After a longer wait than I would have liked, here's Chapter 5! This one took a long time because of deadlines, computer problems, and because it was hard to write. It has an unusual take on Scarecrow, I think, and is a bit darker than previous chapters. Anyway, R&R – let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own any DC characters. Rating is for possible disturbing content.

Dream Knight

Chapter 5: The Fields of Fear

So this is hell. I'd never have believed it. You remember all we were told about the torture-chambers, the fire and brimstone, the "burning marl." Old wives' tales! There's no need for red-hot pokers. Hell is other people!

- Jean-Paul Sartre,

No Exit

A bat on a crucifix.

That is what he sees before him. The shadow of a giant, ragged bat hung upon a cross, maybe for its sins, maybe for the sins of Gotham.

He smiles with cracked lips, staring at his own shadow which extends before him like a Rorschach ink blot in the sun's last light. All around him, the golden grasses shift gently in the wind. His cape rustles slightly, giving the appearance of the bat's wings moving. It's struggling, he thinks. It's trying to get away. Doesn't it know that it can never escape?

There is blood on his armour. Selina's blood. She betrayed me, he thinks, shaking with rage. His muscles ache; he has been hanging from the wooden frame for most of the day now, and it had been no easy task to tie himself to the frame in the first place. There is a pond in the fields in front of him, and he longs for its water, but he knows he has drank his last. The only end to his thirst will be death.

My death will bring justice, he thinks, and allows himself to smile.

***

He recalls his first encounter with the scarecrow. Three days have passed, but it is still so clear in his mind's eye.

They came down from the mountains and journeyed by night to the boundary of the Crane farm, narrowly avoiding the patrols of the League of Shadows. It took the better part of the night to reach it, and by the time they approached the edge of the vast cornfield, the false dawn was illuminating the horizon.

"You know," Selina says, "it could be that we'd be better off facing the League than going through here."

He smirks. "Do you think it's haunted or something?"

"All I know is that we never went in here when I was in the League," she explains. "Nobody even talked about it. It was on the map, but it's like it didn't even exist."

"Odd, considering how central it is to the island. But if they're superstitious, we can use that against them," he tells her. "Isn't that what I've been doing all along as the Dream Knight?"

"I suppose." She narrows her eyes. "Is there someone over there?"

"Where?"

She points. "Over there. There's something in the corn."

He follows her gaze. Against the horizon, he can distinguish a shape standing above the corn stalks. He shivers despite himself, and says, "I can't tell. Could be a tree."

She purses her lips. "You know, we could always take our chances with the main road to Gotham. It's quicker, and if we go by night, we could probably avoid most of the patrols."

"Selina, we've had three close calls on the way here alone. It seems like the entire League of Shadows is after us, and I don't like the idea of travelling in the open. If they don't use the old farm road, we should, unless you have a good reason why we shouldn't."

Beneath her mask, he sees her face tighten in a scowl. "Alright, let's go."

They walk in silence toward the field. After a few minutes, Selina stops, saying, "Bruce, there's someone there."

He stares at the distant object silhouetted against the horizon. It is vaguely human-shaped; wide as it rises above the corn, with what could be a head on top. He shakes his head. "It hasn't moved. Why would someone just stand there?"

She ignores him. "Do you think he can see us?"

"There's nobody there."

She tightens her jaw, clutching her whip and continuing alongside him.

After another moment, she suddenly seizes his arm, causing him to jump in spite of himself. "It's a man!" she hisses. "A man in a cloak! I saw it move in the wind!"

"Selina, calm down!" He puts his hands on her shoulders, then peers at the silhouette. She may be right; it could be a man, but it seems impossibly tall. The wind gusts lightly, and he sees what could be a cloak moving in the wind as the corn stalks sway gently. He stares into her widened green eyes. "What if it is a man? There's one of him and two of us."

She releases his arm. He continues on, but his resolve has been shaken. Selina is normally fearless, he thinks; why is this bothering her so much?

They walk closer, closer to the field and the silhouette. Now he cannot take his eyes off of it. For a moment, he thinks he sees it move, but realizes that it is likely an illusion caused by the wind in the corn.

