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This, Harley knew, wasn't part of the plan.True, it was a shotty plan to begin with. The only specifics they had to work with was that they needed to stay together, check the empty building, take out any bad guys that weren't part of the squad, and get out. Not a very organized layout- which was only to be expected.So it didn't seem much of a surprise that the whole thing was completely falling apart. First off, everything was wrong. They'd entered together, but while the group moved to check the halls, Harley sprinted off on her own.Kind of her own fault, but that was just details.There was also the matter of bad guys. The idea of a few heads to smash was undeniably tempting, but, as she investigated her own section, there was no one in sight.And, finally- possibly worst- the building wasn't empty after all.Because Harley, bat in one hand and gun in the other, kicked open the door to see what appeared to be an office.In the swivel chair, tied with rope, was a little girl. Maybe six, with brown hair, and petrified, watery eyes, complete with a ripped dress and gag.This, more than anything, wasn't part of he plan. Harley had never been less prepared for anything in her life."Hiya there!" Harley quipped, the bubbly bounce in her step almost disguising her sprint to the chair. Neatly tucking her panic beneath her preppy mask was easy by that point, just a slip into character. "Lets getcha outta here, huh Sweetheart?"This was all wrong. Flag always had the best information, and he was completely off.She was scared to know what else they'd missed.So it wasn’t all that shocking when the roof came down on her.
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“What the hell, Flag?!” Floyd yelled, jogging back through the opening. “What is this, a joke?”Realistically, he knew it wasn’t. Their commander never bothered with jokes, they hadn’t really ever seen him laugh either. But it was easier to pretend it was all just a gag than reality.Flag never had false intel. Never.“I don’t know, this is all wrong!” If anything, Flag sounded furious as he stomped out of the van. A walkie-talkie was clenched in one hand, a sure sign he’d just finished screaming at someone through it. “We were supposed to be wiping out the counter-intelligence operatives, not storming though an empty building!” As though his frustration wasn’t enough, he turned and punched the side of the black van, ignoring the hundreds of dollars of equipment inside.Croc and Boomerang were both grumbling beside him, muttering about how their time was more valuable than this, but Floyd couldn’t care less. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his head, a dark dread gathering there.Being a hitman gave him good senses, and Floyd had great instincts when it came to this type of thing. When a job seemed just a little too perfect, the pay was a bit too high. It wasn’t so much that things didn’t add up, but that things added up too cleanly. Those little nudges kept him alive.One glance at Diablo and they locked eyes, both recognizing a setup when they saw it.“Flag,” he said gravely. In any other circumstance, it would have been amusing how everyone froze at the sound of his voice. “It’s a trap.”Flag glanced at the building before swearing, already pulling out his radio again. Floyd understood why the man was so mad- everything about this mission was just off, just wrong.“Oi, Mates?” Boomerang suddenly cut in, looking concerned. Floyd was instantly on edge- Boomerang was many things, but worried was never one of them. “Where’s Harley?”Floyd’s stomach dropped.And that was when the building collapsed.
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The world was a blur for a few long minutes to Boomerang. That should have scared him. For his line of work, being in a daze was a quick way to die.But when the building fell- the building, the building with his teammate, with Harley, the one and only Harley Quinn, his friend- time was reduced to snapshots.A flash of Flagg, screaming into the radio and the air and anywhere people were listening, demanding a team to send in for rescue. A flash of Diablo, clutching Deadshot to hold him back from running in. A flash of the building, crashing into the earth and trapping her- Harley, Harley, the smallest of the team- underneath its weight.“I’ve got eyes on her!” someone called from the van, and then Flagg was literally shoving them out of the way, pulling up the camera. It was grainy, clearly from some security footage of the building itself.Boomerang reached out without registering it, zooming in. He didn’t believe what his eyes were telling him.Harley, bracing herself over a small child. Her muscles were flexed, clearly struggling to hold up the weight, as the kid crawled slowly out from under her into a small space just in front.Flag turned the volume up, and the silent moving of Harley’s mouth suddenly became “Good job hun, that was very brave, hang on a second-“And Harley’s muscles gave out under her, effectively pinning the blonde to the ground under a mound of rocks.Deadshot made a noise like a wounded animal while Croc growled beside him. For his part, Boomerang felt his knees trying to give out as well in sympathy. It was so much weight, too heavy-Harley made a wheezing noise, like the air escaping a balloon, and worry crashed over Boomerang hard enough he almost missed her next words.“I’m okay, honey,” Harley gasped, locking her jaw partway through the sentence as she shifted. “I’m okay, I promise. Can you tell me your name, Sweetheart?”The girl swiped at her eyes, trying to calm her quivering lip. “I’m Abigail,” she answered, hiccuping at the end.Harley modded seriously, the crazy clown they’d all seen before melting away. “That’s a pretty name,” she answered, giving a genuine smile. “Can I call you Abby?”“Yeah,” the girl said softly, her voice scared but trusting. Boomerang felt himself blinking in shock at whoever was on the other end of this camera, whoever had possessed their friend.By the jaw-dropped expressions on his friends faces, he wasn’t alone in that sentiment.“Okay, Abby,” their friend wheezed, clearly attempting to shift. The most she could do was reach her arms and crane her neck a little more, like a pinned butterfly. “My name is Harleen. We’re gonna get you out of here, okay? We just gotta wait for my friends.”Boomerang caught a flash in Flagg’s eyes for a moment, something like clarity and regret. But Harley’s words were like the crack of a gun- they were off, then, the whole team, yelling at anyone nearby to get to the building.They had to get a rescue party going, right now.Boomerang didn’t even have a chance to wonder who the hell Harleen was.
