I do not own any of the named characters present. They all belong to DC Comics. This was written purely for fun.


asylum: 1. a psychiatric hospital; 2. a shelter


The ride to Arkham Asylum always felt surreal when he wasn't driving the Batmobile. Bruce Wayne came here enough as his vigilante secret identity, hauling the escaped convicts back through the revolving doors of the rehabilitation center/prison. Not many people made the drive, aside from cops and the occasional reporter for a story.

This wasn't a business trip.

The sleek Lamborghini rounded the final curve before slowing to a stop at the massive iron gates. Bruce leaned out of the window and pressed the intercom button on a small speaker next to the entrance. He waited, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and allowing his eyes to roll over the well-kept grounds. If one wasn't from Gotham and hadn't heard the horror stories of this building, one would think this was a legitimate place where the criminally insane would get the help they needed. Gothamites knew better. They were all aware of just whom this building housed.

Bruce Wayne knew better, too. No one else but the inhabitants of Wayne Manor knew that Bruce often perused the facility as Batman, making sure his charitable donations were being used properly. He was never happy with what he saw, but Bruce Wayne could never say anything.

The speaker crackled to life. "Name?" a bored voice sounded.

"Good evening!" Bruce said in a cheerful tone, playing up the act. "This is Bruce Wayne. I called a little earlier."

"Oh! Mr. Wayne!" The speaker perked up immediately. "I'll open the gates. Come on through."

"Thanks a bunch!" One could hear the smile in his words. As soon as the speaker shut off, Bruce returned his eyes to the building. He tried to push his previous thoughts from his head. This was not a trip for Batman, he kept reminding himself. He'd been here before as Bruce Wayne, albeit not for a while. He thought about the reason why he was here today and felt a small smile twist his lips.

The gates creaked as the mechanisms in the hinges came alive. They swung open slowly and closed immediately after he had pulled his car through. He drove the rest of the way up the hill and parked the expensive vehicle.

As he got out of the Lamborghini, a security officer emerged from the building. The millionaire waved and offered a friendly smile. "Hello!" he called.

The guard's greeting could never match the caliber of friendliness, nor did he try. "Welcome to Arkham, Mr. Wayne," he said in a gruff voice. "Dr. Leland offers her apologies for not being able to greet you personally."

"I'm sure the doctor is very busy," Bruce replied as he approached the armed man. "I'm not coming at a bad time, am I?"

The look on the guard's face spoke volumes to the undercover detective. "Visiting hours are normally over by now, but Dr. Arkham has made an exception for you," he answered.

"Well, that's awfully nice of him." Oh, the things million dollar donations could do for someone.

The guard grumbled something under his breath and turned, waving the guest to follow. "I'll escort you to your room."

"Thank you, sir," Bruce said, feigning ignorance to the guard's attitude.

After the normal protocol, which included the rehearsed speech of safety procedures and signing in at the receptionist's desk (after identification was checked), the two approached the locked set of double doors into the depths of Arkham Asylum. As soon as the doors opened, the sounds of screams, deranged laughter, and hysterical sobbing enveloped them.

Bruce jumped slightly, looking subtly alarmed. He knew that the volume was loud, but he never remembered it being that loud…

…and wild.

When the guard glanced back at him, he offered a sheepish and nervous grin. "Sorry…it always catches me off guard," he said.

The guard said nothing, but he looked like he understood perfectly what Bruce had meant. He turned back around and led the playboy deeper into the asylum. No other words were shared between the pair on their trip. Bruce took the opportunity to study his surroundings.

What he saw did not make him happy. Even with his large donations, the building was still drastically understaffed. He had noticed in his last few exploits as Batman a few new faces, but that was about it. They hadn't been able to hire more doctors; just guards and orderlies.

They came to a stop outside a door. "You'll be allowed ten minutes with the inmate," the security officer said. "I'll be out here if you need me or if he gets out of control."

"I'm sure he'll be fine, but thank you," Bruce said, flashing another smile.

The guard unlocked the door and stepped aside for the visitor to enter. "The time will start when he sits down. He'll be here momentarily."

"Thank you."

