- Chapter 4 -
The grayish-white colored ceiling was the first thing that greeted Jervis's vision when he woke up that morning. He blinked a few times and took a moment longer before slowly sitting up on the single-sized bed. He had swung his legs over the edge of the right side until his feet could feel the cold floor, having one hand wiping his eyes.
When he looked around the room, he was already expecting the pencil-drawn portraits that hung on the yellowish-white wall. The moment he turned his head to look behind him, he also expected the dark, mahogany desk and all the crumpled papers scattered around. And the trash basket was more than just full on the brim of even more crumpled papers.
He was inside the so-called studio of 'Miss Alex'.
"When this house was still in construction, I intended to have another room," she had said to him the night before. "When I'm doing nothing or really bored, sometimes I decide to draw. And I draw a lot," she had explained. "So then I made this my own personal studio, and at times I'd be here so late at night I get too tired to go back to my room. That's why I decided to have a bed here."
He wasn't certain why he agreed to the idea of spending the night in her house, but the idea of having a proper bed to sleep on was tempting. But then, since he agreed, he would have to stay in the house until she finishes her story. On one hand it wasn't such a bad place to hide temporarily, and on the other hand, no one would have ever thought that he'd be hiding there.
As he slowly stepped into his shoes and reached for his top hat which he left perched on a hook on the wall then placed it firmly on his blond haired head, he made his way across the room towards the door, yawning as he did. He ignored his blue overcoat which he placed on a chair the night before. He didn't even had his tie on, so the moment he stepped out of the room, he was only wearing his lime-green shirt and blue pants. The first thing that welcomed him was the living room, including the smell of tea and toast. Breakfast.
When he entered the dinning room "slash" kitchen, he expected to see Alex at the table.
She greeted him with a warm smile.
"Good morning, I fixed us breakfast. How's your sleep?"
No one had ever asked him how was his sleep for a long time except for his doctor at Arkham during his therapy. Then again, it also had been a long time since anyone had ever fixed breakfast for him. A real breakfast, unlike those that they serve back at Arkham.
"I slept fine, Miss Alex, thank you," he replied, returning the smile. "And you?"
"I had a dreamless sleep, but other than that, I slept fine too."
Jervis regarded the brunette as he sat near her at the table before he spoke again. "You're all dressed for work, I can see."
"Yes well, I have a need to go to work early today," answered Alex, giving a quick look at her attire. "Writers' meeting of some sort, and as one of the columnist, I had to attend."
Jervis nodded. "Then I suppose while you're away I'd be your housekeeper," he said almost playfully.
Alex gave a quick glance towards the living room before she looked back to the Englishman as she spoke. "You can watch TV all you want or do anything you like, but be sure you can't be seen by the neighbors." She took a sip from her cup before she continued. "And if you can, I'll give you permission here in the kitchen to cook for yourself 'cause I won't be here till...I don't know, maybe at least eight or later than that by night."
Nodding to imply he understood, Jervis was thinking of how this woman trust him as much as leaving him all alone in her own house.
"Just be sure you stay away from my room," Alex was saying.
Jervis smiled at her. "Of course, I will stay away as best possible from your room."
Well, at least there was one restricted area in the house.
As Alex replaced her cup on the table, she regarded the Englishman with her with a calculating eye.
"You know," she said, "you're rather too nice to talk with for a member of the Rogues Gallery."
Everything about Jervis's expressions changed, as he slowly looked down on the cup of tea in front of him, his eyes had turned into a subtle glare.
"Rather too nice?" he repeated, his hand slowly forming into a fist on the table. "Not many people in this city can say or think of such a thing about me. Not after what happened...what I did."
Just that glare made Alex wish she had stopped herself from the mistake she just did, but it was too late. Even though, she quickly made her move for a simple apology.
"Sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to."
The Englishman quickly looked up to the brunette, meeting her dark gaze with a blue one of his own.
"Why, no, my dear," he said shaking his head. "You shouldn't apologize. Most especially not to me."
Her expressions were a mixture of saddened and confused, but she forced a smile either way. "If you say so, Mister Tetch," she said.
"Jervis."
She blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"You allowed me to be your temporary guest here in your house," the Englishman explained. "And it is rather too proper of you to keep calling me that. Just call me Jervis."
A wide smile appeared across her face. "Only if you start calling me just 'Alex', deal?" She then held out a hand to him.
As he had done before, he returned the smile and took the hand in his own. "Deal."
