Characters: Jonathan Crane, Jervis Tetch
Pairings: HatterxScarecrow,
Chapter Rating: K+
Summary: Jervis reflects upon the start of his relationship with Crane. The exposition Fairy visited twice in one night!
Warnings: Minor gore
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Later in the day, Jervis had retired to his cell. With little more to do, he perched on the edge of his cot and let his legs hang over the side, swaying them slightly. How terribly dull. He uttered a listless breath and glanced around at what he was loath to call his "furnishings." Even with the mental air quotes, that was a generous word to apply here. He had a sterile looking wheeled bed and a small desk bolted to the floor, utterly bare save for one singular book. No chair, no rug, not even so much as a window. Two of his walls were transparent, made entirely of Plexiglas, but they were much sturdier than they appeared. One of them overlooked the hall, lined with security guards and other cells. The second conjoined The Hatter's meager keep to one of his neighbors. It was, of course, no accident that this neighbor was Jonathan Crane.
The diminutive Hatter peered in at him inquisitively, duly reminding himself not to make any sort of advances. The man inside had explicitly asked to be left alone tonight, for unspecified reasons. At the moment, his nose was buried in a book, which looked like an academic tome of some sort. It was probably bursting with elitist scholarly jargon and all manner of abstract postulations that, while hailed as genius today, would be dismissed as utterly defunct within the next decade. Jervis found the entire field of psychology to be fairly inane, though of course, he'd never admit it to Jonathan. 'It's such a self-defeating practice,' he mused. 'Not like neuroscience.' His gazed fixed once more upon the book, and his eyes narrowed slightly. 'What is the use of a book without pictures or conversation?' He couldn't help but to displace his irritation unto the volume in his partner's hands for the preemptive rejection. 'If you so prefer that book's company over mine,' he thought in the scholar's direction, mustering up some passive-aggression 'perhaps you ought to skip all of the to-do and spurn me for it already.' He sighed again, squinting this time not at Jonathan or his book, but the barrier that separated them. Jervis had begun to hate that wall just the tiniest bit. Its instillation was recent, within the last two or three years, even. Before Arkham had been gentrified (so to speak), there had been rows upon rows of classic steel bars instead. Those were the days when his flirtation with his accomplice had finally come to a head, and as such, the slim spaces between the columns made all the difference.
xxxx
"'Ay! Do yerself a favor an' stay in there this time!"
The thick cell door slammed shut with a resounding crash and a hollow clink. The Mad Hatter, who had been hustled forcefully into his usual accommodations, lay stomach-first on the floor. He groaned in discomfort. The orderlies were powerhouses, and they never seemed to learn that a light jostle by their definition was enough to send a petite little thing like Tetch tumbling to the ground. At least they'd left him to his own devices now. He stayed put for a few moments longer, sheerly exhausted. Yes, good old Hatter had returned to Arkham at last, due in no small part to a run-in with The Bat. It was this chance meeting, of course, that begot his many new bruises, dings, dents, and contusions. He felt an utter wreck, and no doubt looked doubly the part. Though he hated to be detained here, the poor winded fellow took comfort in knowing that he could at least rest and recoup in relative peace. In fact, even the cold institutional linoleum below him was beginning to feel almost inviting...
"Jervis."
His eyes shot open at the sound of a familiar voice. Of course, how could he forget what good company he'd be in? The Hatter smiled despite his wounds and surroundings, lurching into a sitting position. He swiveled himself around to face his companion, grinning pathetically. Said grin, though normally wide and impressive, was lopsided, making him look even more battered than when his face was neutral. "Hullo darling," he breathed, sounding a touch loopy.
Jonathan's concerned expression grew somewhat exaggerated as he approached the bars between them and knelt down. He examined his friend more closely and winced internally. Taking a better look had yielded a sickening view of one grotesquely pulpy black eye, countless oozing lacerations, and the sort of rickety posture that suggested a few cracked ribs. At the very least, Crane was jarred. "Good God, what have they done to you?"
