"I forgave you a long time ago, Jervis."

Alice almost smiled again as she watched Jervis' reaction to her words. He looked like the world had been lifted off of him. She couldn't imagine what he must have been thinking.

She had to admit that she was feeling nearly the same way. She'd never been so nervous and scared in all her life than when she'd been waiting outside the room, imagining the worst: that he'd reject her, laugh at her, tell her that it was truly all her fault and that he hated her. She had never wanted him to be hurt or unhappy. Alice still wasn't completely sure why he did what he did—was it because of her name, or something she did? Did he just snap and needed a hostage? What obvious clue had she missed?

Why throw everything away on your secretary? It was such a horrible, pitiful waste…and he had been so brilliant. All of the newspapers had lapped up the fact that she was his secretary along with his first victim, provided the city of Gotham with grandiose theories about his motives that as frequently made her blush and cry as they did caused her to cancel her subscription. She wanted so badly to believe that it wasn't her fault, that it wasn't for something as stupid and meaningless as sex that he'd done what he'd done. It soiled the memory of the good night they had together to think that; it broke her heart to think that that was his only motivation and his only interest in her.

She watched his mouth work mutely for several moments, and felt her lips twitch once more. Alice found it soothing to see that at least part of the man she remembered was still there—this was the second time in the visit something about his mannerisms made her almost smile. She could remember when she was utterly charmed by his cautious, shy demeanor, when it had been an invitation to draw him out of his shell. His surprise at her interest had always delighted and saddened her, inspired her to do more to show her respect and affection for him.

Deciding to change the subject a bit, at least to have something to do, she gently reached out and placed the small bouquet before him.

"I hope you'll accept these," Alice said quietly, watching him stare at the flowers with startled eyes. "It's spring out there…the air's still a little cool, but all of the flowers are coming up. These are from my garden—I have a little one in the back, and I thought something fresh and cheerful might be a nice thing to bring you. You're not allergic, are you?"

He shook his head; even if he was, he would've treasured anything that came from her hand, especially since it was not a slap, the fear of which had entered his mind now and again over the course of this interview. Oh, but Alice would never do such a thing to him—she was too gentle and too, too good…

Jervis felt his heart lurch as he looked at the small bundle of blossoms set before him. He could imagine her out in a sun lit garden, a warm something wrapped around her delicate shoulders, crouching down and gently plucking daffodils off at the stem, gathering a pair of handfuls precisely for him, her thoughts directed towards him as she carried the flowers inside, cut them at a uniform length, and tied them together with a pale blue ribbon, leaving them in a vase with water until she could make her trip. Perhaps then she would put a kettle of tea on the boil and sit down to read a book or a newspaper, calm and silent, enjoying the respite from her daily life and hurry. It was such a pretty picture, such a lovely image of domesticity, one he could easily imagine himself in, sitting beside her in sweet silence, enjoying one another's presence and company.

"Jervis?"

"Hm?" he stumbled, jerking back to reality. "I…I apologize. My mind was elsewhere."

"Oh, okay," the blonde replied, and Jervis suddenly smiled at how nice it was to have someone simply take his word—to not need to explain himself or answer any uncomfortable questions.

"Then you've been minding a garden, have you? I'd not known you to do so, Alice."

"Well, I've sort of gotten into it lately…"

He was feeling wildly proud of himself when one of the guards came by to retrieve him. Alice was laughing at something he'd said, something he'd said specifically to please her—the Noble prize could not have brought him more honor and satisfaction than the trill of her laughter. They had spoken for what must have been hours but seemed like moments; Alice caught him up on many details of her life, seeming to understand without being told that his own life was a history best left untouched. Talking of everything and nothing had brought him happily back to the years they'd shared together in his office, working close at hand and thriving in one another's company. Her cheerful small talk had made him feel years younger, and a small smile creased his face even when they fell silent, every now and then.

Jervis could've cried when the guard appeared. Instead, he turned his attention to the bouquet, fingers flying over it.

"Time's up, lady—say good night, Tetch," the man grumbled, his joke falling flat. Alice's smile drooped, which would have flattered Jervis if he hadn't been distraught at the thought of her leaving.

"I'm sorry, sir…but couldn't I stay just a few—"

"Sorry, chickie, doctor's orders. Time for Jervy here to hit the concrete…and those flowers can't come for the ride. Security hazard." Jervis' wrists were briefly released, only to be refastened behind his back. Alice looked like she wanted to protest, but he spoke up to intercede.

"Alice, I'm sorry this has been cut short. But your visit made me…made me very happy, I have to tell you. Thank you," he said quickly, as the guard dragged him to a vertical position.

Alice also stood. "Thank you for having me, Jervis. I'll be back soon—I was happy to see you."

"Always glad to host you, even under such circumstances," he replied softly, watching as she picked up her handbag and waved to him.

"See you soon, Jervis. I hope you have a nice week."

"You as well!" he managed before he was dragged from the doorway.

Oh well. At least he'd managed to save the ribbon.

Jervis waited awake for any noise from Crane's cell, wondering what tonight would bring. The softest sound came through, a mere scratching noise, no louder than the subtle grate of fingernails over skin. This was suspicious.

"Crane?" he breathed, heart in his mouth. His voice, less even than a whisper, seemed deafening to his own ears. There can no response, only steady scratching.

He waited.

There came, eventually, a soft click, and follow by the subtlest grate of metal on metal, the noise of a chain moving. Innocent enough, it was met with more scratching, albeit considerably less than there had been moments before, when another soft click sounded.

"You're leaving," Jervis exhaled, thinking. "Take me with you."

Jonathan did not reply.

"I'll tell a guard you're going."

"What will you earn in destroying me, Tetch?" the man finally responded. Jervis stayed silent, unwilling to admit that he had a point. "I'm using your idea…you should be flattered."

"If you were leaving and taking me with you, I'd be flattered. Contraiwise, you're leaving both this asylum and me to rot; thus I am not flattered. 'That's logic.'"

"Logic dictates what you make of it, Tetch—you in particular."

Jervis sighed. "Then send help once you're outside. One more incident like last week and I'll have no hands left."

"I will," the Master of Fear replied. Jervis was fairly sure this was a lie.

"Good luck, then." Jervis knew that at least part of this was a lie—he didn't want to lose his only source of companionship, but neither did he want him captured, beaten, tortured, or worse.

"Don't forget us."

"I won't," Jonathan replied, and Jervis was fairly sure this was the truth.

The blonde man laid back and thought of Alice, running the pale blue ribbon through his fingers and alarms and screams split the night.

A/N: Okay, kids--for my immediate purposes, this bad boy is over; everybody knows what happens once our Jonathan escapes, no? I might add to this someday, but for now? It's a wrap!