We regret to inform you of…
Jonathan was up and about by six, being the early riser he was. As expected, Jervis was still sleeping like a wet log in his bed, his arms wrapped around a small pillow. He wasted no time in heading down to the lobby and grabbing a cup of coffee, a cardinal sin to the Mad Hatter. He took it without sugar or cream, just needing the bitter to wake himself up from his tired state. He also decided to make some tea for Jervis, just so he wouldn't complain about anything.
As his roommate slept, he proceeded to start getting things ready, packing things up and taking them to the car. Jervis mumbled things in his sleep, blissfully unaware whilst under the fading effects of the drug. Jonathan, being the doctor he was, quickly noticed the sleep talking. "Somniloquy?" he muttered to himself, vaguely interested. With the state of Jervis' mental health, parasomnia was to be expected. He took a quick listen to see what he could pick up.
"Oh no need to be sad, Mock Turtle," Jervis unknowingly mumbled in his sleep. "I know the Duchess is horrifically ugly…" Wonderland, of course. He should have guessed. He might as well wake him up now. He gave the sleeping man a good shake, attempting to rouse him from his slumber. "Jervis, wake up," he said firmly, but the man in question didn't wake, just curling up more and muttering a few things to himself. "Tetch, get up," he ordered again, shaking him once more. No results. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. With little regard for his own dignity at this point, he raised his voice to a much higher-pitched, playful tone. "Oh Hatter," he said softly in a sing-song type fashion. "Get up or you'll be late for the tea party." In an instant, Jervis was sat up in his bed, letting out a soft yawn and rubbing the bleary sleep from his eyes. "March Hare?" he murmured softly. "How long was I out? Is Alice here?"
"You're not the Hatter, I'm not the March Hare, there is no tea party, and Alice isn't here," Jonathan listed off, handing him his tea. "Come on, we have to go." Jervis gave a quick nod and came to his feet, sipping his tea and grabbing his book. They grabbed their last few things before signing out at the lobby and heading to their car. "I didn't wake up once during that entire time," the Englishman noted, getting into the car with him. "My, I even feel like the Dormouse I'm so bleary-eyed."
"Well now you're awake. We should finish this drive by tonight, so I don't want to make any unnecessary stops, understood?" Crane told him, starting the car. Tetch gave an affirmative nod, sipping his tea. He noticed Jonathan's coffee in the cupholder, cringing slightly. "I'll never understand how you stand that drink," he sighed. "And I see you like it without any sugar or cream." He took a small sip of his tea, looking forward. "Black, just like your soul." He received a funny glare. "Oh it was a joke, Jonathan. You would think all those times we've spent with the Queen of Hearts that you'd learn to take one."
"Okay okay, here's a good one," Jervis read off of his phone. "The more of me there is, the less you see. What am I?"
"Hm… is it fog?" Jonathan guessed, tapping the steering wheel in tune to the song playing softly on the radio. "Oh, quite the good guess, but I'm afraid that's not it," Jervis told him. "Though I suppose a fog is applicable. I'll be sure to leave it as a comment."
Brow furrowed, he quickly tapped the steering wheel in momentary concentration. He had to give credit to Batman for being able to solve such puzzles with ease. "So if it's not a fog, it must be darkness," the doctor concluded, receiving a confirming nod. "That took little to no effort. It seems that Nygma needs to step up his game if he wants to defeat the Bat."
"He tells me this is just for his failed riddles," the other explained. "The ones the Jaba- ahem, the ones that Batman already solved." "Is he the only one with a social media presence?" Jonathan asked.
"No, I know Selina Kyle has one specifically for pictures of her cats, Harley has a few social media pages to flaunt this and that, and Harvey Dent used to own one, but he hasn't used it since his accident, understandably. I believe it's become a memorial page."
"Do you have one?"
"Have a what?"
"A social media page?"
"We don't have social media in Wonderland, Jonathan. What are you, mad?"
"But aren't we all already mad?"
"Just because I'm mad doesn't mean I have to do everything that seems mad. That's like saying just because a bat can fly that it should start using airplanes."
"But… bats can't fly planes in the first place."
"Exactly!"
Jonathan paused, his brow creased as he tried to make sense of that.
"How many times have we heard this song?" Jervis grumbled as he switched stations on the radio. "I'd estimate it at about a hundred."
"I'd say just three times," Jonathan replied, driving slowly through the small they were passing through. "No no, it's at the very least fifty. It must be!" the Hatter argued, unable to find something he liked. It was soon decided the radio was better switched off. "So if you don't want to listen to the radio, then I suppose we should go about doing something else," Jonathan reasoned. "We've done riddles, chess games, and victim guessing games. What now?"
