Tyler Perry's "Meet the Browns", in particular the reading of the deceased patriarch's Last Will and Testament, also worked itself into the first scene as inspiration, as well as Jonathan's doubts that he did not get anything. Does he now? Read and find out.

Jonathan working as a librarian happened in a few other fics from the past. Some people wonder why he always does, but personality wise, it fits him. :)

Chapter Twenty

The Will and the Will to Survive

Iris felt like she didn't want to be here today - today was the reading of her grandmother's will, but she felt she should be at the asylum today. The patients needed her, and lately she felt like she'd been taking too much time off from her responsibilities for personal reasons. But hopefully things would get back to the way they were after this.

Except how would things be normal now that the past had come back to haunt Jonathan? And perhaps her?

The reading would be taking place in the sitting area with her and Alice and Jervis. She sat on one sofa, to the right, wearing a form-fitting black dress fronted with a panel of leather for an edgier look, complete with heeled boots and her hair up in her favorite chignon bun. Alice sat on the left in a light turquoise dress and a black lace shrug, hair down, leaning on the back of her palm as they waited for the doorbell to ring. Jonathan had taken off for work three hours prior; he'd been working at the memorial library since the beginning of April, and Iris had been happy for him that he finally got a job that suited him: quiet, not having to deal with people much, and books.

Jervis had been in the kitchen for the last good while, making the tea - one of his many hobbies, something Alice always saw as a side of him she loved. Iris could smell it all the way here already; it was one of her favorite cheery aromas. One of the things that kept her mood lifted.

And then the doorbell rang. She jumped up and bolted out of the sitting room and into the foyer, answering the door herself. "Jim," she said with a little smile. "Thanks for coming."

"Once again, anything for the fabulous DeLaine ladies," he answered with a proud smile. "Except for that one right up there," he added with a disgusted scowl as he motioned for the portrait of Maria DeLaine that still hung up there - only for decoration and curious guests who didn't know the late model and wondered what she'd looked like. There she was standing in a dress that matched her then-straightened hair - her styles warped time to time - in a "striking" pose with her arms above her head and against a swirling background of modernism, the colors of white, bloody red, soft lavender, and grayish blue mixing dramatically. Her green eyes were surrounded by applied mascara and grayish shadow, eyebrows carefully and masterfully plucked and penciled, and her full red lips were set in a neutral expression.

Next to it was one of Iris herself, the artist taking pride in making the daughter more natural and realistic than the one of her mother, for Iris sat on a lush green ground someplace near her grandmother's estate the time this was painted. She was in a flowy white dress that set off her ebony hair, surrounded by soft blue flowers that complemented her eyes, and a creek that rested calmly at the present time. How amazingly contrasted the portraits were in terms of the women's beauty, nature, and their complexities. "Good thing that her daughter turned out much better than she ever did," Farnsworth commented as Iris led him into the living area, where Alice stood from her seat with a little smile. "I'd ask how you ladies are holding up, but I already know the answer."

"Thanks for understanding," Alice said kindly. "Please sit."

"Would you care for some tea, Mr. Farnsworth?" Jervis asked, entering from the kitchen with the blue willow china used for special occasions - tray, teapot and three cups and saucers - and the smell of English chamomile and mint filling the air.

"Oh, thanks, I suppose." Farnsworth accepted his with vigor that said he hadn't had his own - or whatever he had in the mornings - just yet. "My favorite. Now should we get started here?"

"I'd love to get this over with, yes," Alice answered, and Iris swore she saw another tear threatening to fall. Not all tears were evil. She looked away back to the old lawyer as she sipped from her cup, savoring the flavor of fruit and honey.

"Well, then, here is the Last Will and Testament of Sylvia DeLaine." Farnsworth cleared his throat as he set his cup down on its saucer and drew the paper from the folder he brought with him and began to read it aloud.

"'I, Sylvia DeLaine, bequeath the following possessions to the last of my family, and their loved ones. To my granddaughter, Alice, and her handsome husband Jervis Tetch, I leave my house and all it comes with.'"

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Iris felt her heart leap as she looked over to see her sister's face and Jervis' light up.

Alice clutched her heart with both hands and gave the show of tearing up like a toddler. "Thank you, Grandma," she said to the heavens.

"'To my granddaughter, Iris, I leave my rental property.'"