Despite being a man of few actions and fewer words in the face of empathy or sentimentality, Jonathan's voice was soft and his body language was open. These minute signs of affection were subtle, subconscious even, but hundreds of unwritten love letters could have been inferred from this rare behavior. Jervis stumbled forward to meet him at their shared barrier.
"It's nothing my dear, really. Nothing a few days' rest can't buff out, anyway."
The former doctor's frown didn't falter. Though he utterly refused to say, he had been consumed by worry at Jervis's absence. When their most recent collaborative job had failed, it was only the lanky mastermind who was immediately captured and arrested. His accomplice had managed to flee, lasting three whole days in hiding before being admitted back into hospice, finally. For reasons pertaining to security and confidentiality, Jonathan was not given any information on his partner's whereabouts. It hardly made a difference, no one knew anything. Whether the illusive Mad Hatter was even still alive had been something of a contested point among the staff. Until he'd made that discovery, the normally callus Crane never would have imagined losing his unofficial lover had such a potential to devastate as it did. Jervis was his only friend and his most reliable crime partner, but their confused, on/off flirtations had seemed one-sided and uncomfortable until just about now. Gut-wrenchingly weak and irksome as it was, their awkward romance was all he'd wanted for the entire weekend. The feeling appeared mutual.
Jervis wrapped his slender hands around two of the bars, and with some effort, he and Jonathan managed to knock their foreheads together, no thanks to their shared line of metal poles or their equally impressive noses. For once, the latter took little pleasure in having his room to himself. He wished passively to fully close the gap between them, but there was absolutely no way in Heaven or Hell that he would try to kiss the other man through the bars, nor would he ever initiate such a gratuitous display of affection in the first place. Though it had crossed his mind, albeit briefly. Instead, he slid his hands, boney and slight as they were, through two the cursed obstacle's many spaces and let them alight upon The Hatter's outer thighs. This was the closest to a hug they were going to get, perhaps the closest to a hug Dr. Crane had ever gotten willingly. If Tetch was surprised by this uncharacteristic tenderness, he scarcely showed it, resting one of his own hands comfortably atop his companion's and sliding the other up to touch his cheek. Certainly tomorrow, they would be forced to discuss the exact terms of their relationship, but for tonight they were as content to let it be.
xxxx
Jervis bat his eyelashes fondly at the memory. There was something terribly romantic about reaching for a loved one through an obstruction like that. Cinematic almost. Of course, that aspect of life had been demolished, and in its place was a sleek slab of Plexiglas. A solid object, almost as bad as a plain old wall, save for the series of tiny holes that allowed for some muffled conversation. But that was all they allowed for. He pouted at the holes, as if he could persuade them to revert. He wanted very much to speak to Jonathan all of a sudden, and he was also certain that, on some level, the opposite was also true: Jonathan wanted to speak to him. If he'd really wanted to be alone, Tetch had reasoned, he would have closed his curtain. He felt himself frowning again. Those discretionary curtains, they were another questionable aspect of Arkham life. For Jonathan and himself they were generally a non-issue, and he was sure that there were other patients who enjoyed their neighbor's company, but for some of the less social cases, this set-up must have been hell. Those little curtains were such meager dividers, but the staff seemed to fear the inmates' potential lack of regular interaction over their now legitimate lack of privacy. It was hard to blame them, he supposed, but he'd be damned if it wasn't an extremely flawed little system. That wasn't really his problem though, as the arrangement had worked out perfectly for him. He stood up and approached the wall.
"Oh, Jonathan," he called out, rapping the barrier lightly with one knuckle. Crane lowered his book slightly and arched a brow. Jervis continued. "Terribly sorry, I know you asked to be left alone tonight, but I was chatting with Harleen this afternoon, and I suspect that one particularity of our conversation might be of interest."