When Jervis was unable to think of anything, Jonathan decided to take his chance at getting a few answers. "So if you don't have anything, may I ask you a few questions?" Jervis immediately slumped in his seat, a grimace on his face. "Oh what? You don't like my questions?" Crane asked, peering over at him with an innocent gaze. "Do I fancy them? No. But do I hate them? Also a no," Jervis replied honestly. "You pry quite a bit, you know, even though you're no longer a psychiatrist. You just love to prod. Almost like my mother."
"Oh good, we can start there," Jonathan offered, watching him sigh dramatically and look up to the ceiling of the car. "Alright alright, caterpillar, I'll play your games and answer your dire questions. Ask away."
"Now, let's start with your home life. What was it like? Would you say it was pleasant?" the psychiatrist asked, looking over at his patient every so often as he drove down the road. "Fine for what it was," Jervis shrugged, seemingly disinterested in the question. He had already been asked this so many times he felt just about ready to off himself. "A mother, a father, and a fair sister." Jonathan gave a slow nod. "Good. Now tell me about them. About England."
So, with reluctance, Jervis launched into a brief synopsis of his time in England. From what he claimed, he had a fairly decent education and even finished top of his class. There were no bullies or tragic events or parents who left him; it just seemed like a normal life. He got an occupation in neurotechnology, was offered a job from Wayne Enterprises, and that was how he came to America. The rest was practically history. But there were a few things missing. With Jervis' obsession with Alice in Wonderland, it made little to no sense for it to just come out of the blue like that. If he had never mentioned it, it was doubtful he would ever bring it up without a bit of prodding. So that lead to the next question.
"So tell me about Alice. Your friend, to be exact," he told him, wanting to know more about Jervis' childhood companion. Tetch frowned slightly, but nodded and complied. "Like I said, she was a friend. My best friend to be exact. She was honest and kind and didn't mind me, even if she could be a little crude. I've known her up until I had grown a decent amount, and then she left. I've been trying to find her since."
Jonathan felt as though he had a large chunk of the picture that he hadn't seen before. After that, he only asked a few more simple questions.
"Do you like what you do?"
"Why of course I do."
"Do you consider yourself to have a high interpersonal IQ?"
"Why yes, I would say that I do."
"Who would you say are your friends?"
"Oh dear, there's a long list I have. I'd say everyone I've worked with for starters."
"That's good enough, thank you. I suppose this will be the last question for now. Your medication is something you seem to loathe quite harshly, despite the fact that it's what makes you sensible. Why don't you take your pills?"
Jervis frowned at the inquiry, seemingly not understanding. "What pills do you mean?" he asked. "Your antipsychotics you've been supplied with," Jonathan clarified. "Why don't you take them anymore?" To that, Jervis didn't even need to hesitate. In fact he almost never hesitated to tell how he felt. "Sensible hardly matters to me, now. Why should I?" he asked. "I'm happy here, aren't I?"
"Are you saying you weren't happy before?" Jonathan asked, nearing a rather large bump in their metaphorical road.
He stopped for the first time during their session, having been ready to answer but having lost all the words.
"Is that what happened to your wrists?"
That was what got him. Tetch was frozen, his mouth agape as he attempted to say something in return. Perfect. Jonathan couldn't help but smile to himself; it was a perturbing kick he got out of these questionings and finding the weak spots of each individual. Call it the sadist within him, but he quite liked watching other squirm in discomfort.
"Is that why you decided to tear yourself up? In a hopeless fear that you could never be happy?"
Jervis' jaw clenched shut, working it tightly. It was at this point the doctor realized he might've actually pushed things a little bit too far. Usually he never thought of such things, but his mind changed when he stole a glance towards his partner in crime.
Jervis looked angry. Not the kind of frustrated and huffing vexation he had displayed during the "frabjous" disagreement; Jervis looked genuinely angry, an expression he almost rarely saw in the Englishman's visage. He almost looked seething.
"Touchy subject?" Jonathan hummed in an attempt to tone the now tense atmosphere of the car. "I'm deeply sorry if I offended you."
Tetch simply looked away, glaring out the car window. "No. No you're not." He closed his eyes in an attempt to calm himself down. "We're done with the interrogations." Well at least he was right about one thing. Jonathan was not one to feel any type of remorse for his actions, so he wasn't going to stop prying after this little incident; he wasn't trying to make the small man angry, it was just how he was.
