JMJ

The Final Doff

Chapter One

Right through the Earth

Dr. Leland looked steadily at the head of Arkham Asylum with a concerned frown that she had given him before. Her brow puckered, her lips only slightly pursed, her dark eyes steady without trying to downright stare as she bent her head downwards with care to subtly get his attention without disturbing him…

Dr. Robert Bartholomew had always had a stressed air about him ever since Dr. Leland had taken her position at the now infamous asylum.

Only the Joker had been what Gotham's media referred to as a member of Batman's Rogue Gallery when she first taken the job. Dr. Leland then had watched the asylum crumble quickly after that. It had driven Dr. Bartholomew ragged when Dr. Quinzel had turned crazy and had become an inmate. He had trouble hiring doctors after that as he had not trusted most who dared to try to get a job here. He was afraid of them trying to prove something and of not taking the job seriously enough, but his hesitance and mistrust of anyone new made it harder for those who were already there. "Maybe the Joker will have all the psychiatrists his willing minions before long," Leland had once heard Bartholomew mutter. Many doctors quit had their jobs after more than one escape from several of the inmates with or without a Joker. They were afraid and rightly so, but that had left the asylum more a prison, after a time, with limited doctors and a surplus of state-paid guards. Sometimes Leland wondered if it had not been for her, whether Bartholomew would have ended up an inmate himself. Certainly, it was a fear that hung over Bartholomew's own head, especially since his predecessor had ended in a padded cell, and this had even been before the Joker had taken up residence.

Despite the breath of fresh air, the breath was an uncertain one, and one that feared the future. The fate of Arkham remained as ambiguous as the Joker's death. Though, Leland tried to focus on the positive, and hoped she could ease Bartholomew into the same. Not to get their hopes up, of course, but to at least use this opportunity and not to waste the unusual quiet.

Harleen Quinzel had not had a relapse in some time and neither had Jonathan Crane. Bartholomew had just recently come from an appointment off Arkham grounds with the once mad scientist professor. Signs were hopeful that he could change over to a non-Arkham doctor very soon and that Crane's desires to have nothing more to do with Gotham could be trusted and realized.

Leland had begun to see optimism in Bartholomew's face and his tenseness to ease. So far nothing had come of the rumors and questions that arose in fluctuation about the body that had been found after the fire he had set to Gotham Cemetery in kidnapping his ex-henchgirl. The absence of the Joker seemed to have a sobering effect on the rest of the inmates who had tried less escapes and had even shown more compliance. The false world created by the Joker in his reign of madness seemed to be coming to an end leaving Arkham to function as a normal mental hospital. This was accompanied by hiring more long-term psychiatric staff, and some possible new doctors even in the coming months. Leland herself was petitioning having the Joker in a high security prison if he ever showed up again, and not to return to Arkham. His problems were more physical and moral than psychological, and she had thought so from the beginning. His disruption of Arkham was so evident now, that she felt she had a chance at this, and that the state would listen. She already had the commissioner on her side about it, too.

Seeing Dr. Bartholomew so distressed today, however, broke up her thoughts about the future. She almost worried that the Joker had been caught already and was on his way here, but before she could ask, Bartholomew, wiped his forehead, said, "I've just spoken with Dr. Koch."

This calmed Leland's concerns immediately about the Joker, but she still did not relax quite yet.

Koch was one of the few doctors who had remained during the so-called "Joker's Hotel" days. He was always a difficult person to work with, but it was that stubbornness nature of his that had probably kept him from quitting after a fight for a considerable raise with the threat of doing do. Lately, even Dr. Koch had been in a little better spirits than usual if one looked past his sour attitude, which had never made him a very good doctor, admittedly. He talked down to the inmates in such a stereotypical psychiatric manner that it made even Leland want to give him a good smack. Not because the inmates did not deserve it so much but because he certainly was not going to cure anyone that way. If there was a problem with Koch, it was possible that when the new doctors arrived and acclimated well, he would be asked to resign or retire early.

