Just a lil' riddlebit

Well, fuck.

It never fails to be a shit show with this crew.

A simple recon mission blown to Hell and now you were out in an open field slowly bleeding out and a few feet from the other four members.

You kept trying to pick yourself back up and get back into the fray…

However, between the blurriness in your vision, the metallic copper taste of blood pooling in your mouth, and the excruciating pain every time you tried to move your body…you had no chance of getting back into the fight.

Let alone surviving it to the end.

Your leg was busted and you had a deep gash in your abdomen which accounted for the bleeding; externally and internally.

This was the part when most would choose to retreat…to survive to fight another day. If you could make it that long.

The plane your team arrived in seemed miles away in your condition.

You'd leave a trail of blood leading up to the aircraft, bleeding out before even stepping foot on the plane.

Yet, even as you slowly come to terms with the fact you were likely going to die out in the middle of nowhere.

It wasn't your life that flashed before your eyes, not all the moments leading up to this moment, but someone you found noteworthy since joining the Secret Six.

Jervis Tetch.

You wouldn't be able to tell the odd little man farewell.

Unlike others on the team that found him annoying or "too fucking weird" (Lawton's words not yours). You found him amusing…

The way he didn't even bat an eye as Kay walked out naked in front of the whole team. The way he made hats for literally everything and almost anything.

Sure, he's eccentric but when the man finds comfort in and likens himself to a character created from a nonsensical children's book what did you expect?

Even if there was no sure-fire way of knowing if he was all there or not…you still preferred his company over the others.

Even if he did speak in mostly poems and Carroll quotes, it was better than Lawton bitching or whatever melodrama that was going on between Scandal and Knockout.

Yes, over the course of a few months you had grown fond of the Six's secret weapon, the Mad Hatter—not that it mattered anymore…with you bleeding out.

It just…sucks you wouldn't be able to at least say goodbye to him. Tell him he was the best part about joining this team…despite what the other assholes thought of him.

You could go for one of his poem's recitations right now. Something to dwell on except the inevitable.

Some rustling of the grass brings you back to dreary reality. Then the consistent sounds of heavy footsteps on the ground.

Through gritted teeth and a pained groan, you propped yourself up to see who was coming.

Oh, fun, it was a foe and not a friend.

A foe that seemed all too eager to find you.

Not a true fighter, a scavenger of sorts that pick off the dying and weak instead of those that can actually put up a fight.

He was wide-eyed, eyebrows raised up to his forehead. A toothy grin stretched across his greasy face.

In a swift motion, he raised up his weapon. A dagger, with a blade longer than most with all kinds of chips and jagged edges down it's outer edge. The blade was coated in blood both old and new.

You spit out a glob of blood up towards him.

He only seemed to take pleasure in that—entertained that you aren't just going to lie down and take it, even if that's really all that's left for you to do.

Death already felt inevitable but now it was imminent. You took stock on all your senses…

The dried grass and soil under your fingernails. The repeated impact sounds of gunfire and shouts from your team and the enemy still rang in your ears, even if it was muffled.

Then the sick dickhead in front of you that decided to pick you off instead of actually fighting…

He gave you one more grin, highlighted by swiping his tongue across the top row of his teeth before he brought his jagged blade down—

You closed your eyes, your whole body tensed up for impact.

This sick fuck must be playing with you…

After another moment with no excruciating pain and infinite darkness. You slowly opened your eyes.

The sadistic enemy was frozen.

His pupils shrunken to tiny dots. His arm was stuck in its upright position like a puppeteer had a string around his wrist pulled tight against his will.

His breathing was stable, not labored like it was before he lifted his weapon.

Before you could take note of anything else—

The sick bastard took his dagger and plunged it into his own abdomen.

Over and over and over again.

Blood splattered over you as he stabbed a hole into his stomach. Bits of flesh started tearing off as he continued stabbing himself profusely.

Despite the self-mutilation, he didn't make the slightest bit of sound indicating any sort of pain.

As if he couldn't feel anything or has no control over what he's doing…or what he's feeling for that matter.

Again, before you could take note of anything else or react at all…the man brought the blade to his throat and sliced a deep gash across the middle of his neck—

He finally fell after that, blood still gushing from his abdomen and now through his neck.

"One, two! One, two! And through and through! The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head...He went galumphing back."

When the enemy fell, Jervis directly appeared behind the man. His hand raised and fingers stretched out.

"J-Jervis...?"

You very seldom had actually seen the Hatter's ability that gave him the "secret weapon" moniker.

You have heard it had something to do with hypnosis but…but that?!

The Mad Hatter perked up at your voice calling his name. Paying no mind to the incessantly bleeding corpse in front of you—he ran to your side.

"Oh dear, oh dear, I hope I'm not too late!"

"N-No.." You groaned as you propped yourself back up again. "You actually came just in time…"

"No, no, don't move, don't move!" Jervis came up beside you.

He rested his gloved hands on your shoulders, applying support, trying to hold you up instead of you exerting anymore energy that was already depleting.

"Ah nice job, Hatter, you found your little buddy."

Lawton and Blake soon walked up in front of you two.

"Damn, you look like shit." Lawton commented.

Jervis sneered at the marksman. His grip on your shoulders tightened. "You should learn not to make personal remarks, Deadshot...it's very rude."

"What he said…" You tilted your head toward Jervis before coughing up more blood.

Jervis didn't seem to budge, even grabbing what appeared to be a small handkerchief from his jacket pocket and tried to wipe up some of the blood off your chin.

Even in the waves of pain you were in, you didn't miss the sweet gesture.

"All right, come on, it's been a real fucking shit show." Blake sighed as he knelt down and picked you up bridal style.

"You can say that again…" You grimaced as you tried to get comfortable in the man's arms and rewire your brain to realize that you are actually going to make it out alive.

You look over your shoulder and down at the man responsible for your rescue…

Then you thought about how he rescued you…hypnotizing a man to kill himself, not easily, but brutally.

While the method did shock you it didn't…disturb you as much as it probably should have. Maybe because it was Jervis who was responsible, a man you trusted?

Perhaps…it was something else, more…deep seated and intimate that you really didn't have the brain power nor the time to properly figure it (let alone come to terms with it in the face of company)

For the moment though, you were just grateful to be alive and re-join the team. Grateful for Jervis Tetch…and to be able to be with him again.

Once you two were back in the aircraft with you on a stretcher with some gauze and bandages wrapped around your stomach to stop the bleeding and a makeshift cast for your leg.

Jervis took the seat as close to you as possible so he could be there for you and monitor you.

"Jervis?" You softly called out knowing he was only a few feet away.

Instantly, the man jumped up from his seat and scurried towards you. "Yes?"

You swallowed dryly after turning your head to look down at him. "I just wanted to say thank you…for saving me back there…"

Jervis smiled up at you. "Of course, of course…you're welcome…" He paused, before cautiously finishing. "…my friend."

You smiled back at him, reached out your hand for his and squeezed it. "Yeah…your friend, you're a true friend, Jervis."