IIIII'MMM BAACK! With another installment of Tea And Sympathy!
Disclaimer: Gambit(from X-men) Hey there, chere.
Me: Put that sexy Cajun smirk away and act professional.
Gambit: Anything for you, Shelia. (slouches attractively over to microphone) This li'l chere don't own nothin' but Gambit's heart; she stole it away the moment Gambit saw-
Me: Knock it off. I prefer the smart nerdy type.
Do you recognize it? Then I don't own it.
I hope people don't mind me entwining the sections with Jeanette with appearances of characters from other places, she is just so much of a witch and an interworld diplomat that it's impossible to write her without putting some of that in.
P.S: Whoever can name every cameo of different worlds and characters from gets three cheers, just review or e-mail me!
P. P. S: Hugs and kisses to my reviewers, keep it up, I almost have double digits!
23
"And what's this?"
"Rosemary. For remembrance and banishing evil spirits."
Jeanette and Cheshire's voices floated in through the open window as Jervis sat in his - well, his at present - bedroom, fiddling with a circuitry card that had short-circuited. They had imposed on Miss Cameron for a week and she didn't seem to mind a bit, answering Cheshire's questions, supplying parts for Jervis - he wasn't sure where she got them from, but many of the people that came to her store were decidedly odd. He had seen people in long, multicolored robes that had been cheering when they came in about the death of someone called 'You-Know-Who' (they had been looking for party hats) a very pretty girl with brown braids and a gingham dress that had been looking for a coat for her dog, a young woman who was inquiring after a pattern for a shirt of cambric without needlework or seams. Miss Cameron had supplied her with one and she had seemed very happy, humming something about a sickle of leather as she went out. By far the strangest person to come in was a man who had knocked on the back door in the middle of the night; Jervis had glimpsed him, as he had been up to work on his technology, and the brief sight had left him with an odd feeling. He had been tall, with a sharply planed face and an aquiline nose and no mustache or beard; he was wearing a blue coat unfastened, ripped, and sweeping to his ankles and a blue top hat with odd creases and something that looked unpleasantly like a small red eye in the side. Jeanette had welcomed him, looking slightly sad, and they had talked far into the night. The following morning, when he had asked who it was, Jeanette had looked thoughtful, then shook her head.
"A great man," she had said, "that's all I can say. I have scarcely met one of more courage, loyalty and determination."
The voices from outside drifted into his reverie.
"And this one's thyme?"
"Yes. Golden thyme. Very good, Cheshire."
There was a rap on the door and Jonathan entered without waiting for a reply. Nodding a greeting to Jervis as he saw he was working, he strolled over to the window and leant against the frame, looking down at the girls down in the garden. Jeanette was taking advantage of the good weather to teach Cheshire herb lore - or at least how to tell one plant from another.
A small smile curved Jervis' mouth as he watched the other man from underneath the brim of his hat. Jonathan was staring at Jeanette, he knew; the professor had been trying to conceal it, but Jervis could sense unspoken attraction from a mile away.
"She has very beautiful blue eyes," commented Jervis slyly, fanning himself with his hat.
"Hazel," corrected Jonathan without thinking, "yes-" he cut off and swung around to stare at the Hatter, who was looking the picture of innocence, with narrowed eyes. "You just said that as some sort of test, didn't you?"
The blonde Englishman shrugged gaily, replacing his hat and blowing the hair out of his eyes. "My dear fellow, whatever could you mean?" Giving up that tack at Jonathan's not-buying-it expression, he tried another. "Very well. I guessed that you were attracted to Miss Cameron-"
"Attraction - Tetch, she is maybe ten or fifteen years my junior. Oh, wait -" he seemed to have spotted the gaping hole in his logic - "well, Cheshire is much younger than you, but that's just one case!"
"If you say so, Jonathan…" murmured Jervis, tipping his hat down over his eyes and managing to sound disbelieving and indulging at the same time.
The Scarecrow scowled at him, then slammed out of the room, leaving the madman giggling to himself. He was still laughing when Cheshire joined him five minutes later.
