Dick didn't know what to think. It was his break, and he didn't want to spend it suffering with his thoughts alone in his room like the only college finals week he'd ever endured. Some sleep was in order; his head was still reeling from Harley's and his own confliction, though he smiled in spite of himself at the thought of her.

"Pleasant time?" A voice asked from the darkness of the room as he entered, it's owner sitting at the table, silhouetted in the muted daylight streaming in the panoramic windows. Dick froze.

"Damian." He relaxed. "What are you doing here?" Dick asked pleasantly, his eyes exhausted. "You should leave, I'm not in the mood-"

He was cut off when Robin stood and slammed his wingding into the wooden surface of the table. The blade caught the light, and Dick wasn't smiling anymore.

"It's not what you think," he said firmly. The last time he'd seen the weapon, it had been lodged in the eye socket of a day old Infected victim.

When he and Harley had crossed into Midtown.

"Really? Because I think you're a self-destructive masochist who's found an enabler, and I think she's a neglected hybristophiliac who's found another fixation," Robin snapped. Nightwing let out a short breath.

"Damn, Damian," he scoffed, but he didn't move from the door.

"Stop this. Now. Before you get yourself- or one of us- hurt." His tone was commanding, his voice almost a carbon copy of his father's.

"Come on, kid. You can't tell me what to do," Dick laughed, finally walking away from the bedroom door to the bed, taking off his jacket.

"I can when I'm the only sane one around here. I thought if I let you get it out of your system, work through whatever it is you feel for her, you'd eventually taper off. I can see that's not the case, now."

"It doesn't mean anything," Dick muttered.

"Yes it does. You get a high from it, don't you?" Damian said furiously. "You want it because she's at the top five of Gotham's most dangerous. There's an adrenaline there. A euphoria. But it won't last, Dick, and you know what happens then. What happens when you need a better fix? You going to go after someone more dangerous?"

"I said it doesn't mean anything," he snapped, feeling anger welling in his chest. Robin was right, but he wasn't mad because of that.

"Sure it doesn't now. But what feeling is going to replace that high? What's more emotionally thrilling than trusting a murderous psychopath with your life?"

Dick turned on him angrily. "Don't say it-"

"-trusting her with your heart. I've seen it happen with you. You're going to fall for her, Dick, maybe you already have. So I'm warning you- get out now."

"It's not like that," he spat. Damian crossed his arms and waited for Dick to explain. "Yeah, I've been talking to her. Yeah, we've had some… closer encounters, and maybe- maybe- it is a bit thrilling to get out of my comfort zone like that, but I know, okay? I know nothing will come of it, I know that nothing will happen."

"No you don't." Robin took his mask off, his jaw set angrily. "Let's examine the possibilities. You seem set on fucking the Joker's girl, so let's flesh out what happens next." Damian walked towards him, walking around Dick as if scrutinizing a less than pleasing sculpture in a gallery. "This continues. You'll grow to care for her. Chemicals in the brain released during sex make that inevitable. You'll start to like her, maybe even love her. She doesn't love you. She can't. A diagnosed hybristophilia, along with abandonment and neglect issues caused by an absent father and a verbally abusive mother, make it impossible for her to be satisfied in a normal way. She might even get off on the violence. She's the Joker's perfect cocktail of crazy." Dick closed his eyes, trying to control his anger.

"I don't want to hear this," he muttered, and Damian talked over him.

"So why's she with you? Maybe the Joker just doesn't satisfy. Pure psychopaths don't really have that kind of sexual drive, so it makes sense. Then she sees you, Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome, and she sees it." Damian stopped in front of him, glaring up at his brother. Dick met his eyes, his lips pressed together furiously. "She sees the thing she's been looking for- a release, in the form of a self-destructive, reckless, dangerous individual with a painted-on smile. Sound like anyone else we know?" Damian smirked, walking back to the wingding in the table. Dick scoffed quietly, but he couldn't stop the words from sinking in.

"So you're now mutual parasites; she feeds off of your newly discovered rebellious streak and taste for danger, and you feed off of the danger she provides. It's a sick little cycle isn't it? It's not love, it's narcotics."

"Stop," Dick breathed, sitting down on the bed slowly. He was more angry and hurt than he'd been when he arrived, his head reeling.

