Well... This is it. This is what I've been building up to this entire time. This is what I've been waiting for for so long. I can finally get this... thing off my shoulders.
I've started many stories over the years, but the multi-chaptered ones were always a tad difficult, mostly on the basis that I could never finish them. I was always disappointed in myself for that, but I couldn't blame myself. i'd just lost motivation, but now I've finally done it once again. I didn't let unfinished stagnation get to this story, and I finished it and gave it the ending I believe it deserves.
Speaking of which.
I cannot tell you how much I fought with myself over this single ending. This is undoubtedly the most controversial chapter within the entire story given the ending I chose. I thought for days over this. I asked myself: do I really want this to end a story I've come to love and enjoy writing? After so much consideration given to alternate endings, I decided that this was the one. Fuck everything else. I believe wholeheartedly that this is what I want for this story. Besides, if you look at the ending notes, there is a... another reason why I picked this ending.
All this conflict within myself rested on one single word. The word that shifted the entire outcome of this story. Just one, and trust me, you'll know it when you see it.
Well... I hope you all enjoy the ending to The Mad Hatter's Guide to Happiness.
"Niiiinety-seven! Hng- ah -niiiiiinety eight! Eugh! Jeeze, Jerv, lose some- ugh -some god damn weight!"
Jervis looked up from his task with vague amusement, leaning over on his chair to gaze down at the man currently struggling to support his and the chair's mass. The arms holding up the bottom of the chair wobbled, and for a moment both believed he would crash and fall. "Hey hey! Don't lean!" Lynns reprimanded, thankful when Tetch quickly corrected his mistake and assumed an upright position again. With a deep breath, he steadily pressed Jervis and his chair upwards with a distressed call of the number ninety-nine. Realizing he may be bucked off on the finishing number, Jervis quickly placed the hat and needle on the table as he was lowered once more. His eyes lifted from his things when a pair of female legs climbed up onto the tabletop, taking a wide stance. Harleen grinned wildly, bending her knees as she got ready to leap onto Jervis and the chair and subsequently crush Lynns. "Oh Harley, luv, please don't," he whispered with a break of sweat, but Garfield became the stronger voice. "Harley, babe, you're sweet, and we all love ya, but if you jump on that chair I will burn everything you've ever loved." Harley visibly pouted and retreated, but didn't jump off the table just yet.
"C'mon, Gar, you got this," Harvey called half-heartedly from his newspaper, having taken his eyes off of Gotham's recent turmoil to watch Garfield benchpress Jervis. With a sudden thrust upwards, Tetch squeaked as he left the bottom of the chair for a split second, before the chair tilted and he and his seat both tumbled to the ground. "A hundred! Bazinga!" Harley cheered with a double fist pump to the ceiling, obnoxiously hopping repeatedly on the table. The scarred man wheezed, rolling onto his side with arms gone slack. Jervis lifted his head up to look at the guards by the door, one of whom were struggling to remain stoic. The other caught his gaze, resigned to giving him that typical "hey, nothing illegal's happening" shrug. He only took a moment to push himself off the ground, dusting off his uniform with an passive-aggressive smile. "Ah we shoulda had you do me as well," Harley grinned, before hopping off the table. With a tired grunt, Garfield forced himself up to his feet. "I spend a good portion of my criminal career carrying around a giant jetpack that weighs a little less than Jervis, so I can do him easily, but you are just way too fat to carry." He belted out a soft laugh as he was smacked on the arm by the former doctor. His attention was soon turned to the child-like woman this entire spectacle had been for.
Mary Dahl squeaked in surprise when she got an accusing finger in her face. "Alright, a hundred, just like you said. I more than deserve that cookie, so hand it over!" Garfield demanded, his hand splaying out expectantly. Dahl blinked, shifting her gaze away and biting her lip as a child would do when caught in a lie. Despite the burns that decorated Lynns' features, he looked momentarily devastated. "Baby, no…" he groaned under his breath. "I didn't mean to," Mary giggled in that child's voice in an attempt to seem adorable. That frustrated glare broke her façade, bringing about a sheepish grin. "I didn't think you would actually do it, so I ate it when you were around fifty," she confessed her sins.
"You. Absolute. Child whore."
"Firefly!" Ivy spat from her seat across the room, flicking him a warning look. "What?" Garfield complained. "She's, like, the oldest one of us here! She can take it!" Doll just giggled, promising to give him the next one she got, given that she could maintain good behavior for the rest of the week. With a tired sigh, the pyromaniac gave it a rest when he slumped into his special seat. It was one he had claimed as his long ago when he'd somehow managed to burn away a good portion of its exterior.
At this point into the conversation, Jervis had stopped paying attention in favor of taking up the hat and needle he had been working on. Thankfully no one had stolen the sharp tool while they were set down; if someone had used it to, say, pierce someone in the jugular, it would take him another month just to have the doctors trust him enough to gift him another. He put his chair back to an upright position, looking up at the clock to watch the second hand twitch. After getting the timing down, he began tapping the needle on the table to the beat of an invisible metronome to get himself into rhythm. After the first few taps, he shifted the repetitive movement to his foot and followed with pushing the needle through the fabric in time with the beat. Fabric was bound to fabric, forming that protrusion from the brim base. "Will you, won't you, will you, won't you," he mouthed silently, the words circling into an endless loop in perfect time.
