading glasses. When I couldn't find them I simply pulled the tag off the stem of the flower and brought it right to my face; I mouthed the words as I made them out 'Feel better soon pumpkin – J". My lips curved up, he came to see me; he was here! The blush of pleasure that flourished in me was almost enough to completely numb out the pain for a while.
The pleasure settled to a quiet hum when I got a visit from the GCPD and their million questions; luckily I could tell them the truth about almost everything. It did eventually come down to 'Who shot The Batman?' though and I had to swallow the guilt that built in my throat to tell them that it must have been one of the gangsters. The police didn't even seem to suspect that it could possibly have been me so they accepted it. The questions kept coming though until my surgeon, Dr. Stacy Campbell ousted them out of my room.
According to Dr. Campbell, despite the excruciating pain, I was a 'very lucky woman'. I had sustained a minor gunshot wound to my lower right side; the doctor explained that, because of the low caliber of the weapon and the unlikely angle it had penetrated my body, not only had the bullet passed clean through me but it had also missed all my vital organs. They had stitched me up, drugged me up and would keep me for about week for observation but then I would be released. A flesh wound she called it; it didn't feel like a fucking flesh wound.
Well, six days later now and it still doesn't feel like a flesh wound, but at least I don't feel like I'm dying anymore. They loaded me up on pain meds, gave me some aftercare instruction and then practically dropkicked me out. I stagger out of the cab and readjust my purse strap, pick up the vase and tulip; then I make my way slowly down the short path towards home. I have almost made it to the front door when a shape materializes from the shadows; I immediately take a step back and switch my stance instinctively turning my body to make a smaller target and my hand clutches the flower vase, preparing to use it as a weapon.
"Dr. Quinzel, it's good to see you are doing well." The voice is deep and quite intimidating but I recognize it.
"Batman…" His words are polite, but as he emerges from the shadows his eyes take in the purple tulip in my clutch and I begin to see why some sites tagged him 'The Dark Knight'; his whole demeanor becomes threatening and, all of a sudden, I'm feeling very apprehensive. This was the man who scourged the streets at night, this was the man who terrified the criminals of Gotham and this was the man who tried to, and had on at least one occasion, beat Mr. J to a bloody pulp. Visions of him pounding his fist into Mr. J's face flash behind my eyes and every ounce of guilt I feel about shooting him evaporates into thin air; if I went back in time and had to make the decision all over again I wouldn't change a thing.
"Thank you. I'm glad you a-" the lie barely leaves my lips before he interrupts me.
"What happened at the restaurant Dr.?" My stomach sinks and I tap my fingers nervously on the vase.
"I don't know for sure… Everything was happening so f-" He comes forward and grabs ahold of my arm.
"Who shot me?" He studies me and I struggle to control my facial expressions.
He yanks me towards him "H-Hey!" I place my free hand on my wounded midriff "You're hurting me!" I play up the pain by curving my body inward and wincing. "Get your hands off me!"
The frown on his lips doesn't show any ounce of forgiveness but he does let go of my arm. He moves his face even closer to mine "Lie to me again.".
"I. Don't. Know. What. Happened!" I enunciate each word then push passed him "I spoke to the cops already asshole, if you have any questions go see them."
"I have, I've heard your story." I pull my keys out and fit them into the lock.
"So why are you here." I unlock the door and push it open.
"I wanted to see your face when you were telling it." He glances down at the vase in my hand suspiciously then grabs my arm and jerks his fist, pulling me again and slamming the door in the process.
"Listen lady! I know you had a gun that evening. Something isn't adding up and if I find out you had anything to do w-"
"What will you do?" I snap at him "Bust in my teeth?" he goes quiet momentarily.
"If I find out you had anything to do with it…I'll be back." He melts back into the shadows.
I open my door, mockingly doing my best terminator impression "I'll be back." I laugh nervously then, moving through my sitting room, memories of a shirtless, sweaty and deliciously tattooed Mr. J working out on my floor push away the tension.
Yep, worth it.
I stop short in the doorway of my bedroom when I see a simple purple gift with a shimmery green ribbon and bow sitting on the bedside table. I walk to it and spot a little note with the words 'Welcome Home –J' scribbled on it.
My heart flutters in my chest and a blush covers my cheeks. Yea, definitely worth it.
Placing the gift on my bed I sit crossed legged in front it and excitedly rip the wrapping to shreds. Inside the box, on top of sheer white papers is another note that just says '10:00pm' and underneath that is… I reach into the papers and pull out an outfit. I throw my head back and laugh, it's a harlequin costume much like the one I bought the first night I went to The Circus. The red and black of this costume is made of leather though and it's obviously much more expensive than the one I bought. I glance at the clock, it's only 11am; it's going to be a long, long day.
The note said to be ready for 10pm, I was ready at 8 and then at 9:30 I can't bare staring in the mirror anymore, stressing over every little hair that is out of place. I stuff some cash and my cards into my bootleg and waltz out the door… only to pace outside for what felt like ages. When I look at my watch though, it's exactly 10pm when a two door, purple Maserati granturismo pulls up in front of my home; the top is down and I can see Mr. J sitting in the driver's seat.
He's wearing black pants, a black shirt and a gold suit jacket with black trimmings; the butterflies in my stomach go wild. I pull the door open and get in passenger seat when I look over his eyes are already on me. Not for the first time in his presence an almost overwhelming sense of rightness comes over me; I belong here. Grinning at him, I put my hand on his thigh and trail it upward to his groin while I move forward for a kiss. The kiss is silky soft and it starts a blush of heat between my thighs but before my hand reaches his crotch he pushes me back.
"Now, now pumpkin. We can't skip all the way to the third act. Whatever happened to a slow build?"
I roll my eyes at him much like I've seen him roll his at me "Fuck a slow build, I want you." His eyes darken with lust even as he laughs but when I try to kiss him he pushes me away again. Returning his attention to the road, he puts the stick shift into gear and takes off, whipping my body back into the seat. My heart races and I laugh from the exhilaration.
"Thank you." I mumble when I manage to get myself under control; I reach over and place my hand on his arm; he flicks his eyes at me but says nothing.
"For the flower" I look down at the harlequin costume "and the unconventional welcome home gift." That gets a smirk. I wrap my arms around his shoulders in a side hug and thinking of what he said about my accent I instinctively start playing it up for him "Ya know, for someone who is supposed ta be a stone cold killa you kinda hav'a soft side."
He snorts "No. I really don't."
"Yea ya dooo, you're ooey-gooey in the middle… just like puddin'!" His glance is less friendly this time but I ignore him.
"Yea, that's what ya are, puddin'. "
"Don't call me that." His smirk turns into a frown.
"You're my Puddin'." I cling to his arm.
"I should have stabbed you the first day we met."
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Building up or breaking down of Harleen Quinzel