"Shouldn't you be in school?" Crane criticized smoothly, hooking his glasses back into the neck of his patient uniform. Savannah kicked her legs idly in her seat, unconsciously chewing on a lock of her hair in anticipation. "It's Labor Day," she replied, knocking his question out of the way swiftly.
"You wouldn't rather spend this holiday with friends or with that family of yours?" Jonathan asked, knitting his fingers together in an attempt to avoid the previous subject. To this, Savannah pulled her hair out of her mouth, a small shake of her head indicating her true priorities. "Nah," she spoke, "after Dr. Leland informed me that you had a lil' problem yesterday, I woulda come anyways."
"Did she now?" Jonathan grimaced, his gaze turning to a leer directed at one of the mounted security cameras. "And just what else does she inform you of?" He wasn't exactly angry, just more or less irritated that Leland's attempts at reforming this former doctor had leaked into giving out constant updates as though he were the child instead. So much for patient-doctor confidentiality, although he supposed that went out the window when he put away for torture and murder. He knew she was working hard to get him to flex that underused and nearly nonexistent social side of him to aid his mental health, but it was no less annoying to a shut-in like Jonathan.
"Just what she's allowed," Savannah answered him, choosing her words carefully. "She can't tell me about therapy or anythin' like that, but since Ah'm, like, your only existin' family member, she tells me about medical stuff an' whatnot." When she caught his glaring at the camera, she reached and hand over to lightly thump the table and get his attention. Crane gave her an immediate sharp, warning glare, one that caused her to flinch in immediate reaction. He had to commend her on a swift recovery, however, as she soon proclaimed, "Yer stallin'! C'mon, can't you do it one more time? You do it all the time for the cameras!"
Crane's gaze softened to it's usual grouchy stare of contempt as he once again turned his focus to her. "Another time, perhaps, but not today, child."
"Oh you say that every time," Savannah groaned, a childish petulance seeping into her voice. "You do it for crowds of people and for Batman. Why can't you do it for me?"
Jonathan pointed upwards to the cameras recording them. "There are cameras."
"So? They don't record sound!" the younger sibling replied, her determination certainly admirable as well as aggravating to the doctor.
"Just look it up on…" Jonathan snapped his fingers repeatedly, trying to think of what the younger generation used these days. "YouTube. Just look it up on YouTube if you're so curious." Platforms like that were still new to his generation when he was teaching.
Savannah grimaced at the very thought, tapping her toes against the floor in visible impatience. Their time was coming to an end soon enough, and she knew her brother well enough to know he was running the clock down. No doubt he had plenty of practice with his own doctors. "Can't," she finally replied. "Most of yer stuff is age-restricted. I have to be eighteen to view it."
Crane granted her an incredulous look. "Can't you make an account and simply say you're eighteen?" he asked her.
"What if I get caught?"
"Caught? By whom? The police?"
"I dunno! Maybe?"
Crane's brow shot up so high in awed disbelief that it was a surprise they didn't fly off of his face. "And you're sure we're related?"
"We're half siblings!" his sister snapped, clearly exasperated but with no actual angry tone in her voice. "Just do the thing! Do it and I'll promise I'm never ask you about it again."
Jonathan had to once again remind himself that his half-sister was still twelve. Maturity wasn't exactly expected, but it seemed to him that Savannah had gotten far too comfortable with Crane as her sibling. She acted as if he were a brother she'd known for years, and while it gave him mild discomfort, he had to teach himself to stop pushing it away. It was at times like these that he needed to remind himself that he wanted this, even if it was a fact that was hard to swallow. With that, he slowly rolled up his sleeves. "I'm not exactly in my element," he warned, already preparing the monologue within his head as his tone hinted at the prize she so dearly wanted.
Savannah buried her growing grin in her sleeves, legs kicking excitedly. "That's fine! Just… give it a go!"
Jonathan stared blankly at her, internally building himself up. His eyes then narrowed as a mad grin split his lips, hands rubbing together greedily. "Hroo, hraa! Yeeees, enjoy your precious daylight Gotham, for when night falls, you will experience true terror, and you will all know that I, the SCARECROW, am the MASTER OF FEAR!" This line was punctuated by a bout of high-pitched maniacal laughter so iconic to the Scarecrow as Jonathan raised bent arms up and clawed fingers up to the sky in a perfect display of overdramatic villainy.
Savannah had to cover her mouth with both hands, a squeak leaking out as her chest shook and pained from contained laughter. Jonathan's expression relaxed to the usual unrevealing gaze, a far cry from what had been put on show moments ago. "Of course, one will never experience a true chewing of the scenery until in the heat of the moment when you're saying—" he paused to glare furiously up at the ceiling, shaking his fist as an old man would to a boy on his lawn and yelling "— I'LL GET YOU BATMAN!"
That broke Savannah, who slammed her head into her arms on the table to let out muffled laughter into her sleeves. Jonathan watched with a stolid countenance once more, taking note of her shaking with each new breath wasted on laughter. "You laugh now, but I'll have you know it's terrifying when in the costume," he spoke calmly, watching her shake harder, knowing tears were involved this time.
