The rain in Gotham showed no sign of stopping.
Cold threads of rain wove a hazy veil between them, cutting them off from the rest of the world.
Harley Quinn felt as though her heart might leap out of her chest. She stared at the man before her, terrified that he was just another hallucination brought on by days of exhaustion.
She had seen too many of those.
In the years since he had vanished, she often caught glimpses of him in reflections at street corners, in the familiar silhouette of a passerby, or when she woke with a start in the middle of the night. Each time brought a brief rush of joy, followed by a deeper sense of loss.
She struggled to calm herself, drawing on her professional knowledge of psychology to analyze what was happening.
Perhaps this man was only a stranger who looked a little like him. Perhaps he was an ordinary person whose life had gone wrong and who needed psychological help. The complicated emotion in his eyes might be nothing more than a projection of her own feelings.
She could not let her hallucinations and longing deceive her so easily again.
She took a deep breath and forced herself back into the calm demeanor of Dr. Quinn, though her grip on the umbrella handle was so tight her knuckles had turned white.
"Sir," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, "it's late, and the rain is heavy. If you don't have anything urgent to attend to, please go home."
A flicker of bitterness crossed the man's face. Of course he saw her wariness, the way she was protecting herself.
He knew any explanation would ring hollow. He could not prove who he was to her, because the once-omnipotent "Link" had vanished with that