Tetch jumped, startled by the unexpected thump of another lackadaisically jumping in front of him and propping their head up with their elbow on the table. "Someone isn't taking their medication," Nygma taunted, a wry grin formed. "Wouldn't that be an interesting tidbit of information for the doctors to catch?" Jervis was tight-lipped, brow raised in visible agitation. "Contrawise. Since when did you become a psychiatrist?" he asked, futilely taking the defensive in a battle he knew he was doomed to be defeated in. "You're stimming," Edward pointed out, referring to his repetitive tapping. "Your point?" Tetch inquired, playing dumb just to see how much Edward could prove his case. "The antipsychotics you take improve the behavioral aspects of ASD," Nygma declaimed, "ergo, you've been neglecting your medicine. Spitting it out?" "That nurse isn't too bright," Jervis scoffed, going back to sewing up the hat, "unlike Alice." Edward looked up from watching Tetch's hands to give him an odd glance. Alice was as young and beautiful as she was thick, that's what the Hatter always told him. "So, I assume you want this?" Tetch drew the needle away from the task to present it to Nygma, who nearly caught it between his fingers if it wasn't flicked out of his reach. "Honestly, you just got here a few unbirthdays ago," the schizophrenic complained, biting the needle between his teeth as he flattened a piece of fabric, much to Edwards subtle disgust. "Please. We both know I don't belong here," Nygma sneered. Jervis glanced up at him, using the needle in his mouth as an excuse to not say anything. "The faster I get out of here, the better."
"You're an absolute wazzock, Nygma," Tetch told him, removing the needle from his mouth to continue sewing the last patches of the hat. "I don't believe I'm familiar with the term. I assume English in origin;" Ed replied, "what does it mean?" Jervis smiled wryly, giving him a knowing glance as he jabbed the needle in his direction. "A deviously brilliant person," he said cheekily, bringing about a triumphant grin from his colleague. "I'll hand it over. Just after I've finished," he continued, nearly complete with snaking the thread around the brim. "At least begrudge me that. I'm almost done with it." "Well I'm sure you'd bite my hand off should I try to take it," Edward sighed, deciding to be patient and knit together his fingers, sitting up properly. "Every last finger," Jervis affirmed, garnering a disgusted response.
"So do they just give you the materials you need?" Edward asked after a minute of watching him assemble the final product. "Essentially," Tetch shrugged. "Many of the more docile inmates enjoy crafting as a therapy activity. They had some on hand, and since I've been on good behavior for a while, they've let me get back to my craft again. It keeps me busy and helps me express myself, they say." Edward pursed his lips, looking over the crude hat. "It looks rather homespun if you ask me," Nygma noted, looking at the clearly distinguishable seams and lines of thread that weaved its way up the crown of the hat. "Well they won't grant me scissors for obvious reasons, but aside from that, it's meant to," the hatter explained, bringing the needle back to the material. "Isn't everything Jonathan owns horribly ragged?"
Edward initially said nothing when Crane's name was brought up, just the mentioning of him bringing about an uncomfortable ambience to the table. "How is he, by the by?" Nygma then asked, begrudgingly bringing up the subject of their colleague. "Oh, I haven't the slight-" Jervis paused, glancing back at the guards, who made sure to pay special attention to the inmate with the small needle. Any traces of Wonderland would surely have him dragged out of the room and over to the medicine desk. "Ahem. I wouldn't know," he corrected, attempting to keep his spirits up by finishing the Scarecrow's signature hat. "He's been in the medical wing for over a month, ever since he was transferred from Gotham General. All they tell anyone is that he's recovering."
"Several broken ribs, several torso-based fractures, a pneumothorax, damage to the sternum, and an induced state of extreme temporary psychosis due to extreme amounts of his own toxin and your hypnosis; I'd say that warrants a month out," Edward rattled off, engendering a puzzled and annoyed glance from the Englishman. He quickly went on to explain himself. "I looked into Jon's records while he was in Gotham General, obviously. I just needed to see his condition. As always, I had not failed you in my discernment; I knew Pyg would help you both." Jervis let a smirk grace his face, leading to a displeased reaction from his peer. "One would glean that you actually care about the third member of our little, ahem, joyous social gathering centered around hot leaf water." Both casually looked up at a guard, who had been passing by in that moment. Inmate and guard exchanged suspicious glanced, but the latter soon moved along. "Care? The man nearly had me killed," Nygma scoffed. "Erasing your debt then? So you could make up for your mistake?" Tetch inquired, receiving a scathing glare at the notion that the fault had been one-sided. "If it provides any comfort, I wasn't exactly thinking of leverage at the time," replied Nygma, flicking the tip of the crown of the hat. "Yes I do expect him to be more than full of gratitude next I see him, but as of now that is all I await." Glancing over at the rest of the inmates within the recreational room, he grew impatient with the milliner's need to take his sweet time. "Mind informing me why you and Jonathan thought it necessary to cross an entire country?" he then asked for the sake of passing time. This being the first time since his recapture that he was let into the rec room, he was understandably itching to know. "Oh, you haven't heard?" Tetch hummed nonchalantly. "I'd like to hear it from you," Edward then said, crossing his arms as he leaned onto the table. "I hear it's quite the tale."
Jervis didn't answer initially, taking his time to look over the hat, as if there was some improvement to be done to make it look shabbier than it already was. Edward rapped his fist against the table to draw his attention, but it only granted him an irked glare from Ivy.
"We do bad things, don't we?" Jervis asked softly, going back to pushing the needle into the fabric. Edward stopped to process the question, giving a typical, "Is this a trick question?" The glance from his opposite urged him to continue. "Well, you certainly do. My activities could be called nothing short of a service to society." The brusque exchange of gazes wasn't so friendly as it had been previously. "Okay, suppose for the sake of your convoluted allusion that yes, I completely agree. What of it?"
Tetch smiled softly again, taking time to scan over at Dahl bothering an impressively restrained Dent. "Do you ever do things with the best of intentions for others… and yet when you blunder it all up, you feel worse than all the terrible things prior?"
Edward frowned, quickly picking up on the implications as he asked, "You're referring to the hypnosis incident?"
"I'm referring to the entire event," the hatter clarified. "I…" He held up a hand, trying to express something but having a hard time forming the words. "I feel as though I was so close to something, Ed." It was impulsive to quote the King of Hearts at that moment, but he refrained. Ed sat back, listening closely with mild interest. He was no therapist, but he was always willing to lend an ear, and more importantly, a very well-educated opinion. "You couldn't understand how he was. I heard him chuckle, I saw him cry, and he joked and jeered and… he just seemed so much…" He waved his hand. "Pleasanter. And, well, I foolishly thought that if I put him under, it would only be doing him some good. He looked so at peace, you understand? For the first time he seemed to enjoy things, and well, I knew it was for his benefit that I keep him under."