"Ah bet!" she grinned, wiping the leaking from her eyes as she tried to regain her composure and stop the giggles that interrupted her interrupted each attempt. It wasn't a surprise when the guards suddenly burst in, alarmed by the noise heard outside of the room. Savannah tried to assure them that she was fine as they checked her for injuries, all the while Jonathan took the time to contemplate. All his fondest ideas sprouted from simple pondering, and yet as of late he seemed to find himself in the worst of moods when his thoughts strayed.
What are you? A clown?
If it was one thing Crane loathed, it was utter humiliation. Even now Crane felt a rising sense of anger at the girl who laughed at his admittedly silly display, garnering unwanted flashes back to tormenting jeers and laughter that had once brought him to tears every day as a boy.
Pathetic.
It was rambunctious laughter at his expense, and yet somehow this felt off from the torments of his youth. Did he have to degrade his own existence in order to get even a shred of camaraderie from a girl who would tremble before him had there not been the safety of the guards? He let these thoughts stew inside of him, letting his displeasure be known by the twisted glower presented on his face.
Savannah's laughter died at the sight of his expression, leaving a small "thank you" to the guards as they reminded her she had about five minutes remaining before leaving to keep an ear out once more.
Silence enveloped the room as the girl's eyes searched him wordlessly for an indication as to what her wrongdoing may have been. Jonathan was once more back into that ugly frown she knew she was meant to see. She wouldn't know he was upset unless he wanted her to. That's just how her brother was.
"Having fun?" Jonathan sneered, his insecurities putting him on the offensive. Savannah shrank back instinctually, mouth twitching in an attempt to retain a calm smile. "Of… f'course," she replied as honestly as she could, though she wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to hear from her. "Ah like getting to know my big brother." She offered an encouraging smile, as if hoping it would somehow lift his spirits.
"Oh? And what have you learned today?" Crane asked expectantly, that frown lessening back to its usual blank visage. Savannah looked at him oddly, as if now he was the one in need of questioning now. Her brow furrowed, and yet she retained the smile of a girl simply trying her best.
"Does it matter?" she answered, striking something within her brother. "I thought bonding wasn't supposed to be stressful."
Jonathan stayed silent during that moment, his thoughts once again lost in a blank canvas
So then why are you so uncomfortable, Johnny?
"Johnny, I like spending time getting to know you," Savannah emphasized, his silence only bringing her discomfort. Jonathan canted his head, hands tightening their grip on his arms. Still, she persisted on. "Y'know, like our mama always wanted to."
Crane's silence only seemed all the more deafening right then. And yet, he let his expression lift as he offered up a small smile before signaling to the security camera that he was ready to leave.
"I'll see you next week, Savannah," he hummed, before the guards came in to assist in his departure.
"Forty-seven… forty-eight… forty-nine…"
Lonnie had been watching silently for some time, finally breaking the silence when Garfield reached the fiftieth mark. "You have to be the only man in this asylum who comes out in exercise period to actually exercise," he stated, watching Garfield rest himself at the down position to take a few deep breaths in.
"What can I say? I gotta build up my strength for when I get my wings back," Garfield chuckled, before looking over his own shoulder to get a glimpse at the girl sitting criss-cross on his spine. "Whaddaya say, Mary? Fifty more?" Baby Doll pursed her lips, leaning on his back some in contemplation. "Hmmmm…. A hundred! A hundred and I'll give you a cookie!" she promised.
Lynns scoffed. "Yeah, I'm not falling for that one again," he muttered, despite already in motion of doing more push-ups. "Of course, I'm still gonna do it, but if you're lying to me, Dr. Leland's gonna hear all about it in group therapy." He quickly got going again, already getting into the sixties as Mary was bursting with giggles like she was a little girl on the world's safest kiddy ride. "Faster! Faster!" she giggled, rapidly giving his back soft pats that were supposed to be childish hits. Firefly was certainly trying his best, saying to her, "Yeah yeah, I'm getting on it. Remember you're getting off the moment we see— HARVEY!"
Lynns leaped to his feet, immediately throwing the little blonde woman off of his back and sending her crashing onto the ground below, leaving Lonnie to rush over and help her to her feet. Garfield couldn't care more, approaching Dent with the excitement of Baby Doll a few minutes prior. Dressed in the typical Arkham uniform, Harvey had it modified to where one half was dirty and damaged to a state where it was nearly unfixable; the typical two-toned fashion he was always so keen on sporting. Even Jervis would have a hard time stitching that raggedy thing up. Doctors had tried to replace it multiple times, but like his coin, they had to eventually give in and let him have it. Said coin was currently flipping through the air, periodically landing in Harvey's hand before trailing through each crevice of his fingers with skilled turns and once again being flipped through the air with a flick of his thumb. Dent didn't look too pleased, but that was most likely because it wasn't Harvey currently in control. In spite of whatever his current mood was, he pulled out a book. "I got your things."
As Lonnie was lifting up Dahl and getting ready to place her back on her feet, he heard Two-Face's words and immediately dropped her. "Bullshit. You did?"