Seeing Dr. Bartholomew's face contort from worried to completely fretful renewed Leland's old conception that he would be better off retiring himself, but she knew that there would be no one to replace him. She would likely be asked. She knew she could not fill in that position and still work with her patients as she needed to.

"The doctor from the hospital… after being checked for chips… examined Jervis Tetch and revealed that there is nothing physically wrong with him aside from what he has already self-inflicted. His current state is his mental condition only. None of his medications have been working despite the heightened dosage. Dr. Koch has even gone so far as to start him up on anti-depressants again."

This was significant because, as every doctor at Arkham knew, anti-depressants were never to be given to Jervis Tetch no matter how low his mood. The one time he had been given them in a depressive state from a misdiagnosis, he had escaped with such a violent swing of mania after only a second dose that he had the whole staff mind-controlled into releasing him. They were also repeating strange poetry now and again whether from his favorite author Carroll or not. He had disappeared into South America only to abduct a local and return with his biggest, most destructive rampage he had ever taken upon Gotham in his stealing wealthy Gothamites out of millions of dollars in an attempt to buy a whole island to sell hats on— not to mention everyone else he had abducted. Further still, was how that fiasco had allowed the Joker to escape Arkham again with the chaos Tetch had left it in.

Of course, Dr. Bartholomew would tell her about this change in Jervis' medication, if nothing else. The barrier of patient to doctor confidentiality was not kept well in Arkham if for the safety of Gotham alone.

Leland winced despite herself.

"So far even the anti-depressants are having little effect, however, except to drive him into a state of what seems to be near apathy, but that could change at any time."

Leland nodded with care.

There was a note of suspense behind his hesitation as though he meant to go on with something more, and something a bit more proactive.

"Is there something you wish me to do, Dr. Bartholomew?"

"Despite Dr. Koch's protests, I would like a second opinion from another doctor," Dr. Bartholomew finished calmly, though his face betrayed a feeling of guilt.

Before Dr. Leland could say anything in response, Bartholomew went on wringing his hands briefly as though she needed further proof of his stress, "After your success in aiding me with the rehabilitation of Jonathan Crane, I feel that, if you are not too burdened for time already, I would like you to do a full examination. My hope is that it is more related to a necessity of a less medicated approach and the ceasing of anti-depressants."

"I've never worked with Jervis Tetch," Leland admitted, "but I do agree that more than most inmates, he is in need of social interaction, which he is possibly lacking since Jonathan Crane was released."

"Yes, that did occur to me, but we both know that in this department, Dr. Koch is…"

"Lacking?" offered Leland.

"Yes," said Bartholomew in defeat. "And the reason why he has Jervis Tetch is because of Mr. Tetch's…"

"Untrustworthy nature and tendency to exaggerate his emotions to—"

"—Mind control the staff again," sighed Bartholomew.

Leland paused. The balance one had to keep between sympathy for the patients at Arkham and vigilance of potential danger was stronger than at any place she had ever worked or interned at. In most cases it was truly a matter of life and death and certainly a loss of trust in the asylum, which was only gaining confidence in the eye of the state with severe scrutiny since the release of Harley Quinn and the Scarecrow. The asylum had more than once been in danger of closing and there was no institution aside from maximum security prisons to replace it. As much as she hoped the Joker would be removed to one such a place, it was against everything she knew and held dear to allow all the inmates to be sent there…

Jervis may simply fade away into death in the state he was in, which as a doctor at heart as well as in career, would be awful if she did not at least try to do something. The idea of him going on a rampage worse than before in a massive mood swing possibly worse than the South American incident, made her resolve all the stronger, though. The last time he had been caught after an escape had been five months ago, and that escape had been a blast of mania not induced by anti-depressants.

"I will have a look at him, but it's only because I do have some space free. One of my patients" (this was a non-"Rogue" patient of Arkham, of which there were still many despite what the media may claim) "has recently been released for a trial run outside the asylum."