"He knows we're coming," Selina murmurs. Idly, he reaches for his boomerang. Om mani padme hum, he mouths to himself. The mantra calms his nerves momentarily.

They draw nearer. He no longer doubts that it is a person facing them, although they are still too far to make out any details. He wishes the sun would rise, although he knows that the dawn is still more than an hour away.

"Bruce," Selina whispers, "let's go back."

He clenches his teeth, then calls out, "You there!"

There is silence. Instinctively, Bruce draws his boomerang and charges through the field towards the silhouette. His heart pounds in his chest, and he readies himself to hurl the boomerang before seeing the object for what it is.

A scarecrow.

It wears a red, stained jacket and a burlap bag over its head. Thick cords bind its arms to a cross-shaped wooden frame, and it hangs, facing downwards, its feet half a metre from the ground. On its head is a ragged straw hat.

Selina catches up to him and stares at the scarecrow.

"I... I feel like an idiot... It's just a scarecrow..."

He stares at it grimly. "It's more than that."

Walking toward it, he nearly trips on a thick piece of wood near the base of the cross. He reaches up and removes the hat and bag. A dried, desiccated face stares eyelessly at him.

Selina moves closer. "What could have done this?"

"I don't know. It makes an effective scarecrow, though, doesn't it?" he asks, guarding the waver in his voice. His heart is still pounding from his charge, and the scarecrow is deeply unsettling.

"So is that how you deal with your fear?" she asks him, as if sensing his discomfort. "By charging blindly at it?"

"It seemed the reasonable thing to do," he tells her, then reaches up to the scarecrow's head and pulls. The flesh is dry and brittle, and the head comes off with little resistance, leaving a cloud of dust. He drops it on the ground.

"What are you doing?" she snaps, incredulous.

"Whoever did this is trying to use fear as a weapon against us. I'm leaving them a message that we're not afraid of them. Come on, let's get going."

"Now you want to go further?" Her eyes are wide.

"Don't you?"

Glancing at the decapitated body, she says, "We know that there's something in here. Something dangerous that wants us to stay away."

He folds his arms. "Whatever happened to the Cat Woman? The scourge of Arkham? All I see before me is a frightened girl." He is taken aback by his own words, which seemed to come out of their own volition.

She casts him a withering stare. "Look, I'm trying to be reasonable. Now we know both roads are dangerous, and I think dealing with the League of Shadows, who we've fought before, is a better choice than running headlong into the unknown. And don't lecture me on fear; I know you were just as afraid as I was."

There is a moment of tense silence. She's right, he thinks. I am afraid. And he considers turning back, taking the main road to Gotham and leaving this place forever. He imagines a future where he has defeated the Shadow King and won the liberty of Gotham, and has returned to Arkham to live a simple life. For the rest of his life, the unconquered Crane farm will loom in his consciousness like the decapitated scarecrow hanging above his head now, gnawing at him like a cancer. He can hear the voices of Gotham saying, "Here is a place where even the Dream Knight feared to tread."

And he takes the scarecrow's burlap mask and puts it on over his face.

"I am not afraid," he tells her. "I am fear."

He turns and walks back toward the farm road. It is a long moment before she follows him, and he knows she is struggling with the temptation to return to the main road, leaving him to face the unknown demons of the fields alone. But she does follow him, walking slightly behind him and saying nothing. He is more relieved than he had expected.

As they walk into the eerie silence of the early morning, he casts one final glance at the decapitated scarecrow. In the corn next to it, he sees the head facing him, staring, and he imagines that it grins.

***

The Dream Knight had been no stranger to fear, he thinks as he sags on the wooden frame under his own weight.

He recalls the visceral rush of mortal terror when he fought the immortal Kal-el, the life-or-death battle on the mountainside with the assassins, the choking fear that overwhelmed him at the thought of losing Selina to the monster reptile in the forest, and the nightmarish horror he faced during his hallucinogenic journey to the Oracle.