With that, the guard closed the door and locked it (for security purposes, of course). Bruce turned away from the only exit and looked at the room he was now in. It consisted of two chairs, a counter between those two chairs, and a sheet of three-inch bullet-proof Plexiglas that cut the room in two. The area of the glass between the two chairs was perforated, giving the glass a look akin to a bank teller's window. The fluorescent lighting above flickered, constantly making the colors of the walls bounce back and forth from white to grey.

Bruce finally sat down at the counter and waited patiently.

A few minutes passed before the door on the opposite side of the room opened. Bruce sat up and smiled warmly when the inmate was brought into the room with his guard entourage. "Hello, Harvey."

Harvey Dent, now known to many as the criminal Two-Face, turned at the sound of his name. Even through the thick glass separating them, Bruce could see his friend's eyes (both of them!) light up at the sight of him.

"Bruce," Harvey said, no trace of his other personality's growl in his voice, "how are you?"

The guards finished removing the handcuffs from the inmate's mismatched wrists. They waiting until Dent was seated across from Bruce before they said "ten minutes" and left.

"It's been a while," Dent said, "how have you been?"

Bruce smiled apologetically. "I know… The office has been particularly busy." He was able to look the ex-district attorney in the eye, something he had had trouble with during his very first visit. It was still jarring to see his long-time friend like this, horribly scarred and locked up with the very criminals he helped get put in here. What was even more jarring was being able to laugh and talk with him as Bruce Wayne, where he had had to fight and ultimately bring him back to this hell as Batman. He treasured the visitations he was granted with Harvey, even the visits where he had talked with Two-Face, who would curse both him and Harvey.

This was a Harvey Dent day.

…but something seemed off…

Sure, it was really Harvey Dent he was sitting in front of; he had dealt with Two-Face enough times as both Batman and Bruce to be able to tell the difference, but there was something different about him today. He couldn't put his finger on it.

He finally continued, hoping time would provide an answer. "I was over in England this past week, Japan the week before that." He shrugged. "The glamorous life of the business owner."

"'Business before pleasure,' I can respect that," Harvey said half-jokingly, a small grin appearing on the unscarred side of his face, "although I wasn't blaming you for anything."

Bruce laughed. "I know, I know, but I still feel bad."

"Don't," Harvey replied, the smirk fading. "I'd feel bad if you neglected your business to come visit me here."

He seemed much more subdued than normal…his body language screamed exhaustion. He sounded weary; lethargic, almost. Was he not sleeping at night? His eyes continued to sweep over the former district attorney.

They came to a stop on his hands, which trembled atop the counter.

Bruce had had enough. "Harvey, are you okay?"

The eyebrow on his unscarred side raised in a questioning manner. Harvey followed Bruce's gaze to his hands.

"You seem really tired," Bruce continued in a concerned tone as Harvey folded his hands on the counter in an attempt to stop the shaking. "Is everything okay?"

Harvey sighed, his eyes shifting from his hands to something else. "I guess I'm just stressed. Things have been a little crazy…er here lately."

Bruce instantly looked worried. "What's going on, Harv?"

The Arkham inmate kept his eyes off of his friend for a long moment as he thought, carefully choosing his words. In the few seconds that passed before he finally looked back up at Bruce, a subtle appearance of anger made itself present. "A lot of the people here are relapsing," he answered at long last. His irritated gaze lowered, a knowing look in his contrasting eyes. "…the doctors don't know what's going on," he added as an afterthought.

The disguised vigilante studied his friend closely. "And you do?" he asked.

His friend bristled and his hands unfolded, the intensity of the shaking having increased. His eyes slowly rose to meet Bruce's stare, a malicious glint in them. "Of course I do…" Two-Face rasped.

The inmate twitched and quickly shut his eyes. When he opened his eyes back up, he looked mildly startled. Bruce recognized that Harvey was back in control, who sighed and ran a hand down the unscarred half of his face.

"I've seen it enough times to know," Harvey answered. Another sigh escaped from him as he looked off. "And boy, are the repercussions stressful."

"Aren't you on anti-anxiety medicine?" Bruce inquired carefully, not wanting to provoke the other personality that was lurking just below the surface. He went rigid when all he received as a response was a mirthless chuckle. "Harvey…?"

Harvey continued to look away before his eyes returned to his visitor. "Let's just say I'm fairly certain my vitamin C levels are healthy."