"Yes yes, I suppose we're done for today," he agreed, but Jervis shook his head in disapproval. "No, we're done, and that will be that. I take this as far as I want it to, remember?" Jonathan recalled the distant memory, grimacing that Jervis had actually been able to recall his words. He merely nodded his head in agreement, deciding to shut his mouth before he made the situation worse than it already was. He knew his companion would bounce back as always. Attempting to hurt Jervis was like kicking a dog that loved you as hard as you could. Sure, he would be cross with you for a little bit, maybe even avoid you, but forgiveness wouldn't be too far behind.
Jervis quietly seethed to himself, upset that he had let Jonathan get the best of him and trick him like that. He knew the bastard was cunning and knew his way around the human mind, but he had hoped he would show at least a little refrain. The subtle voices in his head now showed their sinister intents, Cheshire cats and insane royalty whispering for a swift execution. He groaned softly, rubbing at his temples as he simply tried to ignore their cries of injustice. He closed his eyes to be rid of visions that appeared in the corner of his eye or off the side of the road, demanding his attention as the Mad Hatter. He needed something to calm himself down, he realized, deciding to recite one of the poems from his favorite book that was ingrained into his memory.
"Speak roughly to your little boy,
And beat him when he sneezes;
He only does it to annoy,
Because he knows it teases."
Jonathan frowned to himself. Jervis most definitely was not in a good mood. The poem he recited were always a good way to analyze the feelings he held; darker lyrics were usually reserved for his more perturbed moments, when he felt deeply frustrated or even sadistic. It was so he could calm himself down from particularly bad moments, a method that worked surprisingly well. The doctors at the asylum had no doubt taught it to him, convincing him it was a good way to let out his frustration. He tapped his acquaintance on the shoulder lightly to get him to stop the muttering, but he only had his hand smacked away.
"I speak severely to my little boy,
I beat him when he sneezes;
For he can thoroughly enjoy
The pepper when he pleases!"
The car went silent. The two said nothing to each other before Jervis began reciting the same poem once again, evidently not satisfied with his first time. Jonathan said nothing about it, deciding to just keep driving. It wasn't long until the mutterings stopped. Neither said a word to each other, figuring it would be best.
So they drove in absolute silence. Jervis let his thoughts dwell, no longer attempting to separate them from fiction, until his gaze rose to something in the distance.
"Look Jonathan! There's you!"
Crane blinked in surprise from the sudden exclamation. He didn't think Jervis would speak to him for another hour or so, but here it was, not even ten minutes later. He furrowed his brow, looking in the direction the other was pointing out the window.
In a tall cornfield at the side of the road, towering amongst yellowing stalks of corn was a limp figure, held up by a post with his arms spread out in a crucifix pose. It had a small brim hat on and handfuls of hay could barely be seen sprouting out from its plaid shirt from the far distance.
"Is that…"
"It's a scarecrow!" Jervis chuckled, seemingly having sprung back from his earlier angered state. The poems were a help after all. Jonathan smirked, turning his eyes back to the road. "I'd forgotten that those things actually have a use," he sighed. "Too bad they've become so… nonintimidating. You'd think they'd be scarier out alone in a cornfield than parading around Gotham."
"Well, to be fair, Jonathan," Jervis pointed out, "regular scarecrows don't go around terrorizing citizens." Alright, he would give him that one. "True," Crane admitted, before looking at the time. "It seems that we're getting there sooner than I'd originally estimated. I assume it'll only be an hour from now before we get there."
"Oh how delightful," Tetch sighed in relief. His voice was soft, with less of that jovial attitude he had originally flaunted around. "I've been waiting all this time to see where the dear Hare- ahem, Dr. Crane, has grown up. And perhaps we can get something to dine on, too? We haven't eaten since the morning of your last unbirthday."
Jonathan thought it over for a moment. He was rather famished as well, and it would only be several hours until night fell. "Sure," he agreed. "I think I can find a nice diner around. Though, don't expect anything fancy. My home town isn't exactly up to Gotham standards."
"Gotham has standards?" Jervis asked. Okay, Jonathan had to admit, he was almost had there. "You know what I meant," he replied, slumping back in his seat. "So, we have an hour to spare. What do you want to do until then?" He received a suspicious look, but still Tetch smiled slightly as he also laid back, looking around the car as if for some sort of inspiration. However, he seemed to give up halfway through.
"White pawn E4."
Jonathan thought for a moment, silent for a few seconds.
"Black knight F6."
"Bishop C6."
"Pawn G5."
