A/N: Since I forgot to do this at the start of the first chapter, I'll do this here:

Olivia Benson and all things Law & Order were created by Dick Wolf. They are owned by Wolf, and NBC/Universal, and I claim no ownership.

Batman and his exciting little world were created by the late, great Bob Kane. They are owned by DC Comics, which is owned by Time/Warner. Again, I claim no ownership.

I'm not making any money off of this story, it was written just for kicks and giggles.

I'd also like to thank everybody who was kind enough to review the first chapter. Much thanks, guys, I really appreciate it.

Batman & Benson

Two

"A Trip To Arkham Asylum"

Olivia got up from her chair and stood face to face with Bullock. "If you seriously think I had anything to do with Detective West's disappearance, then you're just as dumb as you look!"

"Insult me all you want, sweet cakes," Bullock retorted. "But we'll see just how tough you are after a few hours with me in the interrogation room."

"I'm no fan of Internal Affairs, but I've never been a dirty cop!" Olivia snarled. "One other thing, Bullock: you call me 'sweet cakes' again and I'll bitch slap you from here to the parking lot!"

"All right, that's enough!" Gordon ordered. "Harvey, back off!"

"Sure thing, Commish," Bullock said with a smile. "I'll be glad to continue this conversation with Detective Benson in the box."

"There's no need," Gordon said curtly. "I believe Benson. She's not involved in this mess. Harvey, Renée, give us a moment, please."

Montoya playfully punched Bullock' s massive shoulder. "You heard the man, Harvey, let's give 'em some privacy."

After the detectives left, Olivia sat back in her seat and regained her composure. "Thank you, sir."

Gordon came around and leaned against the front of his desk. "I became the Commissioner just over a year ago, when the Gotham City Police Department was known as being one of the most corrupt in the nation. There was a joke on the streets that if you wanted a cop in Gotham City, you didn't call 911, you simply waved a wad of cash and they'd stop by and do whatever you wanted."

Gordon absently reached for something in his shirt pocket, and then grunted in annoyance. "I keep forgetting that I quit smoking this week. In any event, I've spent the better part of my time these past few months cleaning up the department. And how I did that was by trusting my better judgment. I like to think that I have a very good judgment of character, Benson. When I meet an honest cop, I keep them close to me. That's why Harvey and Renée report directly to me, because they're among the honest ones that I've spotted in the department. You're one of the honest cops, too, Olivia. I could see that right away, even if Harvey couldn't."

Olivia felt her cheeks begin to blush with embarrassment. "I appreciate it, sir," she said softly. "Thanks."

Gordon grew very thoughtful. "We've been working on our own slave trafficking case here in Gotham City, as well. But so far we've haven't been able to get anywhere near the success that the NYPD has had with their case."

"You know, considering this recent development with West," Olivia began, "I can't help but wonder if there's a connection between the slave rings in New York and Gotham City. Would it be possible for me to still talk to Justino at Arkham Asylum?"

Gordon shrugged. "I don't know what her current condition is, but I don't see why you can't pay her a visit at Arkham, anyway. Harvey and Renée will take you out there. I'll call the administrator and let her know you're coming."

"Thank you, sir," Olivia said, as she rose from her chair.

"Anything we can do to help, Detective Benson," Gordon told her. "And if you need anything else, just ask. Oh, and detective?"

Olivia paused at the door. "Yes sir?"

"Harvey Bullock may be a real 'bull in the china shop' type of guy, but he's a good cop," Gordon said, with a twinkle in his eye. "So please find it within yourself to refrain from bitch-slapping him, if you would."

Olivia burst into laughter at that. "Yes sir," she said, smiling broadly, "I'll leave him alone."

