#okay more like 50% of the time SKSK but this just goes to show you that the man really is a good person deep down bc he not only-

[mad-hunts]

humor was one thing that barton had been trying to implement more into his life as a coping mechanism. it was kind of like that saying, after all: 'if you don't laugh, you'll cry.' in addition, although barton himself didn't as a rule feel guilty about a lot of things he had done over the years... should the quite thorough banging he had inflicted on his own head only make him feel immensely tired, but not enough to allow him to sleep? barton imagined that he would probably be haunted by what he'd done to marty today in his own way. but they weren't even to the entrance of the warehouse yet so he supposed he shouldn't be worrying about that right now.

especially since a new and frankly much more important problem had soon reared its head to matilda. and this was shortly after barton got out of the car rather ungracefully while hanging onto the door to balance himself. she was just trying to be nice by offering jervis a hand. but he supposed even the kindest person would break at some point under all of the pressure that both of the mathises had been putting the other under. however, that didn't change the fact that the instant barton saw one of jervis's hatpins, he didn't even think before acting to try to defend his daughter. whatever strength the man had left was used to pull the knife out of his boot and proceed forward before saying, ❝ you son of a bitch. get your filthy hands off of my daughter, or i'll — ❞

matilda seemed to shut her father down with just one look, however, strangely enough. she had seemingly communicated to him even through her fear that she could handle this on her own. an inkling that jervis wouldn't make do on his threat was now lingering in the back of matilda's mind, so she shouldn't be afraid of jervis. but like a lot of people: death was not the kind of thing that she wanted to welcome with open arms. a bit of anger had began to mix in with the fear, actually, at this point because this man suddenly had the gall to think he could stand up to her; like a mouse challenging a snake. matilda listened to the other's words, but not because she wanted to.

ahh, so this was about how she grabbed jervis back there in the restaurant, huh? furrowing her brows was what she did next as she was still genuinely feeling fear. then, something changed the moment matilda saw jervis was rolling that pin between his fingers like he wasn't sure he could do it. which meant that that gut feeling she had about him might just turn out to be right. how boring. matilda remembered a concept barton taught her a long time ago, and that was to not aim a weapon at someone unless you are fully prepared to kill them. but jervis's heart seemed to be too soft to deliver the killing blow. slowly but surely, the fear in her eyes began to fade, replaced by a stoicism that was very hard to read.

but barton thought he could at least somewhat understand it from where he stood. she was disappointed, perhaps, that jervis didn't appear to be following through on his threat. he still stood at the ready just in case the other did attempt to do something to his beloved daughter. their relationship really did have tons of twists and turns to it, he thought, for moments like these were when barton felt like he'd been transported back to the man he was years ago. back before he'd introduced his kids to crime. matilda remained silent even as jervis let go of her wrist, before immediately turning around and gesturing for barton to take a seat like it never happened.

❝ hey, punaise d'amour (love-bug), are you okay? ❞ she seemed to stop gathering up materials for stitching up the gash momentarily at the nickname, a huff leaving matilda's nose. it wasn't long before she was abruptly wiping off all of the clots and blood that had gathered at the back of his head though. and barton's first reaction to that was to hiss, the feeling of nausea he'd been plagued with before becoming unbearable right at that second. matilda retrieved a nearby bucket almost as soon as barton started to dry heave. there was quite literally nothing in his stomach, though, so he didn't actually throw up.

❝ i'm fine, dad. to be honest with you, i do feel this slight want to slit jervis's throat, though. ❞ she didn't care whether the other heard this, so she just said it in her normal speaking voice. barton was able to stop his dry-heaving enough to talk to her next, and it was kind of surprising what he said, ❝ mm, trust me, i do too. but — and i'm not saying this to defend him — there are some things that i probably should've told you about regarding him. so i kind of feel partially responsible for this. ❞ matilda went back to cleaning his wound but a lot more gently now. she let out a soft scoff before her eyes darted off to look at the spot that jervis had disappeared into. ❝ how is any of this your fault? i have to admit, i did manhandle him back in the bistro. ❞

barton let out an uncertain hum at that before looking over in that corner as well, ❝ eh, i'll tell you later. i just really need to sleep right now, ❞ and that was one thing that matilda was going to gladly allow barton to do, so right after that, he was in the sofa bed they had in a side area. matilda was just about to get ready to start stitching up his gash (after shaving his hair in the area) when she spoke once more, ❝ so... do you think that if i offer jervis the futon, that he'll take it? or that he's still going to stay there for a while? ❞ silence permeated the air, and as a result, matilda took that as barton seriously wasn't kidding when he said he needed sleep. with a shrug, all she did from there was take his pulse to make sure he was indeed still alive and finish stitching up his wound.

of course, there was the question of whether barton had swelling in his brain as well. but matilda would need to find that portable scanner to diagnose him. a sigh slipped through her lips as she looked at her currently bruised wrist. yeah... even if it took her hours to find it, matilda was not asking jervis for help.