A silence passed between them. Bruce gaped at his friend with a dumbfounded look for a long moment before his expression quickly transformed into anger. "Someone's tampering with the medications?"

Before Harvey could reply, a shrill wail from the overhead alarm systems began to howl. Bruce jumped to his feet, a reaction that had become automatic in his years as the Caped Crusader. The inmate merely sighed and reached into his pocket for his beloved double-headed coin. "Can't say I didn't see this coming…" he said with disengaged interest.

"A breakout?" Bruce heard himself ask, his eyes still upturned. He heard a metallic ching and looked back over at his friend in time to see him catch his coin.

Harvey looked down at which face of the coin was upright. "Riot," he replied as he pocketed the coin. "The breakout alarm should sound any—"

The frequency in the wail shot up an octave.

A single-handed gesture toward the ceiling was made by the dichotomy sitting on the other side of the glass. "Now there's been a breakout." His eyes traveled back to his long-time friend at long last. "You'd better sit down, Bruce. We'll be here for some time." As the disguised vigilante reluctantly sat back down, Harvey managed a half-hearted grin. "I guess we'll have more than ten minutes to chat…"

"You don't seem all that surprised," Bruce pointed out. In his mind, he was letting loose a string of profanities at his predicament. All hell was breaking loose on the other side of that door, and he could do nothing…not as Bruce Wayne. It'd be a bit difficult to play Batman in a three-piece suit. He did see a silver lining in that he could find out more about what was going on. Besides, Robin could help wrangle up the criminals on his own. Still, he was angry.

Harvey shrugged, unaware of the turmoil taking place in the millionaire's head. "I'm just surprised it didn't happen sooner," he replied.

Bruce's anger doubled when he recalled the conversation they had been having before the sirens had started. "Someone is giving you vitamin C tablets instead of your medication?" he demanded.

The former district attorney nodded. "You'd think they'd be smarter and choose a vitamin with a less distinct taste," he mused. His eyes fell to his shaking hands again. "The sudden stop of our regular medicines has had some really bad effects on some of the people here."

The sirens outside the room were hardly noticed by either of them now. Bruce wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to hear of some of these effects, but he knew he needed to know. "What kinds of effects?" he asked nervously.

Harvey's eyes returned to Bruce's. "Where do I begin…? Let's see… The Scarecrow has become increasingly volatile; they've had to throw him in solitary a few times now. A lot of the bipolar people have gone to either extreme. The Joker…" he trailed off and made a face, "…eh, he's about the same. Harley is even more hyperactive than before, much to Ivy's dismay. Poison Ivy herself has become much, much more irritable, to the point of attacking anyone who looks at her the wrong way. The Mad Hatter…oh, the Hatter…he's so far gone. No one can reach him in his state of psychotic mania… And that's just to list a few."

Bruce stared at Dent in horror. He finally found his voice to speak up. "…they're not just giving you guys vitamins…"

"No," Harvey said forlornly. "Whatever they have me on now is zapping away my energy. I'd hate to think of what other effects people are going through right now…"

Bruce watched Harvey carefully, his eyes studying his form intensely. "Aside from that, though," he said cautiously, "you seem okay."

Harvey shrugged again. "Therapy is the treatment of choice for multiples, our doctor tells us. We've only been getting anti-anxiety medicine." He eyed his shaking hands once more. "…or we were." Another sigh escaped from him and he slumped minutely in his seat. "The fact is that the people who really ought to be on medication suddenly aren't. I don't need to be a doctor to know that that is very bad."

The undercover detective tumbled everything he had heard in his mind for a few seconds. "Why haven't the doctors said anything?" he asked.

"They don't know," Harvey answered, a hint of distaste entering his voice. "They just see the symptoms and think the dosages are too low."

Bruce suddenly looked furious. "So they order more pills for whoever is taking them to steal, and everyone here gets worse," he growled.

"Bingo," Harvey said, emphasizing the word with a small gesture with his index finger.

"That's illegal!" Bruce exclaimed.

"You bet it is."

"Why haven't any of the patients said anything?"

Harvey offered a helpless gesture with his shoulders. "Nearly all of them are too far gone to realize anything, let alone say anything."

"You're not," Bruce said fiercely, staring at his friend on the other side of the glass. "Why haven't you said anything?"

