AN: My two major feelings about the premiere (could be spoilers):
1. Well, it took three seasons + one episode and a faceful of fear toxin, but Oswald got a Jim hug. Sorta.
2. THE FUCKERS WHO HAVE MANHANDLED AND TORMENTED MY PRECIOUS BABY CRANE DESERVE LITERAL HELL AND I WILL NOT BE SATISFIED UNTIL THAT HAPPENS.
Forbidden Moons-Word to the wise-hire competent help. Or at least commit murder near a body of water, spare yourself the heavy lifting. Lesson learned...better late than never, I suppose.
Warden Reed awakens in a dark room, strapped to a gurney. What in the world…what is the meaning of this? What happened?
"You awake?" He is confused. "Wake up." Something heavy smashes against his knee and he yelps, tries to draw it to safety and can't. "That's better."
"What do you want?"
"You had a patient by the name of Jonathan Crane."
He regrets ever taking that one on. If he'd known he was going to bring this much trouble, he'd have insisted on sending him elsewhere.
"Really?"
The heavy object-a pipe, he thinks now-smacks the side of the gurney, near his head, and he flinches.
"I don't like your tone."
"What is wrong with you?"
"Nothing is wrong with me. There's plenty wrong with you, though…"
Click.
Reed's first, slightly hysterical, thought is I've been kidnapped by a little girl? His second thought is why is she holding a melon baller?
Wait.
He recognizes her. She used to try to visit Crane. Made his life very difficult. Refused to take 'he is unstable and unable to see visitors' for an answer.
"Hi." She smiles at him. He doesn't like that smile. "And how are we feeling?"
"What do you want?" Where is he? The lighting is poor-it's just a desk lamp, throws a beam around him and her and leaves the rest of the room in shadow.
"You, Mister Reed, have been difficult from day one." she informs him, holding up the melon baller and looking from it to him. "But all right. This is a mental hospital." 'This'? He's still in Arkham? Oh, god- "But then you went and sold him off to some highly questionable people. This is Gotham, Mister Reed. They could have been planning to dismember him or worse." He doesn't like the melon baller. He's never really cared before, but he cares now, very much. "So, really, the question you should be asking is what is wrong with you? He could have been killed!"
"I didn't want our partnership to start like it did, Reed." WHAT THE HELL- "I mean, we've settled our differences, but I didn't want to start like THAT."
Another figure appears, this one…this one isn't human. It's familiar, though-he's seen it on the floor of Crane's cell often enough.
A scarecrow.
"Please-"
"That's what he said, isn't it? So. Many. Times." God no- "But YOU had to be an asshole, and here we are today."
Maybe if he closes his eyes, it will all go away, be a bad dream…
"No-no, don't do that…keep his eyes open for me, would you?"
WHAT.
Scratchy fingers force an eyelid open and cold metal touches the outside of his eye socket.
He's not proud. He blacks out when the pressure grows and comes to when a wad of cotton is being pressed into…into…
Oh god no no please no she didn't they didn't-
The scarecrow-monster is laughing, hands clutching the gurney. Kitty Richardson draws her finger off the cotton and nods.
"It really does look like a grape."
He's screaming, he realizes distantly. He doesn't remember starting, but now he can't stop. Burlap fingers force his other eyelid up and slightly warm metal touches the socket-
-and digs in.
He doesn't get to pass out this time, which means he can feel the tearing and painpainpain and his vision goes dark.
It doesn't come back. He hears a mechanical whirring and then a glass is pressed to his lips.
"Drink up! You'll need your strength."
The scarecrow-monster finds this hilarious.
"Need a little help?"
"Maybe."
The fingers grip his jaw and whatever's in the glass
Cold stringy tastes like blood and vanilla OH GOD NO NO
pours over his tongue and down his throat. He gags, tries to spit it out, and the fingers force his mouth closed and stroke his throat. He wants to vomit but he can't he can't he can't-
"My turn." the monster hisses, and he feels it bending over him. "Are you sorry, Reed?"
He nods, or thinks he does, and the thing scoffs.
"You will be." There's an odd clinking sound. "Little Jack Horner sat in a corner, drinking a milkshake of eyes! He put in his thumb, and pulled out some scum, and said, 'oh dear god, WHY?"
"Not bad."
"I know."
HISSSSSS!
Bitterness floods his mouth and nose and he coughs, tasting bloody vanilla at the tip of his tongue, and heaves against the restraints. It's touching him IT'S TOUCHING HIM with those rough fingers pressing against the cotton no no please no PLEASE-
"Scream for me." it whispers in his ear, spider legs tickling his skin. "Come on. Scream."
Reed obliges.
THE END