"Thank you, Dr. Leland," said Dr. Bartholomew with such relief in his voice that she nearly expected him to add, "I don't know what I'd do without you." But he did not say that. He had once had half the phrase in his mouth during the release of Harleen Quinzel, but he had halted it as feeling it to be unprofessional. Whether it was unprofessional or not, he said it with his face more often than Dr. Leland cared to think, but she smiled.

"When the new doctors come, I hope you'll find time for that vacation to the Bahamas you used to talk about," she commented with a proper amount of humor to try to ease him more.

"Hopefully," said Bartholomew doubtfully as she passed him by.

Leland sighed. They really needed a new head of staff, but she could not think about it now. She would press more when the new doctors came. For now she would focus on Jervis Tetch.

As she brought up his files she went through what she already guessed or half knew anyway. Having gone through three doctors since he had entered the asylum, Tetch had also been diagnosed differently almost a dozen times. Although, it was evident enough that he had some form of bipolar disorder in there somewhere, the amount of co-morbidities made him a difficult patient to treat. It was obvious that much of his condition was agitated by the raw electronic band pressed to his temples which he used to mind control people whenever he wore that hat of his, but that was impossible to control when he was out of Arkham. The asylum made their best efforts to keep him away from electronic equipment once locked away and for more than one reason.

His Mad Hatter persona had been exemplified by "Joker's Hotel" as he was also easily influenced, even simply personality-wise, by any social atmosphere around him. Medications came and went rapidly. If one thing did surprise her it was how sporadic these medications were prescribed and disposed of. Lithium was used enough, but this was the one Jervis nearly refused to take without force. Despite everything too, though far less surprising given the condition of Arkham until just recently, he was given very little research into his personal life before he had moved to Gotham from England. There was very little effort put into speaking with Tetch about it, and the little information they got out of his father upon one or two calls proved that the family had practically disowned him. A talk with his childhood London doctor had eventually revealed the family's history of disorders, which were numerous, and that Jervis himself had been medicated for bipolar disorder since his teens.

Although it was rarely given to him, Tetch did seem to respond to counseling therapy more than most inmates, especially outside of actually wanting to get out and tolerating it as Miss Quinzel and Pr. Crane had. It showed him eager to please and an eagerness for help even if fleeting and constant waffling causing all three of his doctors to give up. During "Joker's Hotel" days, it seemed a better solution to keep away from the inmates as much as possible anyway.

She sighed a second time.

To reevaluate Jervis Tetch was going to take some time, but she would give it a try. It was the only thing the doctor in her could do.

Sometime later as she approached the cell, even before she opened the door she heard his muttering voice begin rather weakly at the sound of her echoing footsteps, "'…And when I found the door was locked, I pulled and pushed and kicked and knocked…'"

"May I come in?" Leland asked.

There was an unhappy pause and some fidgeting. Then all Tetch answered with was, "'And when I found the door was shut, I tried to turn the handle, but—'"

And once she had the door opened, he clamped his mouth shut and looked up at her sullenly from where he sat in a little chair by himself in the furthest corner. Then his head drooped and his eyes closed with a forlorn sigh.

#

Jervis Tetch hated that flat. He hated its drab chipped painted windows. He hated the dilapidated flowerbox where the flowers used to bloom. He hated the sill on the inside where the cat used to lounge and watch the traffic far below and the birds that sometimes flitted in the free world above. He hated the echoes of the laughter of a bygone age where torches spun beneath cozy blanket forts. A soothing voice would read bedtime stories before the little pixies went to bed with the boom box at his pillow-side playing on repeat fairy-inspired songs that carried one away from the city and its shouting, stinking, anger and rat-racing cruelty. Bullies became foxes and wolves that were defeated by wit and magic. Obstacles of daily life became adventures of fancy and cunning with cloaks that turned one invisible and magic carpets that flew one off to distant lands.

