No one was able to stop you and Barbara from breaking up and getting back together. It was a routine, almost—a dance between the two of you, with only the two of you knowing the moves. Barbara was fine with this because all good things take their time.

It was legendary, yet it also felt momentary. She was amazed at your ability to go from kissing her to talking about how you were going to marry her, only to break up a month later. But your relationship would never stay buried. You told Barbara countless times that she was the love of your life, and she believed you every single time.

Every time you came back, you would talk about rings and cradles, promising never to lie to her, but breaking that vow almost immediately. She wishes she could forget how you almost had it all.

It's been becoming harder to get out of bed, let alone fight crime. Is everyone secondhand embarrassed for her that she's mourning something that should've stayed dead?

"You're the loss of my life," Barbara whispers, looking up at you while you're in the Clocktower to get your things.