Chapter Six: God Before Science
Maureen watched Bane attempt to keep his emotions inside the pressure cooker. She knew from years of sitting across from sociopaths, psychopaths, and schizophrenics, that he was considering what he'd do first in his quest to end her life if he was free from restraints.
She was not incorrect about any imagined act of his capacity for atrocity.
Bane remained wordless, clenching his teeth until his jaw audibly popped as he dropped his fiery gaze to the barest peek of her lacquered toenails in her designer heels. He felt himself become weighted down with a chainmail blanket, formed from barbed wire, not cotton threads.
Bane swallowed hard, feeling the squeeze of additional shackles at the delicate feet of Hygieia, the Goddess of Healing. He was reduced to being chained at Maureen's feet as he finally brought his gaze back to her concerned but highly penetrative stare.
"Please," Bane felt escape on a ragged breath, the single syllable full of toxic defeat.
Maureen softened her eyes and tried on her small, generally soothing smile. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I cannot do that."
Maureen blinked as she felt the air grow in temperature until it was stifling within Bane's formidable silence, she could nearly see the waves of kinetic energy spilling from his muscular frame.
Maureen never took her eyes off of Bane's unblinking, swirling cyclones of liquid fire as she dialed a short extension.
"Boris, I need you to take SE10190779 back to his room please."
Bane openly smirked, "do you decide when our sessions are over?"
"Yes," she stated succinctly and made a note on his chart.
Bane echoed her silence when it appeared that she'd remain silent until Boris returned.
Within three minutes, Boris knocked lightly and entered when Maureen remained behind her desk as she called out for him.
Maureen glanced up occasionally as Boris detached and adjusted Bane's shackles and chain-link restraints.
Maureen stood and smoothed down her lab coat as Boris led Bane towards the frosted glass door, surprised when Bane stopped short and spoke to her without bothering to turn in her direction.
"You may note on your paperwork to your illustrious court system that I'm choosing to abstain from further visits with you."
Maureen nodded at Boris who kept her office door closed and assertively encouraged Bane to turn and look at Maureen as she walked around her desk and towards him.
"I will note that, and how long are you choosing for this abstention to last?"
"Are there consequences besides a trial ending in death if I refuse your visits doctor?"
Maureen smiled tightly, "yes, after a lengthy enough lack of evaluation, you'll be fast-tracked out of here. The judge will deem further evaluations as unnecessary, bolstered by your own actions," she added in a morose tone.
Bane's smugness leeched away as he returned Maureen's unblinking stare and listened to her unbiased facts about Gotham's legal system.
"I'd like a week to consider," Bane finally said, hating the penitent-steeped syllables rip apart the inside of his mouth with their foreign sharpness.
Maureen's expression softened, "I'll stop by your cell over the next few days and check on you instead. I'm going to arrange another round of blood work and some cardiac tests, that will pacify the court system for missing a few clinical sessions."
Bane nodded and turned away as Boris opened the door. He sensed Maureen standing in the same spot with her hands loosely tucked in the deep pockets of her lab coat, the burgundy letters of her name in cursive stitched over her right breast. The capitalized M had a loose thread he hadn't been able to stop watching move in stereo with each of her inhalations and exhalations.
"Thank you doctor," Bane murmured just loud enough for Maureen to hear as she shut the door after the two muscle-bound men.
As Bane was escorted back to his cell by the hulking tech Boris, Maureen locked her door and settled behind her desk. She unlocked the right, lower desk drawer and opened Bane's chart, thumbing through the pages that held the transcript of Talia's last spoken words as reported by James Gordon.
Maureen whispered the words aloud to the empty room as they stared up at her from the page in the bold font.
"Fox showed me how to operate the reactor core, including the emergency flood, there is no way to stop this bomb. Prepare yourselves...my father's work is done."
Maureen tisked before smoothing the papers back into place and replacing the file in the locked drawer. She took a deep breath and shoved a mix of primary-colored candies into her mouth, hating the legal bindings of her job. She shook her head, knowing inside that her words to the court truly didn't matter, the spot to scatter Bane's ashes had already been decided.
Maureen mechanically consumed more of the mini sugar bombs, shaking her head as she sat up straighter in her chair, determined to remain as resolute as her predecessor who had refused to deviate from his spoken oaths for a paycheck, library wing or seat on a political action committee.
The Joker would die within the walls of Arkham instead of the electric chair as the state's former Governor had demanded.
That former Governor also ran under the red, white, and blue campaign banner, "God Before Science."
Doctor Eduard Ault had no time for the delusional Creationist who'd also adopted his point-of-view towards women after the 'good´ book's, two-thousand-year-old, purely toxically, male-written rhetoric.
As Maureen cleaned up her desk and files as she readied herself to go check on some patients in the hospital ward, across the asylum, Bane glowered in his cell, fury had settled around his neck, a shawl made from rotting carrion.
He settled on the creaky cot and overly firm mattress pad. Bane's healing skeletal system was thankful for the lessened weight on his joints. Bane shifted as Maureen's adamant refusal to provide him with Talia's words had worked the lid off a jar of necrotic dormancy inside of him and he was flooded with doubt.