"Knew, or believed?" Edward questioned, garnering an incredulous look. With a heavy sigh, he leaned forward onto the table again. "And how long were you going to keep him under for?" To this, the Hatter fell silent, unable to produce a definitive answer. "I see."
Ed watched Jervis sit the hat down, seemingly contemplating his own actions the month before. He had been given ample time to dwell on the subject, and yet he could never provide clear answers to his own question. With that, Ed thought up another riddle. "I make jobs worth doing and life worth living. I can be spread and brought, individually felt or contagiously shared. There can never be too much of me, and yet when you have none of me you will be lost. Once you unlock my secret, I am easy to find, but for the people who need me the most, they'll be searching for me for a lifetime." He smiled knowingly, catching Jervis' misgiving expression. "As I'm sure you would know. What am I?"
"Happiness," the other answered simply. "Your moral, mouse?" Edward just smiled down at his friend. "Correct." Coming to a stand, he quickly snatched up a white king that had been strewn on a discarded chess board. He ran his thumb over the cross atop the piece, making eye contact with Tetch once again. "The secret to finding happiness; possibly the world's greatest riddle besides, of course, 'who is the Batman?'" He smiled pointedly at Jervis, who had set his activity down to listen. "And what is so daunting about it is that it's a completely open-ended question, which is where I believe you've failed. Your problem isn't in your execution, however, but the fact that you started the puzzle to begin with."
Jervis looked fed up with the cryptic talk, looking up at the clock to beckon Time to get off of six o' clock. Edward, however, needed to make his point. "You're a lucky man, Jervis. You found the key to your riddle: an Alice," he continued. "However, you've also been trying to solve Jonathan's this entire time." Jervis looked ready to speak his reservations, but let him continue. Edward placed the piece flat on its base, leaning back. "You think you can construct some guide to happiness as if its answer was some universal riddle, but it's absurd. You see, Jonathan isn't you. He doesn't have that one piece that's missing that can just snap into place, like you do. His happiness is his enigma, and it's not up to you to help him solve. If anything, it only strays him further from the answer."
Tetch remained in seemingly silent composure, looking over the hat in sullen pensiveness. He looked to be in at a crossroads betwixt trying to be angry and being unable to muster up actual agitation. With reserved emotions, he reached over and flicked the king over. A deep breath was taken in before he took the thread between his teeth and skillfully severed it with a flick of his head. With that he gave the needle over to Edward. "They'll notice its absence when they ask for it back."
"I just need to unlock one of the storage rooms," Riddler smiled, taking the tool. "I'll tell the guards I need to use the bathroom and I'll work from there. I already have a bobby-pin from one of the nurses after all. I'll hand it over when I get back. It should roughly only take ten minutes; ample time before we're taken back to our cells."
Jervis didn't respond, taking to twirling the hat around by its brim to properly look it over, his expression somber. There was none of that Wonderland everyone was so used to seeing, even when Jervis was off of his medication. Nygma would admit, not so readily, that he felt a small pang of pity for him. The man had nearly killed someone he had grown a bit attached to. So, Edward decided to give one more tidbit of previously withheld information.
"Crane has been accepting visitors lately," he informed casually as he observed the needle, smiling to himself when he captured Jervis' shocked shooting glance from his peripherals. "Since when?" the Hatter demanded, that familiar spark of vigor relighting within him. "From what I've heard from the guards? A few days," Nygma replied. "He's been receiving a visitor every day; most likely a detective coming to ask him questions. I can't think of any other reason why someone would want to see him." He saw that renewed joy within the easily excitable man, deciding to egg it on further. "Time is coming up short for now, but if you ask before our recreation time tomorrow, the doctors may let you visit him while he's holed up in his cell."
Jervis grinned widely, excited by the idea of seeing his friend once again. "Oh frabjous day! Call-" He winced when he heard Two-Face clear his throat. Dent shook his head slowly from the couch, jerking a thumb over to the eagle-eyed guards. He wasn't in the mood for watching someone else get dragged off. Zsasz still wasn't back from solitary confinement after being caught spouting off philosophical jargon about everyone being zombies. Tetch smiled apologetically, turning to look back at Edward, who was already coming to a stand. Before he could leave, however, he was kept by a fierce tug on his sleeve.
"Ed," Jervis began now that Nygma had his gaze trained on him. The hatter grimaced, looking rather conflicted with himself. "Tell me, does the Har- I mean… Does Jonathan ever… well… talk funny to you?" Edward quirked a brow at the vague question, beckoning him to elaborate before he could think up a snarly piece of backtalk. "What I mean is, does he ever, well, speak nonsense? Well, like referring to himself in the third person?" When he continued to receive that blank response, he made another attempt at speaking sense to him. "Quite like Two-Face! You know, whenever he refers to himself as Two-Face or maybe refers to himself as Harvey because it's one personality referring to another?" Slowly Edward experienced that brilliant feeling of having an answer to a puzzle dawn on him. "Oh, you must be referring to Scarecrow."
"No no, I'm talking about Jonath-" Jervis stopped himself, letting go of Ed's sleeve with his mouth left agape. "Wait… I beg your pardon…?" Edward grinned cockily down at Tetch's ignorance, placing a hand on the table as he lowered himself to face Tetch on his level. "As always, Tetch, I come out on top when it comes to intellect in most things, even if such a topic is knowing Jonathan personally." He smirked, presenting the needle as a sort of show of superiority. "I'll be back in time to return this to you."
Jervis watched him leave, feeling more puzzled than he had before. One could suppose that this was what happens when you speak with the Riddler.
Tetch looked at the hat in his hands, letting a smile cross onto his face as he refused to let the unknowns eat away at him. However, he felt that lingering sense of foreboding when he heard Nygma clear his throat dramatically to grab the attention of the room. Jervis didn't even look his way, knowing full well just by the sound what was about to happen.
