Once Batman and Robin were together again as a team, no more time was wasted. They covered each other's backs and sprung for the closest villain. Robin launched a side-kick at The Joker's head, while Batman grabbed Harley's arm to stop her from bounding away.

"Ye-ikes!" Harley yelled, attempting to flip away from Batman. He twisted his arm just slightly, re-directing her right into his fist. "Now, now, Mr. Batman," she said nervously, while he held her up off the ground by the tassels of her hat, "you're gonna sabotage yer treatment!"

"Just stop. Now." Batman pulled Harley closer to his face.

"Yeah, okay," she agreed quickly.

Meanwhile, the Joker was proving too much for Robin. The boy ducked and dodged, but everywhere he went, the Joker's hideous grin was following him.

"Don't fly away, little Robin," it said, "We spent so much trouble trying to tame you!"

Batman turned around at the sound, still holding a struggling Harley off the ground. She wasn't posing too much of a problem for him, but Robin would be in real trouble in a few minutes. "R. Castling," he called out.

"Good call, B." Robin ducked under the Joker and ran to Batman. Batman, in turn, tossed Harley into the air and took Robin's place in front of the Joker. Batman immediately landed a punch on Joker's grinning mouth, and Robin caught Harley the way a dancer would catch his partner.

"Nice of you to drop in," he said, and dropped her.

Harley steamed as she got up. "I've had just about enough of you! Yer getting me in trouble with my Puddin!" She lashed out, but Robin ducked out of the way.

"In case you were wondering," Robin called out to Batman across the room, "I woke up around the time Joker was shoving that sock puppet in your face."

"Then why didn't you get up while he was focused on me?" Batman shot back, dodging a lone dart that Joker had had up his sleeve.

Robin caught Harley's punch, and flipped her around so that she crashed into the wall. "I was waiting for the opportune moment."

"He was so absorbed in his monologue, you could have taken him out right then."

"Geez, it was a movie joke. You have got to get out more."

"Focus, Robin!"

"I got it, I got it," the boy replied, kicking his leg out to the side to trip Harley as she tried to sneak up behind him.

Batman was able to pin the Joker to the wall, his thick fingers putting just enough pressure on the clown's neck to keep him there.

"I was just trying to help, Batsy! No need to get—" Batman tightened his grip.

"I am sick of doing this to you," Batman growled. "If I EVER catch you in my city again before your time is up..."
"Oh come on Bats, do we really have to make this twelve hundred and ninety-five?"

"Twelve hundred ninety-five and last." A final strike to the neck had the Joker in a relatively harmless heap on the floor.

"NOOO!" Harley cried, looking over from across the room, where Robin had finally pinned her to the ground.

"Session's over, Quinn," Robin quipped, giving her a good, old-fashioned punch in the side of the head. "Check's in the mail."

"Why you little...little bird...tweetey robin bird...gonna...gonna getcha...after my nap." Harley dropped off and went limp. Robin checked her vitals before getting up.

"Joker's out?"

"For now." Batman went over to the window and retrieved his utility belt. He tossed Robin's cape to him. "Call Gordon, and make sure they get to Arkham. I'll see you back at the Cave."

"Right, right. Leave the clean-up to me. That is, if you're sure you wanna leave me alone out here again."

Batman turned his face back to the window, keeping Robin from seeing the small smile on his lips. "Don't get drugged again and I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Robin said, taking a couple of bundles of rope out of his utility belt and beginning the process of restraining the Joker. "I'll see you at home."

0-0-0-0-0

Bruce Wayne took a monogrammed towel with him out of the bathroom, wiping away the water still dripping from his hair onto his face. He sighed into it, taking an odd comfort in the smell of laundry detergent.

The same sort of nagging feeling that he'd felt earlier that night was still in his gut. This time, though, it was easier for Bruce to identify what it was that bothered him.