"Let's take it a few weeks, maybe even months, down the road," Damian continued, running a thumb along the sharp blade of the wingding. "You'll fall for her. That's inevitable. But she doesn't fall for you. Now you have your weekly sexual outlet, your secret romance, and that's what drives you. The thrill of meeting Juliet over the garden wall, in the dead of the night. But what drives her?"

"Damian-"

"-He does. She won't keep it a secret, no matter how hard she tries; whether she tells him, he finds out on his own, or he beats it out of her. Now she gets her sexual outlet, one the Joker just can't quite satisfy, but he also gets whatever he wants. Information? Perhaps. Shift rotation schedules deduced from when you meet her, and suddenly he has his hands in Gotham again. And that… that's something that she can get off on. All she wants is to please him, so she gets a high knowing that you're riding her and not doing your goddamn job, and giving her whatever she wants!" he shouted. "And what she wants, is for the Joker to have anything he wants, because maybe, just maybe that will stop the beatings. Maybe that will make him love her!"

"That's enough!" Dick cried, on his feet in a second. His breathing was ragged, his eyes wide in anger. In fear.

"Fine," Damian spat. "Let's examine the other option. If you get your way, and she falls in love with you. Maybe she's not as crazy as we think. Maybe she never was, and the Joker is the only thing she has. She knows she has no choice but to stay with him, and maybe he makes her. He can't love her, no, he doesn't have the capacity to, and suddenly… suddenly here's this dark knight, a prince of Gotham, one of the only people in this dystopian setting that can forgive her sins and take her away from the Joker. Hell, it happened to Catwoman, why not her?"

"Damian, you're right though; why not her?!" Dick cried, interrupting him again. "You haven't seen her like I have. I'm getting to know her, but she isn't who we thought she was! Maybe we can help her!"

"No, and I'll tell you why," Damian sneered. "Catwoman made her own decisions."

"So does Harley."

"She doesn't. You know who makes her decisions for her, and she will never get away from him. He doesn't love her, but that doesn't mean she doesn't belong to him. Catwoman didn't have anything holding her back. When Father asked, she could make the decision to stay with him or remain a criminal, and she had the power to choose." Damian walked to the windows, looking out over Gotham. "So maybe she falls in love with you, and she chooses you. She can come live here, in Wayne Tower, and watch the city burn with you as a result of your decisions, because the Joker is never going to let that happen." He turned to look at Dick again. "If she chooses you, she starts a war."

"Damian… I can't believe this. You think you can lecture me on love? Have you ever even kissed someone?" Dick muttered, looking down. It was a feeble attempt at misdirection, he knew, but he didn't want to listen to this anymore. He knew he was in the wrong here.

"I think I can lecture you on strategy," Damian corrected. "You're all worthless at truly thinking ahead, but this is worse than Red Hood eating more than he's rationed, or Catwoman nearly killing Father in a fervor. You're playing with explosives, and you're gonna take us all out with you. If she doesn't love you, then she's using you. She's a spy, and what you give her will get us all killed. If she does love you- then she's Helen of Troy, and we'll all die in the crossfire. You can't win, Grayson."

Dick didn't say anything, looking down at his boots as he again sat down on the bed. Damian was right.

"And what do you think happens if we wind up dead?" Robin asked, putting his mask back on.

"Gotham falls."

"Very good, Richard. Unless you stop this now, you, her, your family, your city- all that destruction will be on your hands. It's better this way."

"And If I don't?" Dick asked. "If I think I can pull this off, and save everyone? What if I don't believe you?"

"Then I'll let Father try to convince you." Robin shrugged, walking towards the exit. He'd made his point, but he paused at the door. "Just know this; if you choose to continue walking this thin line between a fantasy world and the one that you're needed in, the real world, you're going to fall. No matter how practiced you are at the high wire, Grayson, you're going to fall and drag the rest of us down with you. It's inevitable." Dick opened his mouth to speak, but Damian held up his hand to silence him. "It may be in the next five years, it may be in the next five hours. But you will fail." Dick looked down and closed his eyes. "Choose one side or the other, while you still can, lest you lose both, and before you have to pick which way to kill us all. And Richard-" Dick glanced back up. "Choose wisely."

Robin's cape swept around his ankles as he left the room, the door clicking closed quietly behind him. Dick tore his mask off and threw it down on the table, accidentally catching his hand on the blade of the wingding still embedded in the surface. He cried out and looked at the blood on his hand. Furiously yanking the weapon out of the wood, Dick launched it across the room and heard it hit the wall in the bathroom as he turned around and began pacing. Damian was right. This 'fantasy world' that he was living in with Harley; their little home at the hotel, their passionate encounters- it wasn't real. It never would be.