"By the way, Lynns! That was an impressive, if not somewhat barbaric show you put on for us!"
That was the distinct noise of the Riddler about to spout something contrary to his supposed high intellect.
"Tell me, are you feeling the burn ye-"
THUMP.
That was the sound of Riddler collapsing after being nailed in the head with a shoe.
Jervis had to bite on his fingers to keep himself from tapping his feet along to the beat of a very loud clock. He struggled not to hum the Lobster Quadrille; with so many doctors passing here and there, he could only satisfy his need by repeating the melody within his mind and idly twist the brim of the hat in his hands. They say the hours tick by slower when you watch the clock, but he was no fool. Time would just slack off like a do-nothing if he wasn't being carefully monitored, and so Jervis spent his time ensuring that time truly was moving forward.
"Thirty minutes," Jervis mumbled to himself, watching the second hand skip pass the twelve for the thirtieth time without even so much as a "hello". He looked up at the young nurse at the desk, beckoning her attention with a curious gaze. "Is everything alright in there?" he sighed, placing the hat beside him with foreign impatience.
"He's currently having another visitor," the nurse responded kindly. Why, with such nice long brown hair, she could almost be Alice, he noted. Almost. He wasn't too thrilled about the mess of a mane atop her head; he found it to be in need of cutting. "Oh yes, the detective," he sighed, remembering Nygma's guess as to who the visitor was. "I wait an entire day only to be held up by an oyster." The next line was murmured under his breath. "If only the Walrus were here to feed on the cretin."
It was in that moment that said oyster decided to exit the room and reveal herself. He watched her with vague interest, up until he came to realize her age.
The girl had to be about twelve, thirteen, fourteen if he was being generous. She walked like any law-abiding citizen who had just met Jonathan Crane would: stilted, tense, with small steps and a gaze angled the floor. Long brown hair was parted only slightly so she could have some sort of sight. She was dressed rather modestly, a thin physique framed by black jeans and a thin red jacket zipped to meet her neck. She smiled to herself, tightening the strap of a small black handbag, looking around like a lost child for her mother. Her attention was brought to the hat Jervis had made for his forlorn friend. She regarded it in that moment with a clear jolt of fear. When their gazes met, he caught a glimpse of familiar gray eyes. Poor girl looked ready to shut up like a telescope right there, turning her gaze with a petrified snap that didn't belong in a wretched place like this.
The young girl quickly made her way to the desk. "Where's Mista Dawson?" she asked, voice soft, but strained and hurried with a clear tremor inside a southern drawl. The guards approached Jervis to help him into the room. "Oh, he went to the restroom for a few moments, Savannah, " the nurse responded sympathetically. A first name basis; how often did such a young girl come here? On cue, a well-dressed man entered the room, brightening up and beckoning her over. "How did it go, Sav?" Jervis strained to hear the next few words before he was led into the visitation room.
"Better. It let me speak to him finally."
Once the door was shut behind him, the guards unlocked the chains around his wrists. Looking over at the table, he brightened when he finally saw that beanpole with neat red hair sitting in the opposite chair to him. He frowned, however, when the guard moved over to the free Jonathan Crane. At the jangle of his the chains, Jonathan stolidly raised his wrists up, allowing himself to be chained with little resistance. Throwing a puzzled look to the guards, one allowed him the curtesy of an explanation. "It's for your own safety, Mr. Tetch."
Jervis looked over at the guard with the gaze of the Queen of Hearts. "And yet he's not so dangerous to a young girl?" he asked incredulously. The guard just grimaced, responding with, "Well, I don't think-" "Then you shouldn't talk," Hatter snapped, taking his glare off to look over at the trapped March Hare.
Jonathan stared back silently, lips peeling into a thin grin before they had even looked at one another. Jervis saw that clear trace of malice and maliciousness peering over thin reading glasses. He would be lying if he said it wasn't unnerving, but he knew Jonathan was only attempting to stoke some fear into him.
The guards soon left the room to give the two privacy to talk freely, but no doubt they would be standing by, ready for any sort of attack of one on the other. With their leaving, Jervis was ready to sit across from Jonathan and let out a babble of nonsense about how Harley fretted or how everyone was beginning to get sick of his droll behavior, but his attention was caught by two objects on another table nearby. To these, he looked to Jonathan for silent approval. Jonathan's expression remained still, thinned eyes tracking his every move. Well, it wasn't a no.
Walking over to the table, he quickly recognized that near journal Jonathan had kept so close to himself. Browned blood clearly soaked through the pages, but hopefully not enough to ruin its contents. "Oh, they gave you your journal back! In spite of the, er, extra ink." He wasn't going to read it, of course, instead beginning to skim through its pages to see the extent of the damage. He would hate for Jonathan to lose so much of his work. His curious hand slowed when he approached his spot; he recalled it just between Deadshot and Mr. Freeze. Perhaps he could catch a gaze of a few simple words before he moved on.
Jervis halted when he moved just past Mr. Freeze, confused when the next page was of the world's deadliest assassin. A few seconds of processing lead him to notice the torn bits of paper lodged between both sections. His pages had been completely torn out. The book fell from his hands and thumped against the table. A reluctant glance at the second object revealed it to be a letter— the letter that had started everything. He only recognized it from that familiar stamp placed on the bottom, the only indicator it was still the same letter. That being said, it was to be noted that every bit of white space had been filled in with giant, messy writing, opposed to the usual tight penmanship.
"Hatter."
Jervis looked over with plate-sized eyes, stopping himself from touching the letter. Jonathan's expression had relaxed into that stoic façade he was always good at keeping in the forefront. His fingers flexed uncomfortably, watching Jervis with heavy eyes and a fatigued way about him. Tetch smiled widely in return, taking note of how Crane pulled away with his gaze to stare down at his hands. "Why are you here?" he whispered under his breath, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of a chained wrist. "To visit, of course," the Hatter grinned, seating himself across from Jonathan, fiddling with the hat in his hands.