"Professor Crane?" she asked, and he nodded, chuckling. "Jeanette lassoed him into helping her prune the roses. Oh, Jonathan and Jeanette, sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"
"Now really, my dear," he got himself partially under control as he pushed the brim of his hat up with one gloved finger and attempted to look at her reprovingly. "It hasn't gone that far yet."
"You hypocrite." Grinning, she sat on the edge of the bed he was on, bouncing a little, and pulled the hat back down over his eyes until it rested on his nose. "You see it as well as I do!"
He smiled, unable to see her but feeling the sharp slope in the mattress where her body pressed it down and one of her hands resting lightly on his chest. "It seems I cannot deceive you, my dearest." As soon is it was out he realized his slip, but she did not seem to notice the difference in the way he addressed her. Or maybe she did; the hat was still down over his eyes, and he couldn't see her face, but her tone sounded normal as she replied.
"Professor Crane does seem happier than I've ever seen him before - not the I've-just-gassed-somebody type, really happy. And he doesn't look quite as skeletal anymore. I mean, he's still thin, but before he was like a stick figure."
"I agree. Now…" He shifted slightly. "Would you let go of my hat? I would like to see."
"Oops!" She released the brim, blushing. "Sorry."
"It's all right, my sweet." There it was again - he must stop having these slips of tongue! So far Cheshire did not seem to have noticed, but he must not make any advance yet. It was far too soon. But it was hard not to call her the sweet names he so wanted to…
Cheshire felt her pulse flutter at the term of endearment. The one earlier could have been a mistake, but twice…? She was still trying to fully decipher her feelings for the Hatter; early on she had told herself firmly that she was not going to fall in love with a criminal ever again - "something sensible instead, like a plumber or a banker" - had been her exact words to the plant she was watering, and yet… and yet…
Seeing Jervis challenge the Joker for her. His laughter and conversation. A week ago, when she had fallen asleep on the sofa and had woken up in his arms - he had been carrying her to her bed - and she had faked sleep for a few more minutes in his gentle hold, one gloved hand under her knees and his other arm cradling her head to his chest.
"Hold still," she said to Jervis. She had to settle this once and for all.
"What?" he asked, obediently holding still.
"I'm going to make an experiment." Gripping the lapels of his coat gently, she leant in and kissed him deeply. His entire body stiffened with shock, then he pulled away, pushing himself up sharply. Caught off-balance, she fell onto him, still gripping his coat to keep herself from slipping completely.
"Cheshire!" The Hatter was turning bright red. The - the thing just a second ago - and now she was practically on top of him, looking at him with an expression of confusion and a bit of hurt.
She released him, pushing herself to a sitting position and tugging on a lock of her hair nervously. "I - I'm sorry." Obviously she had been wrong. He didn't want her; his shocked reaction proved that easily. She just hoped that she hadn't ruined their relationship completely. "That was - a mistake."
He was gasping with the reaction still, but wasn't so utterly surprised that he didn't see that she thought he had rejected her; he had just been caught off-guard by her sudden approach.
"No." His gloved hand gripped her chin lightly, turned her face to him. "No, it wasn't."
Cheshire was cut off mid-mental-reprimand by the Hatter's lips touching hers. His kiss was gentle, tentative, fearful and wonderful at once. Twisting and throwing her arms around his neck, she returned it ardently, pushing them both back onto the covers of the bed.
After a minute they both had to breathe, and Cheshire pushed herself up a little, her blue eyes glowing. She was just beginning to speak when Jonathan walked into the room without knocking.
"Has either of you seen the…" He saw the tableau before him and trailed off. "Unless I'm interrupting something?"
Cheshire shot off the bed and into the chair like a scalded cat and sat with her hands folded in her lap, looking like the picture of ladylike decorum and innocence except for her twinkling eyes and flushed cheeks. The Mad Hatter sat up hastily, straightening his cravat and bow tie. "Er, no, Jonathan. What are you looking for?"
Flashing him a that's-so-obviously-a-lie-I'm-not-even-going-to-mention-it look, the Scarecrow resumed. "Jeanette can't locate the extra pair of clippers. She thought Cheshire might have seen them."
