Mad As A Hatter Chapter One: "Nobody's Home"
Well
I couldn't tell you why he felt that way, What's wrong, what's wrong now? Open your eyes and look outside, find the reasons
why His feelings he hides He wants to go home, but nobody's
home He's lost
inside, lost inside oh oh
He felt it everyday
And
I couldn't help him,
I just watched him make the same mistakes
again
Too many, too many
problems
Don't know where he belongs, where he belongs
He wants
to go home, but nobody's home
That's where he lies, broken
inside
With no place to go, no place to go, to dry is eyes
Broken
inside
You've been rejected, and now you can't find what you left
behind
Be strong, be strong now
Too many, too many
problems
Don't know where he belongs, where he belongs
He wants
to go home, but nobody's home
That's where he lies, broken
inside
With no place to go, no place to go, to dry his eyes
Broken
inside
His dreams he can't find
He's
losing his mind
He's fallen behind
He can't find his place
He's
losing his faith
He's falling from grace
He's all over the
place
Yeah (yeah)
That's where he lies, broken inside
With no place to go,
no place to go, to dry his eyes
Broken inside
He's lost inside, lost inside oh oh
Ohhh...
Arkham Asylum was the only thing that barely resembled home to Jervis Tetch. He had never felt in place all his life and the house he lived in was no real 'home'. How could a place where his mother hardly acknowledged him, a father who constantly brought him down, and siblings who were ashamed of him be considered a home?
They always say home is where the heart is. Jervis felt he lost his heart when Alice showed him her ring.
Arkham wasn't a place anyone would call a home either, but it was the closest thing Tetch ever had. Sure, his fellow rogues didn't treat him any better, but at least he was with a crowed that hated Batman as much as he did.
Jervis sighed, laying his head back on his pillow, staring at the ceiling. He wished his room had a clock. There was no way to tell what time it was. "Ooohh…if only they knew Time as well as I do…" he muttered, shutting his eyes, feeling a few tears escape as he thought of the past. "Perhaps Time can wipe out my thoughts…my memories…I would like that," he said to himself, his strawberry blond bangs dangling over his face.
"Hey! Freak! Get up!" bellowed one of the guards as the door slid open. Jervis opened his eyes tiredly and sat up, blinking,
"Well, aren't you rude," he spoke finally, narrowing dark blue eyes, though he softened them when he realized it wasn't Charles. The one guard he truly loathed.
"You better behave yourself," the man sneered. It was obvious he hated this job, but it was the only one he could get apparently. He didn't look like he could be anything sophisticated in Jervis' thoughts.
"Oh, dear, what have I done this time?" Tetch asked innocently, tilting his head. His bangs followed after, covering half of his face, giving him a wilder look that put the guard on edge once the smaller man started giggling madly.
"You have someone to see you!" he snapped, trying to brush the sudden chill off, "so don't cause her any trouble or I'll have to beat your face in!"
Jervis sat up straight, eyes wide with curiosity, "Some one has come to see me? And is a /she/?" He had the sudden revelation that it could possibly be Alice, coming back to him to apologize for the horrible thing she did by marrying that twit!
The guard grinned, knowing that the little freak would get his hopes up, he didn't tell him who this woman really was. "So, yeah, come on." He gave Jervis a harsh tug out of the cell, keeping his ward in front of him as he ushered him down to an obscure room. The guard kicked the door just slightly with his foot, letting it idly swing open as he forced Jervis inside and closed it.
Behind the surface of a black marble desk sat the alleged "visitor", the "she" that the guard had spoken of. A pair of high-heeled boots rested atop the glossy desk top, hand-crafted from the finest of black leather, their lace-up structures coming halfway up her calf muscles. Where her boots ended, a pair of black, form-fitting pants took over, running smoothly up her leanly-muscled legs to her hips, where there rested a solid black belt made of leather as well, secured with a gleaming silver latch crafted in the image of a dragon.
Her shirt was tucked into her belt, the shirt like her pants, black and formfitting, and where the shirt cut low on her chest, there was a silver pendant around her pale, long neck in the same dragon image as her belt buckle. Her face was finely angled and as pale as the rest of her, a pair of black eyes set demandingly in her face and accented by thick locks of white hair, no betrayal of her age. From her appearance, she looked to be the member of a syndicate, the holster of her belt holding two revolvers and several other objects and chemicals. She looked like no one to be trifled with, and yet her face was kinder than one would expect.