Crane took notice of the hat, keeping his gaze on it before raising a blank stare back to Jervis. Tetch eagerly placed it on the table. "You lost your last accessory, and I know how mimsy you get with having to replace so many of your things, so I made you a new one!" He retained the smile, despite Crane's silent, fixed look towards him. That silence felt foreign to him; he wished that loud ticking of the clock could still be heard through the door so he wouldn't feel as uncomfortable. "Of course, I simply had to, given my namesake." Again, no response. He had the urge to quote about how he didn't actually own any hats since he sold them all, but even without the presence of the guards to stop him, he felt as though the sobersided, voiceless Jonathan he was receiving would have been enough to stop him halfway from the sheer discomfiture of their situation.
He allowed a full minute to pass by, hoping that maybe Jonathan was just taking an awfully long time to think up a good response, but nothing came of it. Jonathan just wasn't having any part of this one-sided conversation; with slumped shoulders and an uneasy impassiveness detailing him, Jervis just felt as though he was talking to a face pasted onto a concrete wall. "You know, Jonathan, Nygma and I were quite spooked by your condition," he mentioned casually, realizing he would have to lead the conversation. Another thirty of seconds of nothing passed by before he continued. "After all, he nearly risked being lobotomized by Pyg just so you could live. He's been awaiting eternity and then some just for a 'thank you' from you." He let himself titter, hoping a poor attempt at dark humor would bring our some sort of reaction. He gulped, bringing up more recent events to speak of. Before long, he began rattling off the things happening in Arkham, including Edward's most recent recapture and Zsasz's escapades and even the bet between Dahl and Lynns that had happened just the day before. All of this spilled out in hopes that he could pry a reaction from the still man. At this point he was tempted to ask the guards if Crane was just lobotomized, as he wasn't getting anything out of him. The mere thought frightened him, but then again, this phlegmatic beanpole with glasses was beginning to frighten him as well with a lack of words. He knew he could talk, given the first and only question that had left him being a sensible one, but why he had suddenly disconnected was another worry altogether.
"I swear, Firefly is only going to get himself stuck here until he fizzles out," came the last dry chuckle from Jervis, who was simply talking for the sake of hearing someone speak. Out of habit, he began tapping his fingers again, but that uncomfortable gaze only seemed to intensify. At the piercing pressure of the gaze, he forced his hand away.
"Speak to me," he said suddenly, for the first time garnering a small response in the form of a canting of Crane's head. "What do you want me to say?" he asked finally, any of that strong, icy grip he had once maintained in his speech now faded into reserved and dull nonchalantness. "Anything, really," Tetch entreated his doctor. "Scold me. Tell me I care too much about a blasted hat. Admonish me for not coming in with a prepared speech. Tell me my fears are unwarranted, or how you still want Riddler's head on a pike, or how awful the hospital food is; explain in step by step detail how my brain is processing my fear, or remind me that I'm just a big idiot that gets on your nerves all the time, or talk about how irritating I am with how much you hate my made-up words or how foolish I am or how much you want to murder me right now. Say something."
Crane had his finger knitted together, watching silently as Jervis finished his rant and slumped back into his chair. With that, he simply gave the infuriating answer of "There's nothing to say." Jervis wasn't angry, just frustrated. He placed his chin on his palm, propped up by his elbow as he considered Jonathan sternly.
"Is this about the hypnotism?" Jervis then asked, cutting straight to what was undoubtedly a touchy point for the both of them. Just the way Crane's eyes narrowed a touch meant he had struck a vein. Jervis felt no victory in it, unfortunately, taking the silence that hung in the air as confirmation. With a deep, tremor-filled exhale, bringing his hands together as he shifted his eyes away. "What happened to you was not my fault," he said softly, those very words bringing about a bigger reaction than any of his previous rambling combined.
"Like hell," Crane spat, a sneer crossing his lips before quickly settling back to indifference. "It was an accident, Jonathan," Tetch shot back, letting his distress be known at the other's lack of consideration for his point of view. "We were in a car accident. You were impaled by your own bloody scythe; you absorbed a near pint of your own toxin! You were delusional and I saved your life!"
"It would have never happened in the first place had you taken me off the hypnotism," Jonathan growled, his voice far more restrained than that of a panicked Jervis. "Is that what you're so upset about?" Tetch inquired, exasperated. This only brought about further hostile feelings to be inflicted unto him. "You just don't understand," Crane replied, knuckles white from clenched fists. "I put my life in your hands, Jervis. I let you control my every move. I gave up my free will and free thought because I trusted you." Every emphasized word dripped with a malice Jervis only received from his greatest adversaries. "I had you swear to me that I would be rid your control as soon as we got away from the Batman and you lied to me."
"We're criminals, Jonathan," Jervis defended. "You're worried about a lie? We had barely any time! I was going to let you go soon enough."
"Liar," Jonathan shot back without hesitation, catching Jervis off his guard. This time it was the smaller man who was unwilling to respond, allowing Jonathan to lean forward and look him straight in the eye. "How long were you going to keep me under, Tetch? The day? The week? You would rather have me as one of your rabbits than take off your control." Again, Jervis refused to grace him with the response he rightfully deserved. "I suppose this could be considered a form of getting even, seeing as my deception was what brought you along in the first place," Jonathan finished, anger subsiding as he folded his hands on the table.
"You didn't see what I had," Jervis finally spoke. "You were happy! You seemed so content, and I only wanted you to experience that for a time. I did it for you!"
"Did you?" Jonathan questioned, a hand curling up until his knuckles paled once more. He took in a deep breath, grimacing at his own memories. "You weren't able to get me out of your own trance." He closed his eyes, jaw worked tight. "It took… three weeks. Three weeks of constant, unyielding…" He grunted, unable to get himself to say the word, "… as I was unable to form my own thoughts. I couldn't speak of my own accord, I was plagued by intrusive thoughts. They had to manually put me to sleep because I wasn't able to get any rest of my own. Even when the doctors finally broke the trance and rid me of all my own formula, I couldn't sleep. I was writing on the walls by my bed, I couldn't bear to eat, I found myself doing everything to that awful, obnoxious ticking. Even in the darkest of times, even when they kept me company and spoke to me, trying to rid me of these tormenting thoughts, I found myself only thinking of you, because of that awful trance you put me under." His body was rigid as he futilely attempted to dissipate the thoughts that plagued in his mind. "It-it was…" He let out a sound that could almost be considered a whimper. "… absolute hell." His frame jerked as he streakily regained his composure. "So I hope you can forgive me if I would rather not see you right now. I'm trying, I really am, but right now, I just can't."
