Finally, an update. I have no time for notes at the moment, I have to apologize. Enjoy the chapter.

Chapter Ten

There were so many bats. So many of them. Bruce just couldn't ignore them; why did his parents' screams continue to ring in his ears? Damn it, damn it... Jim was thrashing away beside him, and that... Scarecrow? He was laughing his goddamned head off. It infuriated Bruce, despite the panic racking at his mind. He gave a roar of rage and fear, then kicked out at the psychiatrist - a satisfying yelp of pain told him he had hit him. Bruce staggered up to his feet - the world spun before his eyes -

We have to get out of here. He locked onto the thought, and tried to think. This was impossible. The creatures tore at his face and hair - he knew they weren't real, this was all going on inside his head - God, or was he just trying to convince himself of that?

We have to get out of here. Yes, but how? How? Bruce looked forward - was that a window? What floor were they on again? The second? There was no other choice. No way out. Bruce knew that both he and Jim needed help, fast. Who knows what kind of shit they had just inhaled?

Bruce grabbed Jim by the jacket, and dragged him up to his feet. The bats, the bats... Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, and blindly went for the window, hauling Jim along behind him, ignoring his partner's cries of "Let me go!" or "Get them off!". He hadn't gone far when a pain in his hand stopped him - to his shock, Jim had sunk his teeth into his flesh. Bruce grunted; seeing no other option, he delivered a quick blow to the back of Jim's head, knocking him out, cold, rendering him harmless.

"Sorry," muttered Bruce - the window was in front of him. Taking a deep breath, trying to shake the horrible images from his mind, he threw himself against the glass, clutching onto Jim's arm as tightly as he could - the window shattered easily.

A moment later, he and Jim were falling. Bruce prepared to have half his bones broken - instead, he felt something else go crunch. There was a bone-jarring crash - all the breath was knocked out of him. After a moment, he opened his eyes, and struggled up to a sitting position. He and Jim were on top of a car - a taxi. Groaning, Bruce rolled off of the vehicle, pulling Jim after him, then cringed when he thought he felt more bats assault him. He fell to his knees, desperate to escape this nightmare - with what little sense he had left, Bruce fumbled for his cell phone, then dailed number one - Alfred's voice answered almost right away.

"Yes?"

The bats, the bats... "Help... Narrows... Poison..."

"Master Wayne?"

His consciousness faded along with his parents' screams.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Little Jimmy's sobbing echoed in his ears.

He wanted to help him, save him, but he could not. No matter how fast he went, he couldn't reach Jimmy - it was as if he was running in the spot, on a treadmill.

"Jimmy!"

Jim realized that he was lying in his bed, his nice, soft, comfortable bed. Not desperately trying to get to his son, who was in some unknown danger. He sat up, attempting to get his bearings, only to give up when the room around him started to spin dizzingly. He groaned; suddenly a voice called his name.

"Jim?" It was Barbara.

"Barbara!" Jim said hoarsely, opening his eyes and sitting up again. "Barbara?"

She hugged him, nearly crushing him. When Jim got his breath back, he managed to gasp - "What happened?" His memory was fuzzy; he just remembered going to Arkham, but nothing about coming out.

Barbara let go of him, pulled a chair to his bedside, and sat down. "What do you mean?"

"How did I get back home? When? How long has it been?"

"It's a long story." Barbara said. "One question at a time."

"Okay, then. How did I get home?"

Barbara clapsed her hands. "Well..."

Then Jim remembered. "Bruce! Bruce Wayne... Where's Bruce?" Suddenly he was horrified; that night's events came rushing back to him. "What happened to him?"

"Mr. Pennyworth - he got a call from Mr. Wayne." Barbara's story made Jim's eyes grow wider and wider by the second. In the next five minutes, Jim was able to summarize the following: Alfred found both Bruce and himself among the shattered ruins of a taxi, poisoned and unconscious; he brought both of them to Wayne Manor. After delivering Jim back to his house, Alfred had called Lucius Fox, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, to create an antidote to whatever they had inhaled. He succeeded, fortunately for Bruce and Jim. Two days later, both men were nearly back to normal - other than a sprained wrist for Jim and a twisted ankle for Bruce. They both had their equal share of bruises from their fall onto the car, according to Barbara.

Now Jim was desperate to talk to Bruce, but Barbara forced him back into bed. "You need your rest. Mr. Fox - he said that the effects of the poison may linger on for a few more hours. You can call Wayne Manor tomorrow."

"But -"

"James." Jim winced. Barbara rarely called him that. And he hated it. "Listen to me, will you? It was hard enough covering up for you in front of the kids -"

Jim sighed. "All right. Whatever you say." He lay back in bed, suddenly realizing that he was feeling more drowsy than he had previously thought. Sleep is good... Before he knew it Jim was dreaming again.

Commissioner Loeb was annoyed.

Not only had Gordon and that Wayne just vanished without permission, they had vanished to Arkham Asylum. That hellhole? Why the heck would they go there? And worse, they hadn't come back. They had gone two days ago; no news of them had reached his ears yet. Two of his best cops, just gone! To Arkham! Loeb groaned and rubbed his temples. Could things get any worse?

"Officer Jones! What are you doing?" Loeb barked into his lapel radio.

The young man was talking very fast. "Commissioner - They're back - Lieutenant Gordon and Sergeant Wayne -"

"What?" Loeb jumped out of his seat. "Where - where are they? Tell them both to report to my office right away!"

"Yessir," Officer Jones gave a hasty reply.

Wayne and Gordon came less than five minutes later. Loeb greeted them with a furious shout. "What the hell were you two thinking? Arkham -"

Wayne gave a weary reply. "An assistant D.A.'s life was in danger, Commissioner."

Loeb was caught off guard. "Who?"

"Rachel Dawes, sir." Gordon said.

Now that Loeb looked at both of them more closely he saw that neither men seemed very well. Pale, sickly - what happened? It was exactly what he asked them.

"Long story." Was all Wayne said. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he added, "So, Commissioner. Any new jobs for us?"

Loeb had to give a grim smile at that. "Oh, you have no idea. Sergeant."

I'll try and update as often as possible. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, reviews will be appreciated!