Nothing, though, had been quite the same as the dread he faced as he followed Selina down the farm road this morning. It was a sustained, creeping dread, and like a drop of poison in a glass of water, it billowed into his psyche, tainting and polluting his thoughts. It was the knowledge that something terrible awaited them, something evil that could be lurking in the cornstalks mere metres from where they walked. Or perhaps it was the silence – there were no birds to be heard in these fields; not even insects could be found. And, of course, there was the moment when he first saw the Man-Bat.

He smiles again beneath the scarecrow mask, staring at the lengthening shadows before him. If he had only known what awaited him! But fear has left him now, and not even his own imminent death disturbs him.

Death will be a welcome end to this nightmare, he thinks as he recalls the events of that first day in Jonathan Crane's farm.

***

It is a pale morning, and the sun is obscured by black clouds looming on the horizon.

They have been walking for several hours, and have passed three more scarecrows along the side of the road. Selina had said nothing since their exchange in the fields by the scarecrow, which still echoes in his mind. I'm not afraid, he had said. A lie, of course, but a necessary one. Selina is faltering, he thinks, but I can inspire her by being without fear. But the fear is there, nagging at the edges of his consciousness, drawing him in, waiting to consume him.

Something black flits by in the distance, in the periphery of his vision. He turns, but there is only the gently waving corn.

There's something following us, he realizes. It must have seen what I did to the scarecrow.

He brings his breathing under control, reciting a mantra. I will not give in to fear and bitterness, he tells himself. I will face this unknown threat with composure and focus, and I will overcome it as I overcome all challenges.

There is a rustling in the corn, and again, something black appears at the edge of his vision, darting back under the corn before he can turn.

"We're being followed," he announces to Selina, his voice level.

She turns to him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. There's something in the corn."

She readies her whip and he draws a boomerang. "Did you see what it was?" she asks.

"Something black. Not human." His heart is pounding again, and he struggles to keep his breathing steady.

They wait in tense silence for several minutes. The only sound is the corn sighing in the breeze, and the distant rumbling of thunder.

"Maybe we should keep going," he ventures, staring into the cornfield, "and try to find some shelter before that storm gets here."

She nods, and they continue along, scanning the fields anxiously.

"What did you see?" she asks.

"I don't know. It was dark, and fast. I only saw it out of the corner of my eye."

"But you're sure you saw something?"

Am I? he wonders. "I... I can't say for sure."

She glowers at him. "Come on, Bruce, you've got to do better than that."
I have demonstrated weakness, he realizes with disgust. I must not do that, since I am fear. "Whatever it was, I will destroy it if it threatens us again."

She narrows her eyes. "Bruce, cut the pretence, and take off that disgusting scarecrow mask while you're at it. You're not fooling anyone, least of all me."

"Hush," he whispers. "If they are following us, they may be able to hear you. The mask is necessary. They cannot use fear against me if I become fear. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable."

"It's not making me uncomfortable," she snaps. "It looks ridiculous. What's making me uncomfortable is how you're acting. It's not like you. I know you're afraid – with the silence, and the corpse-scarecrows lining the road, who wouldn't be? I'm worried that it's really getting to you, and your reaction is to charge forward without regard for the consequences, just like before."

She wants to turn back, he thinks to himself, and is trying to undermine my will. "I am the Dream Knight," he reminds her. "I won't turn back. We'll press on and defeat whatever is waiting for us."

Lightning flashes in the distance, and thunder booms louder than it had before. She looks uneasily at the advancing storm clouds and says, "Maybe we should find shelter."

"That's a good idea," he agrees, and they continue briskly down the road. He turns to look behind him and sees it in the corn. A giant bat, just like the one in his nightmares. He blinks, and it is gone.

"Hurry," he says to Selina, and they pick up speed. Cresting a hill, they are confronted by the sight of a huge, gothic-looking farm house. Rain begins to fall, and lightning crashes, followed almost immediately by thunder.

"Inside, quickly!" He runs towards the house, but Selina is frozen in her tracks. "Bruce," she says softly, pointing.

He had almost run right past it. Another scarecrow standing in front of the house, this one even more unsettling than the others due to the presence of two long needles stuck through its mask where its eyes would be.

"It's a warning," she says, her face pale. "A warning not to go inside."

