"Harley's resting," said Ivy, as she came over to where Joker sat, watching the screen in front of him. It was a long flight back to Gotham, and while Bruce and Two-Face sat chatting in the pilots' chairs, everyone else was taking some well-deserved rest. Except Ivy, who had been watching over Harley until she fell asleep, and Joker, who was watching some slapstick comedy on the screen attached to the seat in front of him. At least, Ivy thought he was watching it, but he wasn't smiling, which was unusual for Joker when people were being hurt.
He grunted in response to her statement, not looking at her. "She's outta pain, and the baby is safe," continued Ivy. "So that's a relief."
"Why would that be a relief to you?" muttered Joker. "You don't want her to be stuck with my baby."
"I'm not sure what kind of monster you think I am, but I don't want children to die," retorted Ivy. "And I know how upset Harley would be if she lost the baby. It's her dream to have your children, however shallow and pathetic I think that dream is, and it would hurt her to lose it. I care about her, so I don't want her hurt. I know you can't understand that concept."
"Yeah, of the two of us, I'm the one who doesn't understand Harley," said Joker, sarcastically. "I honestly don't understand why she hangs out with you – what does she see in you? You're a bitter, angry, crazy plant terrorist, and it's not as if you respect her at all. You're always bossing her around and telling her what to do and criticizing her choices, and now you've kidnapped her. Why would she want to be friends with a person who treats her so horribly?"
"Why would she want to be in a relationship with a person who treats her so horribly?" demanded Ivy, glaring at him.
"I treat Harley the way she wants to be treated!" he snapped. "Our life is a dream for both of us, a never-ending roller coaster of strong emotions and crazy love! But people don't understand that – they see the violence and the fights and Harley crying and think I'm abusing an innocent victim. What people don't get is that we like the fights and the violence. We're both dramatic people, and we need the drama in our lives to be happy. And nothing adds drama like a kid, or so I hear, so we'll still get that even if we have to tone down the violence and the fights and the weekly breakups. And even when Harley's genuinely mad at me and crying her eyes out, she still loves me – that's why she gets so upset being away from me. But there is literally nothing to love about you. I don't understand Harvey pining over you - maybe you're good in the sack or something but that can't be worth putting up with your horrible personality. And I don't understand Harley wanting to spend any time with you at all. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were mind-controlling both of 'em, because nobody could want you in their life of their own free will. You're just a terrible human being."
"I'm not a human being!" snapped Ivy. She sighed. "Look, Harley's right – we hate each other, and we'll probably always hate each other. But I think we do both care, minimally in your case, but still…I think we both care about Harley and the baby. And couldn't we use that as a reason to…well, not get along exactly, but at least…coexist? For Harley's sake."
Joker turned to look at her. "Why do you care about Harley?" he asked.
Ivy shrugged. "Initially it was because…I saw a little of myself in her," she said, taking the seat next to him. "You had kicked her out, and I saw the way I had been when Jason left me – lost, alone, confused, and desperately heartbroken. She thought there was no way to go on without you, just like I did in her situation. But I was determined to show her there was – I was determined to show her what nobody ever showed me, that you can be happy without a man in your life, that a woman can be strong, capable, and content on her own. If there had been someone like that in my life, some female role model or friend…it would have helped me a lot. I could have seen that losing Jason wasn't the end of my world, that women can still have a purpose without being tied to a man. And when Harley ignored my advice, when she kept returning to you time and time again, I thought about just giving up on her. But that's not what friends do. Besides, she was more than a reflection of me by then. I had seen her qualities that weren't mine, the things that made her better than me – her sympathy and limitless compassion, her sheer, uncontrollable joy at life, and her genuine, honest, and open love of people, no matter how messed up they were. Nobody ever sees her as anything more than your girlfriend, but I did. I saw her as a confident, sweet, loving woman, and I thought you were holding her back from reaching her true potential. But I was…wrong about that. I was wrong to think I knew her better than she knew herself. I just wanted to protect her, because I thought the qualities I liked most about her, her kindness and innocence, would be destroyed the more she stayed with you - mine certainly were thanks to Jason. But Harley's stronger than that – she's stronger than you and me. I should have seen that. Nobody could ever break her, or change her into something she's not. The people who don't get her, they say you did that – that you changed her from Dr. Harleen Quinzel into Harley Quinn. But I know…Harley Quinn is who she always was, deep down inside. She had repressed all the insanity, all the unbridled joy, and all the mad love just to fit in with people. And you were the reason those qualities all came tumbling back out. Just like Jason was the reason I reached my true potential as Poison Ivy. I resent that, because it reminds me that despite all the pain, women and men need each other, and I've always thought I don't need anyone. But I learned today that…no woman is an island, even if she tries to retreat to one and cut herself off from everything. Somebody will always follow you there. And it's difficult, realizing that you've been wrong, that the things you believed are wrong, that you actually hurt a lot of people you care about because of some misguided way of thinking. I hope Harley can forgive me even if you can't."