Jervis took the seat in front of the desk and sighed, knowing this was indeed not Alice. You'd think after a few years in this place he would have given up that she'd ever come to visit. "Hello," he said sadly, folding his hands on his lap, "Who are you and why would you want to speak with me?"
The white-haired young woman readjusted the glasses up onto her nose, sliding the thin frames up further with a single finger. "My name is Illia Saint," she replied in measured, solemn speech, "I am a therapist from the neighboring city who has decided to take on your case." She sat up straight and took her feet from the top of the desk, sliding a file from the side of the desk to in front of her. "Jervis Tetch, correct?"
He didn't answer right away and studied her some more, a thin eyebrow raised under his messy bangs, "You don't /look/ like a therapist to me. But what do I know? I'm not in my right mind anymore," he muttered, shrugging, "Yes, I was once Jervis Tetch."
Illia leaned forward onto the desk, resting her elbows on the surface and putting her chin down into the palm of one hand. "I might not look like a therapist, but looks can be misleading. Not always, though." She turned a few pages into the file. "The next few days I'll be coming in to review your case. Nothing strenuous on your part."
"Should I feel honored that you picked me out of all of the rogues?" Jervis asked, an amused smirk on his face, "I'm not the most interesting case in the group," he added, leaning forward on his seat slightly, "Is there a particular reason your are interested in my case?"
Illia's face gathered the slightest hint of a cryptic smile as she leaned in closer just long enough to speak, "You'll find out in time, Mr. Tetch." She leaned back and leafed though silently. "Can you cleanly state to me the reason for your institutionalization?"
Jervis shrugged and sat back, drumming his fingers on his lap, "Well, to me I didn't do anything wrong or what could be considered isnane. Sure, I robbed a few places...so what? Mind controled a few people..." The Mad Hatter frowned at the memmory, narrowing his eyes. "I had no say in my trial, really, and I knew nothing about it in all honesty. So for the true reasons why I'm here? The Batman."
"That's what I wanted to hear. Keep that in mind," Illia replied, jotting down a few notes, best left unseen to anyone but her. "Clearly state your age, please."
"Shouldn't that already be in your files?" Jervis asked, tilting his head, but then sighed. "I'm thirty-seven," the patient answered plaintively.
"This is a test I've developed," Illia replied, "It's to be sure of the condition of the patient's sanity. So far, you're doing far better than most people I've done this with. Former location?"
"High Street," Jervis answered with boredom, "Gotham City of course. I also used to work at Wayne Industries." He leaned back on his chair, "Is that enough info for you, miss?"
"One more thing..." Illia pondered, picking up her pen and checking a few things on a list. "You need to answer a riddle."
"Oh? I love riddles!" Jervis perked up, a large grin on his face. His slightly large set of buck teeth happened to stick out.
The therapist grinned slightly and tapped her chin with the pen. "Alright. You've been placed into a bathroom. In the corner, there is a bathtub filled with water. You have been given a teacup, a teaspoon, and a bucket. How will you empty the tub?"
"By pulling the plug of course," Jervis answered, crossing his arms and lifting his eyebrows together with interest, "Correct?" Although it was hard to tell in the faint lighting of the room, Jervis had scratches adorning his face and arms, though it was hard to see the scratches and scars under his sleeves.
One last checkmark in place on her paper, Illia nodded her confirmation. "Testing complete." She slid the file into her briefcase and locked it, buzzing in for the guard to come. "Get plenty of sleep. We commence tomorrow."
"Sleep happens to be a problem on my part, but as you wish, Miss Illia."
Jervis was pulled up out of his seat before he could get up himself and was dragged by not exactly the same guard. It was Charles. The man grinned down at the rogue which caused Jervis to flinch and go slightly pale before the door was swung closed.
Illia watched with an invisible degree of concern as Charles "ushered" her client out, and the more she sat there and thought of it, the closer she came to speaking out loud. "So they still haven't gotten rid of him..." She muttered furiously and stood up, gathering her files into her briefcase and slamming it closed before locking it and walking out of the room.
But she wasn't going to leave yet.
Instead, she walked with quickened gait down to the guards' lounge to wait for Charles. She had several bones to pick with him and a small tidbit of news.