I do not own Suicide Squad.

I think I'm a little obsessed right now. Save me?

50 Shades of Mr. J.

Coming To a Head

"Get out of the car!" she screeched in a fit, slamming her hands down on the hood of The Joker's pristine sports car.

He glared at her irritation and disgust from behind the wheel.

And exited the still rumbling vehicle.

"You can't do what you did and then just abandon me!" she screamed at him. "I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't think!"

She had seen his car racing the streets, stalking him in a way, for days on her little motorcycle.

And now she had chased him down, caught him.

And he had chosen, so far, not to run her down.

So far.

Instead he stood before her, agog.

"What are you talking about, Doctor?"

She felt herself coming apart at the seams. Being held together only by the blue blouse and jeans in which her trembling form was encased.

And ignored his question.

"Show me."

He stared at her.

"What?"

"Show me. I want to know what happened to you. I want to see it. I want to understand. I want to be part of it."

Joker glanced away for a moment then turned back, anger and frustration prevalent on his unnaturally colored face.

"Go away! Why won't you just go away?! I don't care about you! I don't love you! I don't want you! I don't need you! Go away!"

She shook her head, tears welling up.

"I can't. I love you."

She held up the gun she'd brought in one trembling hand.

"You've done something to me. I feel broken. I can't go on like this. All dead inside except when I'm with you. Or I think about you."

And pointed at his face.

"I'd rather die and have you die. Then go on like this anymore."

He stared into the face of the loaded gun.

Hesitated.

Then leaned into it almost.

And spoke airily, as if discussing which television program to marathon together for the evening. Instead of the metaphorical pin on which her broken soul balanced.

Even holding out his arms slightly as if in invite.

"Well, go ahead and kill me if you must, Dr. Quinzel. You're the one with all the power here."

She hesitated, quaking more than ever underneath her skin.

The Joker grinned madly into the barrel of the gun. Addressing her again.

"Doesn't it feel good? The power?"

It did feel good.

Just for once.

And she knew again that he cared.

Cared enough to call to attention that power, that power she so badly needed to feel all her life.

And never had.

And he gave it to her, The Joker.

Gave it to her when he really didn't have to.

For real this time, not just in a desperate daydream.

And at possible cost to his own self.

She lowered the gun slowly, moving toward him.

He, The Joker, remained still, for once appearing to be the one hypnotized.

As she kissed him. Full upon those discolored, tantalizing lips. One trembling hand stroking his pale, pale cheek.

He didn't move.

Until he did, just a little.

And pressed those sumptuous lips back to hers.

And she soared.

Seconds before he burst into action.

Snatching the gun away with one hand.

Backhanding her to the ground with the other.

In a sudden, violent rage.

And roaring in her face.

"I'm not your loving, gentle, cotton candy boyfriend, Doctor! You should have taken the shot when you had it, you stupid bitch!"

He held up the firearm to his temple now, mocking her.

"If I kill myself, blow my own brains out, will that finally make you go away?! Or will you follow me into Hell, dipping your finger in water to quench my thirst?!"

She peered up at him from her submissive crumple on the ground.

She should hate him.

Hate him for what he was, what he had done. Was doing.

Get up, walk away. Leave him there making a fool of himself.

Walk away and pick up the pieces of her life.

Rebuild herself.

Move on.

She knew she should.

But she didn't want to rebuild herself in anything but his image.

Or an image befitting him.

"Yes, Mr. J.," she replied quaverously. "I'll follow you anywhere."

He looked at her quietly and calmly.

Which was even more frightening than anything else she had ever experienced from him before.

"Then you are more crazy than I have ever or will ever be, Dr. Quinzel."

She lay on the ground, the scenario familiar in its shame and humiliation.

Her entire childhood had been like this.

Pushed down, submissive to others.

And now as an adult, again.

He stared at her shuddering and trembling on the asphalt.

And suddenly and without any provocation, offered her his hand.

"Ah, now, it's not that bad, Dr. Quinzel. Come on, get up, get up. That's it, my dear."

The abrupt change in his tone deepened her disquiet.

And quavering love.

Even as it soothed her.

He feels bad. For hitting me. He feels bad because he cares.

"I'm not the real enemy here, Doctor. You are. Your weakness. Your vulnerability. Your compulsive need for acceptance."

And she slowly took his hand and he pulled her to her feet.

"So long as you allow others to dictate your actions, you'll always be taken advantage of."

His eyes gleamed with madness.

And truth.

"But when you let go of all of your fears and constraints and decide to do and be whatever you choose to, then you will be free."

He let go of her hand. And gave her back the gun.

"Until you can aim and fire at anyone, anyone, you will be weak and forever dominated by those willing to pull the trigger."

The metal felt heavy, unbelievably heavy, in her hand.

The Joker's eyes gleamed brighter, more feverishly than ever before.

"Pull. The. Trigger."

She raised the gun to his face once more and he hung before her, motionless once more.

Vulnerable.

Helpless.

Challenging.

She took a deep, shuddering breath.

And squeezed the trigger.

Right before the hammer fell, she moved the barrel mere inches to the right.

Dropping the beat cop taking slow, precise aim at the nape of The Joker's neck.

The shot rang out and Joker flinched at the deafening thunder and ringing his ear.

And looked back at the bleeding figure on the ground.

And back at Harleen.

Who had moved the gun again level with his nose.

"Hit me again," her voice held no uncertainty. "And I'll dead shot you without blinking."

He stared at her, aghast and for once, speechless.

Then, quick as a wink, knocked the gun out of her hand, grabbed the back of her neck.

Yanking her toward him.

Pressing his mouth to hers.

Kissing her.

Hard. Deeply. Passionately.

Her entire confused, yearning body and mind burst into flame.

Then he flung her away.

"Now that's more like it," he announced through his approving grin, wiping the back of one hand casually across his mouth.

She stood knocked askew, modest chest heaving, mouth slightly ajar.

"Joker! Don't move! Hands up!"

Without hesitation, drew a pistol from underneath his jacket, firing behind him without looking.

The partner of Harleen's downed target dropped without another sound.

The Joker reholstered his firearm and turned away.

"Get in the car, Harley."

She did.

Okay, honestly, this probably is nothing like the real scene.

And I don't think her standing up to him is canon. But listen, guys, isn't it just a little juicier this way?

And it's my speculation 'til August anyway so, meh ;)

Thanks to DinahRay, asantos11300, and loreenagoddess for your awesome reviews!

Thanks also to kawaii2blue, CapitalClassShip, and CrystalFalls1987 for adding your support to this mad thing.