Bane was at once the Roman General Marcus Licinius Crassus as he sagged under the sudden weight of doubt.
General Crassus had said the greatest enemy to man was doubt and at that moment with the sun high overhead, Bane was simultaneously eviscerated and paralyzed with doubt.
He was suddenly confronted with questions about his loyalty, servitude and vows signed in blood.
Bane rubbed his temples and squeezed his eyes shut, there were still tiny shards of bone the maxillofacial surgeon hadn't been able to remove, still lingering deep in his soft tissue. The slivers of bone were like shrapnel, some lodged and buried against tendons while others caused his pain to spike as the bits of bone made their way to the surface
"Why have you not fallen on your sword brother?" he whispered as he rubbed his fingertips in small circles in front of his ears.
"Why are you waiting for their law and judgement to take your life?"
"Because," Bane started to say before taking a short pause. "Because, I shall rise up from here and reform with my followers. I will avenge Talia and honor the League of Shadows."
He squeezed the bridge of his nose, not wanting to give voice to the question of his capacity to firstly escaping before regaining enough strength in numbers to level the city for Talia and the League.
As Bane found himself close to admitting that he had never wanted to die for Talia, back in Maureen's office, she moved her eyes over to meet Josef's framed face. Maureen shook her head as she imagined Josef telling her she could be cold when it came to her steadfast adherence to her medical vows. When they'd compare notes about their various days in clinical rotation, he'd tell her she could better treat someone's pain and dip a toe into professional murkiness for the sake of the patient's mental state.
Maureen couldn't imagine soiling her resolute dedication to the integrity of upholding medicine and science.
"My diagnosis must be impeachable," Maureen said to Josef's unblinking eyes before she locked her office door and made her way to the elevator. After she descended to the first floor, she walked the maze of halls to the hospital ward to check on a few long-term patients who'd recently been admitted for a kitchen fight, most likely brought on by the discovery and destruction of the kitchen's meth lab operation.
Maureen checked on a few of the inmates and skimmed the nurse's notes before grabbing a coffee from the cafeteria on her way to the employee parking lot.
After the big engine had idled long enough for the heater to blow warm air, Maureen dialed a friend overseas. The crackly call connected before the two women caught up. The time difference between them allowed for a couple pockets where they were both in between comings and goings and could connect with the oceans and land masses between them.
Maureen's drives home were some of their longest phone calls, especially if there was more commute traffic than usual.
As Maureen arrived home after an uneventful drive, back in Arkham, Bane's dinner tray arrived through the door's metal slot.
Maureen and Bane both ate dinner at the same time, he sat on the uncomfortable metal stool attached to the wall as she ate lukewarm leftovers over the sink. As Bane spooned an overly salty vegetable soup into his mouth, across the city in her spacious kitchen, Maureen scrolled through her tv's DVR and started up the first of eight episodes about life on the Serengeti.
Almost in scripted synchrony, Bane and Maureen mopped up their plates with toast. Albeit, Bane's was unevenly toasted with burnt edges, while Maureen's was crusted in large chunks of garlic and sea salt.
As Maureen turned up the volume as the British narrator described the migration pattern of wildebeests and the evolutionary feat of the newly born wildebeest capacity to run within fifteen minutes after their first breath outside the womb, back at Arkham, Bane rose from the stool and paced his room, an apex predator upon birth.
After Maureen rinsed off her dish and fork, she worked on her notes for an upcoming meeting with Dr. Carlton.
While the sexy British narrator continued to describe the soil and each type of grass the Serengeti boasted, across the city at Bruce Wayne's sprawling estate, Selina pawed through the cupboards looking for something salty or sweet.
She purred when Bruce wrapped her up in his arms and practically lifted her off her feet, nuzzling his face into the warm curve of where her neck and shoulder met.
"I woke up and you weren't next to me," Bruce murmured against her skin, his voice muffled.
"I wasn't going to be gone long," Selina moaned as Bruce smoothed a hand under the oversized shirt she was wearing, finding her pussy warm, wet, and wanting.
Bruce bent Selina over the smooth marble counter and fucked her tight ass with his billionaire cock. As each thrust brought her face closer to the shiny surface of the stove, across the city, Maureen walked upstairs and slipped into the king-sized bed and set an early alarm. She snuggled into the linen that still smelled like the lavender infused dryer sheets.
The moon rose to watch over the inhabitants of Gotham City.
The next morning, Maureen cut the engine of her SUV, thankful to find Carl on the phone when she walked through the employee entrance of Arkham. He nodded without a pause in talking as Maureen proceeded to her office, finding a voice message from the supervising nurse that Bane was refusing to meet with her that day.
She made a brief note in his chart of his refusal and called Arnold to have the Joker brought earlier than scheduled. As soon as Maureen had heard the message of Bane's planned truancy, she decided she'd make it a half-day and get back home. She hadn't slept well and didn't do herself any extra favors by forcing herself out of bed in the wee hours of the morning and running on the treadmill until the sun flooded the darkened horizon with rays of light.