The meeting was just as what the other meetings had been for Alex. Brainstorming about new article ideas and the usual who-gets-to-write-what appointment. But other than that, Mr. Fitzralph had been difficult same as always, at least for her it had. Conclusion? She was like being at high-school again, being that uninterested student sitting at the back of the class. Way back.
"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.
On times like this her thoughts would wander off to somewhere else, and as of the moment, she was thinking about her guest whom she entrusted her house with when she left for work. Does that mean she trust people too much? To think that she'd left a criminally insane all alone in her house. In her own house. But what trouble could he possibly do while there?
"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."
Perhaps most of the people whom she had interacted with such as Ches, could be true - that she could be crazy on some things. But that can't be helped now, can it? All of it started a long time ago, when she was just thirteen, and she was kidnapped by one of her mother's envious colleagues. The man was a lunatic, very ironic since he was like her mother, a psychiatrist.
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
She went to such a torture, and it wasn't physically, but psychologically. The man proved to be a complete mad genius in messing with a person's head. It took something crazy as well to help herself get a grip to at least stay sane. But even she herself, each time she'd be alone at night, sometimes she had questioned that sanity silently in her own mind. And it had been many times before.
"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."
Her mind... What is on her mind...? How does her mind work...? Does it even work normally? Like average people?
...How do you know I'm mad...
"ALEX!"
The angry voice that was shouting her name made Alex almost jump on her seat, as her mind was brought back to reality. When she looked around, she found eyes set on her among the oval shape table. One of those eyes were from Mr. Fitzralph.
"Is there something wrong?" asked her boss.
"No," she replied immediately, regaining her composure on her seat, shaking her head. "I'm fine, I was just thinking about...home."
Fitzralph quirked a brow, but did not comment on it. "Well, while you're at it, we were talking about-"
"Yes, I know, I'm well aware." Alex raised a hand. "Jane is on maternity live so my answer is yes, I'll be handling her column temporarily."
That was one of the reasons why Fitzralph liked Alex despite his constant angry outburst at her every once in a while. The brunette could be very serious when about her work, one that Fitzralph would have more than enough for an employee.
"That settles it all then," said Fitzralph, gathering up the papers in front of his side of the table. "Meeting's over boys and girls, see to your work for the day after you have lunch."
Everyone had stood up from each of their respective seats including Alex, but she was stopped by Fitzralph.
"Not you, I'm not done with you yet," her boss said, intently looking at her while indicating the seat nearest to him.
Alex wasn't even the least bit nervous, because it wasn't the first time she was asked to stay behind. Taking the seat indicated to her, she once again found herself sitting down as she kept her dark gaze on the table. Her expression showed nothing, even her eyes were empty. That look on her face had made Fitzralph seemed afraid of the brunette for some reason, even before in her first year as a columnist under his watch and supervision. He couldn't forget how it was like the first time he ever saw that look.
He was once told that people who are usually like that could be impossible to read. And people who are impossible to read have thoughts that couldn't be understood by the un-professional mind.
"You know how I like you, right?" he said, but he wasn't expecting a reply, which wasn't quite a problem since the brunette didn't even say a thing. "When I give you a work, you do it seriously and you put your mind and time to it. But sometimes, girl, you creep me out."
He could have sworn he saw a smirk appeared in her face, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. Deciding to ignore it, he didn't comment.
"I don't know what else to call it," he continued. "Still, that doesn't mean I want you to change that because it's not even affecting how you work." Waiting for a beat or so, he thought she might want to comment on that, but she didn't. Once again, Fitzralph continued. "My point here is that, I don't know what goes in your mind, but not that I wanted to know anyway. But if ever something crazy happens to you, or whether it's you who does something crazy, I want you to warn me before it happens."
At this, Alex looked up to her boss, either from being surprised or something else, she wasn't certain herself.
"So that I'd be ready," added Fitzralph. "You know, just in case."
Is he trying to tell me that he thinks I'm mentally ill?, Alex thought to herself. But she chose not to voice them either way.
She stood up from her seat. "Yeah, sure. Can I go to lunch now?" Her tone implied nothing, her expressions were still blank.
Fitzralph only nodded for a reply, as he silently watched the brunette went out of the room.
Lunch was good, and very silent. How could it not be when you were the only one at the table, not to mention being the only one in the house.