Jervis felt any frustration melt away as guilt plagued him; a foreign feeling for really any of the inhabitants of the asylum. He reached forward, a caring hand ready to touch his friend's arm.
"Don't!" Jonathan reeled back, the cry coming as an absolute shock to his peer, who drew his hand back in silent awe. That stolid mask broke for just a brief moment to display a visage of exhaustion and fatigue. He let out a small groan, placing a hand to his head and looking away, muttering under his breath, "Don't, not now." He grimaced at a head pain, letting out a shuddering breath. "You can't-" A sharp inhale left his lips, his pain evident. Jervis sat back, placing his hands in his lap so as to not provoke any more hurt within him. "If you touch me, I can't help what they are going to do," Jonathan murmured with a shudder, going back to that stiff disposition he was always displaying. "Oh it's just a touch," Jervis assured him without worry. "I doubt the guards will react so heavily if I were to just touch you."
"I wasn't talking about the guards," Crane spoke lowly, forcing Tetch to frown and consider an alternative. A smile was brought to his face as he slowly shook his head. "You're trying to frighten the poor Hatter," he spoke softly. His tone was not one meant to antagonize, but to show understanding. "I'm not scared of you anymore. Even if you don't have faith in me anymore, I still trust you with my life, because I believe you would do the same for me as I would have done for you, even anything that you knew was for my own benefit."
Jonathan was back to his mum, still state so indicative of the pathology that had landed him in this asylum. "We're done here," he said without warning, preparing to come to a stand. Jervis felt alarm as the brusque ending to their conversation, every fiber telling him that there was more to discuss. "Are you angry?" he asked softly, watching Jonathan shake his head. "I just need you to get away from me," Crane murmured. "You're a toxin Jervis." Tetch felt a sting within him. Distress forced the leaking of a few of those voices within his head. "Maybe it's always pepper that makes people hot-tempered." The glare shot his way caused the schizophrenic to shrink back as a reaction, laughing shakily to himself. "You'll seep in and you'll only end up doing harm to everyone you infect."
"The time has come, to talk of many things: of shoes and ships - and sealing wax - of cabbages and kings."
"You're absolutely mad."
"But I don't want to go among mad people!"
"Do you even realize how much you hurt people? Or are you too afraid of that reality to ever take it into consideration?"
"Who in the world am I? Ah, that's the great-"
"Stop!" Jervis let out a unrefined cry when Jonathan slammed his fists onto the table. "God damn it, Jervis, just please stop! Stop calling me Hare, stop with the quotes, stop acting as though you actually care about me and just please, leave." A burst of anger erupted from Tetch as he hopped to a stand, his chair screeching when shoved back and toppling over. "I won't," he fought back, "because I want you to understand that I do care about you. Your despondency caused you to only harm yourself." Jonathan scoffed, turning his head in visible agitation. "As if you have any lucidity to actually care," he snapped. "You're mad, Tetch. Absolutely raving, unapologetically, horrifically mad. From Alice to your family to your 'friends', you hurt everyone you supposedly care about because your concern is simply your own selfishness trying to fit each pawn around you into your little delusions. You crave this control, and I refuse to be the Hare to your little tea party. I'm not a character, Jervis, but I don't think you'll ever be truly sensible to understand that!" Jervis felt his anger flare, struggling to keep his reflexive need to retaliate at bay. He pieced together a proper response in a matter of seconds. "Now now, you're going to listen to me, Alice, because if anyone has a twisted world view, it is you!" Jervis bit back. "I wholeheartedly believe in what I wad doing, and for that I will not apologize, but… but I-I re… refuse… to…"
Jervis' words slowed to a halt upon realizing Jonathan's expression of disbelief and bewilderment. He had never seen him with such an expressive look, many of his most passionate looks of hatred and glee just being mere flickers compared to this one, which could only be described as one having just received the blow of the century. "I… refuse…" Jervis tried to speak up again, but the look alone forced him into a state of discomfiture.
After what had to be a half minute of them staring at each other, a shellshocked Jonathan finally broke the unbearable silence. "What did you just call me?" Jervis frowned in puzzlement, realizing then what he had just done. He searched his memory, trying to pinpoint when he had dropped that name, searching for some sort of other explanation. "I-I, well, I-!" An unsound giggle burst from him, trying to ease the unbearable silence as Jonathan's stare became nearly enough to break him more than any formula he had ever created. "I called you March Hare! Hare of course; that's what you've always been! Nothing else, my- err, my- aha, d-dear- haha, Hare!"
Jonathan's fixed look dared not leave, instead softening to one that he had never been seen baring before: guilt. Clear, apologetic, unwavering guilt. "Oh Jervis," he murmured, pushing himself away from the table to stand. "I should have never brung you along." Jervis look of distress only intensified as he let out a weak "Jonathan," but the doctor only seemed to scold himself. "You always were prone to getting overly-attached." "Jonathan." "It's my fault you ever even came. I should have seen it, given you attachment to your Alices and your obsessive behavior over them, but I just never thought…" "Jonathan!"
"You need to get out," Crane demanded, seizing up in visible anger as any signs of regret faded. Jervis opened his mouth to let out a spiel of how it was an honest mistake, followed by how this whole situation was fiddling with his mind and not making him as right in the head as he always had been. However, what exited his big mouth turned out to be far different. "Jonathan, you can't change what happened between us in that road trip."
"Nothing happened during that road trip," Crane snapped angrily, his hands turning to grip the chains with bruising fury. "It was all in your head, Tetch. That's what happens with you; you find someone that fits that fantasy in your head and you cling to it. That's why you were always so foolish to trust me without a second thought!"