Thunder booms, and over it, Bruce hears the screech of a bat. "We have to go in!" he says. "We need shelter!"

And he runs onto the porch of the farmhouse and opens the door. Reluctantly, Selina follows him, her eyes still on the scarecrow. Together, they venture inside the Crane house.

***

The last rays of the sun sparkle on the surface of the lake. His thirst is so great that he cannot bear to look at it any longer, and he turns his head.

There is the Crane house, standing ominously in the distance. Who else will venture inside those accursed walls? he wonders. What other souls will it steal?

He recalls their first moments within the house, how they had searched each room – the kitchen, the wine cellar, the storage rooms, and finally, the bedchamber upstairs with the blood-stained floor and the two dried corpses.

It had been Selina who had discovered the remains, and he recalled the look in her beautiful green eyes. It was a look of deep weariness, of someone who had been pushed to the limits of physical and psychological endurance and was now prepared to push back. Of course, he had not recognized it at the time – what a fool he had been! – which was why it was such a shock when she announced that she was going to sleep.

He had not understood at the time how she could sleep in the bed of that corpse, which she had casually thrown to the floor, but she reminded him that they had been journeying for a full day and night and she was prepared to sleep anywhere, that the corpses had clearly been dead for many years, and anyway she had found some clean sheets which she would spread on the bed.

In hindsight, Bruce realized that it had been her way of defying whatever powers were stalking them – indeed, defying fear itself. He, however, chose vigilance over rest, and had resolved to protect her throughout the day as she slept.

And so he had patrolled the house throughout that stormy day. Several times he found doors and windows open, and once he had even seen the black mass of the Man-Bat crawling in a window in the upper floor. His keen eyes and quick boomerangs had prevented the demon from entering their sanctuary. At the time, he had taken pride in keeping himself and his sleeping companion safe.

Only later did he realize that the Man-Bat never needed to enter the house.

He stares at the Crane house now, and allows his mind to venture within it once more, recalling the events that sealed his doom.

***

"Bruce."

He jumps, then whirls around, boomerang in hand. Selina is standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding her cowl in her hand. He lowers his weapon.

"It tried to get in," he said, "but I fought it off."

"What tried to get in?"

"The monster."

Her eyes widen. "Why didn't you wake me? Did you see it?"

"Just glimpses. It's some sort of man-bat-thing. A demon, I think. But I didn't need to wake you. I wanted you to sleep in peace."

She storms toward him and slaps him hard on the cheek. "Don't ever do that again. We're in this together, Bruce. You're not my protector. I don't need your protection."

His cheek throbs, and he strokes it gently underneath the burlap mask. "Just be glad you didn't have to face it yourself. It was a terrifying creature."

She is livid with rage. "I thought you were worthy of my trust, Bruce, but now I see you for what you really are. You're no better than the Shadow King; you're a small man who uses fear to control people. I thought I could change you, help you become something more than what you were, but I've failed you."

He is stunned. "Something more than what I was?"

But she is already heading for the door. He calls, "Stop! The Man-Bat is out there! You can't leave!"

She whirls to face him. "I'd rather face it alone than stay here with you. Don't follow me."

And she turns her back on him and storms away.

I have to stop her, he thinks. For her own good. He takes a cushion from a nearby rocking chair and runs up behind her just as she is opening the door, holding the pillow over her face.

"Mmf!" She struggles, kicking at him, but soon goes limp in his arms.

"Sorry, Selina," he says, taking her unconscious body to a wooden chair in the kitchen of the house. "You will thank me later."

He finds some thick rope and ties her tightly to the chair. Her eyes flutter.

"Bruce!"

He whirls around. It was a ghostly voice, with a timbre like a tree-branch scraping a window.

"Bruce!"

He walks into the living room of the house. The front door is open, and the wind bangs it against the wall. The rain pours in, and outside, the night is deepening.

"Bruce!"

He follows the sound of the voice out the door. The scarecrow with the needles in its eyes has turned, and is now facing the house.

"Hello, Bruce," it says malevolently.

"Who are you?" he demands, drawing his combat boomerang.

The wind lashes its ragged red jacket violently, and Bruce wonders how its straw hat stays on its head. "My name is Jonathan Crane," it says.