She stood up, turning to go. "Must be hard being wrong," said Joker. "I wouldn't know what that feels like, of course, because I'm never wrong, but I imagine it's pretty dreadful. Suddenly doubting every decision you ever made, looking back on your mistakes with the agony of shame and frustration. Must be hugely embarrassing, and quite a blow to the old self-image. Your self-esteem must be shredded like a puppy in a blender. You must feel like a complete putz, a total loser, someone who fell for a con set up by yourself. I can't imagine living like that, driving yourself mad with doubt, no faith in your own abilities, realizing that you're just a complete idiot. Must be a fate worse than death. And you suffering forever is certainly funnier than killing you would be. Because then you'd be dead, and you couldn't feel the humiliation and indignity of your own idiocy anymore. And where would be the fun in that?"
Ivy assumed that was as close as the Joker would come to forgiving anyone, so she just sighed, heading back over to Harley. "Thanks, J," she muttered. "I guess."
"I'm really sorry you got hurt like this, Bruce," Two-Face was saying, nodding at Bruce's bandaged hands. "I didn't know when I asked J to bring you along that you might get some permanent scars."
"My fault for trying to be a hero," replied Bruce. "I should leave that to the real Batman. Anyway, anytime Joker's involved you gotta get scars of some kind. I'm just glad they're physical rather than mental."
"Yeah, he's a wild card," sighed Two-Face. "Though for once he didn't start the chaos. I feel kinda bad for him actually, which is weird. He must have been really frightened today – I can't imagine thinking you might lose a child."
"You got aspirations of fatherhood, Harvey?" asked Bruce, surprised.
"No, not really," replied Two-Face. "I just sometimes think…there's more to life than this. Don't you, Bruce?"
Bruce shrugged. "Alfred's always saying that too. He kinda had fatherhood thrust upon him with me – I don't think he would have chosen it for himself. And frankly I'm surprised he's still encouraging fatherhood after dealing with me."
Two-Face grinned. "How is Alfred?" he asked.
"He misses you," said Bruce. "We both do, Harvey. If you really think there's more to life than crime and violence, why don't you try making a change? We'd welcome you back with open arms."
Two-Face pulled out his coin, flipping it. "It's not really up to me, Bruce," he murmured.
"Harvey, you don't have to be a slave to that thing," said Bruce. "You can make your own decisions. You used to do it all the time…"
"And look how that turned out," finished Two-Face, gesturing at his face. "Look what happens when people make their own decisions – look at Pam," he said, nodding at Ivy. "She nearly screwed up everything today because of her decisions. She nearly lost Harley's friendship, and the baby, and her life. That's what happens when people make their own decisions."
"It doesn't have to," replied Bruce. "You just need to make better ones."
"I'm betting Pammie thought kidnapping Harley was a good decision," retorted Two-Face. "You can't always tell good decisions from bad ones when you're making 'em, and you never really know until they play out. The coin saves me from the responsibility of that - I can leave everything to fate. It saves me the feelings Pammie must be feeling at making a huge mistake. I remember them when I had to prosecute people as DA – the self-doubt, the uncertainty, wondering if my actions were going to send an innocent person to prison, or worse, even though they seemed guilty at the time. We can never know if what we're doing is right or wrong, Bruce. And that's terrifying."
Bruce said nothing, because he understood. There were many times as Batman when he had felt the same thing. Even though what he was doing was objectively right, it sometimes felt wrong. Sometimes he doubted whether he was actually doing any good as Batman, or if he was just making things in Gotham worse. It was sometimes hard to tell, and it was scary.
He glanced toward the back of the plane. Ivy had gone to lie down, and Joker had taken over watching Harley, although she seemed to be sound asleep. He put his hand on her stomach and she woke up, smiling at him and taking his hand. Bruce watched them, feeling the same doubt. He knew Batman should spend every waking moment hunting them down, taking Harley somewhere safe for the rest of her pregnancy, and then putting the baby in safe, responsible hands once it was born. There was no way in his mind these two lunatics could be good parents, or provide for their child in any way. Batman had a duty to save the innocent baby from the horrible life it was bound to have with those two taking care of it. He knew Harley might love the baby in her own twisted way, the way she loved Joker, but he knew for a fact Joker could never love anyone.
And yet he felt himself doubting that, just a little bit, as he watched Joker's hand resting gently on Harley's stomach, and watched his face as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. Maybe there was something there, something beyond all the jokes and games. Or maybe he was just hoping there was.
He sighed, turning back to Two-Face. "Can I borrow that?" he asked, pointing to the coin.
Two-Face was surprised, but handed it over. "Got a big decision to make, Bruce?" he asked.
