Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Late-night debate in the lair.

Scarecrow, who’s hunched over a table littered with notes and fear toxin vials. Mad Hatter is sitting on a dusty old chair, holding a cup of tea, his hat askew as he spins it around his finger.

Mad Hatter grinning with excitement as he sips his tea "Do you know, Jonathan, the thing I love most about you? It’s your obsession with fear. It’s so predictable. It’s like a nice cup of tea... warm, comforting, and thoroughly unsurprising."

without looking up, he speaks with the usual icy tone, though there's a hint of amusement in his voice "I’m not here for comfort, Tetch. I’m here to control. You should learn to embrace it. You might find it... satisfying."

mocking with a tilt of his head, speaking in a sing-song voice "Oh, yes, 'control'—that’s so charming, Jonathan. But you forget one thing. The world isn't made of neat little boxes you can organise. It’s a wonderful, spinning whirlwind of madness!"
He raises his teacup like a toast. "You know, you’d really enjoy Wonderland if you didn’t insist on turning everything into a labyrinth of fear."

Johnathan pauses for a moment, as though considering it, then shrugs slightly. "And you’d enjoy life a lot more if you just accepted that some things can’t be bent to your whim." He looks over to him
"But you do make things interesting. Like how you manage to make a simple tea break feel like an existential crisis."

laughing loudly, nearly spilling his tea in his excitement. "Ah! There it is! The compliment I was waiting for! You, my friend, are so predictable when you try to hide it!" He hops up from his chair, spinning in a circle as if dancing. "You’ve got layers, Jonathan! You’re like a big, twisted onion that I just can’t stop peeling! I think we make a great team, don’t you?"

Scarecrow looking almost slightly uncomfortable at the enthusiasm, but there’s a soft chuckle buried beneath his words."You’re a fool. A dangerous fool... but yes, we make a great team. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite as... ridiculous as you."

Jervis grinning broadly "Flattery and sarcasm! My favourite combination. You are the perfect partner in crime, Jonathan. We’re like... two sides of the same coin, just with a few... extra dents in it. Don’t you think?"

Chapter Text

They’re perched atop a rooftop, watching the city below, exchanging banter.

Scarecrow looking down at Gotham, voice tinged with something like contemplation "We both understand the true nature of fear, Tetch. People run from it, try to escape it, but they never can. Fear will always find them."

Mad Hatter snorts, crossing his arms as he leans against a broken wall "Oh, please, you sound like one of those cheesy horror films. Everyone knows that madness is where the real fun is! You lock people up in their minds with fear, but I get to throw them into a sea of unpredictability!" He grins, eyes gleaming as he watches Johnathan"I’d like to see you try to control that."

Jonathan gives a sideways glance, half-smiling, though it’s an odd, unsettling kind of smile. "If I wanted chaos, I would’ve kept you around longer when we first met."

laughter fills the space, a full belly laugh that echoes off the rooftops. "You did, you did! But you were so boring back then! You couldn’t see the big picture, Jonathan. You were just going through the motions of your little fear games. But I—" He pauses, looking dramatic and sincere for a second. "—I showed you the fun in all of this, didn’t I? The unpredictability of it all."

Scarecrow sighs, but a small chuckle escapes despite himself. "You have a point... in your own twisted way."

grinning broadly and pats Scarecrow on the back with an exaggerated, almost affectionate motion. "See? Besties, as they say! It’s not so bad. You make me look even crazier, and I help you... well, I help you not be so gloomy all the time."

Johnathan smirking under his mask, shaking his head slightly as he looks out over the city. "I don’t need your help to make me funny. But I suppose you’re not the worst thing I’ve had to tolerate."

The Mad Hatter dramatically places a hand on his chest, feigning hurt.

"Oh, Jonathan! You wound me!"

Then he quickly grins and winks. "But, I knew you'd come around. It’s all part of the charm."

A few weeks later.

They’re back in their lair, sitting side by side at a table. debating their next big move, but with a strange, almost domestic air to it.

Johnathan holding up a new prototype fear toxin formula, squinting at the calculations. "This should work... if I tweak the dosage just a little more."

Jervis swinging his legs casually over the chair he’s sitting in, watching Johnathan with a huge smile "See? You finally got it, Jonathan. A little unpredictability, a little wonder ... it does make the world more interesting."

Lifting his head.

