SaneAU

Young, beautiful and in love – those are characters from books they both adore. But they? They are caught in endless loop of going to work in the morning and coming back to their empty homes in the afternoon. Well, at least before they meet each other.
Jonathan had always used literature as an escape from unfortunate reality. For Jervis, books were safe places to hide his secrets.
Could the books bring together two very different people who almost lost all hope for their own happy ending?

Part 1 of 5

He opened the heavy door and was surrounded by the sound of a ringing bell as he entered the small shop. Dust filled the air and sunbeams were falling on the floor through the dark shop-window. He could smell the scent of old paper and bookbinding glue. He took a deep breath, because this was the place where he felt right, where he could breathe freely. He nodded at the shopkeeper and disappeared between the bookshelves.

The smell of books always made him feel calm and safe. He went to the nearest shelf, where the new books were and he felt grateful for the fact that it was Friday.

He took off the shelf a couple of books, only to put them back again. None of the books seemed interesting to him. He was going to give up his search for a new book to get for his weekend, but then he noticed a thin volume on the edge of the shelf. He smiled a little when he read its name. He remembered that he had read a book with the same name before. He picked it up, turned a couple of pages and when he was sure that it was the same book, he closed it and cradled it close to his chest. Then he moved to another shelf, searching for something unknown to him between those old books. He wasn't successful; there weren't many books he hadn't seen there before as he went there every Friday. It had been happy accident when he found this place couple of years ago but since that day he had become a frequent customer there. He was glad that he had stumbled into this antiquarian and second-hand bookshop. The place was like a shelter for him after all the madness at Gotham university – he didn't really like his colleagues and students were becoming worse and worse every year. He sighed. 'At least this place doesn't change,' he thought. Sometimes he envied Mishelle and her job.

Mishelle was the shopkeeper. She was a skilled bookbinder and everyone could see that she is great in her craft. She had been working there like her father before her. Originally, her great-grandmother had set up the shop with occult instruments and books, but now with Mishelle's fine trade was this shop the best place on Earth (at least, he felt that way). He glanced at his book; she had probably repaired this one too. He was sure that, if it wasn't for Mishelle's great work, nobody would ever buy those books (and his bookshelves would be really empty).

When he couldn't find any other book he would like to get, he decided to take a look at the books which had been waiting for repair. He heard a bell ringing – somebody else had entered the shop. He could hear him talking with the shopkeeper.

"Good evening Mishelle," said that somebody quietly.

"Good evening," Mishelle replied. "I expected you yesterday, Mr. Tetch."

"I know... I was working late so I didn't have enough time to come here."

"I have the writings ready for you. Bound as usual."

"Oh really? That went fast..." he replied in astonishment.

"Well, I did expect you yesterday."

"That's great. How much do I owe you?"

"The same price as always," she smiled. "Anything else?"

He could hear a sigh and he realized he shouldn't listen, but the place was so silent he would hear them anyway.

"Have you got another one? You know..."

"Another one?" Mishelle sounded sad.

"U-hm..."

"Of course... And I wish you good luck, I hope it will be good this time..."

He heard her closing an old cash register, the man's silent goodbye and then the bell.

He stepped to the counter and laid the book there.

"Good evening Mishelle," he decided to greet her properly.

"Professor Crane," she smiled. "I had started to think you got lost among our books." Then she picked up the book and raised an eyebrow. "Easy reading?"

"Well, yes... I remember this one, I've read it when I was younger..." he admitted.

"Oh I see." She smiled again. "Wait a second, please... I think you will love this one."

She disappeared behind a bead curtain, probably went to her workshop. She returned quickly with a big volume in her arms. She set the book on the counter and carefully turned several pages.

"Some guy brought it in yesterday. I tried to tell him how valuable this one is, but he told me that he didn't really care. He was only interested in money I could give him for it and for the box full of books he brought. I want to repair this one and then find a new owner for it, so I thought you might be interested. I would be happier if somebody reliable took it."

"What is so special about it?" Crane asked, but she already had his attention.

"Well, it is collection of old horror stories from newspaper. They are illustrated, too. Almost hundred years old." She was smiling. She knew he was caught.

He sighed. "As great as it sounds, I am afraid I can't afford it right now... Maybe in two or three months."

"If you want it, I can keep it there for you," she said and took the book back to her workshop.

He opened his briefcase, searching for his wallet, only to find his keys three times in row. He set the briefcase on the counter to look again, but then noticed a black wallet lying on the floor. He picked it up. It definitely wasn't his wallet.

"Mishelle? Someone lost a wallet here."

She was back in a second. "Oh, really?" She frowned slightly.

Crane handed Mishelle the wallet and she opened it looking for driving licence or an identity card to identify wallet's owner. "Oh, it belongs to Mr. Tetch. He was here just a couple of minutes ago. I hope he will notice that he is missing his wallet."

Crane glanced at his watch – he wasn't in hurry and he didn't really care what time it was, he was just used to doing it when he hadn't anything else to say. He finally found his wallet (he was looking at the wrong place, it was in his pocket). He said goodbye to Mishelle, put the book he bought into his briefcase and then left the shop.

He went to Main Street, although he didn't want to because he knew that at this time it would be crowded, but on the other hand it was still the shortest way home. The voice in his head was hissing and bitching as there were too many people blocking his way. He sighed; it was the same every Friday. He finally got to a less crowded place because a large portion of people disappeared into the Gotham Underground. He went on and eventually stopped behind a group of people waiting on traffic lights to cross the road. He looked around and nodded at an old couple with small dog who lived in his neighbourhood. Everyone was staring at the traffic lights, waiting for signal to cross the road. Then he witnessed a strange situation.

