You can rest easy. I'll take...good... care of you...
Eddie made quick work of picking the lock. Child's play, he said. When the Scarecrow walked into the apartment, he could smell burned food, tea, and the sickly sweet smell of sick. The Bitch sat curled and bundled on the couch asleep, as the Hatter fiddled with a hairband on her head, braiding and untwining the hair on the side of her head. Jervis was lost in his head, humming a tune, it gave The Scarecrow a chance to observe. She was paler than normal, face shining with a sheen of sweat. He could hear the rasps of her breathing, it was disappointing. He was suppose to make her lose her voice. She was suppose to scream until her vocal chords bled. A rumbling growl bubbled forth, unbiddened. Jervis looked away from the woman and it made the growling worse at the lovestruck grin on the mad mans lips.
"Marchie! Rabbit! Have you come for tea?" Jervis adjusted the blanket around the woman's neck. "Poor Alice is so under the weather, she is swimming in the Mariana Trench!"
"Hatter, what are you doing?" Eddie stepped forward, pulling a thermometer from a dark green leather suitcase. Jervis twitched as the close proximity.
"Alice had been gone for so long, when I heard the rose's twittering on about her, I couldn't resist." Eddie clucked his tongue.
"Low fever. She'll need more medication, and rest."
"I can take care of her! My home has sufficient means." Scarecrow balked, hunching slightly in an aggressive stance.
"She ain't goin' nowhere." Jervis, Hatter, narrowed his eyes, shifting closer to the sleeping woman.
"Marchie, My Alice needs me."
"Jervis, Alexandera needs to rest, moving her will strain her more." Hatter didn't respond to his name, eyes locked on the pitch dark eyes across from him.
"Are you all -cough- done with your pissing contest?" Scarecrow liked the rasp, it made his mind wander to what else she could sound like.
"Alice! I'm sorry, did these foolish bunnies wake you?" Hatter broke eye contact, hands over her forehead, smoothing away hair that stuck to it. With Alice sick, Hatter could get away with more touch, she was usually so chaste! She chuckled as she shivered.
"Bunnies." Eddie cleared his throat.
"Laryngitis, fever, you're experiencing chills. Anything else?" Edward flipped his suitcase open on the armrest of the couch.
"Feels like I was hit by a car." The Chef reached out to take the offered medication, only for Hatter to snatch it first. He gently held the pills to her mouth, grinning when she sighed, opening her mouth in acquiescence. "Head's swimming."
"I can't do anything about that, but those pills should help bring the fever down, as well as the pain." Edward carefully squatted down, closely inspecting the sick woman, keeping a side eye on the Hatter, in case he had a bout of Wonderland Madness. "You might have some side effects, runny nose, itchy eyes. Have you eaten since Jervis showed up" The Chef shook her head, curling more into the blanket. Edward stood, walking over to The Scarecrow, who had yet to relax.
"I'm going to get some food, keep an eye on her. Jervis?" Edward rubbed his temple. "Hatter!"
"Yes?" Jervis hadn't stopped his fussing, holding a teacup up to the Chef's mouth, which she drank with a grimace, mumbling about ginger.
"Would you like to assist? I'm sure Alexandera would appreciate it." Edward sounded like he was speaking with a child.
"Oh! Yes, yes, yes, that's a very good idea. Alice, would you like soup?" The Chef nodded. "Chicken noodle?"
"Pho. Spicy pho." Hatter felt lost, what soup was that? "Three blocks down."
"I know where." Edward grabbed his suitcase, before putting on a pair of round sunglasses. "Come, Hatter." Both men made their way to the door, Hatter hesitating leaving the couch.
"Don't get caught." Edward scoffed, Hatter grinned, and then the door was closed, leaving The Chef alone with a looming Scarecrow. "Sit." The Scarecrow moved, staring the Chef down as he did so.
"Yer stupid, fallin' asleep." The Chef nodded, turning her body as best she could. "I fuckin' told ya, he takes you and we'll have a hell of a time findin' ya."
"Didn't know you cared so much." Alexandera gave a pathetic groan, panting once she finally settled into a more comfortable position.
"Joker would have our heads."
"So reassuring." The Chef coughed again, moaning after she involuntarily gagged, stomach twisting from the coughs. "I would've been fine."