Maureen brewed a fresh pot of coffee while she waited for Arnold to escort the Joker to her office. She let Arnold in and poured herself a full cup as the Joker was cuffed to the chair in front of her desk.
After Arnold left, Maureen locked the door behind him and settled behind her desk.
"It's good to have you back," Maureen commented as she opened the Joker's file, continuing as she pulled her candy dish closer. "How're you feeling?"
The Joker shrugged as much as he could within the restraints.
Maureen nodded. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about today?"
The Joker smiled toothily, "dealer's choice."
"Alright," Maureen said, "I'd like you to tell me what first comes to mind with each word I provide."
"Fire away," he purred.
"Murder."
"Mother."
"Guilty."
"Mother."
"Sex."
"Mother," he purred as he licked his lips and waggled his tongue at her
"Death."
"Mother," the Joker said, suddenly affected with sadness.
Maureen watched his eyes glaze over as he watched a private slide show for one.
"Father," she stated with zero inflection.
"My father fucked my mother. Oh that's too many words isn't it? Hmmm, father, my father, fuck my father, did I fuck my father?" the Joker began to cackle. "Wait, what was the word again?" he implored, widening his eyes as he batted his sleep-crusted lashes.
"Father," Maureen stated with a completely neutral expression as she pulled her antique candy dish closer.
The Joker finally shrugged; irritated Dr. Hightower wasn't playing.
"Angry," he finally spit.
Maureen arched a plucked eyebrow, "angry?"
The Joker nodded, "daddy graduated from the tit to a bottle of milk, to a bottle of bourbon," he said nonchalantly, wishing he could shrug further within the tight confines of his restraints.
"Did he hurt you?" Maureen pressed.
"It only hurt the first time," the Joker whispered as he winked.
"How long did he sexually abuse you?"
"It wasn't really abuse," the Joker said casually. "Father would only fuck me if I wasn't wearing panties, he'd always lose his erection when he found my toddler underwear, they had fire engines on them."
Maureen made a few notes on the notepad without breaking eye contact. The Joker continued before she could ask a question.
"You know what I did?" he squealed. "I stopped wearing underwear altogether."
Maureen nodded. "Did you feel closer to your father when he was hurting you?"
"How about you? What kind of panties do you wear?" the Joker asked, ignoring her question.
Maureen couldn't help but snicker, "long-johns when it's cold."
"You're no fun," he spit, wishing he could cross his arms.
Maureen shrugged, "it's taken you a long time to figure that out but it's good to see in such energetic spirits."
The Joker stuck out his tongue. "It's good to be sitting here instead of laying in the morgue," he finally admitted.
Arnold returned to retrieve the Joker and was forced to take an alternate route due to urgent plumbing work on a burst pipe in their usual path back to the Joker's room.
The Joker was pleased with the longer journey back to his cell and danced his eyes on all the other inmate rooms he didn't get the chance to see.
Perhaps some fairytale, horned Narwhal godhead was watching from above the stratosphere and arranged for the pipe to burst so that the Joker would walk by Bane's cell. More likely, the pipe burst because the building was so goddamned old and poorly maintained due to the rising cost of medicine and lowering insurance reimbursement rates.
Despite how it came to be, Bane turned towards the glass of his cell door just as the Joker was walking by and looked over.
The two men locked eyes as the present day fell away and for a moment, the two faced each other on a plateau while the continents were still locked together.
Bane's burnt chestnut irises pulsed with raw energy when they met the Joker's crystalline blue orbs.
The two men were as far apart from each other as the Mariana Trench from Orion's Belt.
Bane's expression remained neutral as his eyes bled to a predator's deciding how best to hobble and disembowel its prey as the Joker's thin lips pulled into an impossibly wide smile. His dimples deepened until they could hold seawater as he continued to smile even wider, showing his uneven, yellowed teeth and dark pink gums.
The Joker's nostrils flared as he sharply inhaled and caught the primitive scent that radiated from Bane, salivating as he anticipated ritualized aggression if they were they face-to-face and free of metal cuffs and shackles.
The meeting of Bane's and the Joker's eyes was fleeting but encompassed 4.5 billion years in a single blink as on the other side of the Asylum. Maureen finished up her notes and locked her office door before making her way home.
Later, as Maureen changed into some loose-fitting sweatpants and a well-worn pullover, she couldn't help but chuckle as she slipped off the thin, gossamer silk panties she'd been wearing under her black pencil skirt. Maureen stared down at the scrap of fabric as delicate as butterfly wings as she thought of the Joker's earlier question as to what she wore to cover her naked flesh.
She plucked the light wisp of fabric off the chilly tiled floor and retreated to the warmth of her down comforter and high thread count sheets. Maureen pulled her silk sleep mask down over her eyes, as back at Arkham, many of the inmates settled under the thin, scratchy linen.
The Joker and Bane would not sleep that night, both men's brains were alive with a frightening display of firing neurons. Their nerve endings danced within the rife possibilities within their brief, wordless meeting.
