He remembered Jonathan's voice. He'd kept him awake. Why?
"You have to stay awake. You may have a concussion." Ah, yes. They'd played a game. Chess? No. Oh, yes! Rhymes!
"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary," But hadn't he wanted to say something to Jonathan? Something he'd thought about in solitary? What was it?"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" That's what he'd said. Jervis realised now it might not have accurately conveyed what he'd meant. Had he given an answer? Did Jonathan understand he was sorry?
He'd forgiven Jonathan for so blatantly calling him a fool because he'd realised a) he meant it for the best and b) it was true. Alice had turned on him when he'd only wanted the best for her. Now he was the Mad Hatter, the whole of Gotham was open to him.
But had Jonathan forgiven him for his outburst? He frowned. Something was still niggling at the back of his mind. Some piece of the puzzle he'd overlooked.
"Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?" He muttered in iritaion.
"Then you should say what you mean," a familiar voice muttered. Jervis propped himself up and looked across at Jonathan in the bed opposite.
"Jonathan!"
"Finally awake are you?" Jonathan looked decidedly cross and Jervis wasn't immediately sure if he was still angry at him.
"Jonathan, I'm sorry about…" He was waved into silence.
"Forget about it." Jonathan continued to scowl. Jervis hesitated, not sure whether he was forgiven or not. He noticed Jonathan's foot was bound up.
"Whatever happened to your leg?"
"I broke it in that explosion… not that those guards cared," he muttered darkly. "Do you remember what happened to you?"
"I got a concussion. You kept me awake," he suddenly remembered. "And put a bandage on…" Again Jonathan waved this aside.
"If you'd bled to death in there the guards would only have blamed me."
"Then we're still friends? The Mad Hatter and the March Hare?" Jonathan gave him a thunderous look.
"Never call me that again." Jervis shrugged. Jonathan continued to scowl at him but there was nothing he could do from across the room. Jonathan decided to change the subject.
"Have you noticed that new guard?" He asked in a hushed voice. Jervis glanced to the door.
"The one who calls us all freaks and threatens us with beatings?"
"That's the one. Thinks he can stop the break-outs," Jonathan sneered. "He's the one who left you to bleed to death and made me walk on my broken ankle. How would you like to play a little game with him?" Jervis clapped.
"What sort of game?" Jonathan was about to reply but Jervis' clapping had drawn the guard's attention.
"Alright Crane. What are you plotting now?" Jonathan's expression switched from placid to furious within an instant.
"What? I'm not allowed to talk to my friend now?" He sneered. The guard puffed his chest out.
"You're allowed to do what I say you're allowed to do."
"Really?" Jonathan's voice went deadly quiet. "So you're in charge huh?"
"Damn straight."
"You think you're in control?"
"I am in control." Jonathan carefully steepled his hands.
"Why the need to declare it I wonder?" Jonathan peered at the guard like a doctor considering a patient. "Perhaps a fear of not being in control?"
"None of that Scarecrow." The guard held his nightstick threateningly at him. Jervis half-worried Jonathan would press further, but he held his hands up in mock surrender. The guard moved off, strutting in triumph.
"The pompous fool," Jervis muttered.
"This game is far from over." Jonathan muttered with a dangerous look. Jervis smiled wickedly.