The girl frowned. "They might be in the lavender patch."
"The lavender patch. I suppose that that would make sense to you…" He left the room, and there was a long, awkward silence. Let's take a peek into the minds of the two keeping it, shall we?
"Oh no, what should I say, nothing like this has ever happened before, she probably regrets it by now, no girl would ever want me, especially one so beautiful and sweet as Cheshire…"
"He looks upset, was I going too fast, I thought we felt the same way about each other but perhaps I was wrong, god I hope he cares for me as well…"
Finally Jervis rose from the bed, his heart going faster than a hummingbird. "Miss Quinzel," he said quietly and clearly, but with a certain unsteadiness in his voice, "I would understand if you would wish to - to discontinue our relationship. Most probably your actions of a minute ago are regretted now, and-"
He was cut off as the girl threw her arms around him, burying her head in his coat. Her eyes were squeezed shut, but tears still leaked out. "No!" she gasped. "No! I don't want to go anywhere. Don't make me!"
Shocked for perhaps the third or fourth time in ten minutes, the Hatter tried to speak, but the young woman was already filling the gap with her words.
"And don't call me that, Jervis." She raised a tear-stained face to him. "It's Cheshire."
He wasn't sure what to do, so simply embraced her in return, inhaling her scent of mint and vanilla, one hand moving in comforting circles on her back. After several minutes, he could only think of one thing to say.
"I'm glad… that you don't want to go… Cheshire."
* * * * *
"They're very cute together - not that one, the one that's actually dead! I agree with your view of Alice."
"Oh. Yes, I see." Jonathan stopped from cutting the wrong rose for the third time in a row. "They were kissing when I walked in, Cheshire was practically on top of him. However, I wouldn't be surprised if it's still a while until they fully admit it. Cheshire doesn't want to be hurt again, and Tetch - well, Tetch doesn't like to admit being wrong about anything, and he used to take quite a stand on his feelings for Alice."
"The problem is, he didn't get it over with when he was younger," said Jeanette, gathering up several dead roses and dumping them in a bag. "It's natural to think you've fallen in love with someone when you're somewhere in you're your teens or early adulthood, and eventually you get over it, but if you never have it happen until you're older it can hit very hard."
Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "You seem to be knowledgeable of human relationships."
"You have to be, in my position."
"What position?"
She looked beyond him and pointed. "The position in which I have to give advice to people with problems and help them every hour of the day and night."
He turned and saw through the bar in the gate in the wall a young man walking towards the house. He was slim, tall, and beautiful in an almost girl-like fashion, with a pointed, delicate chin, huge blue eyes, and light blonde hair pulled up in a messy topknot. His clothes were just as strange, long robes with small silver buckles fastening them up the front and a gold belt.
"Ho boy…" Jonathan heard Jeanette murmur, then she was at the gate. "Raenef! Rae! Get in here, now!"
Raenef spotted her and his face lit up with the most sparkling smile that the Scarecrow had ever seen, even including Harley. "Miss Cameron," he exclaimed in a voice that was still soprano and sweet, hurrying forward. "I'm so glad you're here!"
"It's good to see you again too, Rae." She gave him a quick, one-armed hug and the Scarecrow's desire to gas the boy suddenly increased.
"You're here to check on Leeche again aren't you? I'll go get the crystal ball ready," Jeanette said and hurried inside, leaving a scowling Scarecrow on one side and Raenef humming a little tune to himself on the other. After a minute, the boy's sweet soprano lifted into the air again.
"Who are you?"
"The Scarecrow, Master of Fear, Lord of Despair," answered the Scarecrow short-temperedly. "Who are you?"
"Me? Oh, I'm the Scary and Ancient Demon Lord Raenef," the boy answered with a disarming smile. "I'm evil… well, I try."
The Scarecrow was still gazing at him open-mouthed when Jeanette came back. "The ball's ready," she said to Raenef. "Just tell it 'Leeche' and it'll start up."
"Thanks!" He skipped inside and Jeanette tapped the Scarecrow on the shoulder. "Snap out of it, Jon."
