"Marcus, are you happy not being a goon?" It was a relief to be away from the Wayne Manor for a bit. Gene was still pestering her with questions about her frantic excursion yesterday, and Damien had a dispondant air to his customary silence that shot several salvos of guilt to her heart. She would fully admit to running away to her diner for respite. The meanest looking patrons, and Patrons, took to the window seats, and there was a line of communication from the food cart Goons on the street, to keep away noisier reporters and regular citizens.
Her apparent 'lineage' was a hot topic.
Someone even put forth the theory that Lex Luthor's date just might be said "missing Wayne".
She hoped the glitter bomb she'd sent Lex would ruin his day.
"I'm still a goon?" Marcus gave her a confused glance, noting his Boss's oddly somber face. "I paid my Goonion Dues Tuesday."
"Come on, by Gotham standards, you're downright upstanding." The Chef rolled her eyes, rotating the skewers on her grill bare handed. "It's not like I'm planning any big scores, there's hardly anything to be gained working here, or the food carts, or even The Den." She had turned over the work load of the glitzie restaurant to a couple of her goons that really took to Gene's high dining repertoire.
"I mean, sometimes it's boring," Marcus conceeded, stretching and pulling sourdough into neat rolls. "but it's nice not having to hide blood from my daughter, or having my girl nagging me to get a 'real job'."
"How is she, by the way?"
"Ready the pop. Due any day, and cursing me every time she pees when I make her laugh."
"You know there are pills for tha-ACK!" Alexandera's dick joke was cut off by an elbow to her ribs. "Ass."
"Bitch." They both laughed, and it felt nice. Normal.
"So you're okay with being a normal citizen?"
"Boss, ain't nothing normal about this place, or with you." Marcus pointed to the logo on his chefs coat. "Ain't that the slogan?" Alexandera hummed, nodding.
"What about the chucklefucks out there?" Alexandera gestured lightly to the lobby, watching as Mouse walked in the front door. That was something else on her list to deal with. "Do they know that this isn't going to lead to a high life in the underworld?"
"Most do. Most of them are fine with that. They're happy to just belong to something... Kinder than they're used to." The Chef sneered at the word kinder. She'd never heard the descriptor used in conjecture to her personage. "A few more are using this as a way to get out. You got something good here, Boss, and they want in. And they know you'll let them out with no blood needed."
"This isn't what I expected when Joker gave me you."
"Yeah, but look at how far you've come."
.
.
.
The Chef didn't trust the privacy of her apartment, now that she knew who her neighbor was. She needed someplace relatively safe to talk with Jervis. She'd thought about meeting up at that goon bar near the docks, but goons gossiped worse than servers on a slow day. She doubted Edward would appreciate the interruption, and Crane was back to ignoring her. Though Crow had been sending messages, which was... Weird. Just this afternoon he'd sent you a picture of a spider spinning a web. She couldn't decipher the bo doubt spooky meaning behind it. The Chef even thought about meeting up at Joker's broken down carnival, but she wasn't ready to deal with the potential backlash, or temper, J might have about their last meeting.
So, throwing the previous warnings about not meeting at Hatter's lair alone, she'd asked to drop by.
Jervis immediately responded in a flowery and formal invitation and address.
She hailed a cab, and breathed a sigh of relief, recognizing the driver.
"Moonlighting?" Alexandera asked, sliding into the back seat.
"Day off from the cart, but wanted to keep an eye out on the streets. Where to, Mama?" Tazer winked, pulling into traffic and lowering the radio's volume.
"186 West Burrow." She relaxed into the seat, and slid her Rogue phone out of her boot, looking at her message. "Place is a uniform shop."
"I know the one. ER nurse I used to date got her shit from there. Comfy shoes." Tazer laughed, running a red light. "You getting more more coats for your Patrons? Goonion members get discounts."
"Oh, that'd've been nice to know a while ago." Alexandera grumbled, silently lamenting her dip in savings.
"Sorry, Mama, slipped my mind." Tazer didn't sound too sorry, but it wouldn't change the past, so she didn't really care. He gave her updates and rumors heard on the streets as he navigated back roads and streets, The Chef smiling a little when she spotted the brightly coloured umbrellas to her food cart, a line of hungry pedestrians blurring by.
.
.
.
Unlike Joker's rundown carnival, or Edward's very secure hideaway, and what she could only conjure in her mind, mad scientist laboratory, for Crane, Jervis had sent her to an active, open, running business. Nursing scrubs in various patterns were modeled by mannequins in the store front, business hours posted on the door. When she stepped through the front door, she noted the open doorway leading to the dry cleaners next door. Not a bad business strategy.
The Chef waited in line, as people paid for new outfits, or handed in paper slips for clothing that had been cleaned and pressed. When it was her turn, a hunched, ancient looking woman looked at Alexandera's empty hands, her gaze heavy.