Instead of that gruff, gravelly voice they had gotten prior, Harvey seemed to become the more prominent half as he handed Lynns a cover of Stephen King's It, a rather hefty book that was inconspicuous enough to hide what was needed. "Well, it's not exactly difficult when both watchtower guards are lobotomized," he sighed, watching Firefly gleefully open up the book to reveal a lighter and an adjustable wrench hidden inside two deep holes carved into the pages. "Oh Harvey I'd kiss you if weren't as half as pretty as I am," Lynns laughed, slamming the book shut just in time to see Harvey cringe in response.
Dent's attention was now on Anarky, who stood by with crossed arms as he found it hard to believe he was going to experience his first mass breakout. "Nervous?" the more experienced rogue asked, the the unmarred side of his face portraying a light smile.
"Nervous? Tentative more than anything," Lonnie would only admit. Signs of anxiety weren't favored among rogues, and Anarky had to be one of the newest to the game, leaving him more of the spotlight to make an impression on the others.
"Well its not hard," Harvey told him. "You've started a riot before, haven't you?"
"Have I started riots?" Machin asked incredulously, letting a loud "Ha!" escape him. "Please. Has our unjust police systems mass indicted civil citizens with unfairly prejudice-based biases?" Harvey said nothing, merely raising a brow. At the silence, Anarky cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes. The answer is, uh, yes. I have."
"Great!" Lynns continued for Dent, giving the much younger rogue a hard pat on the back, watching him stumble forward a step or two. "This should be easy for you then. Breakouts are simple, Lon. You just do what you do best and we'll be out of here in no time." He grimaced and took a look around. "No time being a couple days, of course. Ivy hasn't gotten out yet and I can only wonder what's taking her so long." Letting out a breathy laugh, he once again brought his attention back to the political activist, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Look, kid, no pressure, but if we put in all this work and you fuck it up— once again, no pressure— I'm probably going to set your cell on fire with you in it. We good?"
Lonnie blinked, speechless for a moment before letting out a hesitant laugh, forcefully prying off the uncomfortably tight hand that had latched its grip onto his shoulder. "Yeah yeah, we're good," he nodded, awkwardly gesturing back to a small crowd of inmates gathered around Blackfire for one of his cult teachings. "I'll get right on it."
The two more experienced rogues watched him jog off and over to Blackfire, ending with Harvey giving Lynns a look. "You'd seriously kill him? We've all messed up a breakout before," he asked, once again flipping that coin in between his knuckles.
Garfield gazed over at him and back at Machin, thinking for a moment before shaking his head. "Nah. He's a good kid. I'd probably just put a cigarette out in his eye or something." He paused, bringing his gaze back to the other burn victim once more. "You'd hold him down for me, wouldn't you?"
Two-Face gave him an unreadable look as the coin in his hand found its way to his thumb within a second. Lynns watched the coin be launched into the air, that scarred half showings its marred face for mere milliseconds before findings its way back to his palm. The coin was planted on the back of his hand, only to reveal the clean side had won over Dent's constantly warring mind. Coin once more back in his palm, Two-Face shook his head. "Sorry Gar. Looks like I can't."
Lynns stayed silent, watching the coin expertly flip through Harvey's knuckles. "So are you finally gonna let me choose what to watch on TV in the rec room or are you just going to flip a coin at each channel until the coin tells to what to watch?"
Harvey paused, the coin stopping between his forefinger and middle finger. "Eh, hold on," he said, placing the coin on his thumb once more whilst Garfield crossed his fingers in silent hope.
Quinn ran thin fingers through her blonde locks, the hair ties discarded to the side for when she would fashion her hair up into those iconic twin ponytails. Her reflection bit her lip in pointed determination, noticing a knot up near her roots. Long nails struggled to comb it out, trying to keep the user distracted from the green-tinted figure feeling her own hair in the background. Harley paused, a twinge of anger sparking up in her chest at the sight. It had been several days since the dosages for Ivy's medication had been greatly reduced, and with it, Harley's insecurities began to bloom once more.
Her fingers became stuck in that knot, and in a spurt of wound up frustration, she tried to yank it out.
The harlequin's efforts were halted by smooth green hands gently grasping onto her wrists, smiling at her from the reflection of the mirror. A bit of red dusted the clown's cheeks as she grimaced at her own childish actions, letting Ivy gently untangle the knot in her hair. No longer within the public eye, however, she knew she was allowed to be embarrassed.
"Nervous?" Ivy spoke gently, her voice meeting Harley's ears as smoothly as fresh water. Quinn blinked, the sheepish smile saying everything that Ivy needed to know. "I mean, I guess," Harley confessed, avoiding the larger woman's gaze, expecting herself to be reprimanded for acting so childish and letting her worries get to her. It was around this time that Ivy had finished tugging at her tangles, already reaching for one of the hair ties. Her eyes urged for Harley to continue, even if she couldn't see them.
"It's jus'… y'know…" Harley muttered, unsure of how to put her problems into audible words. However, she mustered up a courage within her to show a hopeful, although weak smile. "It's nothin', Red, honest!" She winced in slight pain as Ivy tugged her hair up into those twin ponytails one at a time, making sure not a hair escaped from each tie as she finished Harley's signature hairstyle. As gentle as she tried to be and with plenty of practice under her belt, Harley could still be a little tender-headed.
