AN: 'Fear of pigs'.

So Professor Pyg is coming and I am HERE for that because it has the potential to be deliciously freaky. Halloween Specials all season, yes please. ANYWAYS, there's that one poor sap that's scared of pigs in season one, yes? But he gets rescued. Gerald kept notes, he was sciencing, there were notes. I know this. So we're gonna have some fuuuuun. And some canon mishmashing.

McStaken-The female of the species is more deadly than the male. Really. It's accurate. I'm just going to point out that you've decapitated like, five people.

Forbidden Moons-Mm-hm. We dumped him outside the Iceberg. I mean, he was kind of alive. He was breathing. Always good to make nice with the local crime bosses.

Rare Gotham sunshine beams in through a cracked window and onto Jonathan's ragged jeans. He barely notices, too busy rifling through a notebook with tattered pages and a stained cover.

He remembers that one because it was just so macabre and come on, how do you even get that into your head-

"Jonathan." He glances up, hands shaking a little (why are they doing that and what time is it there's sun). Kitty's standing in front of him, eyebrow raised. "I thought you were going to take a break."

You been busted, son.

Nobody asked you.

"I…did?"

The eyebrow goes higher. Somehow.

"You don't sound very sure."

Yeah…

He sets the notebook aside and stretches, feels things crack that probably shouldn't. God, he's tired, he hasn't slept well since…

Since…

He can't remember. He knows they kept him sedated at the hospital, for his own safety-he still has numb spots on his arms and legs*-but other than that…

Whoops.

"Come on." She leans over, links their fingers, and gives him a pull. "The notes aren't going anywhere, I promise."

But…

He lets her haul him out of the chair and promptly grays out. Yeah, okay, food and sleep might not be a bad idea.

"Jonathan. Jonathan! You all right, what happened?"

"Stood up too quick." He blinks a few times and his vision starts to return. A bit. "Give me a minute."

"I swear…" She lets go of him to facepalm and honestly, he's feeling a little attacked right now. "Self-care's not a weird Internet Hipster thing, y'know. It makes sure you don't die from doing something stupid, like falling in the shower."

"I'm not that bad off-is that my hoodie?"

"No."

The fact that she can tell such blatant lies with a straight face is actually hilarious.

"Kitty. The sleeves are rolled up about fifty times and it's practically at your knees."

"It's oversized, that's a Thing."

"I vividly remember putting those stitches in."

"Coincidence."

Good-bye, hoodie. You were a loyal friend…until you weren't, you traitorous brown bastard.

"We'll both pretend I believe that."

"Bed. You look like you've had an accident with my eyeshadow."

Lazlo Valentin is, apparently, little the worse for wear despite it all. Jonathan's never actually met him-Dad only said he was 'a little odd' (which, in hindsight, may fall under 'pot, meet kettle') and refused to let him near him.

But now Dad's not here, so. Besides, how bad can the guy really be? He runs a beauty parlor, for heaven's sake.

It's a little traumatizing. It's pink and opera is blaring through the speakers and the receptionist has a lot of makeup and clear signs of too much Botox.

"Kitty, is this a Thing."

"For the fifty and up."

Hopefully there's no clients. He's not sure why, but old ladies seem to gravitate towards him, fingers outstretched to pinch his cheeks.

Also, if this goes bad, witnesses would just make it worse.

"The hell."

"Shh, relax. They're all like this."

This is a strange, strange world. So many bottles of nail polish on the wall-

"That's it? Not even one bottle of blue?"

What.

"Huh?"

She gestures at said nail polish with an eye roll.

"I have more than that, this is sad."

There are things he's just not going to ask about, like this, and Why is it a Big Deal when two girls wear the same dress. He'll just chalk that up to Things Man Was Not Meant to Know.

"We're here to see Lazlo Valentin." he says to the plastic receptionist. "Is he here?"

"Mm-hm. Got a name?"

"Jonathan Crane." He's not sure if that'll get him in or get him shot at, but he's figuring there's a fifty-fifty chance, so…he's feeling a little lucky. Y'know. For him.

"I'll be right back."

She leaves the pink, perfumed room and he's left wondering if the lights are supposed to be flattering or if the dimness is to hide imperfections. Or bloodstains.

"So who's this one?"

"One of Dad's old, uh…patients. Doesn't like pigs, I don't know why. But I guess he's really weird, I don't know, I never met him."

"Is this a good idea?"

"Probably not."

And then they're shown into the back. It's a stark, rather awful contrast to the garish pink lobby-it's dark, cold, and gives off a general vibe of 'Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here'.

Take notes.

Shh.

Valentin…Valentin is. He, uh.

Jonathan really doesn't have words for the man. He's…large. Built like the butcher in his old book of fairy tales. Looks like him, too-he's wearing an apron has dark stains on it that Jonathan really doubts came from hair dye. His face isn't…something's wrong with it. Like the receptionist's.

There might be a reason Dad didn't want him around this guy. His whole vibe is off.

Scared?

Unsettled.

Wuss.

Maybe he makes his polishes out of human remains.

…shit. Time to go.

Valentin blinks at them, snuffles and snorts and oh, god, Jonathan wishes he could appreciate the irony here but he just can't.

"Can I…heeeeelp you?"

"Yes. Yes, I think you can." He takes a deep, hopefully calming breath and checks to make sure the path to the door is still clear. "You may remember my father. Gerald Crane?"

There's an alarmed sucking of breath that turns to a gaspy snort. This may not have been his best idea.

"No, no, no." Each word is punctuated with a flail of a thick finger. "No. We discuss something nicer, yes?" Um. "You want me to make you perfect. This I can do."

Nope, thanks, he's happy the way he is.

"Don't change the subject-"

Valentin moves closer, fingers fluttering too close to their faces for Jonathan's liking.

"Wrong, wrong…but I can fix. Yes. I can fix you all up." He tries to nudge Kitty's head up and she pulls away. "Good bone structure…both of you need…haircut…"

"That's enough." Only in Gotham… "You are going to do something for me, Mister Valentin. I'm not asking." He takes a step back, dragging Kitty with him, because this is not going the way it was supposed to. "My father had a friend for you. Do you remember?" Another alarmed noise. "That friend misses you very much." The friend is probably bacon by now, but who knows. "You are going to play a game with the police, or that friend comes to see you. You can make them…perfect." And he does not want to know what the entails. "Is that clear?"

Valentin is silent. Jonathan's just about to make a run for it when he nods, once and firmly.

"Yes."

"Good. I'll be in touch." Hopefully next time with some armed backup. He found people to kidnap Merton, he can find people to keep Valentin in line.

They leave, and it's only when they're driving away that Kitty lets out a shuddery breath.

"The hell was that?"

"I have no idea." he admits, leaning his head against the seat. "But I think he'll keep the cops busy for us."

THE END

*Restraints. Or, rather, fighting the restraints. His time in Arkham did not help.