"Ya sure 'bout that, Bitch?" The Scarecrow watched as she moved under the blanket, wiggling her arm free again. In her hand was a very familiar bottle.
"Don't want to use it on Jervis, but if I had to..." It was the vial of "pepper spray" Johnny-boy had gifted the Chef. The Scarecrow grinned ferally, feeling his own vials against his wrist-mounted harness, hidden under the sleeves of his button up.
"Why wait, ain't ya the least bit curious what would happen?"
"I'd spray you, but I think-" She coughed again. "I think you'd find it kinky." A hand gripped her ankle and suddenly she was under the Scarecrow. He hovered over her, eyeing her lustfully.
"I'll show you kinky!" He was expecting her to fight, kick him, maybe even spray him, she was close enough it would effect her too. Instead, she laughed. Well more sputtered out rasping coughs with wheezing giggle peppered in.
"Not scared of rape. I'd bite your dick off given the chance." Scarecrow felt a little, dejected. Rejected.
"Yer as clueless as Jonny-boy." The Scarecrow leaned in closer, he could smell her breath, hot from her feverish heat. "Ya can't be that blind, Bitch."
"What?" She didn't move away or turn her head
"Ya got Hatter wrapped 'round yer finger, Eddie stalkin' ya phone, Johnny-boy all repressed, a standin' offer fer a fuck with Lex." The Demon inhaled deeply, hoping to smell even the faintest whiff of terror. "Ya even got little ole me here ready to jump ya bones." There it was, the faintest hint of fear. Sweet pheromones wafting from her exposed neck. The Scarecrow chuckled as he leaned into the blankets, inhaling against her neck.
"Fucking knew it. Gonna break that phone."
"Not the point. I can smell it. What's in that hot head of yers?" The Scarecrow growled when she stayed silent. "Better use that mouth of yers, I know ya can. What's got you so afraid?" She smelled afraid, sick and afraid. He could feel her pulse fluttering speedily against his nose. The growling increased, half from his enjoyment of finally getting under the Chefs skin, half from frustration because now Jonny-Boy was waking up. It would ruin his fun.
"I..." Their chests touched slightly when the Chef inhaled. "I don't know." It was meek. She didn't deny being afraid, though.
"Oh I believe ya, it'll be fun to figure it out though." In a flash, he was off her, standing away from the Chef, breathing deeply. The Chef blinked, momentarily stunned by the speed, turning her head to stare at the Scarecrow's back. He reached for something on his chest, and when he turned, it was ice blue eyes that met her, covered by glasses.
"Where are the others?" It was Crane's voice.
"Out, should be back soon."
"They left you alone with Scarecrow?"
"Better than Jervis, right now anyway." Alexandera made no move to sit again, too tired to put in the effort, the medication starting to dull the pain. "He's gone full Hatter."
"You're lack of self preservation astounds me." Crane glanced down at the bottle in her hands.
"Does this stuff even work on you?"
"No." Came the simple reply.
"Figured."
"You're sick." The Chef nodded.
"Hyde not fill you in?" The Doctor stayed silent a moment.
"I don't always see what he's doing. If he wants to shut me out he can, once he's on control."
"Is he a split personality?" The Chef watched as The Doctor stared off into space. It was fascinating watching his pupils expand and retract, black trying to swallow ice blue.
"Not exactly." Crane pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily through it. The Chef moved her legs with some difficulty, limbs heavy with exhaustion and medication.
"Sit." The Doctor followed the order, sitting on the wear worn cushion, stiffening when The Chef draped her calves over his lap. "Explain." She didn't push further, as The Doctor stayed still, staring off at the front door.
"What do you know of possession?"
"You can get up to thirty years is prison." The corner of The Doctor's mouth twitched slightly in amusement.
"Not the possession I'm referring to."
"What, Hyde's a demon?" The Chef snorted, sarcastically. The ice in the Doctor's eye growing dark as he listened to her scoff.
"Something like that."
"Wait, you're serious?"
"I've always been a man of science. The mind is a fascinating work of chemical engineering. My family on the other hand, were incredibly religious." The Chef held her tongue. She never expected him to answer. "When he came along, I thought myself to be insane. My family thought me possessed. Catholic exorcisms have a rather high mortality rate. I wasn't going to die by their hands, to their beliefs. I lived. He stayed with me. Over the years, he's shown me that I'm not crazy. That he's not just a figment of my imagination." It was quiet for a time, the sound of shouting slipping under the crack of the door. The apartment three doors down were at it again.