Reaching up to run her fingers through the captured locks, Harley finally let her eyes lift up to Ivy, a grin naturally coming up to her face. Harleen had seen countless pictures of Poison Ivy back when she had simply been known as Pamela (a luxury she never received with the Joker), so she knew she already had a natural beauty about her. However, call it her odd taste in lovers, but she found Ivy to be absolutely stunning as she was now; a natural goddess among humans she had been raised with. Ivy smiled at Harley through their reflection, leaving over to plant her chin on the smaller woman's shoulder with one arm wrapped snuggly around her petite lover's waist and the other draped over her other shoulder in a comforting hug. Harley marveled at the woman she bunked with; sleeves were rolled up to show off that pear-green skin; smooth and practically flawless with thin, vein-like vines winding their way along her arms paired with crinkly and full locks of thick crimson hair cascading over Harley's shoulders as if cut from the finest silk. Quinn looked up into those green eyes that comforted her in the mirror and promptly turned around to get a direct look at them herself.
"Ah geeze, Red, lookit you!" she giggled, playing with her lover's hair. "You look so good! Just like yourself again." Poison Ivy couldn't help the smile that graced her face, small seeds in her hair that had laid dormant during her time in Arkham finally sprouting and flourishing into large pink flowers that decorated mane. It was a sign she was genuinely contented. Harley played with one of the petals, a bright smile broadening across her face. "Oh I'm gonna miss lookin' at these while your gone!"
Pamela noticed Harley's expression drop at the end of that sentence, filling her with a bout of worry. Her hands took up Quinn's, urging her to speak her mind. The small gesture of comfort was what brought the former doctor to look up with eyes gleaned with the foreshadowing of tears. "You're gonna come back for me, right?" she asked, the weakness of her voice begging for an earnest answer.
Oh, so that was what was wrong. Ivy's thoughts soured when thinking back to Joker, the flowers in her hair retracting to make way for thorny vines and weaved in and out of her hair. Harley was careful not to let her hand be pricked by the sudden onset of hostile vines. Ivy's hand curled around Harley's, her features displaying the look of a serious, but devoted partner. "Harley, I'm not like him," she promised with a firm voice. "I'm not leaving this island without you." Not that she really could without being shot down on the spot, but the sentiment was there. "If I could, I'd only come back for you." She finished with a kiss to Harleen's head, flowers blooming among her thick locks once more.
Harley found herself with watery eyes as Ivy pulled her close, bringing her over to the bed they shared despite there being two available. Ivy sat down so Harley was free to climb up onto her lap facing her. "I know, I know," Harley said, a more uplifted smile gracing her face as she giggled her worries away. "Yous know I just get worried n' all that…" She wiped at her eyes that were threatening her with tears. "Ahh lookit me. You got me all watery in the eyes." Leaning in, she embraced her paramour, squeezing her tight. "Just promise you won't be gone too long, 'kay Red?"
Before Ivy could respond, Harley leaned back, pointing at her in an almost paternal fashion as she scrunched up her face in mock seriousness. "An' don't you go messin' around with nonna those big ol' Blackjack trees Arkham has, ya hear?" She leaned in until their foreheads were touching, giving her that warning look. "If we bust this joint and I see you all smothered up in pollen, someone's gettin' the ax!"
Ivy was wide-eyed in her reaction, before falling into a bout of giggles, burying her face into the happy harlequin's shoulder. "Trust me," she laughed, meeting Harley's eyes once more. "I wouldn't leave you for the biggest redwood there is."
To this, Harley donned a contemplative look. "I dunno, Red. I'd probably leave me for a redwood. Those things are so big I could probably carve a house inta one and live inside of it." Ivy gave her lover a roll of her eyes, pausing her chortles when she heard the familiar sounds of footsteps. Immediately those flowers disappeared and her sleeves were rolled back down to her wrists, but she still held onto her Harley tightly as the guard appeared before their cell.
"Ladies. Time for your therapy session," the officer announced, showing the keycard that would open the door. Harley grinned, grabbed Ivy by either side of her face, and with a loud "MWAH" she gave her a large smooch on the lips. Whether out of politeness for the couple or disgust, guard averted her eyes with the rim of her cap. "Mmm, gotta love that new salad taste," Harley winked, hopping off her lap and cartwheeling over to the wall, where she put her hands. Ivy just shook her head and did the same, just with less flair, and thus the guard let the sliding glass door open and stepped through. The two were quickly patted down by separate officers, and with that Harley was taken away by a male guard while Ivy was taken away by the female officer.
As Harleen moved along with the officer past the rest of the cells, she made sure to go about her daily tasks of greeting each one of her friends ("Hey Zsasz! Hiya Laz! Lookin' great Lynns! Whatchya doin' Doctor Crane? Glad to see you're back, Harv! Heya Jerv- oh yeah. Hiya Mary!") up until she made it to the therapeutic wing, where she would go about talking to her doctor.
Nearing the office, she was greeted by the bright smile of Dr. Leland. "Harleen! Looking upbeat today," she greeted, the three of them pausing in the hallway. Quinn blinked before busting out into a grin. "You betchya!" she giggled. "I hear somethin' special's brewing in Arkham today!"
Dr. Leland arched a brow, suspicion already taking hold, but the doctor decided to give her former patient the benefit of the doubt. "Oh? And what might that be?"