Glares, but there’s a slight spark of humor in his eyes. "Don’t get used to the idea of me listening to you. I prefer order."

sighs dramatically, (like an exasperated partner.) "Well, if you keep sticking around me, you’ll never get it. Wonder like wonderland is... well, it’s like spontaneous pizza delivery! It’s a gift from the universe."

He pauses, then turns to him with a deadpan expression."That... doesn’t make any sense."

Jervis with a grin, tilting his head slightly."You’re just mad you didn’t think of it first."

Chapter Text

His understanding of fear had evolved beyond the simple chemical imbalances he once studied. Now, he delved deeper into its neurological foundations.
How the brain perceives and responds to terror, how fear could be manipulated at a neutral level to seize control of both body and mind.

His hypothesis was bold: to engineer a formula capable of triggering fear 'on command', overriding rational thought and reducing a person to nothing more than raw, primal instinct.

The theory was complex, rooted in the neurochemical interplay between the amygdala and the prefrontal cortex. Yet, despite his progress, one critical piece remained elusive. A way to ensure the effect was both powerful and enduring without causing irreversible damage. Night after night, his obsession with mastering fear’s control consumed him, driving him in relentless circles around this single unsolved problem, like a predator closing in on its prey.

Exhaustion began to settle in, his eyelids growing heavier with each passing second. Eventually, he succumbed to sleep, his pen still clutched in his hand, his thoughts suspended in the labyrinth of his mind.

As he drifted into slumber, a quiet presence entered the room. Jervis stood beside the cluttered desk. As a neurologist, he could often spot patterns where others saw mess. Jervis took a seat, writing down a series of thoughts and formulas, a quiet solution to the theory that Crane had become so obsessed with. Johnathan’s handwriting was neat, precise, a stark contrast to the madness that often surrounded him.

Johnathan awoke hours later, blinking against the harsh light of morning. His head felt heavy, the remnants of his dreams lingering in the fog of his mind. As he looked around, his eyes landed on the paper beside him.
His theory was written out in a way that made sense, more sense than anything he'd come up with in weeks. The handwriting was unfamiliar, and for a moment, he couldn’t remember how it had gotten there.

He rubbed his eyes, groggy, and muttered to himself, "I don't... I don’t remember writing that. Who could've—?" Then it hit him. Jervis. The Mad Hatter. But it was brilliant. It was a refinement of his own theory, a missing link.

Ah, I see you’re awake,” Jervis said, his voice calm. "I couldn’t help but notice you were missing something quite... obvious."

“You see, my dear Crane,” Jervis began, his voice lilting as he stood behind Johnathan, “fear is not just about the amygdala. It’s about the dopamine centers, too. When you overload the brain with fear, the body reacts

if you could use dopamine to enhance that reaction, not just trigger it? Fear, when paired with a burst of dopamine, becomes something different. It can be addictive. Imagine someone who craves fear. The thrill, the rush.”

Johnathan’s mind raced as he processed the words. The dopamine hit could amplify the fear response, making it more than just a momentary shock. It could become an experience.
something a person could come to 'need', rather than just endure.

“I... didn’t think of that,” Crane muttered, a rare admission of defeat. He had been so focused on the raw mechanics of fear, he hadn’t considered how the brain could be manipulated to 'want' that fear, to 'seek' it out.

Jervis continued, “But, of course, that’s the trick with fear, isn’t it? It’s not about control for the sake of control. It’s about 'what' the person does with that fear. Fear is power, yes. But love, well… love is just as powerful. Isn’t it?”

Johnathan’s eyes narrowed. He knew exactly where this was going. “You’re talking about Wonderland again, aren’t you?”

Jervis’s smile only grew. “Oh, Wonderland, yes. You see, Alice was more than just a dreamer. She was willing to face her fears and her desires. I suppose that’s the real trick, Crane. You must balance the fear with something else, something... desirable.” He paused, then added softly, almost wistfully, “Something that makes the fear worth facing.”

Johnathan’s spun around . “You think 'love' is the answer?” he spat, though the words came out harsher than he intended. He wasn’t a hopeless romantic like Jervis. He wasn’t someone who let himself be distracted by such... fragile emotions.

Jervis only nodded, quoting Alice, “I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then. Fear changes you. But love... love makes you long for that change.”

