The things that can never be shared.

Floyd Lawton wasn't a fool. Despite the rain, and blood and dirt he knew.

He knew that she had loved him.

And that she was only here because she couldn't leave without his permission, and he was no longer here to give it. And so Deadshot holds out his arm and helps her off the car roof, and says, "we're glad you're back".

And for an instant, she crumbles, and he sees that inside, she's dying. And then it's gone, as if it had never been. Just one thing that can never be shared. Remembers the pain that he thought would kill him when his marriage crumbled.

When he knew he had no decent shot at an ordinary life. How shortly after The Joker had hired him for a job. Paid cash to his daughter's school and assigned a goon to guard the apartment. Inside the envelope with the job he had included a note: "This is the punchline, old friend. After all, what doesn't kill us only makes us... stranger. Just don't lose your wits again- you'll need some gravity. Focus on the job- no need for a killer punchline". And it had been just in time to stop him putting a bullet through his wife's head.

He didn't know how the Joker had known. But he had, he always did. Batman might have ruled the good side of the city, but Joker ruled the bad and he always knew.

The killing joke was that of the two, the Joker was the better man.

Amanda Waller watched the Squad's every move. Her job was to tip the balance. And she had. But that did not mean she didn't feel regret. Despite his occasional bouts of mania he ran the cities underworld smoothly. If asked nicely, he funneled donations to the political man of the moment. Everyone was paid on time, and sure employment with him had a high mortality rate but he kept the balance well.

She had respected his acumen and felt regret.

Which for Waller, was an achievement.

El Diablo had always been able to see. It had been his blessing, and his curse, as he had grown and filled with so many feelings that weren't his own that one day he killed his wife and children, left them and the only hope he had at being ordinary behind. Left it in ashy remains and since then he had only seen clearer.

Every harsh word, every thought every voice clear and pinging intention through his mind. And ahead of him, was the tiny lethal figure of Harley Quinn. He thought she was a wildcard, and personally a bit of a bitch.

But for a moment he sees her demons- a young woman in glasses and a pencil skirt, never corrupted and hoping. Another version, ready to die for love. Like teenage dreams made real. Another curled into a ball and bleeding away the last hopes of who she had been. Another, tall and proud and gloating. And one more, cleancut and happy, standing next to the Joker- but it isn't. They are both normal as can be, two babies in tow. And finally, the real Harley, in so much pain he could taste it. He knew he was screwed, but he pities her- she's so fucked up it might be kinder if someone put her down.

Everything is just a version, after all. And if it's a version then maybe somewhere else there is a happy one.

In another time, or another place altogether.

And just for a moment, clear as a bell he hears the Joker's laugh- like a signature for the damned.

Harley Quinn hoped that she would die.

As a last nod she hoped to give June back to Rick, asshole that he was. And then she hopes that Enchantress will take off her head. She just needs to make it a little bit longer, and then- then she can simply let go.

But there is one, shining moment. The enchantress shows her a future, normal and white picketed and happy. She wishes she could burrow into it, live there forever- warm and safe and the baby in her arms even smells real.

It's a very good dream.

But even so, just a dream- for once she doesn't need Diablo to tell her so. If it were real she would be curled up in the Joker's arms. He would smell right. if she opened her eyes she'd be able to trace his tattoos. And that's how she knows what to do. She stabs the Enchantress's heart and does what she needs to.

Then she closes her eyes, sure the end is coming. Rick has a chance and now she can let go. And for a moment, the voices are quiet and she's sitting across from Her Joker, in the therapy room at Arkham.

And he looks at her.

She can feel his warm hand on her face... she holds it in her mind, for once, not distracted. She holds it close, like a secret she can never tell, and waits for the end-

Calm, and still, and unafraid.

And then she falls to her knees- one-last-time.

Story Notes:

Prologue: Debating whether to make this reader's choice, or multiple outcome.

Updates every couple of days. Rated for eventual smut.

Let me know what you think!