A grin spread across Harley's lips as she leaned in, as if to share some secret with the psychiatrist. "Well, you didn't hear it from me, but…" She paused, eyes shifting around the room and glaring pointedly at the guard with her. "But… I hear they're serving meatloaf for lunch in the cafeteria."
Joan's mouth opened slightly, her brow rising at her answer. Clutching her clipboard tightly to her chest, she looked away, frowning some. "Well, Harley, from what I've heard—" She leaned in even closer, her voice dropping a few decibels, "—there's going to be mashed potatoes, too."
Harley's eyes lit up in surprise. Everyone could already see the buildup of energy rapidly expanding until it detonated into a boisterous "WAAHOOOOO!" and she leaped back into the guard's arms. Leland just chuckled softly, watching her recover from her little explosion within several seconds. She gave a wave of her fingers as Harley swung her arms back and forth in a grand goodbye.
Joan just shook her head, walking back down the hallway a couple steps until her eyes met the rather grave stare of one of the professors.
Professor Strange gave her that obviously judgmental stare from behind thick lenses, a brow arched in silent interrogation. Joan simply waved the larger doctor off. "It's just Harley," she said simply. "You have to enjoy the small improvements in your patients, Doctor."
Strange said nothing, only giving a simple nod as he moved back over to Crane's cell.
Back with Harley, she was practically skipping to get to her doctor's office. "Ooh, can I knock?" she asked the guard, who just smiled and gave her approving nod. Quinn hopped up to the door, before pounding wildly to the tine of what he thought might be "Funky Town", but he couldn't quite be so sure. Within seconds her reply came when Dr. Picard opened the door for her, his expression more annoyed than amused in her opinion.
"Harley, good to see you in such good spirits," Picard noted. He kindly thanked the guard before letting her in, gesturing to her seat as he went to sit behind his desk. "So, let's get started. How's your time been with Pamela?"
This starter allowed Harley to launch into a fluid series of responses, sharing moments about how Ivy always takes all the blankets or funny moments spent together. It was all normal, typical slice of life stories that happened to take place in an asylum. It ended oddly enough, however.
"Do ya think Ivy— I mean— Pam's gonna hibernate?" Harley asked out of the blue, causing Picard to give her a rather questioning look. "I mean, like, is she gonna turn brown and lose all her hair and go to sleep for the entire winter or what's up?" She played with a pen that had been left out on the desk. Along with that, she was happy to see a pair of scissors was placed blade-down in the pencil holder. "I mean, we've been together for almost a year, but we haven't spent winter together. She ain't gonna pass out on me, is she?"
"Well, despite her… abnormalities, she is still human," the doctor explained. "I would think there would instead be a slight downward shift in mood with most of the plants being asleep. However, we have not had a recorded case of Miss Isely sleeping for an entire winter." He took a moment to consider where he could divert the conversation. "Why? How do you think it would affect you should that be the case?"
Harley tried her best to huff it up, puffing her cheeks out as she slumped in her chair. "It would be boring!" she exclaimed, kicking her legs under the chair to express such underlying boredom. "Why would I want a roomie who sleeps all day? It's already bad enough now that Jerv is gone."
At the mention of his other patient, Picard took the opportunity to explore that particular path of exploration. "You're upset by Jervis' stay in Solitary?" he questioned. Harley threw her hands up, an indicator he wasn't exactly throwing her all the hard-hitting million dollar questions.
"Upset?" she grumbled. "Of course! You'd be upset, too, if you got stuck inside a tiny box for a weak." She stuffed her face in the cushion of the chair, her next words muffled. When Picard asked her to repeat that, she popped her head up like a gopher, giving him a stern glare. "Besides! It's not like he's dangerous or anything."
Picard refrained from sighing at this statement, realizing he was going to ho back over a very key important topic that Harley always seemed to miss. "Harleen," he spoke gently. While Harley played with the pen once more, she made a small "mmhmm?" sound, indicating she was listening to him speak. It was evident she was trying to get the pen to work through repeatedly pressing the button, but it seemed like the point was stuck somewhere inside of the cap and thus was unable to write. The doctor watched her play with the small instrument, finding it harmless enough to continue with his chiding. "People like Crane and Tetch and Isely may be your friends, but you must remember that they are no less a menace to the public as well as themselves. They are here for everyone safety, them included."
Harley scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Whateva ya say, bozo. Jervie is fine." She bit her lip as she began to take apart the pen, much to Picard's dismay. "Yeah he gets crazy sometimes, but ya just gotta know what to say to him!" She glanced over at him from the corner of her eye, checking to see if she'd maintained his interest. "Like, he loves all those quotes from that book a' his," she continued. She sat up straight, looking at him with seeming excitability. "Like, ''tis love that makes the world go round!' It a quote from the Hatter in the book, I think. It really calms him down."
Picard seemed to be taking her words with a grain of salt. "Harley, that would only be perpetuating his delusions," he explained to her gently, speaking as if he were explaining psychology to a five year old.