He closed his mouth abruptly and asked "Do you usually deal with lunatics?" in a strangled voice.
Jeanette's mouth twitched. "I'm going to stand here and smile until you realize what you just said."
There was a long pause, broken by Jervis asking "Who are you?" from inside, the demon's answer, and Jervis' unfazed reply. "Pleased to meet you. I'm the Mad Hatter." Then Jonathan gave an "Ohhh" of light dawning.
"Yes, I wondered when you'd realize," said Jeanette, twisting the top of the waste bag closed. "I knew it would take a minute because, subconsciously, I think you've realized what I've been thinking about for years. There are people who are really insane, but they are few, actually. Too many people are termed insane. For instance, you are called insane, but if you are, why are Sigmund Freud and all the other psychologists that pushed their own strange and often extreme philosophies not termed insane as well? Jervis is called mad, but if he is, why not Tasha Tudor, who preferred to live in the nineteenth century? Poison Ivy is no crazier than all extreme environmentalists, she simply had the courage and inventiveness to take it to the next level. Two-Face is simply a man so frustrated with having to make decisions that he would rather let it all hang on the toss of a coin; he is no stranger than the men that bet their whole fortunes on the outcome of a single horse race. I could continue…"
"I see your point," said Jonathan quietly. "But who was that boy?"
She gave an odd, silvery little laugh. "I, too would probably be termed insane for my religion, the practice of my art, and what I'm about to tell you; that is Demon Lord Raenef the fifth, from what I've nicknamed the Manga! dimension. The Princess, Princess song comes from another world in that dimension as well."
It was strange, he thought in an odd, detached way; the birds just kept singing and the sun shining as, in a small walled-in garden, a dark-haired witch pulled down the supports of reality as he listened.
"There are thousands of dimensions, not just three or four. Writers often tap into these dimensions in their inspiring dreams, which means that a lot of stories are corrupted versions of real events in the other universes; for instance, there is a Looking-Glass World - I haven't told Jervis, because I don't think he could quite cope with the reality of it - and there is an Oz, but the real worlds and events are often shockingly different. Did you know that Glinda and the Wizard were trying to trick Dorothy and her companions into killing the rightful ruler of Oz, the West Witch?"
He made a small choking noise, then found his voice. "My dear Miss Cameron, what you are speaking of is simply scientifically impossible!"
"Oh really?" A fighting gleam in her eye, Jeanette leant against the wall. "How?"
25
"She's trying to convince him by having him meet a hobbit." Cheshire reported. "He's saying it's a midget she paid and the feet are fakes."
"How long can those two carry on an argument?" Jervis wondered aloud, folding his paper. Cheshire pounced on it before he could tuck it out of sight. "What's this?"
"It's - it's nothing." He tried to grab it back. "Just, er…"
She unfolded it and gasped. It was a partial sketch of a customer that had come yesterday - a pale, stunningly beautiful young woman with a black pixie cut and golden eyes. Jervis had captured the strange sparkle of her skin in the sun, her mussed hair, graceful stance, and parted lips as she inquired about a wedding dress for her friend in a strange, loose style that was oddly pleasing to the eye ; you might say he had caught the gist of her.
"Wow, this is really cool, Jervis!" Cheshire turned it a little. "Do you have any more drawings?"
"A few…" he admitted. "You really like it?"
"Yep! Can I see the others?"
There was Poison Ivy, her loosely sketched body melting into the suggestions of vines she was surrounded by; one of Ventriloquist that made Cheshire shiver, because it looked as if the puppet and his arm were joined; the Scarecrow frozen in the middle of a gesture, his hands wide, palms up, and at last one of Cheshire herself, lovingly portrayed asleep curled up in the window seat, Wonder-Tales half fallen out of her relaxed hand and her knees pulled up to her chest.
"They're really good, Jervis. I didn't know you could draw!" commented Cheshire, coming to the end of the few sheets.
"I don't much… I didn't think they were any good. They aren't very good likenesses…"
"Well, not exactly in face," said Cheshire thoughtfully, looking them over again "but you get the - the idea of the person. I like them." She leant against him, and he let her, enjoying her touch.