Johnathan paused, then pushed the thought aside. He couldn’t afford to indulge in such distractions. His theory, his work, was the key to true power, not some romantic fantasy. The fear... 'that' was his weapon.

Still, there was something about Jervis’s suggestion that nagged at him. Maybe there was a deeper layer to the human psyche than just fear. Maybe, in some twisted way, the brain’s relationship with love, paired with fear, could amplify a person’s vulnerability and control.

He stared at the paper Jervis had written. The solution to his problem was there, a delicate balance between fear and dopamine, but now Jervis’s words lingered like an unwelcome shadow. The brain could be addicted to fear... but could it also be addicted to the feeling of being 'loved'?

The theory was changing. The question was no longer just about fear—it was about what fear does to a person’s mind, what it makes them crave. Love and fear... together? He wasn’t sure, but the pieces were coming together in ways he hadn’t imagined.

"Fine," Johnathan muttered, snatching the paper. "I'll prove your theory right or wrong myself. But don’t mistake this for a victory, Tetch. I decide who holds power, and power is nothing to romanticize.

And trust me, Tetch, there's nothing romantic about fear."

Jervis smiled, his gaze distant. “Oh, Crane, I’m just giving you a way out of that dark little rabbit hole you’re digging for yourself. Though, I do admit…” He looked at Crane, his smile softening. “There’s something wonderful about a good fear-induced love story, don’t you think?”

Johnathan sneered.

dismissing the idea but deep down, he couldn’t shake the question. Could fear really be linked to love? What would it mean if it was? What else was lurking in the human mind, just waiting to be unlocked?

And more troubling still, could it be that Jervis, in his chaotic, misguided way, might have just given him the key to something even greater than fear? How ridiculous?!

Snapping out of his thoughts "It’s time for tea!" ecstatic giggles bounce around.

Chapter Text

stormy evening, with lightning crackling in the sky. The two of them are in a rooftop hideout, surveying Gotham below. Scarecrow watches the city with a cold gaze, while Mad Hatter is laying on his back, staring up at the dark clouds like he’s daydreaming.

Mad Hatter with a grin that could be heard in his voice "You know, it’s funny, when I was a little boy, I used to dream of a place where everyone wore hats. Big hats. Silly ones, funny ones, but hats everywhere."

Scarecrow glances over at him, his face impassive but intrigued. "So you’ve always been mad, then."

laughs softly, clearly not offended. "Of course! Wonderland was my first love. But there was always something else, something that made it all feel right—hats! A world without hats would be a world without wonder. Do you not think so?"

Then pauses, considering this for a moment. "I suppose it makes sense. Everyone hides their true self under a mask... but a hat? It’s a choice. A statement."

Mad Hatter sits up, leaning over to adjust Scarecrow’s own mask, as if inspecting it carefully. "Now *this*—this is a fine choice. You wear fear like others wear a crown. How do you make it so... perfect?"

Stunned by sudden direction.

Scarecrow shrugs slightly, his tone dry but with a touch of pride. A mysterious warmth down his spine company him with it. "Fear is not something to be perfected, Tetch. It is something to be embraced. It’s the one thing in this world that can break everyone, eventually."

Nodding thoughtfully, as if he actually understands what Johnathan means "Ah, but that’s where you and I are different. You break them with their fears. I break them with imagination."
He leans in closer, voice becoming more conspiratorial. "Tell me, Jonathan, which one do you think people fear more? What they already know or what they can’t imagine?"

His eyes looks over at him with a piercing gaze, his voice low and calculating. "I don’t deal with imagination. I deal with reality."

Mad Hatter smirking, his voice playful but still serious. "I’ll have to take your word for it. But I’ll say this, if I had a hat for every time I’ve seen someone lose themselves in their own thoughts, you’d never see me again!"

Chapter Text

The two of them are planning an attack on Gotham.

Scarecrow leaning over a map of Gotham, strategising, his finger tracing along the streets. "We’ll need to move quickly, before Batman catches on."

Mad Hatter sitting cross-legged on the floor, adjusting his teacup as if deep in thought. "Batman’s always lurking in the shadows. But you know, Jonathan, maybe one day we can just... ignore him? I mean, the man’s been chasing us for years! Maybe he’s obsessed with us."

Without a hint of hesitation, voice cold as steel "He’s always a step behind. Always predictable."