"How'd he show you?" He looked to her then, eye's bright then dark, pupils going wild. They settled on ice, before the man reached into his pocket. The Chef gripped the canister in her hand a little tighter, but all he pulled out was a small notepad and pen.
"Take this, write something. I'll tell you what it says." The Doctor turned his head fully away from her when she grabbed the paper. The Chef furrowed her brow, before clicking the pen. She fiddled with the pen, unsure of what exactly to write, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling and raising suddenly. Alexandera glanced behind her, feeling as if someone was watching her, but there was no one there. She began to write, and as she made her way down the paper, Crane spoke.
"One cup of flour, one cup of yellow cornmeal, two-thirds cup of sugar, one teaspoon of salt, three and one half teaspoon baking powder, one egg, one cup of milk, one third cup of oil..." He recited the recipe she was writing down, perfectly. Goosebumps broke out down he arms. Crane chuckled. "He says that the goosebumps are entertaining." The Chef turned her head again, searching for anything, but again there was no one she could see behind her. When she turned back to face The Doctor, his eyes were on her again, pupils frantic.
"Do you charge him rent?"
"He's more than paid his dues, in that regard." The spoken voice was Crane's, but the chuckle he gave was rough, raspy. He accepted the notepad back when she offered it, before settling his arms over her legs. "You're taking this rather well."
"Never was religious myself, but I'm not about to say that spooky shit ain't out there. Especially now." His pupils flared out again, eyes black for a long moment as he watched The Chef. He was interrupted before he could speak, as the front door opened.
"Alice! I have brought the soup! And they had the most fanciful tea, it has bubbles in it!" Hatter bounced in the door, holding a drink carrier with four cups. Edward strutted in holding two large bags, closing the door behind him.
"That sounds great, Hatter." Edward began to unpack the food on the table, laying out the to go boxes. Hatter swept in close, touching Alexandera's forehead before tutting.
"You still feel warm, but you sound better, my dear." Alexandera ignored how The Doctor under her legs tensed when Hatter touched her.
"Throat still feels rough, and I'm tired as fuck, but I do feel a little better."
"Do you need help sitting up?" Edward asked, opening the top of a slightly red soup, the sharp scent of chilis filling the room.
"Yes." The Chef mumbled, not happy at feeling so weak, but not about to fight off any help. Hatter sprang at the chance to help, gently reaching under her back to sit her up, twisting her until she was seated next to Crane. If any of them heard a soft growling, they choose to ignore it. There she sat, squished between Hatter and Crane, as Edward passed food to everyone. "Hey Puzzles."
"Yes?" Edward rolled his eyes at the name.
"Turn on the TV, my DVD player's bound to have something in it, I wanna watch something." The Riddler did as he was "asked", soon a cartoon was playing on the small TV, as the four ate in relative silence. The only interruptions were the occasional cough from the Chef, her spicy food burning her throat. Hatter panicked everytime she did, jumping slightly and looking all but ready to throw his food out of the way to be ready to hold her, fidgeting when she sniffed her nose, runny from her flu and hot food. The Chef made is through half the soup before she slowed, feeling more tired and sweaty, face slick and shiny. She hadn't realized she began to nod off until she felt the bowl pulled gently from her grasp. Edward placed the bowl on the table, squatting low to inspect her face.
"You need a bath, then sleep." The Chef moaned unhappily. "You need sleep. You won't get any better pushing yourself."
"Sorry Puzzles, no bathtub."
"Then take a shower."
"Are you sure Alice is well enough to move? She seems a little to weak to stand."
"That would be the medication."
"Should've known you'd try and drug me."
"Must have slipped my mind, that they also act as muscle relaxers." The Chef glared at The Riddler.
"Asshole."
"So I've been told. Jervis get her shower ready. Jervis." He sighed. "Hatter!"
"Hm?! Oh! Oh, right. Yes shower." Hatter gently rubbed the Chef's back before leaving.
"Asshole."
"Yes, you've said that already. Where do you keep your night clothes?" Edward stood as the Chef laughed.
"Dude, I sleep naked."