As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, the Joker almost had a valid point in what he had done. It was hardly the first time that someone had encouraged him to seek counseling. The strangest, yes, but not the first. The first had been Alfred, too many years ago. After that fateful night in Crime Alley. Throughout his adult life, the suggestion had come up. Those who were able to get close enough to him wanted to cure him; his lack of trust, his solitude.

Bruce still clenched his jaw thinking about it. He was under control; he had always been under control. Asking him to trust a complete stranger with his darkest secrets for no useful purpose...

He took a deep breath, centering himself. There was no point to being angry about it. The subject was ridiculous. Why else would the Joker have tackled it?

But then...Bruce threw the towel on his bedroom floor with more force than usual. He started to dress himself, still thinking. Hidden deep within the insanity was an uncomfortable kernel of truth. It had been years since he had allowed anyone new to get close to him. Even those whom he already trusted were often shut out of his plans.

"No," he said aloud, "This is ridiculous. This is the Joker we're talking about."

"Did you say something, sir?" Bruce turned quickly to see Alfred in his doorway.

"You could have knocked, Alfred."

"Dreadfully sorry. I just thought you'd want to know that Master Timothy has returned, and is waiting for you down in your lair."

"Thank you." Bruce pulled his shirt on over his head and slipped on a pair of shoes. "But it isn't a lair."

"Of course it isn't." Alfred walked off down the hallway, with his hands folded behind his back in a dignified fashion.

Bruce's eyes wandered toward the ceiling, but he couldn't help smiling at his old friend as he went down to the Batcave.

By the time he had descended the many steps, Tim had already changed into civilian clothes, and was playing on the computer. He didn't even have to turn around to know that his mentor was there. "So how long d'you think they'll keep him this time?"

"Not long enough," Bruce answered. "No matter how long, it will never be long enough."

"Well, we got him, at any rate," Tim said, with the classic Robin trait of optimism. "He didn't even scratch anyone, this time. Maybe we'll be this lucky again, next time, and he'll just be going for you."

Bruce didn't respond. He stood quietly in the center of his cave; the place where all of his adult life had begun.

"Something wrong?" Tim asked after a silent minute.

"It's true he didn't kill anyone. But he might have won, this time."

"Won? What are you talking about?" Tim spun his chair around, wondering what answer could possibly make sense.

"I think I let him get to me," Bruce said, slowly. "I let him get into my head. He made me...wonder about a few things..." He shook his head. "But that will never happen again. He will not make me question myself again."

"Bruce, I—Hey, chill out!" Tim called across the cave, as Bruce turned around with the beginnings of a glare on his face. "I was gonna say, I didn't think he did. You know how Joker is—"

"Of course I do. But I'd be a fool if I refused to consider the possibility."

"You're not crazy, Bruce," Tim assured him. "You're just...well, even if you are a little nuts, look what you're doing with it. You could be out there making everyone else as miserable as you were, but you're not. You're keeping everyone safe from the real madness. Maybe you just have to be a little crazy to beat the real crazies."

Bruce almost smiled. "Fight madness with madness. Maybe you're right. Maybe I am crazy."

"Crazy like a fox!"

"And rest assured, Master Bruce, we all must be crazy to follow you," Alfred said, coming down the stairs with a tray of tea and pastries.

"Alfred, how long have you been listening?" Bruce asked, taking a cup of tea. Tim crossed the room quickly for one of Alfred's croissants.

"Long enough," Alfred answered aloofly. "But Master Timothy is right, sir. Lord knows you'd have to be insane to do what you do. None of us would wish it otherwise."

This time, Bruce really did smile. "Thank you. Both of you."

"Don't mention it," said Tim. "We're all a little nuts. Just one big, happy, crazy bat-family." Alfred chortled, and Bruce choked a little on the tea in his mouth. "What?" Tim asked, but he laughed too.

Bruce looked at the members of his family, and thought of the others that he knew, or had known. He should never have doubted that The Joker was wrong; he had never been shut-in or alone. There had always been others to keep his madness in check. That was the difference. And it made all the difference in the world.