It was like being locked up, only difference was that it wasn't Arkham, and that he had to stay inside because he must. Also, he wasn't an inmate in the house, but a guest. Further more, there weren't guards nor doctors around.
Dinner was just as the same. Jervis had decided to eat dinner as early as 6:30 having remembered what Alex told him about expecting her to be home by eight or even later than that. As of the moment, it was already 7:45 in the night.
After he had cleaned up after himself, he settled with the idea of sitting on the sofa right in front of the TV.
Might as well see the news, he thought as he reached for the remote and clicked the on button. Then came on-screen a female reporter who had just finished whatever it was that she was saying and stepped aside only to give the viewers a better look on what was happening about in the background. And then there it was, the Clown Prince of Crime once again apprehended by the Dark Knight.
What's he got himself into this time?, thought Jervis but it wasn't like he was interested in any of what the Joker does.
As Joker was escorted to the van, Robin was close behind with Harley Quinn. At the very sight of the jester girl, Jervis simply shook his head. How on Earth did that Bandersnatch of a clown deserved to be loved with a love so loyal and devoted and blind such as what Harley was offering and will continue to offer him?
Jervis simply sighed as he changed the channel.
What I would do to have a woman love me just as how much poor Miss Quinn loved that clown. Hmph! He doesn't even deserve her! Why, if ever a woman loves me like that, I'd make her princess of my Wonderland.
The thought made something snap in Jervis's mind.
He shook his head. "Don't be silly, Tetch," he said to himself. "What kind of woman would be mad enough to love you?"
Hmm... Mad enough... Now that's a thought.
Still, Jervis shook his head to such a thing and once again brought his gaze on the TV screen.
That was the same moment his thoughts altered towards 'Alex'.
Almost an hour ago, he had disobeyed her orders about not going into her room. He didn't know why he even thought of going in there, but he could have sworn he heard something inside and thought of having a look. At first, he was thinking it was impossible because he assumed that the brunette may have locked the door before she left. But to his utter surprise, the knob turned under his grip until he finally pushed open the door.
He hesitated in entering of course, but something that had quite caught his eye gave him enough urge to go in. There were several different kinds of hats all perched on respective nails on the wall just above the headboard of the bed.
As he slowly entered the room with his gaze fixated on the hats, he thought that he was walking right into his own room. It was a collection of hats that includes a jester cap, a fedora, a cowboy hat, a pirate hat, a newsboy cap, and others. He might have wondered then what Alex would do with such a collection.
When he made off to turn around to have a better look of the bedroom, he caught sight of a five foot bookshelf filled with books indeed, but what had really caught his attention was the black top hat on the topmost shelf.
He slowly approached the bookshelf and reached for the white-ribboned top hat which had a folded white paper tucked on it. Curious, he took out the note and opened it. The note read: 'To my lovely Alexania, put this in your collection. Love, Grandpa.'
Grandpa? Her grandfather gave her this?, he thought. And what does 'your collection' meant? She collects hats?
His gaze once again fell on the hats before he could stop himself. The mere sight of the hats made him smile. So, they have something in common. Then reality suddenly kicked in, causing him to remember that he shouldn't be there in the first place. Quickly, he tucked the note back in place on the white-ribbon of the top hat and rushed for the door, not even locking it as he went out.
So then back to his current situation, sitting right in front the TV, watching with mild-interest on what the chef on-screen was doing with the turkey.
We have one thing in common, he said to himself in his mind. But I wonder what else will I find out about this intriguing brunette...?
The Dark Knight stood ever so still on the rooftop of an eighteen-floor building. While he let Robin be patrol around the city after the encounter with the Joker and not to mention Harley Quinn, he on the other hand had other things to do.
He still didn't know where to find the Mad Hatter, who was freely walking out on the streets by now and could have been plotting on things again. But so far, in six days time after the Hatter's escape from Arkham, said escaped inmate hadn't tried doing anything yet.
He had already been to the docks, at the Stacked Deck to be more specific, but all he found out was that after seeing the Hatter meet up with the Scarecrow, the patrons of the Deck hadn't seen any of the two since that night. Other than that, he also found out that the Hatter had left his hiding place already, which was that old toy warehouse not quite far from the Stacked Deck.
There was nothing entirely useful in the warehouse, not even a single 10/6 card was left behind.
The vigilante narrowed his masked eyes before turning to finally leave the rooftop.
"Wherever you are Tetch," he said to himself in a voice that's almost a whisper, "I'll find you."