Mad Hatter tilts his head playfully, raising an eyebrow as he watches Scarecrow. "Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night? That you’ve got him figured out?"

He pauses, just slightly, as if thinking deeply. He narrows his eyes slightly. "I know how to make him afraid. And that’s all that matters."

Mad Hatter leans forward, resting his chin on his hands with an amused grin.
"You’re so serious, Jonathan. You act like you’re the only one who knows how to instill fear. I’ve got tricks up my sleeve too. And one day, I’ll show you just how fun my cards can be." He winks as if letting Scarecrow in on some secret, some madness only they understand.

Scarecrow smirks, though there’s something almost affectionate in his voice. "Fine. We’ll use your... cards. But remember, Tetch, without my fear, there is no fun."

Laughing lightly, delighted by the exchange, like a child who just figured out how to get away with something mischievous. "Of course dear."

Few weeks later,

At Gotham’s abandoned amusement park, the air heavy with fog, Scarecrow and Mad Hatter share a rare moment of calm before their next big operation. Mad Hatter is perched on a rusty ferris wheel chair, while Scarecrow stands below, fixing on his fear toxin canisters.

Swinging his legs lazily over the edge of the ferris wheel chair, watching Scarecrow intently with a grin. "You know, Jonathan, I’m starting to like this whole ‘work together’ thing. It’s a fascinating partnership! We both bring something... special to the table." He winks, but it’s hard to tell if he’s joking or genuinely serious.

Focused on work. "I don’t need your special ideas, Tetch. I just need you to keep things under control."
He taps a canister of fear toxin with precision. "Your unpredictability isn’t always helpful."

Smiling mischievously, clearly entertained by the idea. "Oh, unpredictability is my middle name, Jonathan. But tell me—what’s life without a little uproar? A little trouble? You’d be bored out of your mind without me!"

He pauses just slightly as if considering it, but then continues his work with a shrug. "Mayhem is just another tool. It’s all about control. You wouldn’t understand."

Jervis leans backwards, narrowing his eyes playfully. "Maybe not. But I do understand this—if you were ever truly in control, you’d be as boring as the rest of Gotham’s so-called ‘elite.’ You need volatility to stay... interesting."

Looking at him with a hint of amusement, his eyes narrowing just slightly. "And you think you are volatility?"

Laughs loudly, jumping down from the ferris wheel with exaggerated flair. "I know I am! You think I care if people can predict what I’ll do next? Let them! It’s a game, Jonathan—our game! A game where the rules are made up on the spot."

A sly smirk, looking over at him with a cool, calculating expression. "Maybe... but I’ll always be the one to win. People run from fear, Tetch. Chaos has no legs to stand on once the fear sets in."

Jervis gives a dramatic sigh, tapping a finger to his lips. "Ah, but fear is so rigid, disruption is a twist. It’s a dance that can go anywhere! Fear might drive them into submission, but my chaos will make them dance with madness."

Dr Crane, finally giving in to a rare chuckle, his voice quiet but sharp. "I suppose... we’ll just have to see who’s better at pushing Gotham to the edge."

Chapter Text

Back in their hideout, late at night. Scarecrow is calibrating his fear toxin cannon, while Mad Hatter lays out an assortment of bizarre hats on a nearby table.

Mad Hatter picks up a particularly outlandish hat and holds it up to Scarecrow. "What do you think of this one? Would you wear it for our next big adventure?"

Scarecrow glances over at the hat with a blank expression, his tone flat. "It’s ridiculous."

Tiny man pouting playfully, holding it up higher. "Oh, come on! It would give you character. A statement piece! Something to distract from all the doom and gloom you’re always carrying around."

Scarecrow smirks, shaking his head slightly."I’m not here for statements, Tetch. I’m here to make them suffer."

Jervis laughs and places the hat on his own head. "And I’m here to make them enjoy it while they do!"

He rolls his eyes slightly, though there's an odd softness in his expression. "You’ll never change, will you?"

Mad Hatter grinning widely, tipping his hat with mock seriousness. "Not a chance. And you’d miss me if I did."

Chapter Text

Nom nom

They’re watching an old film on a dusty projector. The space is silent except for the flickering of the film  and it’s a quieter moment in their chaotic lives. Mad Hatter is sitting comfortably with his feet up in front of him, while Scarecrow sits with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

Jonathan sighs, absorbed in the film. "This one’s always been a favorite. The villain pushes the hero past their breaking point, and then— snap! It’s the moment everything unravels. There’s something.…delicious about it."