Right in front of him he saw a petite man, who was probably trying to start a conversation with a young woman, who was (not only because of her high heels) at least one foot taller than him. He looked nervous and she seemed to be disgusted. He spoke to her and tried to look her in the eyes. She grimaced and slapped him across the face. He staggered and dropped his briefcase whose contents spilled out on the pavement. In the same moment the walk signal appeared and crowd went to cross the road. Nobody cared about the little man who was trying to recover his belongings. People were pushing him out of their way and when he attempted to pick up one of his things, somebody just kicked the thing out of his reach.

Crane felt sorry for him. For a moment he forgot that he would have to wait another five minutes, if he didn't cross the road immediately, and he picked up the small man's glasses-case which had fallen near his feet. Then he lifted two books from the pavement. He recognized Mishelle's sign on the bigger book and the second was an older edition of Alice in Wonderland. He stepped to the small man who was kneeling on the pavement and put some of his belongings back into his briefcase. He looked up with small smile as he took his books and glasses case from Crane's hands. He closed his briefcase and looked around, searching for other things he might have possibly lost. Then he stood up and dusted off from his trousers.

Crane turned around and wanted to go, but then the small man spoke.

"Thank you very much." He smiled and swept away hair from his eyes.

"You're welcome." Crane tried to smile back.

The small man looked at the road which was now full of cars and then at the traffic lights. "I am sorry that you have to wait here because of me..." His voice was calm.

"That's all right," Crane replied.

The small man glanced at him and Crane noticed his dreamy, blue eyes. "You are very kind."

Crane didn't know how to respond. He certainly wasn't expecting to hear something like this from a complete stranger.

But the man continued, "Really, no one else bothered to even stop. Only you..."

Crane knew he was trying to thank him but it was making him uncomfortable, so he decided to change the subject. "So, what happened there?"

The man looked at him in surprise, as if he lost his train of thoughts, but then he started talking. "Have you seen that lady?"

Crane nodded.

The man looked down – his left cheek was still slightly red. "Well, I told her she looked beautiful... At first she seemed to be pleased, but then she noticed it was me who said that. And I think you have seen the rest..."

Crane gave him sympathetic look. "Women..."

"Yeah..." he agreed.

Crane was hoping that it was an end for their conversation. At first it seemed so, but then in the corner of his eye he saw the man was clasping his hands nervously and even glanced at him now and then, after which he immediately turned his sight elsewhere when he found himself doing it, not wanting to be caught.

The place was crowding up again. More and more people were waiting to cross the road. Impatient tapping and traffic noise were getting on Crane's nerves. He wished to leave and not have to be there anymore. His wish was fulfilled – the traffic lights changed and he moved quickly across the street. The crowd around him was heading to follow the main road which he wanted to leave as soon as possible. He went into a one of smaller alleys. He felt better there – the noise from main street was muffled by wall of old houses and there were less pedestrians too. Or was he mistaken?

Crane could hear footsteps. Someone was following him. He looked over his shoulder.

Him again?

The man probably noticed it. He walked faster, ran a bit, blonde hair flying around his face, and then he was walking in-step Crane. For a couple of paces he was silent, but then he spoke.

"Excuse me," he started hesitantly. "I... Well, it appears to me that we have a similar destination in mind. I'd like to thank you properly for your help. Could I invite you for coffee, tea or something? I know a perfect place just around the corner..."

Crane stopped. "Thank you, but that's not necessary."

He just smiled. "Oh, but I insist..."

Crane gave up. He didn't have any plans for the evening and he was sick of making excuses.

"Well, if it's like that, maybe for a moment..." he finally said with a small sigh.

The man looked very pleased.

Crane followed him and he was pleasantly surprised when that 'just around the corner' was quite literally just around the corner. The alley wasn't unknown to him, but he hadn't known about the café. As if the man had noticed his uncertainty, he smiled at him and pointed at a house with large black door. He turned the old brass doorknob and held the door for Crane.

When he crossed the threshold, Crane couldn't believe his eyes. From the spot he was standing he could see small garden through open French doors. He wasn't able to believe that in Gotham it was even possible to see such a lush green. There was a massive wooden bar by the wall and mismatched tables and chairs throughout the room. At this time, there were just a few people. Through the windows sunshine was falling in, giving the place peaceful and cosy feeling.

His companion went in front of him smiling. "They don't call this place Paradise Lost for nothing..."

A young man behind the bar closed a book he had been reading.

"Good evening Mr Tetch, you took your time today..."

"Good evening Andre, you are right, I had to do a couple of things before I got here," the blonde answered.

"Your table, as usual..." the barman started, but then he looked at Crane. The question was lost in his tone.

"Of course – we will just borrow second chair." The blonde smiled and headed to a table which was standing in the corner away from the other patrons. He took one very comfortable-looking chair from an unoccupied table and pushed it to his table for Crane. He took off his jacket and hung it on a coat rack. Then he sat down in a cushioned, Victorian armchair. Crane gingerly took his seat opposite him. When the silent became unbearable, the blonde sat on the edge of his seat and ran hand through his hair nervously. Then he looked at Crane and smiled shyly. He was blushing slightly. Crane was almost starting to think that his host was regretting his decision to invite him. The blonde gulped and began talking.

"My name's Jervis Tetch." He looked Crane in the eyes, a smile on his face and hand reaching for handshake. He had small hands but a hearty and firm grip.

"Jonathan Crane," his guest answered simply.

A big thanks to my beta reader. I really appreciate your help.