He opened his eyes upon that one window in particular before the taxi moved on. He was comforted only with the fact that it would be the last time. He had not told his father that he would not be returning. He had hinted it to Meryl. Caleb and Bertie hardly knew where he was going at all yet, but he would leave that to Meryl. He was studying abroad in New Jersey in the United States in the middle of his studies. He already had got himself a job there that was not work study related. He was already looking at what apartments were like there so he could quickly get out of a host family's house once the semester was over. He had plenty of financial aid from his top A's in high school. He would not be returning. There was nothing for him here anymore. The youngest of the four, the only thing left was an empty house with an unfeeling man who thought of nothing but money and its uses.

One might say it was only how old Mr. Warren Tetch was responding to the death of his wife, but he had never been a gentle person. He had never been anything but bitter and cold. He had always hated how she had "spoiled" the children. How she had encouraged them in dreaming. How she rarely punished them. How she and not he understood her youngest son when that youngest would act strangely from his usual cheery but mild-tempered personality into something uncontrollable for a time before it was resolved. Only she understood. Her brother had had similar quirks, is what she had always told that little boy and her husband, but the husband did not like it. He did not like the money spent on him. He did not like him at all as far as Jervis knew.

But Jervis was not a little boy anymore. He would never return. Never. Besides. He had his mind under control now, and he was going someplace where no one would know his reputation. No one would know how he one day out of the blue danced upon the high school tables in the lunchroom and sang "Coventry Carol" like "Star of the County Down" and poured milk all over the head of Gavin Rook before he claimed that he not Rook would be the next sports hero since Jervis had already been trying out for every one of them since the week before. Not to mention the way he had planned to rearrange the library and had begun to do just that before he was finally taken away.

Never.

Never could he show his face there again without burning as red as Snow White's apple. Or shrink away like an oyster from a walrus' mouth. It was over forever. Forever.

He had been hospitalized. He had been medicated. He had been labeled again. He had already been labeled a dorky dweeb. This time it was worse, and this time there had been no one to comfort him. One or two pitied him, but pity only went so far. Pity was not real friendship.

Never. Never again.

Even college had his reputation follow him when one of his old classmates happened to go to the same school. He burned now at the memory still, but he would be a foreigner in Gotham. None of the Brits who were studying abroad with him knew him either. They were from other schools and other towns. He would escape. He was under control. He could start over and be free. Free. Free.

The taxi moved forward. His look upon that window was diverted to the front, and he smiled. It was weak at first, but it broadened as he looked upon the smoggy horizon above the buildings, above the traffic, above the top of the highest antenna. Then he threw his arms behind the back of his head with the most contented of sighs. The sheer joy of starting life over and being in control of his own destiny made him feel like a bird leaving its nest of the first time. Or a butterfly finally leaving the drab, dark world of a caterpillar behind him, and he did not care the slightest to look back.

Even the cabbie had to smile back at the young man looking so pleased with himself for his adventures into the wide world.

The future and its circuitry was Tetch's to command. He might even start his own company. He might just boot out a certain Mr. Gates. AI, VR, nanotechnology… he would bring these thing and more to life like no one before him.

The airport was not far away. His insides fluttered with hope and anticipation.

This was not a dream, anymore. This was reality. He could shape life the way he wished and be in charge for the first time in his whole life.

He could not have imagined how alone he would feel once he began life anew in Gotham. No deep friendships even if some people liked him well enough. Those relationships that might have gotten stronger dwindled into nothing when he graduated. Work was not kind to him either.

What had he expected? The streets to be paved with gold? Everyone to get along like a Disney movie?

He found solace in remembering his fairytales. It was the only thing that got him through a long heavy bout of depression. His mother's favorite author he bought at a used bookstore. Old hard covers with lost book jackets and dog-eared pages, but pleasantly thick pages with faded illustrations. With the pair of them he had his tea after work like old companions. More than that! They were nearly his siblings from a "'happy summer days gone by".

