Notes: Okay so this story takes off at the exact point Suicide Squad ends so if you haven't seen Suicide Squad, I suggest you don't read this! (Also where TF you been at if you haven't seen Suicide Squad yet?!) Please make sure to fave/follow & review if you enjoy this so I know to write more! Rated M just to be safe and for possible future chapters.

"Let's go home." He growled at her as she clung to him. Harley couldn't believe it was him; Her one and only; Her Mistah J. He was alive. Joker pulled her face close to his and stared intensely at her for what seemed to Harley like an eternity. His silver-blue eyes fixated on her big baby blues.

Was she dreaming? Harley had to wonder. Because night after night her dreams were filled with situations not dissimilar to the one unfolding before her; Her clown prince coming to rescue her from this God-awful prison, making some dramatic entrance and blowing the shit-hole to smithereens.

Maybe it was a hallucination. After all the drugs they kept pumping into her to keep her "calm" and "cooperative", hallucinating certainly wasn't off the cards either. But before she knew what was happening, his lips were on hers and he was kissing her – and oh, it was good.

Dreams and hallucinations didn't kiss so well, she was sure.

Harley wanted the kiss to last forever, but Joker put a stop to it almost as abruptly as he had initiated it. "We have to go. Now." A flash of crazy in his eye, he turned and headed toward the gaping hole in the wall, machine-gun raised and ready to blow a hole in whoever got in his way. Harley skipped out of the barred cell, past Joker's henchmen – all of whom had somehow acquired prison riot gear – smiling at them as she went. The henchmen followed behind – each with their weapons poised and ready for confrontation.

Stepping over the rubble, they soon arrived outside where a sizeable black helicopter was whirring noisily and waiting for them. "Hey, Puddin'!" Harley called after Joker as he strode toward the helicopter. He didn't respond. "Mistah J!" She shouted louder. He turned on his heel and stared at her, eyebrows raised in an inquisitive manor. "So how about we go back and break out some of the other guys maybe?" She found herself having to raise her voice considerably as they lingered near the deafening helicopter. Joker rolled his eyes and breathed deeply. "I mean, Deadshot was pretty nice to me an' all, I reckon maybe-" Before she could finish her sentence, Joker had stepped forward and wrapped his hand over her mouth to silence her, squeezing tightly. Harley could hear gunfire behind them as the henchmen shot at the Belle Reve prison guards.

"Shut up, Harls. Don't ya understand what I've risked, coming here to get ya? We need to leave now. Screw Deadshot. He can rot for all I care." Joker let his hand drop from her mouth and turned to head back in the direction of the helicopter, but Harley couldn't help herself.

"But Mistah J," She whined at him "It wouldn't take long-" Joker span around, furiously, and flipped the machine gun in his hands. Before Harley could react she felt a bludgeoning pain in the side of her head as he smacked her with the butt of the gun.

Everything began to spin and all she heard before passing out was his voice, trailing into an echo amidst the blast of machine-gun fire, "I told you to shut up, Harls." Joker dropped the gun to the floor as Harley's eyes rolled back and her knees buckled. He caught her in his arms and dragged her the rest of the way to the helicopter, pulling her inside with the aid of the waiting henchman; the other three men throwing themselves inside the helicopter.

As they took off, a large number of Prison guards flooded outside and began shooting toward Joker. He snatched away a machine-gun from one of his henchmen and shot back – laughing maniacally as bullets showered down over Belle Reve – not overly concerned as to whether any of the bullets were hitting the guards or not. He gazed down at them, a delirious dark red grin plastered across his face as he reveled at the chaos.


Deadshot was lying flat on his back and staring up the grey, concrete ceiling of his cell when he heard the explosion. It sounded like it'd come from the other side of the complex, but the whole building shook under the force of the blast. Sitting up, he could hear a commotion in the hallway. Deadshot pulled himself up from the floor with a sigh and pressed his face near to the small opening of the cell door.

It was chaos out there.

He watched as guard after guard began abandoning their posts outside of each individual cell and charging down the passageway toward the blast. He listened. Gunfire rang out from the neighbouring corridors.

"Hey. Hey you!" He shouted through the door opening at one of the guards. "Yo, I'm talkin' to you!" He slammed his fist against the door but no one was paying him any attention. Another two guards stormed past his cell and he briefly heard the name "Harley" mentioned.

"Oh, oh I see what's happenin'… Doll face got out of here…" Deadshot laughed to himself and sank back down against the wall, the sounds of gunfire still ringing through his ears as he contemplated the likelihood of ever escaping this living nightmare himself.

The echo of gunfire seemed to be drawing nearer as he listened. It drew closer until stopping suddenly outside of his cell. Deadshot frowned and glanced up at the door. "Hey, Floyd, you in there, mate?" A familiar voice called to him through the door.

Boomerang?

"Hey man don't fucking call me that." Deadshot yelled, dragging himself back up from the floor, stunned to be hearing the Aussie voice laughing at him from the other side of the cell door.

"Stand the Hell back, man. Like, right back." Deadshot backed into the corner of the room as Boomerang opened fire and emptied a round directly into the lock. The door swung open. "So, what say we get outta here, mate?" Boomerang didn't even wait for a reply before turning and charging back down the passageway. Deadshot stood silent for a moment, a puzzled expression on his face as he attempted to evaluate the situation.

What the Hell. It's now or never.


As she began to stir Harley felt an agonizing pain in the left side of her skull. Eyes still closed she grunted and raised a hand to her head. "Shh, Harley, baby." A familiar voice drifted over her as she gradually opened her eyes to find Joker laying by her side, no longer sporting riot gear – instead dressed in black pants, a white shirt and black waistcoat – propped up on one elbow and smiling down at her; a look of genuine concern in his silvery eyes. He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers and she felt cool metal as his gold rings brushed her skin. She gazed up at him, vision still hazy and head throbbing.

"Muh…" Harley stammered as she attempted to sit up, holding her head in her hands and noticing that she was still dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit. "Mistah J…" she muttered, her vision returning and head clearing. Her thoughts flew back to their escape from Belle Reve, followed by the memory of Joker dealing a fierce blow to her head with a machine-gun.

"The one and only…" His voice was a low growl as he lay there on the floor staring up at her.

"Puddin', why'd ya… It really hurts…" She frowned at him.

"What? No, thank you… For rescuing ya? I couldda let ya rot in that Hell hole yanno, Harl. God knows I don't need to have ya hanging around here, whining all the time." His voice grew impatient and Harley recognized a dangerous tone she knew all too well.

Straightening herself up, Harley grinned as widely as she could. "I mean, well… Oh Puddin', I knew you'd come for me!" Harley threw herself at Joker, his elbows buckling underneath him as she landed on top of him, causing him to crash to the floor. She giggled softly and her lips lingered on his for a short moment, before he pulled her up by the shoulders to admire her.

"Harley, I missed ya." Joker gazed at Harley, silver capped teeth grinning at her from behind dark red lips. The words swirled around Harley's head and it was all she could do to hold back the tears as he pulled her back down into a deep kiss. Hearing her Puddin' say such things just made life worth living.

After all, she lived for him.