Facing Fears

He should have suspected something was wrong when the Batmobile broke down.

To be more precise, the Batmobile lost a wheel, which was the second clue something was wrong. But finding himself stranded in the rain just outside of Gotham City with Batgirl, both of them soaking wet and inexplicably without the ability to call Alfred or anyone, seemed somehow perfectly plausible at that particular moment.

"Bruce, there's a light up ahead," said Batgirl, nodding through the blinding rain.

They both walked toward the light, and his heart lurched when he saw the sign through a flash of lightning. "Barb…that's Arkham Asylum," he gasped.

"So? We just need to use their phone to call Alfred – with all the bad guys we bring in there, they owe us," retorted Batgirl. "Come on."

She strode toward the front door of the asylum, and knocked sharply. The door creaked slowly open, revealing nothing but darkness inside. "Barb, wait…" he began, but she had already disappeared into the asylum. He followed cautiously, having a very bad feeling about this.

"Hello? Anybody in here?" called Batgirl. "Dr. Leland?"

"Sorry, Bratgirl," said a familiar voice. "The Doc's out. All of 'em."

"As you will be shortly," said another familiar voice. "Out of your minds, that is."

A blinding light shot on, and when he regained his sight, he saw Harley Quinn dressed in her usual costume, but with added sequins, tails, and a top hat, and the Scarecrow, dressed in his usual costume, but with no mask, and longer, stringier hair. They both smiled at them in a creepier than usual way.

"Where are the doctors?" Batgirl demanded. "What have you done with them?"

"Nothing yet," replied Harley, grinning. "But we're just about to have ourselves a little party. And Mr. J will be so pleased you're joining us – he's all dressed up especially for you, Batbrain," she said, nodding at him.

They were both seized and dragged into the cell block. He struggled, but somehow both Scarecrow and Harley seemed to have almost superhuman strength, which was another sign something was wrong.

There did indeed appear to be a party in the cell block – all of Batman's enemies were there, dressed in strange variations of their usual flamboyant costumes. Music played from somewhere, the tune sounding vaguely familiar, as Batman's enemies chatted, laughed, and danced. He looked around for Joker, but couldn't see him anywhere.

"All right, folks, we'll play it again!" came a voice from somewhere, and the same tune repeated itself over and over again. It was like some hellish purgatory that he found himself stuck in, along with all his enemies.

"Yoo hoo! Batsy!" called a familiar voice, and he turned with dread to see the Joker striding toward him, dressed in a purple cape which he held in front of his body. "I'm so glad you could join us – I got a new outfit just for you!" he chuckled.

Joker suddenly threw the cape back over his shoulders to reveal that he was dressed in a purple corset, fishnets, and very high purple heels. "Like what you see?" giggled Joker. "I know you do! I'm not much of a man by the light of day, but by night I'm one hell of a lover - I'm just a sweet transvestite! Now come on, Batsy – give yourself over to absolute pleasure," he whispered, leaning forward with puckered lips.

And that was when Bruce Wayne woke up, screaming. "Bruce, oh my God, what is it?" exclaimed Barbara Gordon, sitting bolt upright next to him.

Bruce stared at her, breathing heavily as he looked around his bedroom. "A…nightmare," he gasped. "God, I am never forgiving you for taking me to see 'The Rocky Horror Show.' It just gave me too many disturbing images. A flamboyant, depraved bad guy with big red lips and a penchant for flirting with everyone is just a little too close to home for me."

"Well, I'm sorry, killjoy, but it's a Halloween tradition," retorted Barbara, yawning and lying back down. "Although it was a little annoying how many people asked me if I was meant to be Dr. Scott in the wheelchair and all. But it didn't hurt you to have a little fun."

"Easy for you to say – you didn't see my nightmare," retorted Bruce. He stood up, heading into the bathroom to wash the sweat from his face.

"It can't have been that bad," said Barbara. "Anyway, you need to come back to bed – you need your sleep so you're rested for lunch with my dad tomorrow."

"Barbara, I just had a vision of the Joker in a corset," retorted Bruce. "I'm not going back to sleep anytime soon."