"That is not true!" Tetch near screeched. "I saw you cry, I saw you open up, I saw something human under all that burlap and straw you use to hide everything you could never trust anyone enough to see. You trusted me, Jonathan, and that is a far greatest compliment I could ever get from such a shut-in like you. I see that humanness and I feel as though you were actually close to being happy. You can't tell me that was nothing!" He reached a hand forward, but the other physically drew back with a revolted glare.
"It doesn't matter what it was!" Jonathan shouted, his voice raising in volume to match Jervis'. "You need to get away from me. Now. Before I harm you."
"See? You don't want to hurt me!" Jervis said with a certifiable grin. "You care about me! On some level, you had and still do have trust in me! You still want to talk to me and see me and tell me whatever you're holding back. At least admit that!"
"Hatter," Jonathan spoke with strained words, his voice lowering as he looked conflicted within himself. "I'm- I'm not… you don't-" He clenched his jaw tightly as Jervis took the moment to speak more words of encouragement, stepping around the table to move closer to him. Jonathan mirrored the bold action by moving back, closer to the wall. "You can't tell me it was all for nothing!" the Hatter pleaded. "I implore you, tell me you at least feel the way I do, in that there is something between us. Whether it be a passionate anger, or friendship, or trust, or simply history, I want you to acknowledge that you feel something between you and I that separates our partnership from every other person in your life right now."
"I… I don't…" His back now against a wall, Jonathan had no choice but to throw out out a response to appease the man that importuned him for some admission of hidden emotions. "I… I might have…" he whispered, the exasperation in his voice giving away the undoubtable ring of truth. As soon as the words were spoken, he turned his head away, as if shamefaced by his own words.
Jervis fell silent, experiencing a well of hope within him. A smile cracked his expression as he reached forward. "Jonathan, I believe-!"
Jervis wrapped a hand around Crane's thin wrist, a move that was meant to be representative of his affable outreach towards his friend. He only had a split second to react when he saw the inflamed and outright baleful and malicious glower flash across Jonathan's countenance. Before he knew it, Jervis had two hands wrapped around his own neck, pinning his back down onto the table with a dangerously tightening grip. Jonathan's exhausted demeanor before was replaced by a reticent nature, but this one seemed far more hostile, dare he say even malevolent. Tetch struggled for breath as he desperately fought against him, kicking and hitting as he quickly came to realize he was fixing to die.
Before that encroaching darkness could even show its face, Jonathan was yanked away by the guards that had decided to come in and intervene. The men quickly neutralized him, dragging him out of the room as a nurse quickly came to treat the gasping inmate. Crane could be heard spouting threats and a wish for harm upon the other as he was inevitably brought back to his room.
Tetch felt around his neck, wincing in pain at the sheer force that had been applied, thankful the event hadn't crushed anything. He let out a disgruntled groan, smacking away the nurses hand. "Get away; I'm fine!" Filled with a silent loathing at what had just happen, the only emotion counteracting it being that dejected pit inside of him. He brung himself up to a stand, wobbling and taking in harried breaths. He stared at the door in which his friend had been rudely dragged out of, a mix of raw emotions stewing like an odious solution. He tore his eyes away solemnly, fighting back his emotions. "You're wrong," he scowled under strained breathing.
The nurse rattled off the typical medical nonsense, which he obviously ignored in favor of training on the letter that had been placed on the table beside theirs. A quick strife over and he had the flimsy paper within his hands, gazing over the wild chicken-scratch that had been written all over the page. Unfinished thoughts, angered nonsense, wishing of harm and words that almost seemed like he was holding a full conversation to himself. Chemical formulas, hatred, Wonderland quotes, words that Jervis had heard him say over the course of their venture; it was all just claptrap to show the discordant and dissonant mess of Crane's mind. He had to have written it all when under his three weeks of torment; the same balderdash must have been written along his walls, as he had claimed. Jervis was almost in disbelief that this was the same writing from that refined doctor with such neat penmanship. The only factor that guaranteed the authorship was the good doctor was a single quote by Tetch himself, the largest one scrawled across the empty space over the letter.
Reading the quote over brought about a sting in his chest. He could distinctly hear the words in his own head. The ticking of his pocket watch had sounded so clearly and his rabbit was just about to fall into that dream-like state with a blissed smile. The Hatter had leaned forward and whispered those words in his ear with a smile that knew so confidently that everything would be just fine.
"You know, Jonathan, I don't think you're as scary as everyone says you are."
"How was your time back on the saddle, Master Bruce?" Alfred spoke, watching Batman exit the Batmobile. "Couldn't have been better," Bruce sighed, taking off his belt, refraining from tossing it carelessly from his need to sleep and simply placing it beside the Batcomputer. "Furthered into the investigation on Valentin when one of his dolls tried to remove my head from my shoulders. He's gone into hiding again, but with any luck from that sample I sent Barbara, I'll be able to pin his location tomorrow." Removing his cowl, he let out a tired sigh and began looking over the evidence gathered in the database.
Alfred placed a glass of cold water beside Bruce, causing the younger man to let out a thankful sigh of relief. "What would I do without you, Alfred?" he smiled, taking the glass and chugging it entirely. "Without me? 'Gotham's Most Eligible Bachelor' you would be not. You would be far more well-known for coming to charity balls dressed as a homeless man and smelling of late-night ramen than you would ever be parading as Gotham's bat-like defender." The comment awarded him a funny look. "A little harsh, don't you think?" Bruce chuckled, not taking the comment to heart as he placed the glass back down. "Master Bruce, if I have to spend my entire nights waiting for a man dressed like a bat to come home and collapse on the bed, you will grant me at least the occasional comment," Alfred said simply.