The mismatched man returned Bruce's stare for a long silent moment. He gave the millionaire a look of hopeless disbelief, looking deeply afflicted. "I have," he said, his voice quiet and genuinely troubled. "Believe me, I have. Do you think I enjoy being the only one with a firm enough grasp of sanity to watch everyone else lose theirs? I've tried." His narrative had increased in zeal as he talked; he sounded anxious and honestly concerned for the welfare of his fellow inmates. "No one will listen."

Bruce was stunned. Things were obviously much worse than what Harvey was telling him… "Why not?" he asked, despite himself.

The stare took on a look of enraged despair. "Who's going to listen to a nut like me?"

"A guy like me."

When Harvey gave him a startled and slightly nervous look, Bruce leaned forward on the counter. "If there is an escape going on right now, the police will investigate. I'm here now, and I can easily suspect something is terribly wrong with this facility. I donate a good deal of money to Arkham, and I do not like what I see. I could easily call for an investigation, and someone will find out." The look on Harvey's face didn't disappear, so he added "and I don't have to mention anything about you telling me any of this."

Harvey's features relaxed, but he still looked surprised. "Well, I…I guess that could work," he finally said after a long silence. "If the DA doesn't already suspect something, then that could work." He looked off, his mind running with the proposition. "I mean, it wouldn't be the first time in Gotham where someone was stealing medicine from a facility that is supposed to be supplying them. Why, I dealt with cases like this myself when I was still DA—" He looked back up at Bruce "—not at Arkham, but at places like hospitals, nursing homes…" he trailed off.

Bruce continued to watch Harvey talk to himself for a moment longer, a bit relieved to see some of the former district attorney return to his person. "I want to help in any way I can, Harv." When Harvey returned his focus to him, he proceeded. "Criminals or not, what they are doing here is wrong—"

THUD

The two men exchanged curious looks before another THUD sounded against the door to Bruce's half of the room. They turned and gazed at the door in question, one looking worried and the other looking bored.

With a final THUD, the door came crashing in, bringing with it a very large inmate. With him came the chaotic sounds from the hall behind him. The unknown inmate studied Bruce Wayne for a moment and grinned maliciously.

Bruce immediately stood up and faced the man when he took an aggressive step forward.

"Don't you touch him," came Harvey's calm and authoritative voice.

The inmate looked over at the Rogue on the other side of the glass, giving him a hard stare. "D'you have any idea who this is? We could hold 'im for ransom—"

The man's words caught in this throat when Harvey straightened and leaned forward slightly on the table. Darkness entered the Rogue's expression. He glared hard at the prisoner.

"For the second time," he growled, his voice a mixture between his own and Two-Face's, "don't touch him."

When the inmate didn't back off, Two-Face pulled his coin from his pocket. "I'd think twice before crossin' me today, boy," Two-Face snarled. He held up the coin, the scarred side out for the behemoth of a man to see. "Wanna take your chances against me?"

A tremble coursed through the unnamed inmate and he immediately backed off. He shook his head and held his hands up to show he was defenseless.

Two-Face cocked his head slightly in a twitch. "I knew you'd have second thoughts," he rasped. He gestured over his shoulder with a scarred thumb at the locked door. "Now break down this door."

The inmate nodded hurriedly to Two-Face before he shot Bruce a worried look. He practically sprinted from the room to complete his task.

Bruce stared after the man for a long moment before glancing over at Two-Face. It was incredible just how much power and authority Harvey Dent and Two-Face still showed, even in a place like this. He noted that Harvey had regained control, who had slumped in his seat and was holding his head. He looked completely drained…

Harvey rose to his feet and gazed at his friend. "I'll walk you out of here," he said tiredly. He pointed at Bruce's empty doorframe.

A THUMP sounded against Harvey's door.

"Keep your eyes on the doorway," Dent advised.

Bruce nodded and returned his focus to the doorway as Harvey's door crashed in. He heard the inmate scramble away after breaking down the door. 'Smart move,' Bruce thought to himself grimly. He nodded again when Harvey said he was coming over to get him. His eyes remained fixed on the doorway, watching the chaos outside…inmates running here and there. Laughter and vicious yells spilled in from beyond.

He jumped slightly when Harvey appeared calmly in the doorway. "Let's get you out of here," Harvey said.