B&B

Arkham Asylum For The Criminally Insane was a sprawling, gothic-style structure that was located in the rolling hills directly above Gotham City, about an hour's drive from the heart of the dense metropolis. Although it was as neat and as well preserved as other mental institutions that Olivia had visited, such as Bellevue in her own New York City, she couldn't shake the feeling—as she stood in the waiting room with Bullock and Montoya—that Count Dracula could have felt right at home in Arkham Asylum. The place seemed a little oppressive with its high ceilings and nooks and crannies that cast long shadows even in the middle of the afternoon. It was enough to make Olivia feel very uneasy, especially after she had to surrender her gun to the guards before entering the building.

The administrator was an African-American woman in her fifties by the name of Dr. Beatrice Solana. She greeted Olivia with a pleasant smile and led her and the Gotham City detectives down the hallway.

"Ms. Justino was in bad shape when she was admitted," Solana said, as she consulted a patient file. "She was extremely paranoid, and thought that everybody was trying to kill her."

"The people whom she thought were trying to kill her," Olivia said, "did she ever mention them by name?"

"No, not specifically," Solana said with a shake of her head. "She thought her mother had turned into a demon and was trying to tear her heart out. I'm told she caused quite a stir in her neighborhood that night."

"You ain't kidding," Bullock said. "I read the arrest report, and it took no less than four uniforms just to hold her down long enough for the paramedics to shoot her up full of happy juice."

"The strange thing is that Ms. Justino had no history of mental illness in her family," Solana said with a frown. "No history of schizophrenia. It's strange."

"She was in the employ of some pretty nasty people in New York City," Olivia told her. "They were trafficking in sex slaves, and were a very ruthless bunch, the type that would sell their mother if they thought it was worthwhile. Could it be possible that Justino is faking it?"

"She pretends to act crazy to get herself committed," Montoya said with a nod, "so she'd be safely out of the reach of her former employers."

"Exactly," Olivia said.

"No, take my word for it, Detective Benson," Solana said, "Ms. Justino is certainly not faking her ailment."

They paused at a junction which had the gate closed across the doorway. Solana used the wall phone to get the door opened. While they waited, Olivia glanced into one of the cells. She saw a young red-haired woman seated cross-legged on the floor of her cell, carefully and lovingly tending to a potted plant. When she glanced up at Olivia, she smiled.

Olivia smiled back in greeting—and then her smile faded when Olivia saw that the woman's eyes, lips and fingernails were all a bright green in color.

"That's Pam. She's one of our success stories," Solana said with a smile. She waved at the woman in the cell. "Hello, Pamela!"

Pamela gave a shy wave, and then she returned to nurturing her plant.

"Poison Ivy," Montoya said with distain. "That's the street name this crazy bitch chose for herself, and it suits her very well, too. She's truly poison."

"Forgiveness is a part of rehabilitation, Detective Montoya," Solana chided, as the gate finally opened and they stepped through.

"Oh yeah? I'd like to see how well you'd be willing to forgive after being shot by one of Ivy's poison darts, doc," Bullock grumbled.

Olivia did a double take at the sight of a trio of guards escorting a man in a wheelchair. At first she thought the man was an invalid, until she saw that he wore a straight jacket, and his entire body was securely strapped down to the chair. The three burly guards all wore riot gear, and were fully armed with batons and tasers.

'He must be a real dangerous one,' Olivia realized, as she instinctively backed away when the man was wheeled past her.

And then her eyes grew wide with shock when Olivia got a close look at his face, which was as white as alabaster. His hair, which was wild and unruly, was an unnatural green in color. When his unblinking yellow eyes locked on Olivia, the man's ruby red lips burst into a broad, horrendous grin that stretched from ear to ear.

"What's the matter, toots?" he asked in a leering tone. "Got an aversion to clowns?"

Just then he burst into a high-pitched, shrieking laughter that echoed madly up and down the corridors. In spite of herself, Olivia felt the little hairs rise on the back of her neck as that insane laughter seemingly dug itself right under her very skin and turned her blood to ice water

'Sweet Jesus,' Olivia thought, as she tried to get a grip on herself, 'I hope they keep that psychotic son of a bitch locked away in the deepest, darkest dungeon they've got here!'