"Not smart, considering your door was child's play to pick." Edward walked towards her room, ignoring her protests and threats. Alexandera slumped in defeat when she heard her bedroom door creak open, leaning against The Doctor behind her.
"Is he immune to your gas?"
"No."
"Good, may use it later." They both laughed in amusement,
"We'd love to see that."
Her shower time was difficult, already tired and weak, the hot water tried to lull her into just sleeping in the water, it wouldn't be the first time she'd done it, but it would have been the first time doing it sober. The only thing that kept her from falling to sleep was the lingering feeling of being watched. The paranoia that someone was in the room with her. In the shower with her. The Chef had a feeling she knew who it was too, but didn't call it out. She had neighbors, and didn't need that kind of attention on her. Dressing in the clothes Edward had grabbed from her closet, sweatpants and a very old hunter green jumper, she trudged her way back to the couch, throwing her wet towel at the back of Crane's head. Edward and Hatter laughed as Jonathan pulled the towel away from her now ruffled hair.
"Keep you damn tenant in check."
"I can't control what he does when he leaves the premises." Hatter and Edward shared a look, unsure what they were talking about, though Edward had an idea.
"I'm going to bed. I'm ready to drop." Hatter was at her side in an instant, trying to hold her up.
"Come Alice, I will tuck you in, and tell you bedtime story, and make sure you have wonderous dreams." The Chef looked questioningly at the two other men on her couch, when they nodded their heads, she finally turned.
"Alright. Let's go." Hatter made good on his promise, fluffing her old flat pillows, covering her snuggly with her comforter. His soft British lisp soothing her to sleep, despite the lingering unseen presence giving her chills.
She woke up with something hard under her tongue, and a soft beeping. Opening her eyes, she saw Edward kneeling over her, Hatter sleeping, sitting against her wall.
"Your fever has finally broken."
"You hacked my phone."
"You'll be tired for a little while longer, but after tomorrow you should be good to go back to work." Edward slipped the thermometer back into his pocket.
"You've been stalking me."
"I prefer the term, keeping aggressive tabs on you."
"I don't like it."
"I'm sure you don't. You'll thank me eventually." Edward was quiet for a moment. "Scarecrow, go back to Jonathon." Suddenly that persistent paranoia faded away.
"You know?"
"I was going to say the same. I've known Jonathon a long time. You pick up on a few things along the way. Did you have nightmares?"
"No."
"Good, I was hoping the medication I gave you would prevent that."
"You drugged me."
"Yes, and you readily accepted it without much questioning." Edward handed her a glass of water, and smirked when she drank. "You trust us."
"Kinda hard to not start trusting someone when you know them a while."
"It's only been half a year."
"I'm getting soft." And tired. Tired right after waking up. "You drugged my water."
"You trust us. Hatter is enamored. Jonathan told you about Scarecrow."
"You don't."
"Idiot. If I didn't, I'd drug your water with something lethal."
"What, no elaborate puzzle? Quiz show?"
"Joker would have my head. Poison is not my style, he wouldn't suspect it."
"Very reassuring." It was hard to keep her eyes open.
"Sleep. We'll still be here when you wake up."
"Thank you."
She woke again, sunlight filtering though her blinds. Hatter still sat against her wall, and that feeling of paranoia back.
"Scarecrow, I'll call an old priest and a young priest if you watch me change." Her closet door creaked open, clothes gently moving as if there was a breeze. Alexandera pushed herself up with a grunt. She still felt the lingering effects of drugs Edward gave her, but she had to admit, she did feel better. The closer she stepped to her closet, the more goosebumps broke across her body, chills from the unseen specter running down her spine. "I'll hang up crosses and shit all on my walls." Her only response was a shirt dropping from it's hanger. A ripped and torn black band tee, a skeletal reaper printed on it. She had that shirt since she was a teen, something given to her from an old case worker. It had been years since she wore it. Grabbing random pants and flannel long sleeve from the floor, she slipped into the bathroom. The pants fit, but the shirt was tight as expected, over shirt slipped over gave her a bit more comfort. The two men on her couch were asleep. Edward's feet resting on her small coffee table, Jonathan still sat in the spot from last night, elbow resting on the armrest with his chin propped on his hand. And they told her not to sleep while Hatter was around.