"Buying or pick-up?" Despite her small stature, her voice was commanding. Alexandera liked her.
"Here for the Haberdasher." The woman hummed, mouth straightening as she gave The Chef a once over. The hunched woman somehow got smaller, the telltale sound of a cane plonking on the floor. She waved a free hand over her shoulder for The Chef, calling out in another language. Alexandera followed, peaking around the counter and seeing a step ladder.
The woman led The Chef though the back of the shop, height small stature keeping her safe from the heavy machinery that cleaning suits and dresses. She swore she saw Edward's Riddler jacket. The woman was humming lowly as she bent down and lifted up a portion of the tiled floor up, a set of stairs hidden underneath. The Chef had to awkwardly lean back to avoid hitting her head, letting the false floor fall back into place.
Down the steep stairs that creaked with each step.
"Boy! You have a guest!" The woman called as they reached a small landing, rapping on a simple wooden door with her cane. "Am I getting a new grandbaby?"
The Chef blanched, and the door swung open with slam.
"Madam Feng!" Jervis was beat red, sputtering his words in embarrassment.
"Well? I'll need to know now so I can make the wardrobe." The woman turned a critical eye to The Chef. "How strong are your genes? Tall babys?" Her cane tapped Alexandera's calf
"Madam Feng, please!" Jervis whined, disappearing a moment while Feng prodded at Alexandera's body. "I have order 17 done. I apologize for the delay." He reappeared with a stack or garment bags over his arms. Feng gave a mischievous smile, hefting the protective sacks over her arm, the bottoms trailing the floor like a dress train.
"You are a very good boy. I have pu'er tea. You come up tonight." The woman gave a final once over on The Chef, and nodded. "She can come." Her cane cracked on each step. The Chef couldn't help her bemused smile.
"I like her." Jervis gave a sigh at Alexandera's words.
"Please, come in!" Jervis sweat his hand in a grand gesture. "I hadn't expected you so soon, my Dear. I'll set a kettle on."
A cacophony of colours and patterns. There were scraps of fabric on every available surface. Multiple tailers tapes hung on Victorian lampshades and coat hooks. The glint of chipped chinaware and thimbles peaking out from every shadowed corner. Multiple mannequins with half formed and pinned outfits posed along the walls.
She counted at least four sewing machines.
The warm cozy lights led to a sliding door, and she could spy a storage room of clothing racks, a veritable rainbow of clothes hanging from the racks.
Dried flowers hung from the ceiling, or rested in vases covered in a fine layer of cobwebs.
It was a mish mash of styles from a bygone era.
Just through in a couple knives and an anime poster, maybe a half empty bottle of liquor or two, and she was home.
The thought made her stomache twist, and her heart race.
Jervis hustled around his living space, his patchwork coat missing, leaving him in a royal blue button down shirt with a heavy golden flower pattern, and a pair of suspenders. A small kitchenette was over taken by a hanging shelf filled with paper wrapped packages and opaque glass jar, handwritten labels taped to them. Obviously his teas.
The Chef wandered around the room, inspecting his works and decor, struggling to form exactly what she wanted to say. His eyes were clear and lucid, his lips soft and quiet.
"I put on an orange blossom white tea. Would you care for a biscuit?" He stepped forward, and gentley guided her to a sofa, urging her to sit. "Oh, you just came from the diner, haven't you? I can smell the garlic, you must not be peckish."
"Jervis." She noted his wide smile, and hurried pace, but he didn't seem his usual twitchy nervous self.
"How are you? The last time I saw you, things were... Frantic. Is everything well?" He brushed by her and she watched as he studied a hutch filled with cups, finger to his chin as he decided on which set to use. He was energetic, but at ease in his home. The opposite of how she felt.
"It's... Getting better. Nothing too bad." Alexandera shifted in her seat. "Jervis, I need to talk to you about us." The back of his head nodded, and he reached for a powder green set of cups, a thin band of silver flowers as the handles.
"Of course. Is this about my saying I love you?"
Her heart stopped, and for the second time today, The Chef blanched, mouth hung open for a moment before her jaw clicked shut.
She wasn't ready for this!
"How come no one knows this is your spot?" Changing the subject abruptly, she ran a hand through her hair.
"Well I would hate for Batman to punish Madam Feng or her family!" Jervis sounded unusually serious. "They are a fine family and our working relationship would end should anyone connect us together."
"Business partners?"
"Of a sense. I handle the orders from the various Rogues, Joker had to have gotten his suit from somewhere," he turned to give her a smug grin. "And she allows me to sell my wares under her name."
"And she doesn't mind the whole..." Alexandera was trying to be tactful. Jervis filled a beautiful teapot with hot water, and carried a shining tray to her, taking a seat next to her.
"When I'm in Wonderland, I see her as the Caterpillar. It is always wise to heed their words." He stated easily, scooping leaves into the pot. "She is one of few who give no fault to my misgivings."