That got her attention like a cat. Grandma Sylvia owned a lake house out in the Palisades, and she would always take her granddaughters out during the summertime in college. Before Iris and Alice discovered their blood lineage, it had been just Iris with Grandma Sylvia to escape from her mother's clutches. The lake house was another sanctuary besides her personal quarters and her hidden lab for her Empress activities. And now it was hers.

"May I ask where your boyfriend, Jonathan, is?" Farnsworth asked.

"At work at the memorial library. Why?" Iris frowned. She was beginning to think that her grandmother left something for Jonathan. If she did, then whatever it was had to be very important. And Farnsworth confirmed it.

"Well, Sylvia left something for him, too." He then reached into his black leather messenger back to pull out a beautiful wooden box with a metal floral design. "This is the last thing in her will, and when I met her on her deathbed, she told me very personally and very clearly that it had to be delivered to him and him only."

~o~

Jonathan loved his librarian job. It suited his personality indefinitely: quiet, not having to deal with people, and books. Over two months before he began, as library assistant, but now he was full librarian in charge. The one who'd hired him had retired and left it all to him, and he loved every minute of it. It wasn't much like it had been running Arkham, but at least he was happy, and Iris handling the asylum was good enough for him.

As he stacked a couple of horror books - The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Dracula - in their places, he wondered how she, Alice, and Jervis were handling the reading of Sylvia's will without him. Reasons for not being there were the same, that there was nothing left for him. Why should there be, after all? There wasn't anything he could think of that Sylvia could give him.

"Would the good doctor be so kind as to help me find what I'm looking for?"

Jonathan froze. He knew that voice - a voice he had spent so much of the last decade trying so hard to erase from his mind forever. "Whatever is it that you want my help with, Professor?" he replied with a sneer, turning around to regard him with that same frosty glare he'd often given people like Carmine Falcone.

Warner laughed airily as if he'd told a joke. "My, Jonathan, aren't you as feisty as I remember you?" He lifted his hand and raised it to rest it on his shoulder, but Jonathan would not be touched by this monster again. He withdrew as far away as possible.

"Don't touch me," he hissed. Warner's eyes narrowed.

"You don't like this, I take it?"

"You really feel like continuing what happened in the past again, you are gravely mistaken," Jonathan said. "Now what do you want?"

"Just looking for the latest edition of The Art of Psychosis," his former professor replied smoothly.

"Aisle D-G," Jonathan responded. "And I'm not accompanying you there. Just find what you're looking for and meet me at the front desk. And then get the hell out of here."

Warner chuckled. "Do you talk this way to all of your customers?"

Jonathan could feel his blood boil, but his cool remained on the outside. "You're still the same sick son of a bitch as I remembered you. You tell me if you're still chasing after attractive young men and women with bright, solid futures and intellectual minds that you see as the advantage to lure into your bed and act out your disgusting, twisted pleasures?"

The older man's eyes narrowed again, lips tightened into a thin line. "I'll take that as a yes. And by the way…" He leaned in close so Jonathan could smell his hot breath that he often had nearly retched after inhaling. "…I haven't forgotten those nights at all."

He watched as the man from his nightmares stalked off to where he'd told him to go, trying his hardest to calm himself down. He still had no idea how he'd regained control of his own mind and was set to walk free. And why was he here, popping up at Sylvia's funeral of all days and speaking to Iris? Also, he could not forget the way he was looking at her…the same way he often looked at Jonathan…

"Everything I need is all ready." Warner met him at the librarian's check-out desk. "So, how is life after the nuthouse? The very one you ran and then lost for the life of a criminal - and a career path you so ambitiously sought after in school and received from my help." He gave him a look that said it all.

"You're sick," Jonathan spat as he scanned the last of the books. "You were sick then and you are now. You have no damn idea what I've been through to end up that way."

"Try me. Poisoning a city to fund your sadistic ways. I knew there was something off about you the moment we met."

"It was research and nothing else more!" Jonathan realized he'd almost raised his voice, and lowered it down. "I don't know why I'm telling you all of this, but the day Eddie defended me against you, you threatened to ruin my life as well as his. I'll tell you that the way I grew up was none of my fault, as it was clear that you believed I was beyond troubled. I was raised under the wing of a fanatically religious old woman - my grandmother - because my mother was unmarried when she bore me and then left me. The other students at school were no better with more pain I endured. And you, Professor…you helped it all the more. You depraved me, desecrated, violated my body for your twisted desires. You knew how to lure an unsuspecting victim into a trap." He leaned forward to hiss the last part: "And I should have killed you on that last night when I had the chance."

