Fan Fiction ❯ Sweet Surrender ❯ Sweet Surrender ( One-Shot )

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Sweet Surrender

it doesn't mean much
it doesn't mean anything at all
the life I've left behind me
is a cold room

Alone amidst a room of laughs, a woman sat by herself. In her delicate fingers were papers that held memories... memories long since past and buried in the recesses of her mind. She ran the tips of her fingers over the lines of writing, dedicating the sentences to memory. They were all the same... all the papers. They all held her past and the woman she used to be. They were Harleen Quinzel, and they were pretty.

I've crossed the last line
from where I can't return
where every step I took in faith
betrayed me
and led me from my home

The mask in her hands burned at the touch. It was her new identity. There would be no mistaking that she belonged, now. She belonged to Him. The day at the Asylum had been the point of no return, and yet her Angel had not even so much as faltered. He had scraped up every ounce of loyalty and taken it to heart. She may as well wear a collar. It would be studded with jewels, beautiful as the emerald which shone in His eyes. And they would tear her skin and make her bleed, running over her black and red clothing and staining her golden hair.

and sweet
sweet surrender
is all that I have to give

Inside her heart she filled with an insatiable longing. It bubbled through her mind and filling her eyes with mist. She would be there forever, always coming back to ease her pain. She would be His. And she would know that her hell was not in vain.

you take me in
no questions asked
you strip away the ugliness
that surrounds me

Slowly her figure rose, slipping through the room with an expectant expression. The frame was secure and it held her up, her face soft against it's wood. Through the doorway, there was His light. He shone on her like a candle, flickers of ecstasy racing up and down her spine. A flash of a smile and that promise of laughter had emotions rising deep down inside her. It burst up through her throat and sounded in the dim atmosphere - a giggle. From her fingers fell the papers she'd held.

are you an angel
am I already that gone
I only hope
that I won't disappoint you
when I'm down here
on my knees

All she could ever want was to be in His light. He was so alive and filled with all the good things of her world. The pallor of his skin drew her closer, training her eyes to his sparratic movements. He danced into view once more, awing her with His force. She ached to join, her legs trembling as she struggled. It was blinding being in the room, in His arms and in His love.

and sweet
sweet surrender
is all that I have to give
sweet surrender
is all that I have to give

No, her hell could never be in vain. His eyes bore into her and filled her with His light as they danced. She lost herself in it and in the music of his voice. He was a sonnet to her heart; written with an equisite hand and stroked to clear away the tiniest of flaws. Resistance could not even cross her mind so long as she stayed there with Him. She was His own doll, his jester... his femme fatale. She was His love, and would keep his heart safe for eternity if he would only let her.

and I don't understand
by the touch of your hand
I would be the one to fall

The color of crimson on her lips. It tinged her mouth with confusion and shattered the unison of their hearts. The floor was cold and uninviting, sucking her into it as she lay still. The throb would pass before long, and she would rush to join her Angel once more. He must be searching for her, now. He must be saddened and crying in her absence.

I miss the little things
oh I miss everything you

it doesn't mean much
it doesn't mean anything at all
the life I left behind me
is a cold room

The girl on the paper, frozen in her era, turned blue and clouded. She faded out of view, blown by a gush of air and settled down miles away. Pretty blond girl with eyes like the sky. She was a woman, Harleen, the person. And she asked nothing of herself any longer. She was cold and forgotten, ill-used and battered into the floor.

This was not Harley Quinn.

She could never trust the girl on the paper, now. She was of His world, and a queen to hold His throne. She could not be cold like the girl on the paper. She would forever be warm, her blood flowing with laughter and ease. She had to be. Her legs shook beneath her frame, holding her just high enough to reach out. He was her happiness. He would make her warm forever.