Montoya, sensing her unease, reached over and gave Olivia a sympathetic squeeze on her arm. "It's ok, Benson. That crazed monster always manages to get to everybody."

"Thanks," Olivia said, with a curt nod. "Um, why do they let him wear that make up in here?"

"That's not make up," Montoya said, her voice flat. "That's his natural skin color. So is his hair."

Olivia blanched when she heard that. A part of her was curious to know more about that madman in the wheelchair, but then she realized that perhaps it was just as well to let the subject drop.

"Hey, how about him, Doc?" Bullock gleefully asked Solana. "Is he one of your success stories, too?"

Solana shot Bullock a dirty look as she gestured at a door down the hall. "Ms. Justino's room is right over here, Detectives."

She produced the keys and they entered the room. Annabelle Justino lay in bed, clad only in a hospital gown, with her wrists and ankles strapped down with medical restraints. When she saw them approach her bed, the woman began whimpering as she frantically tried to escape her bonds.

"No, no, no," she said, shaking her head back and forth. "Stay away, you demons from hell! Stay away!"

"Annabelle," Solana said in a calm and soothing voice. "You remember me, don't you? I'm Dr. Solana. We spoke just this morning."

"Go away!" Justine cried, her eyes wide and frantic with fear. Her head fell back against the bed and she closed her eyes and prayed rapidly: "Our father, who art in heaven, hollowed be thy name…"

"Forget it," Olivia said with dismay. She stared at the poor woman and felt nothing but pity. "She's in no shape to talk."

"I don't understand it," Solana said, as she consulted the patient chart. "She was starting to make some improvement as recently as this morning. But now she's backsliding. The therapy, the medications, nothing seems to be working."

"What do you want to do now, Benson?" Montoya asked.

"Just get out of here," Olivia wearily said. She had all she could take of Arkham Asylum for one day. She wrote down her phone number on a sheet of torn paper and handed it to Solana. "I'm spending the night at the Hilton. If there's any change at all, would you please give me a call?"

"Of course," Solana agreed as they entered the hallway. "I need to run some more tests on her, in the meantime. I'll let you know if anything comes up in that, as well."

"Thanks," Olivia said.

Montoya was about to start down the hallway in the same direction they came from when Olivia grabbed her arm. "Wait a minute, Montoya." She gestured in the opposite direction and asked, "Can we leave through this way?"

"Yes," Solana answered. "But that leads through the kitchen."

"That's fine," Olivia said, as they all started walking. She glanced at Bullock and Montoya and added, "If it's all the same to you, I'd really rather not run into that creepy clown guy again."

"I hear that," Bullock muttered. "If I really wanna hang around lunatics, I'll start attending my family reunions."

B&B

When Olivia returned to her hotel room, she called Elliot with the bad news. "Damn," he said on the other end. "Justino's really off the wall, huh?"

"Yeah, and she's not faking it, either. At least that's what Dr. Solana told me. I told her to give me a call if there's a change in her condition, but I really doubt that's gonna happen anytime soon, El."

"I've got some bad news for you, as well," Elliot said. "Neufeld has left the country."

"Damn it," Olivia muttered. "Do we know where he went?"

"He's somewhere in Europe, that's all we know," Elliot told her. "We couldn't hold him, Liv. And we certainly couldn't stop him from leaving. So you'll be coming back tomorrow?"

"Yeah, and I can't wait!" Olivia said with a sigh.

She heard Elliot let out a chuckle. "Not too taken with Gotham City, are we?"

Olivia thought about for a second, gazing at the brightly lit Gotham skyline through her window as she did, and shook her head. "I never thought I'd hear myself say this, El, but I really miss New York. Maybe it was visiting that snake pit, Arkham, but I'm kind of rattled. This whole town's sort of creeping me out, y'know?"

"Well tonight you're a guest of that fair city on the NYPD's dime," Elliot told her. "So why not take advantage of it and sample some of the nightlife? Just relax and get your mind off of work for a while."