Warner had paled by then, and then he opened to reply to all this, but then another voice cleared a throat. "Forgive me, but is everything all right?" It was Mr. Farnsworth, Sylvia's lawyer. Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief.

"No, sir. He was just leaving." He gave his former professor a killing look - of course he hoped that was what it was - as he handed him his stack of books. "I trust you have everything?"

"Pretty much," Warner replied, his voice and gaze clearly telling him he wasn't finished with him, before walking through the double doors.

"Was he bothering you, son?" Farnsworth asked, glaring first at the doors and then turning to look at Jonathan sympathetically.

"You could say that," Jonathan answered. "He's a bad reminder of my past. A very bad reminder."

"He was one of Sylvia's, too," the lawyer said, surprising him at once. Warner knew Sylvia DeLaine? The man named Victor was the very same one Iris' grandmother had almost married before her husband Andrey? "But perhaps it's best if we take this elsewhere."

Jonathan looked up at the clock and noticed now was his lunch break. "I'm on lunch break now. Let's continue in my office."

His office was wonderfully crafted and carved from warm cherry wood - from the ceiling to the bookshelves, to the walls and floor - to give it a homely rustic feel. His desk was the same, with plenty of surface space, and resting on top of an amazing floral rug of reds, browns, and navy. Jonathan walked over to his desk, sitting in the warm brown leather chair after retrieving his lunch salad and getting an extra for Farnsworth as he didn't want to be rude. "So, what's this all about?"

The lawyer stared down at the food tray in his lap for a second as if trying to find the right way to tell him. "Well," he said after a moment, "as it turns out…Sylvia and Victor Warner were…an item. Long before she married Andrey DeLaine. They were engaged."

Jonathan suddenly felt as if he'd lost his appetite. "She told me so."

"Everyone in the family, and myself, know the story of her own family eager to marry her off to good money, and Warner was far from it. But what happened with him during the time before she was with her true love, Andrey, was that with Warner, he worshipped her like she was a queen, despite the fact he was not good money. I'm sure she told you he is originally from New York, having traveled to Russia and found her there. They were together for two years before she tired of her mother's constant persistence at pushing for a wedding date, but not long before she ended the relationship and engagement."

"Did he ever find her again?" Jonathan asked, fear creeping into his heart.

Farnsworth nodded. "She shared everything with me. I've been her attorney for thirty years. After she married Andrey DeLaine and had a son, Marcus - Iris' father - and moved here to Gotham, Victor Warner found her again, but since she was already taken, he all but gave up trying to reclaim her. Because another reason Sylvia left him was because she secretly investigated into his past and found out that he was a suspected sex offender in one case, but it was never proven in the courts."

So I'm not the first, Jonathan realized with a sickness in his gut, overwhelming him to his senses. "So, yes, my boy, Sylvia told me that when she heard what happened to you when you were still attending Gotham State - she investigated into your life, of course, with all the impressive sources I could give her - she found out who the perpetrator was. Even found out where he'd been this whole time after being in a mental hospital. Somehow his instability was stabilized so he could get on with life."

"And she didn't report it?" Jonathan was shocked that this had never been told to him before. All he knew for sure was that Farnsworth was telling him all of this now for a reason.

"There was no proof, remember?" the man reminded him gently. "But…she knew that someday sooner or later, he would make his appearance, and that you and Iris and your friends would be the ones to put a stop to him once and for all."

Jonathan leaned back into his chair, overwhelmed. Warner was back, but it wasn't for Sylvia, who was now dead. "You knew about him. You knew about his betrothal to Sylvia. You knew everything. Please tell me why he's here."

Sadly, Farnsworth sighed and shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't think of an answer to that. But I believe that…from the way he was looking at Iris…he might have his eye on her."

His worst fear come alive. First he took Jonathan's body, now he had his attentions on Iris, the only woman he'd ever loved. Jonathan clenched his jaw and looked out the elegant arched glass window to stare at the view of the city. If the old man planned to do the same, he'd be damned to protect Iris like Eddie did the same for him years ago…except he wasn't going to respond with violence or threats. Ivy and Harley had promised they had other ideas. And besides, knowing Jervis, he had his own creative ways to deter Warner from taking Iris.

"Jonathan, I would advise doing everything you can to protect Iris. Sylvia knew, as I do, that you two have connections." He then leaned over in the side of his chair to open up his messenger bag to open it and pull something out. "The other real reason I needed to see you is because of this. Sylvia left this for you in her will. I wanted to give it to you at the house, but Iris said I'd find you here."