How could it be?! Dick thought angrily, running his hand through his hair. She's with the Joker. She tells you that, hell; you can see it, you just don't want to. Someone rapped softly on his bedroom door, but he didn't hear it, pacing the length of the room. Dick knew that everything that Damian had said was true. Harley couldn't love him, and he didn't love her. It was a dream that he'd gotten lost in, invented in his head, and she was insane. Of course she played along. It was never real, and he now felt foolish for ever feeling what he had felt.

What I still feel, he thought angrily, shaking his head. I can't believe this. The knock came again. Dick glanced at the door, unsure if he'd really heard it, and then continued his pacing. He knew it was wrong. He knew it was fake. He knew it was insane. Yet he still craved her touch with every thought that he had. Dick closed his eyes, imagining her kiss on his lips, before he pressed his thumb into the cut on his hand, the pain stopping his daydreaming.

Someone pounded on the door and he was torn from his thoughts, storming over to open it. "I'm on break, damn it-" he snapped, before realizing that it was Barbara. "Oh. Hi. I didn't… sorry, I thought you were Damian," Dick smiled a little, leaning against the door, his arm above his head.

"Whoa, what'd he do to make you mad?" she asked, smiling back.

"Nothing. He can rub even me the wrong way sometimes, you know?" Dick stepped back to let her in. "Did you need something?"

"I thought we should talk." Barbara stepped into the room. "Things have still been pretty awkward between us."

"You're telling me," Dick laughed, shoving a hand in his pocket. "Would you like to sit?" he gestured to the chair by the table, and then moved the heap of clothes on it out of the way.

"No, I'm, uh…" She looked awkwardly at the chair. "How have you been? How are patrols?"

"They're fine," he cleared his throat. "Like any other day, really. Just less mob bosses, more zombies," Dick smiled. She frowned.

"You know we don't want people calling them zombies."

It took him a moment to register what she'd said. "Right. Infected, sorry," he trailed off, looking down.

"You used to be really big into viewing them as people, not monsters," Barbara reminded him. "Did she change that?" Dick's head snapped up, his jaw tight.

"No. She hasn't changed anything. And if that's why you came here, then you can leave, because there's nothing to talk about," he said calmly, watching her. Barbara flinched back.

"Yeah, she obviously hasn't changed anything. We used to be friends." She crossed her arms. "Now I guess we don't have anything to talk about." Dick was quiet.

"You're right. I'm sorry, Babs. I just… I don't know what to tell you."

"I just… I want to know why," she mumbled. "Why her?" When did it stop being me?

Dick scoffed quietly, sinking into the chair. "Because she was there? Because I was… because you'd just told me that we were just friends, I guess?" Because I was lost and stupid and rash, and I didn't think first.

"So since I said I wasn't interested you decided to fling yourself at the nearest psychopath?" She took a deep breath. "How often do you two meet? Is it like a date?"

"No, Babs it's not-" Dick groaned in frustration, rubbing his temples. "It's not like that. It's not dating, it's not… she calls us friends. That's it."

"And what do you call the two of you?" she asked. "Because the last time you were 'friends' with someone, turns out you wanted more."

"Yeah, I did," Dick looked up at her seriously. "But she shot that one down pretty quick without any consideration, even though it sounds like now… now she's jealous." He stood slowly, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm not… jealous," she scoffed, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "I'm just… worried about you. You never think things through."

"You're right, I don't, but you always over think things enough for the both of us. And you're jealous," he added casually, hiding a smile.

"I'm not jealous," she snapped. "Maybe jealous of how fast you can move on."

"That's directly related to how long I waited with no new outcome," he pointed out, stepping closer to her. "Who's fault is that?"

"Because you gave me, what, a day to process that you had feelings for me?" she reminded him. "You wait a year to tell me you want to be more than friends, and then nothing? Two days later you're chasing after the Joker's girlfriend?"

"I always wanted to be more than friends, Barbara, I thought you'd remember that," Dick laughed, shaking his head. "Seriously, did you come here to harp on me about Harley, or did you need something?" he asked. "It's the start of my break, and I'd really like to shower and get cleaned up."

"Except now," she muttered. "Now you don't want to be more than friends."

"When did I say that?"