"I'm going to relax, but in my hotel room," Olivia said. "I've been on the run all day, and I'm beat. I'll call you before I leave here tomorrow if I don't hear anything from Solana by then."

"Ok, goodnight, Liv," Elliot said.

"Night, El."

She switched off the cell phone and strode out to the little terrace. Her room was on the top floor, and she also had a nice view of the night sky—unfortunately she couldn't see any stars thanks to the bright lights. Olivia leaned on the railing and gazed at the vast cityscape. She thought back to the raid that she and her SVU comrades made on the hideout of that sex slave ring. She recalled those poor girls, cowering in the corners, frightened of every sound, scared of their own shadow. Most of them were from overseas, illegally brought into this country to work sordid jobs for perverts with fat wallets.

'Some of those perverts are here, in Gotham City,' Olivia thought. She was convinced that there was some connection between the sex slave ring that they fought in New York City, and the one that still thrived right here. And the missing Detective West may well be the link.

Olivia idly thought about Elliot's suggestion how she should sample the nightlife, and realized that the last time she had truly done that—had gone out for a wild, kick her heels up night on the town—was back when she was still with Alex Cabot.

'Alex,' Olivia thought with a sigh. She grew misty-eyed as she watched an airplane fly overhead; its running lights twinkled in the night like multi-colored jewels against black velvet. She recalled what Alex had once playfully said, when they saw a similar plane in the night sky over New York City: "Oh, look, Olivia, a UFO! Let's make a wish!"

Olivia had stared at the woman who had been the love of her life for the past several years—they were also co-workers, Alex was the Assistant District Attorney attached to the Special Victim's Unit—and burst into laughter. "Since when do you make a wish on a UFO, silly?"

"Since right now," Alex replied. She had a little too much too much to drink, and now tried very hard to appear as somber as she could. "Let's wish for an end to all the pain and suffering that we see everyday in our jobs. Let's wish for all the scumbags who prey on innocent people to just disappear."

"That's a nice wish," Olivia said. "But if it comes true, we'll both be out of a job."

"Would that be so bad?" Alex had asked, as she gently caressed Olivia's shoulder. Maybe then we could both vanish as well, to a nice, quiet place where we could be alone and simply enjoy each other's company."

Olivia quickly wiped away the tear that trickled down her cheek. Little did Alex know then that she would be the one who would soon vanish—into the witness protection program, after becoming a target of ruthless drug dealers.

That was where she remained to this day, her whereabouts unknown even to Olivia. Wherever Alex wound up in her new life, Olivia hoped to God that she was happy.

Olivia frowned when she thought she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. She glanced up at the row of stone gargoyle statutes that peered down at her—

—and was stunned to see one of the gargoyles was moving.

'There's somebody up there!' Olivia thought, as she pulled her Glock out from its holster. She brought the gun up just as she heard a swirling sound.

Olivia let out a startled cry as a rope of some kind wrapped itself around her wrists with blinding speed, and then it jerked her arms up and over her head, forcing her to helplessly drop the gun on the floor of the terrace as she was slammed up against the concrete wall.

Olivia glanced up and saw with shock that her wrists were trussed to a pipe that ran along the top of the wall. 'But how the hell did that happen? What the hell was—?'

"Oh, God," Olivia said in a hushed tone, a she watched a shadowy figure rise up on the roof across from her.

When the shadowy figure stood up, Olivia saw a pair of small pointy ears protruding from the top of its head. Then the thing unfurled its long leathery wings—the wingspan must have been six feet across—as it leapt down to the terrace.

As the creature stalked towards her, its wings now flowing out behind it like a cape, Olivia remembered what Munch said about the Batman. And she recalled how she had laughed at him.

Olivia was very sorry she had done that.

For all Olivia could do was stare wide-eyed in helpless terror as the Batman now loomed over her like some inhuman monster that had stepped right out of a nightmare.

To Be Continued...