Jonathan frowned as he took in the sight of the rosewood box fashioned with an intricate floral design, both in the wood and the running metal inlay. "I had assumed she didn't have anything for me."

Farnsworth laughed as he handed it to him. "Oh, dear boy, Sylvia was very particular when she said that her youngest granddaughter's boyfriend meant everything to her as much as both her granddaughters did. Jervis, too." He gave a short nod at the box. "She said its contents were of importance, and that you would know what to do when the time was right."

The way he said "importance" meant as it was said. Jonathan quickly looked up to the clock. His lunch break was almost over by half an hour, so he had time to see what was inside the box. With Farnsworth watching, he lifted the lid up, glimpsing a folded piece of creamy paper and a small drawstring pouch of blue silk embroidered with silver thread into an exquisite and delicate flower pattern. This he opened first, and soon found the contents lying in his palm: a bridal ring duo as well as a slightly thicker one for the groom. The wedding band for the bride was dominated with diamonds that twinkled like stars, but the engagement band was plainer, except in its center was a lovely setting created into the lotus flower petals - all "petals" also set with winking diamonds - and centered with a brilliant, larger black diamond…as black as Iris' raven hair, he realized. This very unique ring pair made him realize that it was very symbolic of her and him in so many ways, given their past lives and molding away from the shackles of society. The lotus symbolized rebirth, and that was what happened: the broken, abused children they'd started out as early in life died at some points, and with the aid of each other, returned fresh and anew. They'd been made for each other. As for the groom's band, it was symbolic of how rough life was but that you could handle it; its surface was durable black steel.

He stared at the rings, smiling to himself until he looked up to see Farnsworth giving him a little knowing smile, then nodded to the paper that still lay inside the box. Jonathan put the rings back into the pouch and read the letter by Sylvia.

Dearest Jonathan,

By the time you receive this letter and these rings, I am long gone from this world. I knew my time would be coming, but I only wished I'd lived longer to spend more time and watch my youngest granddaughter one day marry the man she loves, the one she would have been scorned for as I had been for mine. But the only way to make up for leaving so soon is giving you this gift that was mine long ago - these rings were mine and Andrey's. The man before Andrey is a terrible memory of your own past. I know what my former fiancée, Victor Warner - before I married my beloved Andrey - did to you, but I did not pressure you as I knew how you would feel. You can imagine how I felt when I learned what he really was, but how can a young woman know the man she once loved for a short time was the monster he is? I knew sooner or later he would one day return, but I did my battle with him. Knowing you and what transpired between you two, you would gather your strength to finish him off yourself once and for all. Just know that having exposing your actions to the public's eye would result in a fate worse than death, and taking you away from our Iris. She needs you, and I know you need her, too. I know you want her for the rest of your life because of my experiences with Andrey. Just be warned: Warner may or may not try to take Iris for his own as he tried to me, but you and my granddaughter are not alone in this battle - which hopefully is the last with that monster.

These rings I leave for you to give to Iris at the time you know in your heart is right. But please remember, my dear future grandson-in-law, that you should never let regret take place if you lose that. In fact, don't wait until too late for the opportunity. You and Iris were made for each other. Do what your heart tells you, and remember that the will to love is the will to survive.

"Thank you, Sylvia," Jonathan whispered as he lowered the paper, closing his fingers around the rings in his hand.

~o~

"Dr. DeLaine, what a surprise to see you at an unlikely hour of the day."

Iris smiled but pulled her coat around her as she descended the stairs into the basement cellar - far from the others in Arkham for this one special inmate who touched her heart as much. After the exhilaration of being swarmed by colleagues and patients for apologies and sympathies over her grandmother's passing and returning, she had decided it upon herself to visit the cell of another one of her favorite patients personally - this room was below zero and the risk of hypothermia and eventually freezing to death, but she would not be here long. "Hello to you, Victor. I merely came here to see how your work was progressing and to ask you for some personal advice."

Victor Fries gave no hint of suspicion as he always had for other seldom visitors, especially those who did not tolerate his subzero environment. The head doctor seldom visited his cell, not that they didn't shared a bond as she had with the other members of the infamous Rogue Gallery. Chances were he would never get out of Arkham because there was no hope for reviving his body back to its original state before the accident at GothCorps; damn Ferris Boyle for that. He looked to the ceiling-high glass vessel filled with bubbling, glowing blue fluids, and floating in it was the ethereal figure of a woman in blue - his beloved wife whom had long been stricken with an inoperable disease that left him no other options but to freeze her until he found a cure. Sadly all of that ended in vain. "Coming along very well, thank you, doctor. The credit going to you for your warm heart in terms of the funds, and every day I draw near to reviving my beloved Nora, but my condition will prevent me from being with her again."