"Oh." She didn't know why it surprised her that other people in the city had a similar position as her. "Normal" people interacting with the "crazies."
God she loved Gotham.
"Now, about my affections," Alexandera tensed, her ears felt hot, and she quickly snatched a small cookie from the tray. Jervis moved with ease as he poured her a cup of tea, stirring in the smallest amount of sugar. "I adore you, My Dear. Simply put, I love you. If I had to judge how long, it must have been when you dyed your hair." He turned in his seat and held the teacup out to her. She took the cup and didn't bother blowing away the steam as she took her first scalding sip, washing away the lump of cookie and dread from her throat.
"Not before, when I was blonde?" Jervis blushed slightly, averting his gaze with the an embarrassed air.
"I thought you beautiful, and you still are. But you... Challenged me. And you didn't push me away, even after I fell down the rabbit hole, broke into your domicile, all but forced you into that Alice dress." His face grew redder and he shifted in his seat. Alexandera couldn't tell if that was embarrassment or maybe a kink. She wouldn't judge. "I love you because you tried. You tried to know me, as Jervis, not as The Mad Hatter. You do not fault or degrade me for my moments of madness, nor have you pulled away. You haven't given up on me."
"I mean... It's Gotham, everyone's a little crazy." She tried to laugh off, but her voice felt low and dead. Jarvis reached out and gently squeezed her knee.
"I've heard you say as such before, but I will... Haha, throw my hat into the ring." He winked at his joke, and Alexandera managed a small smile. "Most in Gotham are not "all there", as they say. Many more would seek their own safety when trouble brews. You don't! You don't run, you forge ahead fearlessly. Even when you have every right too."
Alexandera felt like a fraud.
"Jervis... I am scared. Of a lot of things, apparently. And I do run, fuck, it's why I'm even in Gotham!" She sipped at her tea, when she heard her voice raising. Citrus, he always made her something with citrus.
"What made you run in the past?" Jervis tilted his head, and it reminded her so much of a cute puppy.
"I ran from orphanages, I ran when Greg and Beth died. I ran from Gene when I realized I couldn't be his wife."
"Why haven't you run from Gotham?"
"I... I wanted to, once, but..." Fuck. "Fuck, this ain't worth running from. I'm happy here. I've got my Diner, I got my Boys, I got my little brat of a brother."
"You have us." Jervis squeezed his hand a little harder. "You have me."
"Jervis, I've told you before, I like you, hell, I'm fond of you, but I don't know if I love you!"
"I know that, Silly." Alexandera knew her face was as confused as her mind. "I doubt you'll ever love me, as much as I love you, and I also know you may never." Something in her heart broke, because he was smiling when he said it.
"That isn't fair to you, Jervis."
"Life is hardly fair! We know that, you and I. Our friends know it too, does that mean we should lie down and let life pass by with the wind?" He scooted closer, moving his hand from her knee to wrap around her shoulder in a loose hug. "We take what we can, cherish it, grieve when it is gone, but rejoice in the memories and joy it brought us when we had it." Alexandera's eyes burned.
"The things I love inevitably get hurt." Her parents, Gene, Damien...
"Is that worth denying me the opportunity to share my affections with you?"
"Jervis, I'm bossy, and selfish, and a grade A bitch."
"Then tell me how best to love you. Take all you can from me, I'm more than happy to give. Yell, scream, do what it takes to soothe your temper, I will happily be there for you. I want to be there for you." Jervis leaned his head on her shoulder, and Alexandera forced herself to relax.
"Even if I never love you?" It felt like needles in her mouth when she whispered that.
"Love doesn't need to be fair, it merely needs to be happy. I love you, and I know you care for me. I'm happy with that, that you know, and you don't... Won't reject my feelings, or who I can be. Despite everything." His loose grip allowed her to set the teacup on the small table. She leaned back into his hold, stretching her long legs out.
"We won't ever have what they have upstairs." Alexandera gestured broadly above her. "Well never have dinner dates, theatre shows, or even walk down a street holding hands. We can't have a normal relationship."
"Does that bother you?"
"Not really. But you're kinda a hopeless romantic." Jervis giggled, and she felt his head nod on her shoulder. "Does that bother you?"
"Don't worry, My Dear. I have plans for that." Alexandera hummed
"Should I be worried about you?" Jervis hold tightened a little, and he sighed.
"The fact you worry for me is encouraging."
"Of course I worry!" She spluttered, her ears burning. "I don't love you, but I care. I ain't... Completely heartless." Jervis snuggled deeper into her shoulder, and that burning spread down her neck.
"I love you, Dear Alex." His voice was muffled in her neck, and his lips tickled her throat.
"I can't say it back, I won't lie to you." Jervis pulled away slightly and kissed her temple, nuzzling his forehead to her own.
"That only means when you do say it, you'll truly mean it."
Well...
She couldn't fault his logic.