Harley waved a hand at him in retaliation, saying, "You don't think I don't know that?" She huffed at his condescending tone, telling herself she just needed to deal with it for a little while longer. "Well, yeah, but you can't exactly help someone who's a mess. I was a psychiatrist, remember? I worked this job before you ever even set foot in here!" She stuck out her tongue at Picard, who remained unamused by her antics. The pen was now only pieces of a tool that once was. Harley, of course, began to reassemble it, looking up at her doctor with a more serious gaze. "Some people take serious time to change, and as a doctor, I had to accept that. Meds don't fix everything, y'know. You can't just fix them right out the gate. Play along so you can understand them and come to help them. Sometimes you need to take a few steps back to move forward, you know?" She looked down at her pen, watching the final piece snap into place. "It's like what Pam tells me all the time: sometimes you need to prune back in order to make your gardens flourish."
She grabbed a scrap piece of paper on the table and pressed the button of the pen, causing the now fixed instrument to push out its tip and scribble out a few black swirls of ink. Smiling cheerfully, she placed the pen back on the desk in the pencil holder, bringing her gaze back up to her psychiatrist.
Picard was silent, letting her finish with her antics before taking his own writing utensil and scribbling something quickly within a separate notebook. "I believe it's time we move back to you," he began with a clearing of his throat. "Now, I would like to go through some grounding exercises before we begin on the discussion of your parents."
Jervis Tetch wasn't a very religious man, but the thought of God crossed his mind once or twice. When his mind wasn't enraptured by the reverie and fantasy of Alice and her adventures, he found himself occasionally thinking back to days in his youth, spending time in the church pews with his mother and sister and listening to a passionate preacher speak the good word. As much as a hassle as it was as a boy, it at least taught him such good manners. Unfortunately, being a good-mannered gentlemen don't exactly appeal to the judicial eyes of St. Peter when you have as lengthy a record as the Mad Hatter did. It didn't matter how you treated the young lady; kidnapping is still kidnapping, and mind control was still seen as a crime against humanity itself. He doubted there was such thing as an insanity plea in the afterlife, although he wasn't too keen on the idea of an eternal asylum, either.
Jervis dreaded Hell, but not fire and brimstone kind. Whenever he thought of Hell, he was tormented by fear of the concrete slab walls and that the screams of other patients that could still be heard even through the loudness of his own thoughts. Ask any patient in Arkham or what they thought of Hell, and they'd tell you that Hell is a very, very small place.
Tetch had found himself spending much of his time pacing around a fairly limited cell, even smaller than the one he'd shared with his cellmate before he was unfairly taken away by a couple of brutes. It was the only thing he could do, really, as the guards weren't much for conversation when they're practically being paid to ignore you in Solitary. That and sleep, but you can only sleep so much until you're simply left staring at the ceiling listening to your own thoughts, and that was what Jervis attempted to avoid. Sometimes he would pass the hours away by picking at chipping paint, and in others he would find solace in letting his eyes find patterns in the cracks on the walls, imagining each funny shape to be another oddly formed character. This was how he spent his hours; at least, he thought they were hours.
In Solitary it was pointless to try and keep track of the time, but when one runs out of topics to ponder about, one has to waste Time trying to figure him out. He received food and such, but it was hard to tell just when the next day had truly arrived until he had gotten his medication, what with the lack of natural light and the like. Doctors had him on a strict schedule, after all; a couple of pills every morning to continue to suppress those uglier thoughts of his. And yet, Jervis found himself reducing what he'd believed had been days into mere hours, unsure after a certain time if he had just been forgotten or if any days had truly passed at all. Somewhere in the progressively hazy mind of his, he figured the former when he soon found himself suffering from body-quaking tremors and cold sweats. The only comfort he could really bring himself was tucking his body in the corner of the room whilst on his bed, vainly hoping with each stress-induced sleep that he would eventually be rid of the migraines and the horrible shivering. At times like these, he was forced to once again bring himself to his thoughts in order to stave off the pains. So, it wasn't really of any surprise when he found himself talking with them once again.
Those voices. Those bloody voices in his head that landed him in this facility in the first place. Cats and frog men and Hares (not the Hare, mind you) enjoyed their talking and talking about many things, from Hares to Dormice to fallen pawns and kings, and why the sea is boiling hot and whether pigs have wings.
"They don't," he had stated rather matter-of-factly. "Had they said wings, I don't believe a certain pig would have left the poor Hatta all alone."
Tetch had found himself being brought to tears many times. The shaking, the fevers, the aching of his head; all that paired with the constant talking talking talking of the voices in his head was just too much for him to bear at certain moments. He'd find himself curled up in the corner of his bed, face buried into his stiff pillow as he begged for them to simply give him a moment of peace. They were usually so easy to simply brush away with the distraction of the Hare or the Dormouse to talk to him and give him peace. However, in such still silence, those voices playing directly into his head were simply deafening. At times, he simply failed to understand his own surroundings. He couldn't tell where Time was at, morning and night blurred into one it seemed— sometimes he would see the sun, but oh it was a trick on the poor hatter— and there were times he found himself talking to those guards, those guards that were trained to ignore him. Of course, the Hatter, being the smart man he was, easily discovered it was another trick of the mind.
