Barbara Gordon was engaged.

You knew that, and every time you were reminded of it, it stung. Working at the GCPD was interesting, for lack of a better word, but what made it easy to get up in the mornings was to see her. She smiled at you when you came in, the two of you always exchanged dinners and drinks, and you'd never been so smitten before. But the ring on her finger was like a hole in your heart.

Barbara flirted with you. You flirted back. It was confusing, and it was messy, because you know you shouldn't be doing this, and she knows it too.

"Hey, sweetheart," she calls, and you look over your shoulder, almost melting at that warm smile on her face. It almost isn't fair. "Would you come here for a second? I can't reach the shelf up here."