Maybe not on this side of the pond, Jervis might have responded, if he were feeling more sprightly or cheeky. He was no fool, however; even in London, straight arrows like Stephen were a rarity, especially in Scotland Yard. As it was, he was cringing at the prospect of Barton’s impending nausea, blinking away the feeling of his legs turning to water as the other man began to struggle into a sitting position. Still keeping an eye on the Mathises, Jervis then reached behind him to sling his bag back over his shoulder.

The sight of Matilda's nails derailed his thoughts; their immaculate manicure glistening subtly. God, if he ever saw anyone with uncut nails after this night, it would be far too soon…. His heart skipped a beat. Thin, gloved fingers coiled around the secret pin he had stashed in the lining of his hat's brim; the gleaming point flashing in front of Matilda's eyes, causing her to flinch in astonishment. His free hand folded around her outstretched wrist, twisting the delicate joints with a practiced precision that sent shivers up both of their arms. The uncomfortable torque elicited a faintly audible crick.

Not once did he shout or raise his voice. Instead, he spoke with an eerie sense of calm, as if he were simply making small talk about the weather. “Just so you know, dear, this isn’t personal. I appreciate the offer and your willingness to aid in our escape, but if you’ll permit me to grant one piece of friendly advice.” Still holding the pin aloft, Jervis stepped out of the car; drawing himself up to his full height, eyeing each artery and vein in the girl’s pale skin, each nerve cluster. “Posez à nouveau la main sur moi comme ça, et ce sera la dernière fois que vous l'utiliserez.”

The stale air was charged with something else now, something acrid. Apprehension? Caution? Jervis couldn’t name it. No longer had the patience or inclination to do so. He couldn't quite wrap his head around his real emotions right now, and no amount of poetic verses or literary quotes could help him make sense of it.

Self-preservation and survival instincts had won out, finally. Somehow, his hands remained steady; mismatched eyes boring into hers. Inwardly, he hoped the display would be enough. Jervis was well aware he’d wandered onto thin ice here, especially with Barton mere feet away. Enough blood had been needlessly shed tonight. He didn’t want to be the cause of anymore… but if he’d just forfeited his own life, too, to the Mathises for his actions, then so be it. His bad leg screamed, sending daggers of flame into his hip.

You never hear the bullet that kills you. The skin alone contains over five million nerve endings… but the brain itself doesn't feel pain because it has no pain receptors. At this point, it no longer mattered whether Batman or the cops found them. The ghost of Arkham no longer lurked in the back of his mind. As he rolled the pin between his fingers, he saw Matilda’s free hand facing him now, palm stretched outward in entreaty; a line between her brows.

God, he really didn’t want to do this…

Reluctance and no small amount of grief and self-loathing and disgust filled him as the fear in Matilda’s eyes turned his thoughts back to Alice, picturing her gray eyes and curly, red-gold hair shining in the sunlight. She was so young, not much older than Matilda. She’d had her whole life ahead of her… What would she think of him now, if she could see him like this? Jervis felt a pang of guilt, cold as ice water. He had always wanted to be a good father to her, to provide for her and protect her from the harsh realities of the world.

But now, as he stood in front of the Mathises, he couldn't help but be reminded of how he had failed Alice; that his actions had consequences. He had always been a dreamer, an idealist, a hopeless romantic; a man lost in his books, and his dreams ended up being too hard to defend. No price had been too steep, or so he had tried to convince himself, not when it came to Alice. He had sacrificed his reputation, his integrity, hurt people, manipulated them, and caused them pain... Marty and his partner were not the sole outliers. And for what?

To fulfill his foolish and laughably naive hopes for his daughter and her health and her future, his own selfish desires for a clear mind and unburdened conscience? (Stupid, stupid, stupid…) To blame others for his own demons and his inability to come to terms with what was actually happening to his child, the true gravity of the situation? (You fool!!! How could you be so blind??? You tried so desperately to protect her, but in the end, all you accomplished was smothering her!!! In the end, you lost it all again!!!)

… no. He had no one to assign the blame for everything but himself. Whatever came next was on his own head. Tears welled up in Jervis' eyes, but he quickly blinked them away. He let go of Matilda's wrist, lowered the pin, and silently slipped away into the shadows on the opposite side of the room.