"I wonder if I've been changed at night," the Hatter pondered. Cats grinned and snickered and mice chittered in his ears. "Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning?" He reached for his hat to properly swat at a particularly rude gnat, but his headwear was nowhere to be found, nohow. In its stead, he was forced to use a pillow. "I almost think I can feel a little different! But if I'm not the the same then the next question is—"
"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" he snapped in the middle of streams of tears at the noisy noisy daisies that peaked out of the cracks. "O-Or PETALS OR WHAT HAVE YOU!" He buried his face in the pillow once more to continue his tears.
"'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!"
He'd completely lost Time at this point! He smacked at his head repeatedly, cursing his own unforgiving mind at how he'd lost him. Oh the Queen would have his head for this. Just the very thought made him bite through tea cups instead of buttered bread— silly him. Didn't she know he hadn't a pound to his name? The more her stares leered the more he continued to bite into that tea cup, spilling a red paint from the cup that cards would inevitably use to paint those ugly white roses. Wouldn't that please the court? He didn't want to think about time but he was forced to think about time because what else was he supposed to think about? The weight of just being unable to tell the difference between night and day had him emotionally upset because he just wouldn't stop thinking thinking THINKING about it!
"You're mad, Tetch," Jonathan sneered, pushing up those thinly framed glasses further up his nose. Hatter swung his legs over the bed, kicking them rhythmically in tune to the seconds in his head. Who said he couldn't find Time? He'd found four thousand three hundred fifty-six seconds of him! "How so?" he hummed, tittering in that way he knew Jonathan liked. Jon, of course, feigned a loathing for the laughter. "Absolutely raving, unapologetically, horrifically mad," he'd instead decided to spit. Oh how the pepper makes people irritable.
The down right uncouthness of some individuals; oh, how he had been dragged— no, not down a rabbit hole, silly —down down down into a room flooded with tears and sorrows. Why, all he was missing was a dodo and a mouse and a few more pesky—
"Mr. Tetch?"
A snap brought his attention back to the kind woman donning such a modest nurse uniform. He blinked away the tiredness of eyes that stung to look down at the hand that was currently being wrapped up in tightly wound bandages, covering the stitching that had undoubtedly taken a while to put in place.
"Mr. Tetch, did you do this to yourself?" she asked, a voice softer than cotton he imagined, with eyes glimmering with concern. Jervis swallowed, confusion clouding his mind as he stopped her winding to take a look at the wound. Stitches had been required; the wounds must have been fairly deep. All round his dominant hand were these small gashes, marring his skin and making his hand a rather unpleasant red from inflammation. He found it disgusting; he'd rather gaze upon the azure of a pretty dress instead of crimson-tinted skin.
He opened his mouth to speak, brow knitted in obvious bewilderment, only for his senses to be shattered by a blaring alarm and the flashes of red light.
"ALERT: CODE RED. PATIENT 7863, PAMELA ISELY, HAS ESCAPED THE FACILITY. ALL PATIENTS MUST BE PUT AWAY AND ALL GUARDS ON THE LOOKOUT."
Gasps and words were exchanged between pawns before Hatter was soon thrown back into the hole they'd dragged him out of.
Time was once again lost to him as he picked at the bandages that the pawns had left on his hand. It hurt, he realized after a small while. What had they done to him? Quite rude of them, should he be quite honest.
"Twinkle twinkle little Bat, how I wonder what you're at," he would hum to himself in the midst of tear-filled shaking. Singing always made him feel better, even if it caused the Queen to screech and holler.
He missed his hat. His hands would reach for a hat that wasn't there. Had he sold it on accident? None of the hats were his, after all. More than that, however, he missed his Alice! Oh, where'd she gone? Stupid girl must have gotten lost; typical.
"Little Alice fell
d
o
w
n
the hOle, bumped her head and bruised her soul," the Hatter would whimper during his sleepless what-have-yous. If one could count the seconds and make his own night and day, could that be considered so? If a man can't see day and claims their sleepless nights as their daylight, would that be fact? To the birds it meant nothing, of course. They have no concept of time; they sung when the daylight came and slept when the moon dominated the sky. Now, if you induced ludicrous amounts of psychoactive control over their minds, you could get them to sing whenever you so commanded it.
"If you knew time as well as I do," he told dear Alice, "you wouldn't talk about wasting it. It's him."
Why was he wasting thoughts on birds when he was missing Alice and his hat? Some hatter he was; he didn't even have a hat of his own anymore! The shaking and jittering would get to him before he would inevitably reach up to touch the rims of an unreal hat, the only items that could ever really bring him comfort in times like these, only to slam his head against the wall with tears as he was reminded everything he was missing.
"She's not imagined!" he scolded. "She's just lost! It all depends a great deal on where she wants to go! She'll get somewhere if she walks around long enou—"
"Jervis…" his mother rasped tiredly, strands of graying blonde hair having escaped from her bun to slip down aged features. A hand rubbed at her temple as she refused to even look at her sun. "How many times have I told you to stop quoting those bloody books? This is why I can't take you anywhere."
Alice Alice Alice. She was all he could think about. Pretty blonde hair and a smile that could light up a room. Oh how she must have been so terribly lost in Wonderland, searching for a Cheshire cat to point her his way so they could once again have tea with the Haigha. Ah, but Alice wasn't here, not yet, and so to keep himself from agonizing over her arrival, he busied himself more and more. He busies himself with the gnats and the daisies instead. Those wretched little things got themselves into his cell at times, crawling in and over the walls in search of food.