"When you told me to forget about it! When you told me that you moved on because of Harley Quinn." She glared at him. "And don't tell me that didn't ruin our friendship more than you telling me you still had feelings for me because you don't talk to me since you've started seeing her. You don't visit. You don't want to see me anymore. So if that means you want to be more than friends, then I guess dating has changed a lot since the last time I was in a relationship."

"I'm sorry Barbara. I don't visit because I can't trust myself. You want to be friends, and regardless of anyone else interfering, Harley Quinn or that scientist in the labs; I do want to be more. I've been busying myself with patrol, with supply- which reminds me-" Dick reached into his utility belt and took out the remaining Kit-Kat bars for her. Barbara looked down at them. She put her hands over his.

"If you don't trust yourself, can you at least trust me?" She looked up at him. Dick met her gaze seriously.

"Always."

"Good." Barbara hesitated for a second before stretching up and kissing him. Dick blinked in surprise and hesitantly kissed her back, his hand coming to rest on her waist. It was familiar, and he closed his eyes slowly. They'd done this quite often in the past year, seeking the familiarity as comfort, neither one ever wanting more from the other than satisfaction. Her kiss was different this time and he relaxed into it, pulling her closer. Barbara knew he'd always been there for her, even liked her more than she liked him from the day they met, but the thought of him moving on now scared her. With how everything else had changed in the past year, she didn't want to lose him too. She just hadn't known it until he'd already moved on. Because she could see it, he was moving on.

She stood up on tiptoe, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed him again. Dick kissed her back, smiling as he snaked his arms around her waist and lifted her onto the toes of his boots. He held her close, savoring the taste of her lips. Barbara sighed at the familiar sensation of his smile against her lips. She grabbed onto his shoulder, her other hand trailing along his back muscles hugged by his tight shirt. Dick's hand tightened at her waist as the other cradled her face. His fist bunched in the fabric of her shirt, pulling it up at her hip, and he kissed her harder, biting her lip. She gasped, her hand tightening on his shoulder. She traced her other hand along his side, letting it come to rest on his chest. Her gesture calmed him a bit, and she could feel him reigning himself in. Dick kissed her gently, passionately; it was warm in his embrace, and he suddenly lifted her off of her feet, holding her in his arms as they kissed. She worked his tight Nightwing suit up his chest, her fingers skimming over his abs as her tongue sought his. Dick moaned softly, carrying her to his bed and laying her down gently, kneeling above her as he pulled his Nightwing suit over his head. He bent down to kiss her again, his hands sliding under her shirt as he closed his eyes. He could feel the warmth of her skin and the scar on her stomach from the Joker's gun as his hands trailed up her waist; her familiar scent surrounded him, her lips so inviting and so welcoming. She tasted like home, and yet…

Dick pinched his eyes closed, imagining the ivory skin under his hands, two-tone hair falling over the pillows; blood scarlet and as black as the night sky.

He gasped, his lips parting from Barbara's for a moment as he looked at her, taking in every detail of her warm skin, her freckled nose and green eyes, her soft red hair framing her face. Dick panted as he leaned down to kiss her passionately again, pulling her hips against his. Barbara gasped in surprise, her hands reaching up to cup his face.

"Dick," she breathed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against her lips, blushing a bit. He kissed her gently. She closed her eyes. She could feel it in the way he moved; he'd been a lot closer to Harley Quinn than he'd let on. She knew every bit of his body, but not the new way he moved. That hurt more than she'd wanted to believe it could.

Turning quickly, she pushed him over, sitting on his hips. She slowly undid his utility belt.

"Babs," Dick sighed quietly, his hands trailing up her arms lovingly to pull her back to his lips as he kissed her slowly. Barbara felt a thrill run through her, and she smoothed her hands across his chest. She could almost pretend it was like before, like nothing had happened. Before any Infection or madness. Just her and Dick. She sat back up and pulled her shirt over her head before leaning back down to kiss him again. His hands moved hungrily over her skin, coming to rest on the small of her back where his thumb traced over the exit wound scar on her spine. Dick kissed her harder, pulling her closer, his hand slipping down the back of her jeans.

If only you'd let me tell you that I still had feelings for you too, Barbara thought, before you went out and got over me. Her hands grabbed his face as she kissed him back, her body pressed against his. Dick held her closer, pulling her pants off before sitting up with her in his lap. He cradled her body in his arms and kissed her lovingly.