"Yeah," said Bruce, flipping it up into the air. "I've got a blonde and a brunette interested in me, and I need to decide who to date first."
He caught the coin, and opened his palm to reveal it had landed bad side up. "Is that the blonde or the brunette?" asked Two-Face.
"The blonde," said Bruce, glancing back at Harley. "Well, that settles it."
It was objectively a bad decision to leave the clown couple alone, but that was the decision the coin had made. At least until the baby was born, resolved Bruce. But for now, Batman would focus on other things. There was plenty of crime out there, after all, and plenty of wrongs to right. The baby could wait.
Bruce handed the coin back as he flicked on the autopilot. "Just gonna go to the toilet – back in a second," he said, heading toward the rear of the plane.
"Mr. Wayne," said a voice, and Bruce stopped by the row of seats occupied by Tetch and Crane. "I just wanted to apologize for my former rudeness," Tetch said. "It was most ill-mannered of me."
"Oh…that's ok," said Bruce. "I didn't really notice it…"
"I realize that I've only ever thought of you as some superficial playboy, but the truth is that you're actually a lot more substantial," continued Tetch. "It was wrong of me to judge you by your appearance, and I hope you'll forgive me."
"Sure," said Bruce, shrugging. "But I'm not really offended at being judged as a superficial playboy, since that's basically what I am."
"I think not," said Tetch, studying him. "I hope you don't mind, but while you were down on the island, I accessed some computer files. Some Batcomputer files."
"Oh…really?" stammered Bruce, feeling the cold chill of terror grip him. It was incredibly dangerous if Tetch knew he was Batman. Out of all his many enemies, Tetch was in many ways one of the most powerful, which his polite, well-mannered demeanor belied. But this was a man who could literally control minds – if he wanted to hurt him with the knowledge of Batman's identity, he definitely could.
"I hadn't realized how truly disturbed your mind must have been after your parents' ghastly murder," continued Tetch. "I never could have dreamed that it would latch onto the fantasy of identifying with Batman, but Jonathan has been explaining to me that it makes sense from a psychological point of view. Aside from that horrible tragedy, your life has been incredibly easy, devoid of all purpose. It's only natural that you'd want to emulate a man whose life has great value, but I had not quite realized how deeply the delusion had seized hold of you. You really must seek psychological help for this disorder as soon as you can. I'm sure there is much Bruce Wayne has to offer the world without pretending to be Batman. I highly recommend seeing the doctors at Arkham about this – I am sure Dr. Leland could help you, or many of the other fine psychiatrists there."
"Don't look at me," spoke up Crane. "I'm retired from seeing patients, and I wouldn't touch this case with a barge pole anyway. I think the rot is set in too deep now – a grown man creating a complex lie for himself, a fantasy double life to make up for the meaninglessness of his own. It's sad, but not treatable at this point, in my professional opinion."
Bruce stared at him. "Oh…you don't think…I'm really Batman?"
"Of course you're not really Batman!" snapped Crane. "Somebody should have told you that a long time ago! Batman is a deranged loner who wouldn't be able to function in a civilized society, and you're a gadabout playboy with a psychological delusion! The two couldn't be more different!"
"And they should be," agreed Tetch. "You shouldn't let yourself be swallowed up in this illusion, Mr. Wayne. You need to fight against it. Bruce Wayne can have a heroic life of his own – he has no need to perform Batman, not for women, and not for himself. I think once you realize that you're actually a man of substance, you'll have no need to playact Batman anymore. People don't need to act grim and brooding to be taken seriously. You just need to be honest with yourself about who you are, and you're not Batman."
"No, I'm…not," said Bruce, feeling relief wash over him. "Well…thank you for that. Maybe I'll stop by Arkham some day and take in a session."
"I would very much recommend you do," said Tetch. "Dr. Leland helped me enormously with my Mad Hatter delusion. She helped me see that Jervis Tetch is a person of value in this world just by being who he is. And once I had confirmation of that from friends and family…well, it made everything better. It cured my need for my Wonderland delusion. I think she could help you do the same with your Batman delusion."
"It's not healthy, Mr. Wayne," agreed Crane. "Nobody should want to be that bullying vigilante thug anyway. I may not think much of you, but I certainly think you're better than him. He's a poor excuse for a hero and a role model. You're rich enough to afford better taste than a man who wears a Halloween costume and accessorizes everything with bats."
"Well…rich people don't always have the best taste," replied Bruce. "But thanks…again."
"Honesty is the best policy, Mr. Wayne!" called Tetch, as Bruce hurried off to the bathroom. "And I'm sure there's a woman out there who will love you for who you are!"
"There'd better be," retorted Crane. "If the handsome billionaire doesn't have any romantic hope without pretending to be Batman, what chance do the rest of us have?"