Blue wide eyes watches Jonathan. "You’re completely captivated by that, aren’t you? The unraveling. Watching how fear twists and pulls people until they break."

Jonathan leans forward, eager. "Exactly. The way fear builds up, slowly at first, until it controls every decision. People think they can handle it, but the real fun starts when they realize they can’t. It pushes them into a whirlwind."

Jervis giggles. "Most would call it quite horrifying. But to you, it’s fascinating, almost like a study in human nature. You don’t just watch people get scared. You study the way it changes them."

Jonathan laughs softly, eyes gleaming. "Fear is powerful thing. It alters people, makes them reveal who they really are. It makes them act against their own instincts. There’s no greater thrill than watching someone crack under that pressure."

Jervis eyes glittering as he looks up slightly. Jervis enthralled. "You have a way of seeing fear not just as an emotion, but as a force. Something that drives and shapes. While most would run from it, you... welcome it, want to understand how far it can push a person. It’s mesmerising how deep you’ve gone into it."

Jonathan nodding, his voice low and intense. "That’s the thing about fear. It’s not just about the reaction. It’s the process. How it moves through someone, how it breaks them down piece by piece. And then, when they're at the edge, you see who they really are. That’s when the true transformation happens."

In a tone soft and almost reverent. "It's as if you’ve learned to see it through their eyes, to feel what they feel. You’ve turned fear into a study, a way of truly understanding the mind."

Jonathan’s grin deepens, his hands twitching with excitement. "Exactly. Fear doesn’t just force people to make decisions. It exposes them. It’s the rawest, most honest part of human nature. And when you see people break, you see everything. That’s the beauty of it. That’s why I love it."

Jervis leaning back, watching him, hands together, lightly clapping. "OooOOoo"

"You, revel in it! watching it happen. In a way, you try to master it. That way you’ve become one with the fear!"

Jonathan, enjoying the conversation. "That’s the thing, Jervis. People try to sway fear, but it’s an illusion. Fear is its own thing. It can't be tamed. I’ve learned to see that. Once you understand it, fear is yours. It’s... empowering."

Mad Hatter nodding slowly, wide eyes full of awe "the way you’ve turned something so... topsy-turvy into a kind of art. While others try to keep fear at arm’s length, you embrace it, live in it. And through that, you’ve created something... extraordinary."

His voice darkens with passion, "It’s not just about watching people be afraid. It’s about knowing how far you can push someone before they completely lose themselves. Fear is a limitless boundary. And I want to see how far I can push it ."

Mad Hatter smiling in delighted. "And that’s why you find it so…. fabulous! You don’t just witness fear, you breathe it. You’ve become part of that world, learned its secrets, and now it’s something only you can truly understand."

Jonathan with a small, satisfied smile. "I’d say I’m just getting started. The real fun begins when you push fear to its absolute limit. That’s where you find the true essence of it." Jervis watching him closely, clearly captivated. Jonathan with a chuckle, leaning back comfortably. "I live for it. Every film, every case study. It’s ’s all part of the same puzzle. Fear is a language, and I’m fluent."

Jervis smiling wide, his voice warm. "Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. You’ve made fear your greatest passion, and in doing so, you’ve mastered it."

Jonathan, his grin widens. "That’s exactly the point, Jervis. I don’t just study fear. I live it."

                          ~ ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ. ~

Mad Hatter grinning, but suddenly his gaze drifts, a shadow flickering behind his eyes. "Fear is... a fickle thing. There's something about it that's... so familiar. Almost like I’ve seen it before, felt it before. A different kind of fear."

Jonathan raising an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you mean? Of course you have felt fear before?"

Jervis almost absently, his voice taking on a more distant tone. "I’ve felt fear, yes. But... there’s a particular kind that sticks with you. One that changes everything. The kind that haunts you long after it’s over." He pauses, his eyes distant, lost in thought. "It’s like a world where nothing makes sense anymore. Where everything shifts, and nothing stays still. Wonderland... that place... it bends you in ways you can’t quite understand, until you’re lost in it completely."