Even as he held her so tenderly, he knew it wasn't the same. All he wanted to do was try. Try to pretend that nothing had changed. He'd always loved her. So why did it suddenly feel like a lie? His fingers trailed down her spine again and came to rest on the soft skin at her hips, and he smiled a little in her kiss against his lips before stopping to breathe for a moment. His words were muffled by her lips when he spoke, and he laughed quietly. "I have always loved you," Dick whispered softly, stroking her cheek.

"And it just took me longer to realize the same," Barbara murmured. She kissed him sweetly as her thumbs caressed his jaw.

"That's ok. I'm experienced at waiting," he smiled lovingly and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Thank you." She kissed him again, pushing him down against the mattress. Dick laughed, pulling her down with him and kissing her neck as his hands wrapped in her hair, his lips soft and deliberate on her skin. For a moment, he almost felt guilty. Until he remembered Harley's furious insistence that she and the Joker were together. She may as well have told him that it would never happen, and she practically had. His attraction to Harley was nothing if not returned, but it was never meant to be. And, he thought, his hand sliding down Barbara's shoulder pulling her bra strap down, if Babs loves me… then what more do I need? Barbara couldn't help but to respond to his touch, smiling into the kiss as she ran her hands down his sides to his hips. Dick kissed down her neck gently, turning and pressing her down to the blankets on the bed, bracing one arm beside her head as he did. His other hand remained at her waist, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her skin. He kissed her collarbone.

"You're welcome, Batgirl," he finally said, kissing the hollow of her throat. She moaned weakly at the feel of his lips. She reached up to tangle her hands in his hair. Dick's hips pressed against her as he leaned down to kiss over her shoulder, one hand gripping her leg and pulling it around his waist as the other held her cheek. His breathing spiked. It was Barbara's hands in his hair, but it was Harley's touch- he knew that it was Barbara's breath gasping past her lips, but he longed to hear Harley's. Get out of my head, he thought furiously, suddenly kissing Barbara hard, his arm slipping under her back as he pulled her against him. Barbara blinked in surprise but didn't say anything as she kissed him back.

Just when she could forget their problems, he'd do something that reminded her that he'd moved on. That he'd changed. She couldn't help wondering the whole time if she was the one he was really thinking of, or if someone else's touch was on his mind. He said he'd always loved her, but that didn't mean he was in love with her anymore.

Barbara watched him sleep, tracing her thumb along his jaw. She'd been unable to relax enough to fall asleep beside him unlike the other times, and she'd laid awake the whole night. It hadn't felt the same. Dick breathed slowly and steadily. She remembered when there was a time when she'd watched him breathe like that, knowing that as long as he did, she would be there. When she'd known that every breath he took was for her. Now...

"Harley..." Dick breathed, his brow furrowing as he reached up and caught Barbara's hand, opening his eyes groggily. He smiled a little. "Babs. Morning," he yawned, kissing her hand before stretching. She looked down at their hands, twisting her free hand around a strand of hair. He'd said her name once before while he was sleeping. Harley's name on his lips so quiet like a sigh she'd wanted to pretended she hadn't heard it. But she had, and she knew she wasn't who he dreamt about anymore.

"Morning, Boy Wonder. How'd you sleep?"

"Better with you here," he smiled, blinking sleepily.

Barbara smiled gently. "We... shouldn't do this anymore."

Dick sat up in surprise, looking at her, suddenly more awake and alert. "What? We shouldn't... Why? But I thought you said-"

"-Because in spite of what you said, you do just want to be friends. You just don't want to admit it to yourself."

"I don't understand," he ran his hands through his hair. She looked down and sighed.

"Look at me," she cupped his face, "look at me and tell me you still love me."

Dick stared at her in shock.

"I..." He watched her, his mouth opening a little as he sighed quietly. He took her hand, holding it against his face as he looked down and closed his eyes. "I want to. I do. I love you. I can honestly say that I just... It doesn't feel the same. Does it?" He looked up at her, his pale blue eyes saddened.

"You love me, but you're no longer in love with me," she clarified. "I guess I expected it," she shrugged. "Even before all of… this," she glanced around his room, "we were outgrowing each other. It was bound to happen." The words tasted bitter in her mouth. Dick looked down, still holding her hand in his. His thumb trailed over a scar on her ring finger as he examined her slender fingers and pale hands.