"How do you know my name?"

It cackles, a dry, brittle, choking sound. "I know all about you, Bruce," it says. "I know your deepest, darkest fears. I am a farmer, you see. A farmer of fear."

He raises his chin. "I am without fear."

"Are you?" the scarecrow asks, its voice dripping with malice. "I have met many who told me the same thing. You've met them, too. You've seen them along the side of the road, warning you to go no further!"

The scarecrows, he thinks, then growls, "You know nothing about me."

"Oh, but I do. We are so very much alike, you see."

He advances, boomerang in hand. "What are you talking about?"

"Perhaps I should tell you a little about myself, and you'll understand my meaning," it says gleefully. "You see, this place used to be my home. I grew up here, me and my mother and father. They didn't always get along. Mother was a socialite from Gotham, one of the old aristocracy. She met my father at the market one day – he was a farmer, and had come in to sell his corn – and they had what you might call a tryst. And thus was I conceived."

Bruce can do nothing more than stand in the pouring rain and stare as the scarecrow tells its story. It continues, "They went their separate ways then. Now, my grandfather – my mother's father – was a proud man. He was my namesake, Jonathan Crane, and he was very concerned about the purity of the family name. You know how aristocrats are." It cackles again. "He had two other daughters, as I recall. One of them joined a religious order and swore celibacy, and the other was quite mad. Anyway, when he found out about Mother's affair, he was furious. He demanded to know who the father was – with the intent of killing him, I suppose. He threatened to kill Mother, too, but she said she would scream, and asked what the servants would think. So he locked her up, but she escaped and came here, to my father's farm. It was a night very much like this when I was born, or so I'm told, and she sent a message to my grandfather telling him that she had given birth to a son, and she'd named me after him so that he would always know that the family name was being carried on by a half-breed, the son of a commoner."

It is silent for a moment, then declares, "So you see, my very existence is just to spite my namesake! But Mother was afraid. She knew that her father wanted to kill all of us, so she made sure I was well-hidden. Have you been to the wine cellar?"

He nods dumbly.

"That's where I spent the entire first five years of my life! Oh, it was a sad existence. Mother guarded me jealously, but she never really loved me. I was just her revenge against her father. And my father – well, I wasn't the son he wanted. Weak and sickly, I was, maybe because of spending five years in a small room, never seeing the sun. Of course, Mother always told me that the greatest weapon was the mind, and she always made sure I was reading. Always reading. She said I was quite the precocious reader.

"Father took pity on me, though, and decided that I should go outside. So he took me out into the fields, and showed me the farm, which he had decided I would take over. But I didn't want to be a farmer. The sun burned my eyes and my skin, and I thought I was destined for greater things. And I hate corn. Absolutely hate it. So that night, I told Mother that some of her father's spies had seen my father and recognized him. She was very paranoid, you understand. So that night, while he was sleeping, Mother poured acid on his face. Burned it right off! All because of me!"

Bruce's stomach turns, but he can do nothing but listen.

"Father was never the same after that. He never spoke much, and I knew he resented Mother and me. But he kept farming, this man with bandages instead of a face, and provided for us. The years passed, and I grew to be a man. Mother always said I had his face, you know, that face which she had always loved, even though she hated Father for ruining his life. But she never let me leave. Always threatened to kill herself and Father if I did. So, I'm sure you can imagine the effect that this would have on a virile young man, having no female company except for Mother!"

The scarecrow cackles and the wind lashes rain into Bruce's face. The corpses in the bedroom, he thinks, horrified.

"Yes, I did the unthinkable," it laughs. "Do you want to know what order I did it in? I'll leave the details to your imagination. But I'm no monster; I knew that I couldn't live with myself, seeing what I had seen, and doing what I had done. So I put these needles through my eyes – they were Mother's, but I never knew her to knit, so you can only imagine why she kept them around – and now here I am! A warning against madness!"

He stares at the corpse on the wooden frame. "But how..."

"Where are your detective skills now, Bruce? Can't you tell that I did this to myself?"