Slightly frowning, clearly intrigued but now sensing a shift in the atmosphere. "Wonderland? What’s that got to do with anything? We’re talking about fear here, not fairy tales."

his eyes now far away, his voice dropping slightly. "It’s not a fairy tale, Jonathan. Wonderland is... real, in a way. To me at least, it feels real when you’re there. It’s a place where fear isn’t just a response. it’s a constant. It follows you, shapes you. You can never escape it. You think you’ve found safety, but then it’s ripped away, leaving you at the mercy of everything you thought you knew."

And Alice…"

Jonathan, his expression hardening, but trying to keep the focus. "And what does Alice have to do with it? Is she the one who creates that fear? She doesn’t seem like the kind to break down under pressure."

"Don’t be silly!"

Jervis his face darkens, almost imperceptibly, a sigh escaping his lips. "Alice... Alice is the reason I understand fear so well. She’s the one who forced me to see it differently. Or…relate to it.

You see, Jonathan, Wonderland isn’t just a place. It’s home to me. A place where the mind can unravels in ways you can’t prepare for.

However…

" However ?"

Alice—she.…she was the key. Watching her, seeing how she dealt with it... watching her struggle against it... made me realise something I wasn’t ready to face.

Maybe fear isn’t just something that happens to us... sometimes, we choose it. Or, rather... it devours us."

Jonathan’s expression tightens, sensing a shift in Jervis’s mood, but still curious. "You sound like you’ve been... burned by it. By her."

A shadow crosses his face with a unhinged stare but still having unwavering grin. "It wasn’t just her, Jonathan. It was the place. Wonderland. It gave me something. Made me see that fear isn’t always something you can control. Sometimes it controls you." He pauses, his tone lowering as if reflecting on something deeply painful. "And Alice... she became something more than just a girl lost in a strange place. She became... a symbol of how far fear can stretch. How deep it can go. She... escaped. But the fear didn’t let her go. Not truly."

Jonathan's interest is piqued, but his voice tempered with a hint of annoyance "So, you're saying Wonderland, it’s not just about breaking someone but….into something else. A different version of themselves, built on fear."

Jervis gaze now cold, like he's seeing something far off in the distance.

"Yes. Exactly. And Alice... she didn’t just survive Wonderland, she became it. The fear changed her. And now... she’s somewhere between the person she was and the thing Wonderland turned her into. Fear does that—it shapes us in ways we can’t even recognise, even after it’s over."

A flicker of unease crosses on Jonathan’s face, but his voice remains steady. "But that’s what you love, right? The way wonderland expresses people. The way it changes them. You’ve been... obsessed with it for so long. Wonderland just made you see it more clearly."

Jervis his eyes snap back to Jonathan, as if coming out of a trance, a smile slowly returning to his face, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. "Yes. But some parts of it... they linger. Fear isn’t always a choice, Jonathan. And Alice... she taught me that. Sometimes, fear like love. Fear consumes us, whether we like it or not."

Jonathan feeling a bit more somber now, his earlier excitement dimming slightly.

Restraining an eye roll for the sake of the conversation but wanting see how this end. "So now you think fear is... unavoidable? Something that’s just waiting to take hold?" 

Jervis smile fades, his voice dropping to a darker tone. "I think fear is everywhere. It lurks. It waits for the right moment. And sometimes, you don’t even see it coming. You just... fall into it. Just like Alice did. Just like I did." He pauses, as if pondering something unsettling. "You might think you are the master of it, Jonathan. But Wonderland taught me something different. Fear is always in the background, even when you think you’ve escaped it."

Scoff echoes in Scarecrow’s mind 'I know. I am fear. Fear is me.'

A small, uncomfortable silence fills the space as he absorbs Jervis’s words. The mood has shifted, a slight unease to settling in.

Jervis leaning back, a small, almost sad smile forming on his lips. "It’s not about crossing limits, my dear. It’s about what happens when you’ve already crossed them. That’s when the real fear starts. When you realise ... you're never really free."

"Is it that bad?" Sarcasm dripping from his tongue. Johnathan towering over him…a breath away.

"Are you still on the hunt for your Alice?"

Chapter Text

The room is quiet. Just the rhythmic hum of machinery, soft hissing of gas vents, and the slow tick…tick…tick of a clock nailed to the far wall. Shadows ripple like thoughts left unspoken. Hums with the soft clink of glass vials and the scribble of pen on parchment. Jonathan sits at his desk, reviewing toxin notes, but his eyes haven’t moved from the same page in fifteen minutes. Behind him, Jervis sits in silence. For once not muttering verses or riddles. Just stillness. That dangerous, vulnerable kind.