After putting on a look of fright, Bruce cautiously stepped out into the hall next to his friend. He could feel himself pale, despite all of the grisly things he had seen as Batman.

Bloodied footprints decorated the linoleum floor while handprints of crimson colored the walls. This was nothing compared to what he knew was coming next; they were going to have to head into the heart of the madness. He knew the body count would increase exponentially there. A few inmates ran by, their hands and their light blue uniforms bloodied.

Bruce jumped again when Harvey put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Look straight ahead and do not react to anything," he warned. "Let's go."

The two stepped off, walking straight into the source of the chaos.

They turned the corner and began down a long corridor toward the front of the building. As they were walking, Bruce noticed what looked like words scrawled in blood upon one of the walls in his peripheral. He looked at the words long enough to read them:

Even a Dummy could figure this

out.

Bruce's eyes narrowed at the words before he returned his focus to the hall before them. The Riddler had escaped.

The closer they got to the exit, the more graphic the scene became. Before long, Bruce was trying to spot white coloring on the crimson walls. More than once he nearly tripped over some sorry soul who had lost in the battle to contain madness within these walls. For the most part, he kept his eyes forward and his expression neutral. Beneath the surface, he could feel the need to bring an end to this chaos clawing at him, begging for release. He knew he couldn't, and with a heavy heart, he tried to swallow the feeling and concentrate on not being Batman during a massive Arkham breakout.

Several inmates stopped whatever it was they were doing to look at Two-Face and his guest. Some had the nerve to jump in their way and scare the civilian caught in the insanity. Harvey would push by them, sometimes forcefully, and they'd return to what they had been doing previously as if nothing had happened. For the most part, however, the calamity seemed to just part down the middle, allowing them to walk through relatively freely.

They finally reached the front doors. Bruce noticed with deathly seriousness the spatter of blood on the receptionist's desk and on the wall behind the now vacant chair. Despite the grave atmosphere, the shrill screams and laughter that bombarded his ears, he couldn't help think that the staff of Arkham didn't have this coming. They were the ones who were supposed to be in charge of rehabilitating these criminally insane people.

And they had been doing just the opposite. Right under his nose.

His eyes hardened on the blood spatter on the desk, on the visitor's log where his name was neatly spelled. This had to stop.

"Well," Harvey said casually, breaking the concealed Caped Crusader from his thoughts, "thanks for the visit. Sorry it had to end like this." He gestured uninterestedly around the lobby.

"Thanks for having me," Bruce said uneasily. How they could be having a civil conversation in this environment was baffling. "I'll see to it that something is done," he said, lowering his voice.

The pair ducked when a flower vase flew overhead and shattered against the wall.

Harvey gave his friend a half-hopeful smile. "Thank you. Thank you for listening." He held out his unscarred hand.

Bruce slipped his hand into Harvey's and the two shook hands. "That's what friends are for," he said, a small smile managing to appear on his lips.

The Rogue squeezed the hand in his for a moment before he let go. "You'd better get out of here. The cops should be here any minute now. Get somewhere safe."

"You're not leaving?" Bruce asked, unable to keep the inquiry to himself.

Harvey simply smiled and offered a shrug. "Someone needs to stay behind and keep an eye on everyone." He took a step back and began to turn. "Besides…" He glanced over his shoulder, a glint in his eye. "…I lost the coin toss."

Two-Face walked back into the depths of Arkham, leaving a bewildered Bruce Wayne in his wake.


A/N: So, this is a new idea I had for a multi-chapter fic. I'll only continue it if people are interested in seeing what happens next. Be warned, though, what I have in mind will not be a lighthearted romp. This is going to be dark.

This is my first time writing Harvey Dent and Two-Face, my all-time favorite villain (Jervis is a VERY close second). I hope I did him justice, considering the circumstances. And I love writing for Bruce Wayne when he's being his naive and cheerful self. Hee hee.

Well, if you guys are interested in seeing what happens, let me know. I'm working on some other things on top of this. Chapter 7 of "Madness" is in the works. I plan on rewriting "But a Dream." I have a few drabbles in the works for the 100 Theme Challenge on dA. It's just school is keeping me INSANELY busy. I'm surprised I wrote this as quickly as I did.

Thank you for reading, and feedback is always welcome!