"Yeah, strangely that doesn't seem that far-fetched," said Barbara, grinning. "But frankly, if I were you, I'd be more scared of seeing my dad tomorrow when you tell him we're dating."

"I don't know why he'd have a problem with it," retorted Bruce.

"You don't?" she asked. "Well, for starters, you knew me when I was a kid. And even if he doesn't know about the Batman/Batgirl thing, I think he'll be a little concerned about our age difference. He's kinda overprotective, you know."

"I know," said Bruce. "But our age difference is really no worse than Joker and Harley's."

"And you're using them as the yardstick for a healthy relationship?" asked Barbara, raising an eyebrow.

"No," retorted Bruce. "I'm just saying stranger things have happened."

"Well, you know the kinda guy the tabloids portray Bruce Wayne as," continued Barbara. "I think Dad will be afraid you're not committed to me, just like you're not committed to any of the women you date."

"He won't believe that I've decided it's time to settle down?" asked Bruce. "Put the playboy lifestyle behind me because I've realized there comes a time when a guy wants more?"

"Is that what you've realized?" asked Barbara, smiling.

Bruce sat down on the bed. "I've just…seen my enemies move on with their lives. I mean, they still commit crimes and things, but Joker and Harley have their kids, Scarecrow has his, Mad Hatter's adopted his goddaughter…"

He trailed off. "So?" asked Barbara.

"So…they've all committed themselves to people while still maintaining their identities, for the most part," said Bruce. He shrugged. "Why can't I do the same?"

"Is this you telling me we're getting serious?" asked Barbara, surprised.

"Hey, if I'm having to tell your dad about us, I'd say that was the first sign," said Bruce, kissing her.

Barbara grinned. "It takes you being scared outta your mind by seeing the Joker in a corset to make you take things between us seriously. You know, I think he'd appreciate that joke if you told him."

"I'm not mentioning it to Joker," retorted Bruce.

"I know. It was a joke, silly," said Barbara, shaking her head. "He's right about you having no sense of humor, you know."

"I'm surprised you can joke about him after what he did to you," retorted Bruce.

"If I let him take my sense of humor as well as my ability to walk, then I let him win," said Barbara, shrugging.

"You know the idea of him being a father is actually more disturbing than him in a corset," growled Bruce. "Those kids must have the most twisted, messed up minds."

"What, more twisted than the children you train to be Robin?" asked Barbara.

"That's completely different!" snapped Bruce.

"Not that different," she said. "You're both brainwashing children into your way of looking at the world. Joker's kids just happen to be his own flesh and blood. Anyway, they're too old now for you to do anything about it. And remember when Dick reached his teenage phase, he rebelled against you? Maybe the same thing will happen with Joker's kids now that they're teenagers."

"I doubt it," growled Bruce. "For some reason, people seem to find the Joker's way of looking at the world very alluring."

"Maybe you'll join them, now that you've seen him in fishnets," said Barbara, grinning.

Bruce didn't grin back. "It's not funny," he snapped. "And it's not something to joke about."

"Sure, Bruce," yawned Barbara, rolling over. "Nothing ever is for you. Now go back to sleep."

Bruce climbed back into bed, lying awake and staring into the darkness. His nightmare had been worse than anything he had experienced on Scarecrow's fear toxin. Speaking of which, with Halloween just around the corner, a fear toxin attack was sure to be imminent. If Bruce dared admit it to himself, he sort of enjoyed the dependability of many of his enemies. They caused trouble regular as clockwork, and Bruce did enjoy a certain routine, especially when the holidays rolled around. It kept him from having to confront his own personal issues.

He idly wondered if his enemies had their own submerged fears that they lay awake at night thinking about. He couldn't imagine the Joker had any, but he supposed it was possible. Probably not about him in a corset though.

"Remind me to ask Zatanna about memory wipes," he muttered, rolling over to embrace Barbara.

"Sure, remind you to go talk to your ex-girlfriend," retorted Barbara. "Not gonna happen. But nice try on the commitment front, Mr. Playboy Billionaire. You lasted all of ten minutes."'

"Baby steps, Barb," retorted Bruce. "Baby steps."