Jonathan without turning "You’ve been quiet."

Words floating softly "You took the words out of my mouth earlier. I figured I’d give them some time to recover."

A pause.

"Don’t be dramatic. You’re not broken." His voice comes colder than intended. Then, softer.

"Not entirely."

Jervis chuckles, but there’s no mirth in it. "How reassuring." Then, quietly, almost with surprise "It matters to you."

Jonathan finally turns his head, eyes narrowing.

"What does?"

He says "Whether or not I’m broken."
He leans forward just slightly, his expression unreadable now, stripped of theatrics.

"You hate my illusions, my rhymes, my little games… but you never walk away. Why is that?"

Jonathan blinks. His mouth opens to form a retort — something clinical, dismissive — but it doesn’t come. Instead, he says

"Because you’re fascinating."

Jervis gives a crooked smile. "A clinical fascination? Or something... messier?"

"Don’t flatter yourself." Jonathan scoffs and turns back to his work.

Now watching him. Eyes soft now, not predatory but wistful. "You always stay close. Even after we tear each other apart. Even after you make me bleed with your truths. You still stay. Why, Jonathan?"

Jonathan’s pen stills. His fingers tighten around it, knuckles whitening. He doesn’t know the answer. Not the real one. The one that gnaws in his chest at night. The one that curls tight in his stomach when Jervis is gone too long. So he deflects.

"You’re useful."

A pause. Then, very softly, very clearly:
"You’re lying."

Jonathan doesn’t answer.

He rises, walks slowly across the room.

"I know what obsession looks like. I know what fear does to a man. But this… this isn't fear. It’s something else."

Jonathan finally stands, a touch too fast, knocking a vial slightly off-center.

Sharp, defensive. "Don’t project your madness onto me."

Jervis stepping closer.

"Is it so mad… to think someone like you could care?"

With a bang of door slammed and hurried footsteps faded into the concrete.

An hour later.

A wooden table and worn out sofa. The two form far distance from one another.

Jonathan across the room, flipping through pages, doing anything to keep from looking directly at him. But his eyes keep drifting…

Jervis softly, spoke into the silence "You're angry with me."

Johnathan not looking up "I'm not angry. I'm focused."

A long pause.

Jervis smiling faintly "You always get focused when you’re trying not to feel something."

Jonathan’s pen halts mid-note. "You’re projecting." "And you’re lying."

Jervis sits up straighter

"You won, remember? Wonderland’s been shattered. The metaphors dissected. And here I am, no riddles, no tea! Just a man you’ve pinned to a diagnosis."

Jonathan finally turns. The look in his eyes isn’t rage, or even pity. It’s something far more dangerous. It’s confusion.

"Why are you still smiling?"

Jervis tilts his head "Because, Jonathan…" He leans forward just slightly.

"You didn’t bring me back here to lock me up."

That hits harder than it should. Jonathan feels something stir. Hot!, unwelcome! He straightens too quickly, pretending to reach for a sticky note.

"You’re a test subject, Jervis. An opportunity to study delusional fixation under prolonged exposure to fear." to me.

(slight pause)

"That’s all."

"You don’t even believe that." His voice is quiet now, almost tender. "I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching. When I talk about Alice… or fear… or Wonderland. You don’t hate it."
His eyes narrow, searching Jonathan’s.
"You feel something. You just don’t know what it is yet, do you?"

Jonathan’s expression falters.

He opens his mouth. No words come. His fingers curl into his palm. There’s an ache building in his chest he doesn’t have a word for.

"You're delusional. Classic transference. You want me to feel something because you’re afraid of being alone with what you feel."

Jervis states "No. I’ve been alone with my feelings long enough to recognise yours when I see them."

Silence.

Jervis slowly, as if peeling back a secret
"You don’t hate Wonderland, Jonathan. Not because it’s unreasonable, but because it’s honest. It lets things through the cracks, things you keep locked behind glass."

"You think I’m the mad one or more like daft one, but at least I let it in. You? You ruled through fear, all to outrun the fear inside you."

Jonathan takes a slow breath. Something cracks in his mask. A muscle tenses along his jaw. For the briefest moment, his eyes soften.