The way he spoke of his wife paralleled very well to her and Jonathan. She smiled and nodded, her chilled hormones temporarily forgotten. "You would do anything for her; that's why you and her are still so perfect that everyone tried tearing you apart. That's not so different from myself and the man I love." Nora was the life he had never wanted to lose because he had never been treated with such love the way she gave him. Beautiful both inside and out, Fries wanted to have her for the rest of his life - but then the accident and her illness happened. The world was cruel to them as it was to her and Jonathan, and the others. When Nora was dying, it was like Victor himself was dying, too. They were linked.

Which meant if she lost Jonathan, her life would end both symbolically and physically. Jonathan would not take the loss of her, either. "If you want my advice," Mr. Freeze said, making her look up at him again, "then it is to do everything in your power, no matter what it takes, to hold the one you love with your grasp, even if a force tries to fight you."

Iris found herself throwing her arms around him for a hug. She knew what she was doing, but she didn't care. All she knew was that this man had helped her as much as her sister did, as much as her grandmother, as much as the others did, and as much as Jonathan did. This caught Fries off-guard as no one had touched him this way for so long. He returned the embrace nevertheless, and took a moment to gather himself. "I understand, my dear. Thank you for everything."

She returned to her office, breathing relief when she was back in the warmth of room temperature. She slipped off the coat to show a buttoned-down white blouse with the sleeves to the elbows and tight black pants and boots, but she didn't have the chance to sit down first to get settled in for her next session when the messenger on her office phone rang up. "Dr. DeLaine, there's someone who'd like to see you," Barb spoke.

Iris frowned as she pressed the "talk" button. "Tell whoever it is that I'm about to see a patient in fifteen minutes."

"It's a Dr. Warner from Gotham State. He says he'd like only five minutes. Says he can't wait for another time."

Iris felt her nerves leap at the mention of her new nightmare, but sighed in exasperation. He was going to answer to her sharp tongue like he did at the funeral. "Thanks then, Barb. Whatever he wants to keep me from my patients," she grumbled under her breath as she finally sat down, "will know there will be hell to pay." No sooner had she said that did the door knock. "Come in," she called, trying to sound professional.

The door opened, and he walked in tall and smiling sickly. "Dr. DeLaine."

"I thought you were aware that I am about to soon see a patient," Iris said coldly. "What do you want? You want five minutes, so get on with it."

He seated himself down in the blue chair, relaxing in it like he'd owned it as he smirked at her fold of the arms and attempts to be superior over him. "I did say that, yes. I trust you know my history with your grandmother, correct?"

"You and her engaged before she married my grandfather, of course."

"And so I shall be straight with you without riding around the roadblock. Let's just say that since I couldn't have your grandmother, I've had other…pursuits…" The way he said that made her sick. "…that I've suddenly grown tired of and I feel like something else came to mind. So, Iris…"

"Dr. DeLaine," she snapped. "I'd have hoped you hadn't forgotten our agreement."

"Of course not." Warner leaned forward in the chair. "What I came here for is for a proposition. I find you a very fascinating woman, and I would love to see you and get to know you more often if you would agree to one thing and one thing only."

She felt her blood run cold, but she forced a twisted smirk on her face. "And whatever would that be, doctor?"

"That you never see your lover ever again."

Ooooh, Warner is a dead man for making her not see Jonathan again. (demon rage) Things are going to be a hilarious and death-wish-of-a-battle from there, I promise you that.

A scene between Mr. Freeze and Scarecrow from "A Misled Lamb" by Thunderscourge (a Batman: Arkham Asylum game story) over Nora inspired me for the one between him and Iris. :)

A tiny bit of Jonathan meeting with Farnsworth also came from a scene in Saw V (I love that franchise, too, so later on you'll see some "torture porn" from there ;D) in which Jigsaw's widow received a box of mysterious contents in his will. It was that little bit when he told her he'd be long gone from the world and that she was his "heart and always will be" was touching despite the fact he was a murderer.

I've always loved Victor and Nora Fries, and so did Vytina. But we never saw him as a villain, only a shell of a man going for vengeance because he grieves for losing the one he loved most - as quoted by Paul Dini, one of the creators of BTAS. All he did was try and help his wife.