Alexandera slipped by them unnoticed and headed into her small kitchen, ready to eat. As she pulled off brand oatmeal from the cabinets, she halted, thinking. They had taken care of her. The least she could do was pay them back. They had done a lot for her, despite some unsavory deeds. The Chef rolled her eyes, not entirely comfortable with her own content around the Rogues. Pulling puff pastry from her freezer, she mulled over her predicament. How long had she isolated herself. Years. As long as she remember. Gene had been the first to push his way into her bubble. It was what made her start loving him, back then. That he made the effort to know her, be with her. After she left, no one else had made the effort. Now there was a slew of people, who not only pushed their way into her bubble, but had popped it. Started building a resort around her turbulent shores as a vacation home. Yet, The Chef wasn't all displeased. They weren't awful... for the most part. Intentions versus execution and all that.
Her small prep space was sprinkled with flour, oven preheated, eggs cracked and scrambled, left over meats and chopped vegetables set out. Omelets and croissants. Simple but filling. As she assembled the omelets in her pan, she did her best ignore the paranoia over her back. Did that feeling always follow Crane, or was it just now she noticed it? Only now that she was aware of what The Scarecrow might be, or was it what the Demon himself had told her about the men in her apartment? When she reached to poke the dough, to see how defrosted it was, she saw some horror movie shit. Writing in the flour.
I WANT BACON
"I'm not making bacon." Her fridge door slammed open, bouncing against the wall. She wasn't proud to admit it, but that did make her jump. "Fucking hell, I want to keep my security deposit." Not willing to fight, she grabbed the package of pork from the bottom of the fridge and tossed it to the side. The rest of her time cooking went by, folding eggs, rolling dough, frying meat, trying not to jump when a cabinet opened suddenly, or her hip hitting a drawer that was opened without her noticing. The only thing left to do was to boil water for tea. Arms laden with plates, she walked back to the living room. Knocking Riddler's feet off the table, she placed the plates down. Hatter was still sleeping on her bedroom wall. She gently shook his shoulder.
"Jervis, wake up." His eye's blinked open slowly, focusing on her.
"Alice?"
"Jervis, I'll shave my head bald."
"Oh, Alex! I'm terribly sorry for my slip." He gazed at his surroundings. "What happened?"
"You fell down the rabbit hole." Alexandera was shocked to see remorse on his face.
"I... I didn't hurt you? Did I, my Dear?"
"No, Jervis. You took care of me while I was sick. Edward and Jonathan dropped by as support." Jervis sighed in relief.
"That was very clever of you, my Dear." Alexandera helped him to his feet with ease, he was rather lightweight and her years in a kitchen had toned her strength.
"Come on, I've got breakfast ready." When the two walked into the living room, Jonathan and Edward were already eating. Jonathan looked bright eyed and ready for the day, Edward looked ready to kill the sun.
"Jekyll, Hyde needs to learn personal space." The Doctor shrugged his shoulders, nibbling on a bacon strip.
"He won't stop until I leave, but we appreciate the bacon."
"Yeah yeah, you're welcome." When she walked past the couch, she smacked the back of Edwards head.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"Be thankful I didn't lace your food with Ex-lax." She poured for glasses of water and grabbed an assortment of tea bags, then walked back to the coffee table, where the boys were tucking into their meals. "Thank you, dudes."
"You're most welcome, my Dear!" Jervis smile was bright, eyes crinkled around the edges in joy.
"We will leave after eating, you should be well enough." Edward muttered, dropping an earl grey tea bag in his mug. Alexandera swept her fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her face.
"No. No you guys can stay. I think I have some old movies in my closet." She didn't notice the men share a look as she bit into her food.
"We appreciate the invitation." Jonathan replied.
The rest of the day was spent huddled on the couch or floor, fighting over which movies to watch, and snacking on leftover meat and pastries, enjoying each others presence. It was good to be home. It was good to have her bubble broken.
.
.
.
Alright, we're getting closer to some romance. I feel like I've set it up enough, and you all have waited patiently. I know it's been somewhat of a slow burn, but the Chef is emotionally distant naturally. I believe the term for her would be Demisexual? She won't find someone attractive until she get's to know them. The only question is... Who gets to take the Chef out first?
Also what do y'all think of spooky specteral Scarecrow?