"But I was thinking of a plan to dye one's whiskers green, and always use so large a fan that they could not be seen," he sung to the small daisy, watching the thing skitter across the floor in delight at a new little friend. However, as daisies are so good to do, it proved itself unbearable what with its flying and its constant want to crawl over bloodied teacups he had bitten through whilst in the presence of the queen. So after Time had undoubtedly not passed (the wretched man wouldn't move for him since he'd killed him, apparently), he grabbed a shoe, watching it skitter once more. "So, having no reply to give to what the old man said,
I cried 'Come, tell me how you live!'" He then smashed the little daisy until its blood and petals had splattered against the concrete wall. "And thumped him on the head!"
At one point he'd been offered a biscuit. He suspected this as the Red Queen's doing, but it was quite uncivil to say no. They practically stuffed it in his mouth! How dreadfully savage— he'd never felt so choked in his life!
"It wasn't very civil of you to sit down without being invited," Jonathan criticized them. He was one to talk, given his choice of butter.
He reached for his hat to comfort himself, but it seemed he couldn't even move his hands. Quite frustrating it was; he would do some berating of his own, but he was still choked up by a particularly dry biscuit in his mouth.
Jervis seized up uncontrollably at the click of a button, that sharp jolt bringing his senses to a more awake, but hazed state. Jervis tried to mumble something through the mouthful of cotton, but even he didn't know what he was going to say.
"People who don't think shouldn't talk," Jonathan spat at him. Tetch thought he was on his side!
"Delivering another shock in 3… 2… 1."
Another jolt was sent through his body. He whimpered through the gag as soon as it was over, blinking wildly at blinding lights and prodding doctors. He tried to speak once more, but all that came up were muffled nonsense about how it was far too bright and it overwhelmed his senses.
"Alright, one more time before we send him back."
Jervis wanted to give his head a polite shake to indicate he was perfectly fine without another induced seizure. Quite rudely, his head was kept still.
"Delivering another shock in 3… 2… 1."
A rather uncouth squeak left Jervis when his body was once more forced to seize up so painfully.
"Are you sure we shouldn't be using general anesthetic?"
"No need. The man is hardly even lucid enough to understand what's happening. This is just to keep away those self-harming tendencies and to respond better to his medication."
"If you say so, Professor."
Jervis was thankful for the cotton in his mouth that prevented his overbite from sinking any lower than it did; yes it hurt, but it was certainly better than biting through his own tongue or lower lip.
"Delivering one last shock in 3… 2… 1."
"Duchess, dear, you're always so good with your morals," Hatter chirped upon regaining consciousness. The duchess nodded cheerily, the baby in her grasp letting out another cry of agony as he was shook once more for sneezing. The Hatter tittered, feeling hot liquid drip down his face. "Am I bleeding from my eyes? My face feels so hot and I can't explain why."
"I believe it's because you're crying, Hatter" the Duchess replied haughtily.
"Am I?" he asked, wiping his eyes in light surprise to see the liquid was indeed clear. "Oh, it appears you're right."
"Odd. You must be sad," she hummed, shaking that baby once more until it stopped its fussing altogether. "You're sad when you cry."
"Nonsense," Jervis huffed, wiping more of the streaming tears from his eyes. "I cry when I'm sad, duchess. They are not the same thing, I'll have you know."
"Well. Are you sad?" she huffed, clearly displeased by his attitude.
Hatter thought about the question, grasping at his head for a hat that wasn't there (some Hatter he was). "I… miss my Alice…" he murmured, his thoughts turning back to the one in which he gave his undying affections to.
There were times where Jervis experienced brief moments of lucidity. As rare as they might be, they only served to further his lack of understanding. One thing he knew, however, was that Alice could never be replaced. He could imagine March Hares and Dormice and frog footmen all he liked, but Alice was… Alice. Blonde hair that was sometimes a shade of mahogany or natural red, he couldn't get enough of his name on the lips of his Alice. How she laughed and acted as though he didn't enjoy the little bits of doting affection he threw his way. The trust, the bonding they'd endured, the camaraderie. The berating and loathsome attitude were all such trifles compared to the love and affection he had for the dear Hare. Oh he loved him more than anything, he couldn't wait to wrap his hands around his throat for leaving him alone for so long.
"I just… want to see Jonathan again…" he murmured, that hallucination of an ugly woman and her baby disappearing before his eyes as he laid back against the wall. "Do you think he loves me, too?"
To this, he received no answer.
Jervis smiled, wiping away his tears. "Does it matter? He makes me happy." He tittered softly, not at all disturbed by his own realization. He loved his Hare, as he'd always done. "He makes me feel wanted and listened to and important. He knows me better than anyone. Even myself, dare I say." He laughed softly, lying back in bed as he found himself connecting the cracks in the ceiling once more. "If he doesn't feel the same, well…" He shrugged to himself. "Well, they don't call me the Mad Hatter for nothing, I'll have you know. Love under psychoactive control is still love."
He smiled cheerfully, these thoughts filling the spaces and cracks until the pawns dictated he was free to go. He hadn't even finished his tea by the time he'd gotten out. It seemed as though Time had hardly passed.