"Without, the frost, the blinding snow, The storm-wind's moody madness— Within, the firelight's ruddy glow And childhood's nest of gladness." He read those magic words so thoroughly that he did not have to read them by the letter. He could repeat the books from cover to cover in his sleep, and often he did.

He broke down eventually and got some medication for his depression. In that way he also ended up finding what he felt was a happier place to work than the first under his doctor's suggestion. Wayne Enterprises was very kind in hiring people with problems without prejudice, but he hated being labeled again. He hated it even if being labeled as a person with chronic depression was nothing to what he had been labeled as before. Even if the only one who knew what he was, was Dr. Cates and possibly Mr. Wayne if he remembered such people after he met them. Wayne always seemed rather glazed like he was always thinking ahead to some party or girl. Either way Tetch still hated it. But his depression left him after a time, and he was feeling far more normal even if quieter, shier, more intimidated, and more reclusive than he ever used to be. At least he could hide behind being a foreigner here unlike in his homeland. He had been humbled by the world, he felt, despite his less than ethical experiments on microchips and the human brain, despite how he lied about their purpose when he was too interested to give up his project.

Then he fell in love with Alice Pleasance…

#

Curse that day, thought Jervis Tetch. Curse that day she first smiled at me. Curse that day the fool thought her eyes sparkled like the stars and her voice carried like that of a dream-child "moving through a land of wonders wild and new." Curse the hope I had for a change in my destiny, a change for comfort, love, and a new home. A new family— a refuge in this cold, cruel world…

As the door closed shut behind Dr. Joan Leland coming into his little hole in the world given to him generously by the state to keep him alive but apart from the world beyond, he only looked up at her briefly before his eyes faltered again.

"Mr. Tetch," she said kindly, but it was a hollow sort of kindness as far as Jervis was concerned.

She was paid to be a doctor. At least one could give her the credit of playing her part more than Dr. Koch who had just offered him more drugs as carelessly as one might spray more weed killer on some stubborn weeds.

He tried to stop himself. He really was getting tired of doing nothing but repeating that story cycling forever in his mind, but then maybe it was only the drugs. After all, they were making him tired of everything that the depression had forgotten.

"'Were you happy in prison, dear child?'" he muttered with deep sarcasm.

"Dr. Bartholomew sent me to look up on you for a second opinion."

At least she was being honest and not playing games with him. Her tone was more natural and conversational too that Koch's.

"Maybe get you off some of the medication if we can."

Jervis swallowed hard on his drug-dry throat.

"Empty oyster-shells," he muttered all the woozier.

"I hear you're not eating."

"The best butter."

"You've already almost dehydrated yourself more than once without having enough to drink."

"'It's very easy to take more than nothing,'" Jervis remarked miserably. "But nobody asks my opinion…"

"And you usually are very insistent about keeping your hygiene up. You haven't even had a shave."

"'Who's making personal remarks…'?"

"We bought you some imported tea," said Dr. Leland. "If we make some for you, would you drink it?"

Jervis blinked and frowned at Leland. He felt almost as though he had woken up from something, though he still did not feel quite awake. Again he swallowed hard on his dry throat, and it felt drier than the first time.

"Darjeeling?" he asked despite himself. "…Black? N—not green or white or anything?"

"Black form India."

There was another pause as Jervis considered a moment.

It was more that he had no will to fight her than because he truly wanted to allow himself a cup of tea… At least that's what he told himself.

Note 1: the idea with one of Jervis' conditions being bipolar disorder comes from a long time ago. Someone I used to know who had bipolar disorder said that Jervis in BTAS seemed to have it. I've tried to do extra research with it for this fic.

Note 2: Meryl, Bertie, and Caleb are Jervis' made-up siblings I invented for him with my sister a long time ago too (though I don't remember his brothers' original names we made up so "Caleb" and "Bertie" are newer names I came up with). Most importantly, though any similarity between Meryl and Gotham's Alice is purely coincidental and has not bearing this story. Just thought, I'd mention that.