Some remaining shred of rationality in his mind says to him, Yes, it's possible. Look at the way the cords are tied; he could have tightened it just by pulling the ends. And the wooden block by the base of the frame, just like the first scarecrow; all he needed to do was kick it out from under his own feet.

The scarecrow gazes at him. "So now you see how you will become just like us?"

Bruce clenches his fist. "You are an abomination. I am nothing like you."

"Oh, but you are. You also killed your parents."

My parents? He feels as if the wind has been knocked from him. Softly, he says, "No."

The scarecrow laughs. "Just like me, you killed them through your fear. But while I was driven mad by the fear instilled in me by my mother, your simple cowardice killed yours."

"You're lying!" he roars.

"Aha, not at all. Don't you remember? The frightened child who had to leave the opera? Who could do nothing but watch as the murderer stole the lives of Thomas and Martha? Who ran away instead of continuing their work, finally dishonouring their legacy? Or have you forced yourself to forget?"

Images flash through his mind, memories long repressed and buried. Unable to stand before the scarecrow, he turns and runs back into the house, slamming the door behind him. In a mirror by the door, he sees himself, soaked in rain, still wearing the mask of the scarecrow. Frantically, he tears it off, but in place of his own face in the mirror is the face of the Joker. With a howl, he hurls his boomerang at the mirror, shattering it into tiny pieces that reflect his own face, each twisted and distorted in a different way.

He runs into the kitchen where Selina is bound.

"Bruce!" she calls. "Listen to me; I've figured it out! There's something in the corn that's affecting our minds!"

But her words barely register. "Who am I?" he demands.

"Bruce, listen to the sound of my voice! You have to fight it!"

He advances towards her, shaking, tears streaming from his eyes. "You knew who I was all along! You knew I killed my parents!"

Her eyes are wide. "What are you talking about?" she breathes.

"You knew!"

"Bruce, listen to what I'm saying –"

"Tell me who I am!" he shrieks.

She blinks back tears. "Bruce, there's something in the corn!"

He looks out the window. Dark shapes dance in the storm. "The Bat!" he hisses. "The Bat is in the corn, and it can hear you! It can't know who I really am! Tell me I'm the Dream Knight!"

"Bruce, you're delusional," she says, staring at him with a look of terror on her face.

"I am the Dream Knight! I am without fear! Say it!"

"No," she sobs, closing her eyes.

He seizes her by the shoulders and shakes the chair, bellowing, "SAY IT!"

And suddenly her foot is loose from its bonds, and she trips him. As he crashes to the ground, she rises from the chair, facing him in a defensive stance.

Blood pounds through his veins as he grabs the chair and hurls it at her. It breaks on her shoulder, and he rolls to his feet. She is facing him again now, and in her eyes is the deadly focus of a hunting cat. Breathing heavily, he turns away and seizes a long, sharp knife from the kitchen counter, then charges at her. His rage is nearly blinding him as he lunges at her, grazing her arm as she twists out of the way. Her blood splatters on his armour.

Then she spins, jabbing a pressure point in his arm, and his hand opens and drops the blade. She brings her knee into his gut, and he doubles over. He looks up, but does not have time to react as she kicks him hard in the face. He collapses again, and blackness forms on the edges of his vision.

He can see her shaking as she runs out of the house. Forcing himself back to his feet, he stumbles after her, out of the kitchen, past the shattered mirror, and onto the porch in the rain. The scarecrow leers at him.

"What have I become?" he asks it, falling to his knees.

"You're like me now!" It cackles again.

Fighting unconsciousness, he belatedly understands what Selina said. "The corn," he gasps.

"There is nothing alive here," the scarecrow explains, its voice warping. "No corn, no monsters, not even the crawling things that feast upon human corpses. There are only our fears, come to life. The corn is a manifestation of my fear; the Man-Bat yours. There is nothing but us scarecrows, a testament to the power of fear!"

He is unable to fight any longer. The last thing he hears before losing consciousness is the hideous cackling of the scarecrow and the howling wind.

***

He remembers the clarity in his mind when he awoke late the next afternoon.