"How else is he going to lighten you up?" Oracle spoke, wheeling herself into the cave using the ramp that lead to the platform by the stairs (he's an equal opportunity employer, after all). "How's Tim?" he asked, going to place his cowl back in its storage. "Fine. He got back about an hour ago and is currently passed out on your couch," Barbara smiled, coming to a halt and placing her hands on her lap. "Word from Arkham says that the Riddler recently tried to make another escape."
"After five days? Took him long enough," Bruce muttered, removing the cape and moving it to the side. "They also say Crane's lucid again," she added, noticing the grim change in demeanor she had very well expected. "Ah. And?" he asked, feigning vague disinterest. "It's said he's teetering on the edge of insanity, but at least stable," Oracle answered. Batman shook his head, solemn once again as he moved over to a cork board, decorated with all the photos of current villains that were currently a threat, small notes beside them detailing important reminders of their current status or whatever they currently that was a cause for concern. "Dad's deciding again whether or not you're a saint or just stupid," Barbara smiled, eliciting no response from her mentor. "Oh ho, you have to be a little bit of both to do what Master Bruce does," Alfred responded for him. Both watched him look over the mugshots of Jervis Tetch and Jonathan Crane placed on opposite corners of the board. "Anything else?" he asked her. "Only that he nearly murdered Tetch," Gordon said. Bruce nodded, removing a sticky note and writing something brief on a fresh one from the nearby stack. "The entire police force is talking about how you should have let him die," Barbara mentioned, watching him place the note just under Tetch's photo. Tetch tried to visit, it read. "You know that's not how I do things," he spoke, pointing a frown at her. "Yeah, of course, but you can't blame them," she said softly. "To them, you saved a monster."
Bruce needed no thought to his response. "They're not monsters, Barbara," Bruce reminded her, referring to the entire group instead of the man in question. "They bleed, laugh, cry, hate, and fear just like the rest of us." He grabbed a nearby spool of red yarn and a pair of scissors. "I don't see their fear and emotions as weaknesses, but hope and reassurance of that fact every day. Despite what everyone thinks they may be, or how hopeless the doctors define them, or what they've done, Tetch went to save Crane." He cut the yarn, spearing either end with separate thumbtacks. "I don't think Crane went under unwillingly." He considered the board for a moment. The green thread that connected Tetch and Crane was soon removed, a color that was also found between both criminals and Nygma, Cobblepot and Two-Face, Catwoman and Ivy, Firefly with Joker, and many others. He was almost about to pin the red yarn between both criminals, making a connection similar to the yarn that connected Harley and Ivy, or the ones that used to connect Harley and Joker or Killer Croc and Baby Doll. "They're human. They can be defeated, they can be beaten…" He reconsidered, placing the yarn in a drawer for now. Instead, he grabbed Crane's photo and moved it over to be pinned beside Tetch's. He picked up a new note, writing a large question mark and placing it between both mugshots, loosely connecting them. "… And they can be saved."
"And that, Master Bruce, is what makes the Batman," Alfred told him, watching him move Crane's green connections to reconnect with his shifted photo. "Now, shall we put this Dark Knight business to rest for now."
Bruce let a smile crack that grim wall. "That sounds great, Alfred," he nodded, helping Barbara off the platform. "We could all use a meal and some sleep."
As the three continued to chat, they made their way out of the Batcave. Ten minutes after they had left, the cave recognized there was no longer anyone within, and so the lights automatically shut off, putting Batman to rest for the night.
Haha... yeah.
There were many different ending I'd considered. The one that had stood for a majority of the story until just recently was an ending where both villains either got home safely and said their goodbyes in a sentimental fashion, or both ended up in Arkham, but showed that they were still pretty good friends. However... after thinking up Jonathan's inhury, it was this ending that I finally decided to introduce. Probably the most bleak ending I'd come up with was one where Jervis couldn't break Jonathan out of his trance, and in fact no one could, and so the story would have ended on and ambiguous note. I wouldn't do that to you. Yet. And so it was this ending that was the winner winner.
This story was originally supposed to be about... seven chapters; at most, ten. They were supposed to get there, Johnny was gonna cry, Jervis would cry, there would be that fight scene with the police, and they would get back to Gotham safe and sound. Eddie was never meant to be in it, Batman was only supposed to make a small, one-time appearance, Pyg was definitely never going to be in it, there was no hypnotism, no potential for romance, no crows or deeper dives into character or the like, but the further I got into this story, the more ideas I had, and soon enough the story became three times its original size. But... it all worked out in the end. Cheers.
So, uh, yeah. Sudden romance. If you've seen the increasing amounts of hints to Jervis' sexuality, you may have seen something similar to a confession coming, but I hope I kicked you all down with this. To those I told I wasn't into Hattercrow, I have something to say. Ahem:
Ha! Fooled you!
Look, I know not all of my readers will be super into the sudden Hattercrow I'd squeezed in, so I shall offer you a compromise.
To those who do not enjoy the romance aspect, take this into heart: this story is finished. They've gone their separate ways, and thus their relationship remains somewhat ambiguous and ruined. You can leave this story, knowing that this ship could never be, and take away everything that had come before.
To those who actually enjoy the nice little surprise I put in there...
How about a sequel?
One that would focus purely on their relationship in a romantic context. A legit Hattercrow fic. It would contain:
- Angst (duh)
- A plot that centers around the villains in Gotham, allowing them to participate in things they'd usually do and go about their days and doing what they usually do, unlike this story, which was restrained due to its setting on the road.
- That being said, you'll definitely get more disturbing content. Scarecrow's experiments, Hatter now able to immerse himself in a proper Wonderland, and explicit content. Notice how I put that last one under "disturbing". If I go through with this, I have some sick shit planned.
- More appearances from villains. Riddler would definitely have more of a presence, and you would see more from others like Ivy and Firefly and Two-Face and Joker.
- Jonathan's half-sister.
- More emotional stuff.
- Also more attempts at comedy, of course. I'll never change that.
- Longer wait time for chapters. Yeah, that's the only downside.
If you're interested, I'd love to hear from you.
Well... I hope you enjoyed the ending to my passion project. I love this story like it's a child, and I thank anyone who has decided to support it.
Have a nice day.