Between Stripes

T H I R T Y E I G H T

How could I even begin to explain Jerome to Frederick? He was just...ugh. It was sickening really, he was the White Rabbit who lead me further down the rabbit hole.

Honey you're not exactly Alice.

More like the Mad Hatter.

But a youthful murderous Mad Hatter.

I made the effort to ignore the voice before beginning to explain Jerome to Frederick.

"So, I think we all know that I was Tweedle-Dee to Jerom Valeska's Tweedle-Dum. We were partners in crime and there was a time when I would've followed him blindly. He had me wrapped round his psychotic little finger -I personally had no problem with her little finger, just saying. It all happened in Arkham. The day I saw his cheeto-coloured hair I was hooked. We spent all free time together - along with my friend Aaron. Dumb as a doornail that one. Everything was taken to a next level when we were broken out of there by that goddamned, son of a bitch Galavan. Being apart of the Maniax brought us together. We were... inseparable. There wasn't a time when I wasn't by his side. Obviously that all had to be ruined at some charity ball where we worked undercover. Everything was going swimmingly but then Galavan turned his back on us both then. He killed Jerome and I suppose I lost it. I was broken then. My heart shattered and I gave up on it all. I was sent back to Arkham to be drugged up once again. Shit happened on the outside and I was fucked up on the inside. I grew to hate and loathe the mere idea of Jerome. Nothing changed when I broke out of Arkham recently and found myself surrounded by him. I grew to hate him and it stuck. I escaped his clutches and found Penguin, who's always had my back. And here we are now, far from the cheeto-haired psycho. But yes, he was my first love, and my only as now I find myself too far down the rabbit hole which is my insanity."

I avoided the eye-contact which Frederick was attempting to make and raised the almost empty bottle to my mouth. His smooth fingers slid under my chin, tilting it up so I could see him. He locked eyes with me.

"He won't be your only love, I can assure you that."

I couldn't have disagreed more.

***

It was useless taking them to that bar. Jasmine played a shots game with Jackson and he ended up completely wasted, then she ended up going for a little walk and I didn't see her all night. Frederick decided to take the twins home and I found myself alone as usual.

It's your own fault princess.

Nobody wants to be in a 5 mile range of you.

Don't want to catch the crazy, you see.

Alone and with a seemingly limitless supply of alcohol which fuelled the voices.

You're not a leader Georgia. You can't tame these people.

Hell, girl you can barely tame us and we're damned voices in your mind.

You may do better to work as a lone agent for Penguin.

He's got Zsasz. You're not worth it.

This is why you work with dear Jerome. You can barely think for yourself.

You're practically blood-thirsty wolf, not fit for being the alpha of the pack.

Weak. Useless. Naive.

It's precious really.

I tried to escape the voices, I wandered the streets and the alleys. That was useless though. They stayed put so my next choice was to try drown them out. I found myself slumped against a brick wall, across from an alight trash can fire.

A hobo warmed his hands by the fire, occasionally his eyes flirted in my direction. He kept his distance though.

"If you keep drinkin' like that then you'll be bust." He said after glancing at me for the fifth time. His voice was scratchy, a little weak from underuse.

"Thank god." I murmured and tipped my head back. The fiery liquid was eager to get down my throat, almost as eager as I was for the voices to be gone.

"What's up kid?" He asked before slowly shuffling toward me.

"The sky, streetlights, stars. So many stars." I muttered, smirking at the pathetic joke.

"You're a joker." The old guy smiled and winced as he sat next to me. Digging into a pocket I grabbed a half empty bottle and offered it to him. He shook his head.

"I've been clean as long as I've been on the streets."

"Wish I could say the same."

"What's got you here kid? Victim of a tragedy?" He asked and I had to bite back a poisonous snicker. I was anything but the victim.

"You could say that. But I'm also the villain in this tale."

"Aren't we all our own villains?"

"I'm everyone's villain - well I think I am at least...It's a long story."

"I've got time."

"You sure? It's not a pretty tale..." I muttered, staring at the flickering fire.

"Nothing's pretty on the streets, kid."

"I agree."

"Go on then."

"So it all began with my murdering of my family..." I started, the words seemed to rush out my mouth. There wasn't a single pause. No hesitation. No ad breaks. I kept my eyes focused ahead too. It wasn't worth seeing the expressions on the old guy's face.

A long breath escaped my mouth once I was done. I'd told him everything. More than I'd told Frederick. More than I'd even told Harley, when I knew her.

After what seemed like forever he spoke.

"You've had a rough road kid."

"I've made the road tougher than it was to begin."

"That's not...untrue."

"You're sickened by me, aren't you?" I asked, trying hard not to let the tremor in my voice come through.

"Trust me kid, I've been sickened by worse."

"What's the verdict then old dude? Do I stay with the circus freaks and stay messed up? Is there chance at a reconciliation between me and my sanity? Is J- is he anywhere in my future?"

"Well, I'm not magic," he chuckled, "but I believe that you're not a lost cause. He seems like a bad guy but an unavoidable bad guy. Those circus folks would be good people to have around."

"Thanks old dude."

"Ditch the twins though." He quietly added. I turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. He looked down at his folded hands. "They've been around since I was a kid myself, so has Frederick. Not good kids. Worse off than you. Far worse."

He knew more about the twins?

A part of my was dying to know what he was talking of but the rest fought back. He was a stranger, he probably wasn't keen on going round telling people his life story. Not many people were.

"Thanks mista." I said, standing up and offering him a hand, which he took. Slowly he got up and nodded at me. I took a first real look at him.

He was hunched over, perhaps if he wasn't he'd be quite tall. On his head was a porkpie hat and around his neck was a couple scarves. A long brown coat was atop of, what it looked like, an old tweed jacket. Beneath that was a vest and a crinkled shirt. He had a tie but it was loose. The trousers he wore matched the vest, both of which were dark brown. His boots were scuffed and worn, a pin shone from the front of one. The laces were loose and the tongues leaned forward. If he hadn't looked so worn down, it'd would've been a somewhat fancy attire.

"Mista, who are you? And w-what happened?" I asked quietly.

"I'm just an old man who attended the very same charity ball you did." He said before nodding and turning round and walking away.

I was ever so slightly speechless...