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Diablo considered this group family.It wasn’t something he was ashamed to admit, no. But it also wasn’t something he said often. He was fairly sure the others knew regardless.They were all protectors, in their own ways. Croc had muscles, Deadshot had his guns, boomerang was stupid (but a good shot), and personally, Diablo would burn the world for his new friends.They’d all seen what Harley could do, of course. And it wasn’t a matter of underestimating her- nothing of the sort.Still, he considered, tugging another rock out of place, he hadn’t expected this. None of them had.He thought maybe she would scare the kid into crying or shutting up, maybe call her a brat. They hadn’t expected her to hold hands with the girl, wipe away what she could reach of her tears, call her Abby in a reassuring tone.Even right now, as Boomerang held the computer for them to watch, Harley was coaching the girl through breathing exercises. She was unable to follow along herself, wincing every time she mentioned a deep breath, but it was doing wonders for the little girl.“There you are, hun,” Harley said, relieved. “In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. It’s what I used for years with my patients, works like a charm.”“Patients?” Boomerang said, forehead creased in confusion.“She used to be a doctor,” Flagg said, straining himself against another rock. Croc came up behind him a moment later, shoving it out of the way with ease, and Flagg attempted to not look embarrassed. “Harleen Quinzel, a therapist and psychoanalyst.”“Holy crap,” Boomerang echoed, stunned. “But isn’t she like...crazy?”“She wasn’t always,” Flagg answered, voice dark. “Not until the Joker came around.”Diablo felt the sun god in his blood boil at that, burn his way to his hands. He lifted a rock instead with the energy- if he started melting parts of the building, Harley would be in serious danger.“That’s good, honey, good job,” Harley said, voice crackled over the computer. Everyone in the area froze at the tone. “Just keep breathing like that, okay? Someone will come get you soon.”Diablo’s eyes snapped up desperately at that, because Harley sounded so apologetic, so pained, so weak-
Protect her, protect her, protect her-
And with that, Harleys eyes fluttered shut, one hand clutched desperately by the little girl.The people in the rubble exploded into movement.
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The world was hazy when Harley came to, like she couldn’t quite put the pieces together right. It took quite a while to drag her eyes open, and when she did her vision swam and blurred unhelpfully.The shouting, though. That was pretty clear.Flag’s voice was the loudest, bellowing for medics, for Evac teams, for supplies, for a stretcher. Harley halfway wanted to tell him to shut up, but that was rude. And she got the feeling he was just trying to keep her alive. So. Fine. Even if he was giving her a headache.Deadshot was next to her, shaking her shoulders over and over again. She’d never been good at focusing, though it was a little harder than normal to drag her attention back to the world of the living. Croc was growling behind her, holding most of her weight. Which was good, because she couldn’t imagine trying to actually sit up on her own right now.Somehow she felt floaty, but her chest was so tight, like she was breathing through a coffee stirrer. From experience, she could already feel a few broken ribs and the littering of bruises that covered her, even though her memory was splotchy at best-The building. The explosion. Being trapped, being unable to breathe. Not knowing if her team was coming or leaving her.“Are you back with us?” Diablo asked, crouching beside her.Harley’s eyes snapped to him. His body language held purposely open, trying to show that he wasn’t a threat. The same guilt-ridden, partly-redeemed man, despite everything.For some reason, she felt like crying.“Hi,” she croaked out, voice cracking as tears spilled over. And there was Boomerang, withdrawing sharply with wide, startled eyes. The Aussie wasn’t built for emotions. “Thanks for coming back for me. I’m sorry I ran off.”“We’re glad you did,” Floyd cut in smoothly, over any of the bitingly sarcastic or angry responses the others could provide. “Otherwise Abigail wouldn’t have made it out alive.”Oh. Oh no.Clarity. All of the last few hours suddenly crystallized in her mind, banishing the fog. Already she struggled to look around, attempting to clamber to her feet-Croc caught her, large hands spanning her waist while Deadshot caught her arms. She muttered a thanks, scanning the crowds.There. By the ambulance on the side, sat on the back. The girl curled in on herself, visibly trembling.Harley didn’t know what came over her, to be honest. Maybe it had something to do with those far fetched dreams about Mister J and their pretend family she kept thinking about. Maybe it was just instinct. Who knows.All she cared about was getting there, suddenly. Harley wiped at her eyes, scrubbing away any extra makeup. Shook her head sharply, tuning in on a different part of herself.When she opened her eyes, Flag stood in front of her, neutral and strong as ever. His eyes were a whole other storm, but Harley didn’t have the energy to read them. Probably wouldn’t lie what they spelled out, regardless.“I know I’m a villain,” she said. Her tone would have been impatient, except this was important. She couldn’t risk it now. “But that’s a scared girl. She seemed okay with me under the building, so I’m gonna try to comfort her now.” Then, because she was still Harley Quinn at the end of the day, she hitched her thumb over her shoulder. “Feel free to have one of them shoot me if you don’t like it.”Flag didn’t move. Her hand twitched for her hammer before suddenly he stepped back, clearing the way.“We need to figure out a full name, her parents identities, and what she was doing in the building,” he said instead. At least he wasn’t shouting now, that had to be an improvement.Harley nodded and forced herself to ignore the urge to limp, evening out her gait as she went along her beeline to Abigail.Harleen had a job to do.