"But I want to," Dick looked up at her sadly. "I don't..." He sighed slowly, running a hand through his hair. "I want to love you. I want to be with you. So why can't I?" Dick watched her sadly. Barbara looked at him seriously.

"Because I'm not her."

"No." Dick said firmly. "I'm not in love with her. I don't even… I can't love her."

"Since when has it being someone you can't love stopped you from falling in love?" she countered, pushing her bra strap that slid down back up.

"Babs please- I don't want to. I just want…" Dick looked down. In all honesty, he didn't even know what he wanted. He knew he couldn't love Harley, and he knew that she didn't love him. He also knew that Barbara loved him, but he, for some reason, couldn't love her anymore. Dick wanted to love her. He wanted to be happy with her and hold her and tell her that he loved her- but he couldn't, and he couldn't figure out why.

Of course, you know. She just said it. It's because of her. Dick shook his head, hiding his face in his hands. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," he said quietly. Barbara let out a short laugh.

"Trust me, those words were not as comforting as you wanted them to be." She rubbed her eyes, the exhaustion weighing on her. "But we can't keep pretending this is something that it's not," she said bitterly. I can't keep pretending that you're something that you're not. Not anymore. "And you can't keep pretending that that relationship isn't something it's not."

Dick stared down at the sheets through his fingers. Not like this. "I'm sorry, Babs," he said softly, and then looked up at her. "I wish…" Dick pursed his lips and looked down at his hands on the comforter again, sighing softly. "I want to say that I'll come back. That this is just some… some phase, like Kori or… or Helena; I want to promise you that I'll eventually be yours again but…" his eyes lifted to meet hers again sadly. "But I can't ask you to wait for me. I wish I could ask you to hold me in your heart, like you've done for years-" he rubbed his face in frustration and groaned- "but I can't do that to you. I don't want to do that to you, because I still-" Dick stared at her, cutting off his own words. I do still love you. He didn't finish the sentence. But you're right. It's not love like it used to be.

"It's not like there's that many dating options out there. Clearly considering who you've found." She rolled her eyes. "You sure can pick 'em."

"He abuses her," Dick whispered quietly, not looking up. Barbara watched him carefully.

"Oh, God," she groaned. "You know we've had family meetings about that puppy dog expression." She glanced at her watch. "You have half a day to kill till your patrol. Get cleaned up, get sorted out, and- I cannot believe I'm condoning this- go find her and," she waved vaguely, "stop being so sad about it."

"I'm so sorry Barbara," he stared at her, his eyes so hurt and so incredibly earnest. He knew that she was probably horribly wounded by this; he knew that she'd wanted to love him as much as he wanted to love her, if not more so. He also knew what that felt like. "I know how this… how all of this must seem and I know how it feels and… I wouldn't wish that on anyone, least of all you. So I'm sorry."

"I know," she sighed. "That's what sucks about all this. It'd be so much easier to be mad at you if you weren't such a good guy." She stared at him a moment longer before getting up. "So," she pulled her shirt on, "I'm going to go get cleaned up and sorted out." She shimmied her pants on. "And…" she trailed off, brushing her hair behind her ear, "um, try and wrap my head around all of this." And probably break down crying while stuffing my face full of Kit-Kats, she admitted to herself. "So…"

"So I guess that's it then," he sighed lightly. "Well I guess… I guess we finally figured out exactly what our attraction level is to each other. I mean our relationship. We figured out what we are," he stuttered, scratching the scar on his shoulder as he shook his head. "That's it."

"Yeah," she looked down, "that's it." She took a deep breath. "I guess… I'll see you later?"

"This feels so wrong," Dick cried in exasperation, running his hands through his hair again. He sighed quietly. "Yeah. I'll see you later, and hey-" don't tell anyone about Harley. "This doesn't mean we can't be friends. I mean, what would you do if I stopped bringing you Kit-Kat's? What would I do without the sciency stuff?" he joked halfheartedly, smiling a little. Barbara laughed, but it sounded forced.

"Okay, just," she took a deep breath, "give me a little time to… wrap my head around this." Time to get over you, which I doubt there is enough of. She nodded once before heading to the door. "And Dick," she turned back to him, her hand on the door handle. "Be careful. She…" Is the Joker's girlfriend, untrustworthy, crazy, not good enough for you, on the other side, could be using you, evil, a murderer… "might not feel the same way." And we all know how that feels. She gave him a sad smile before pulling the door open and leaving.