Jonathan quiet, like a confession "You remind me of something I can’t explain."

Jervis whispers "That’s because it’s not in the books, Doctor Crane."

Another beat of silence. Something palpable now hangs between them, not threat, not dominance. Something else.

"You didn’t bring me here to study me."
(softer)
"You brought me here because when I’m gone… the silence is worse."

Jonathan looks away. Not because he’s dismissing him but because he doesn’t know how to handle what he’s feeling.

Jonathan spoke quiet, hollow, "You don’t get to say things like that."

"Why not?" He’s says softly

Jonathan doesn’t answer. He just stands there, staring at nothing, heart pounding in a way he doesn’t understand. Logic says leave . His body doesn’t move.

And behind his cold, clinical eyes… something warm flickers.

Flashback 

His grin stretches, but there’s no warmth in it—only the echo of something broken. He tilts his head slightly, eyes glimmering with that eerie nostalgia, as if Jonathan’s words had struck a chord deeper than intended.

"Am I still hunting for Alice?"

He chuckles softly, like he’s just heard a private joke only he understands.

"No... not anymore."

His voice trails off before he sits up straighter, leaning in just a fraction however close enough for Jonathan to catch the scent of tea leaves and something faintly metallic. His voice is calm, almost too calm.

Jonathan crosses his arms, posture still looming, the flicker of sarcasm now dampened by a creeping curiosity.

"So, what now? You stop chasing ghosts and start scaring children again? Doesn’t sound like you, Tetch. You’re too far gone for simplicity."

Peering upwards, he smiles, slow and deliberate.

"Simplicity is for people who still believe in happy endings."

He leans closer, voice dropping into a whisper. "That maybe… I wanted to be consumed."

Jonathan’s eyebrows lift slightly, a flicker of something between fascination and disdain playing across his features.

"And here I thought I was the one who studied the mind."

Soft laugh.

A beat.

Jonathan His jaw tightens, a twitch in the corner of his eye.

Silence descends again. Heavy. Dense. Uncomfortable.

Jervis turns away, voice light as a feather, but tinged with a finality that cuts deep.

"And when it does... tell Alice I said hello."

Voice like a scalpel, clean and deliberate.

"No."

A pause.

"You're not leaving me with the last word. Not this time."

The air is no whimsical or haunting—it's sterile , sharp, as if Wonderland itself is being surgically peeled away.

"You talk about fear like it’s poetry. Like it’s something that danced into your mind and kissed your thoughts awake. But I know what it really is."

"You think you do, Jonathan. But Wonderland—"

"Is a crutch." He says harshly.

He says it coldly, clearly, eyes narrowing.
"You dressed your trauma in rhymes and tea parties to keep from facing it head-on. That’s not survival, Jervis. That’s avoidance ."

Jervis blinks. Just once. His fingers twitch at his side like a broken metronome.

His voice, low, venomous "Alice wasn’t a symbol. She was your trigger. Wonderland wasn’t magic. It was your mind fracturing. And now? You’re clinging to it because if you admit it wasn’t real, you’ll have to admit what was."

Jevris voice is quieter now. The performer's lilt is cracking.
"You don’t understand. It’s more than trauma. It’s transformation—"

"Transformation? No."

He steps even closer.

"You romanticized it, let it reshape you until you no longer recognized your own reflection. it is raw, ugly, real. Not some storybook."

A long beat. The silence isn't whimsical anymore. It's oppressive.

He tilts his head.

He leans in, voice nearly a whisper. "But here’s the truth you keep trying to forget, Alice left the dream. You never did."

The words hit harder than a punch. Jervis flinches—not physically, but something shifts in his gaze. For a moment, Wonderland flickers behind his eyes again… then dims.

He straightens, folding his arms, voice dry.
"You want to speak in riddles, rhymes, and metaphors? Go ahead. But don’t expect me to play along. You’re not in Wonderland anymore, Jervis. You’re in my world now."

Pair of blue, huge eyes staring. Voice faint.

"And in your world… what happens to people like me?"

Jonathan cool and final. He turns away , slowly walking.

"The other gets up locked in a room with me... until it forgets how to rhyme."

Jervis doesn’t move at first. His head dips slightly with his lips bends shyly into a secret smile. When he finally steps forward, trailing behind him.