The storm had subsided, and the scarecrow had fallen silent once more. Calmly, methodically, Bruce had broken into the shed outside the farm house and measured and cut the wood for the frame. There was no fear; only certainty remained. He was certain about the fate he deserved. It was justice, pure and simple. A coward would be punished.

It took the whole night to assemble the frame and tie the cords precisely enough that he could tighten them enough with only his wrists to support his entire body on the frame. But by dawn, he was ready. He chose a location a short distance from the farm house, planted the frame firmly in the ground, and strung himself to it facing the rising sun. Upon kicking the wooden block out from beneath his feet, he became a scarecrow.

And now he hangs in the twilight, awaiting death. It is not long before he is staring into its eyes. He is not surprised to see that it is the great, black Man-Bat.

"I faced you once before," he says to the animal. "You took my parents. I could not face you then, but now I am not afraid."

The Man-Bat cocks its head, and its black fur ripples.

"Let justice be done," he whispers.

The monstrosity spreads its great, leathery wings and unleashes a piercing shriek. Then there is a crack, and a spiked whip wraps around its neck. It is pulled backwards and topples over, and Selina plunges her blade into its neck.

With a groan, Bruce's frame sags forward and breaks, and he hits the ground hard.

Selina is loosening his bonds now and helping him up. Through parched lips, he croaks, "I do not deserve this."

She hoists him to his feet, putting his arm across her shoulders. "If any other man had done what you did, I would have killed him. But I know you. You were being affected by the corn, but I know your true nature. You are the Dream Knight."

"No," he protests. "Selina, I..."

"It was the corn," she repeats, removing his mask. Then she unfastens his armour, and pulls off his garments.

She lays him at the edge of the pond, and he groans.

"Shh," she whispers as she disrobes. "I forgive you."

Then she pulls him into the water. He drinks deeply. The water is cool, and Selina's touch is soft. She pulls him deeper, and they stand shoulder-deep, embracing.

"I told you once that your life belongs to me," she whispers in his ear. "Now I've saved it again so that you can fulfill your destiny. You are the Dream Knight. You are mine."

She kisses him then and pulls him under the surface of the water. Feeling his strength returning, he passionately returns her kiss, holding her tightly. They break above the surface again, breathing deeply.

"I belong to you," he says to her. "And I can never thank you enough."

She puts her hand on his face. "You know how you can thank me."

"I will restore peace to Gotham."

A sly smile crosses her face. "I wasn't talking about that."

And she pulls him beneath the surface once more.

***

They reach the edge of the Crane farm the next morning.

Somehow, the corn disappeared overnight, leaving the fields dry and barren. It had been a short walk to the edge afterwards, and another few hours' journey to the Penguin Inn on the main road.

Selina leads them through the back door, and an attendant takes them to the inn's proprietor, Oswald Cobblepot.

"Selina!" the diminutive but well-dressed man greets her. He embraces her, and Bruce notices with disdain that his hand ventures too far down her lower back. "It's been so long since I got your letter that I didn't think you were coming. It's a good thing I didn't leave here today like I was planning to!"

"It's good to see you, Ossie," she purrs.

He grins. "But I know you, Selina – you didn't come here to socialize. What is it that you want?"

She gestures to Bruce. "We need to get into Gotham. Discreetly."

"And who might this be?" He pulls a monocle from his breast pocket and eyes Bruce warily. "Never mind," he says. "It's probably better that I don't know."

He turns to Selina. "Come, there's a coach waiting. I'll take you to the magistrate. You remember him, don't you? Harvey Dent?"

She nods, then whispers to Bruce, "Harvey is a good man and was an ally of your parents. The people of Gotham love him; even the Shadow King won't move against him. He'll be good to have on our side, trust me."

He takes her hand. "I do trust you."

Cobblepot notices their affection and grimaces. "Come on now, let's get going. Gotham is waiting." And he shuffles away, beckoning them to follow.

Bruce gazes into Selina's eyes once more. After a moment, she looks away, smiling. "Come on, let's go," she says.

And she takes his hand and leads him to the coach that will take him to Gotham, and to his destiny.

Stay tuned for the exciting two-part conclusion of Dream Knight! Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel!

(Yeah, I couldn't help it.)