Chapter Four: Whose Side is Time On?
As the meeting progressed in the top floor office where Dr. Steele commanded and received silence, patronizing the bulk of the law enforcement representatives in attendance by speaking over their heads, explaining in wet, fleshy and unnecessary detail, the status of Bane and Talia's corpus collosum, outside the vast medical center, the crowd of people continued to grow.
Journalists practically clung to the side of the building like bumper stickers, eager for a peek of Bane or Talia, anything in which they could lead a Breaking News segment.
Ordinary citizens leaf-peeped for a glimpse of the unconscious.
Criminals to some.
Heroes to others.
No matter how Bane and Talia were perceived, the cry for information was bipartisan.
They, the People, wanted answers.
James Gordon had been kept up to date by Blake and other trusted officers in GDP as he transitioned from Commissioner to his Mayoral campaign.
Gordon's staffers had urged him to go to the medical center, utilizing it as a campaign stop.
The flowering perennials outside of Gotham's Medical Center were blooming bright, blue and brilliant when James The Peacekeeper Gordon's campaign bus pulled into the sprawling parking lot, blocking the fire lane as his campaign music started before the bus doors swung open with a metallic squeal.
The thunderous bass of the leading Christan musical trio blared through the high-definition speakers, flooding the crowd with its piety.
"I see your suffering and I will take it from you."
"I will lift you up, grant you protection and watch over you."
"I will set right the wrongs, bring you peace again."
"I am not above you; I am right next to you."
The crowd exploded with sound at the sight of Gordon descending the steps of the bus, all the voices were loud in either praise or condemnation of the former Commissioner who now wanted to be the Mayor and lead Gotham City back into the promised land of a robust GDP and bipartisan policy support.
Some people in the crowd raised themselves up to the tips of their toes, craning their necks to get a view of Gordon.
Others simply sang along with the popular Christan boys as they impressed upon the impression that they sang to spread the word of a god, purely benevolent, the payday for the music just a byproduct of spreading the lord's words.
Every news organization in Gotham City, both mainstream and fringe had at least two people on site, aiming their cameras towards Gordon as the volume of the music was lowered.
Gordon looked around at the crowd, raising a hand, speaking into a wireless microphone to be heard by every undecided and potential voter.
"I know fear has not left our city without the prosecution of Bane and Talia al Ghul," Gordon launched into, preying on the bipartisan fear and confusion.
"I am going to go into this hospital and find out what is delaying due process," Gordon bellowed, the crowd lustily responding.
"I'm going to get answers," he shouted before raising a hand and speaking softer, lowering his voice so everyone had to fall silent to hear his words.
"This has gone on far too long," Gordon murmured as his eyes panned the crowd, a small smile was given to a recent widow whose eyes shone with unshed tears, another smile for the single mom bouncing her toddler on her hip.
"I see the effect the criminals continue to hold on this city, your city" Gordon said, his voice rising, his political diatribe only growing as the crowd could barely contain their silence.
"The stranglehold ends now, it ends today," Gordon roared as he drove his heel into the ground and raised a hand in the air, in that moment he could've become Atlas, holding up Gotham City and the entire world with his raised patriotic fucking fist.
The crowd erupted.
Frothing at the mouth commenced.
The beating of chests began.
Gordon's campaign manager was on his hip as he turned and marched through the automatic doors of the medical center and walked with a sense of purpose towards the elevators in the lobby.
Magda Lange was new to Gordon's mayoral campaign and squeezed into the elevator car with Gordon, and the one-person camera crew Leaf.
Gordon was forced to keep his political face and beaming smile in place since they shared the space with a young couple who were heading to the fourth floor to visit an in-law with a broken hip.
Gordon nodded at them as they left the elevator before allowing himself to take a deep breath and adjust his tie as they continued to the top floor.
"You're doing great, you're doing great," Magda assured Gordon as she brushed his hands away and properly fixed his tie.
In the space of time that the elevator car ascended to the top floor, Dr. Steele led the law enforcement officers in convoluted circles rife with complicated medical terms.
Dr. Steele felt very much in place at the wheel until the office doors opened and Gordon, flanked by his actively filming, for the memoirs, entourage loudly entered.
Dr. Rodrick Steele pressed his lips into a thin, neutral line and clenched his teeth so hard his jaw popped, forcing himself to slowly stand, showing no sense of urgency towards anything.
He would appear unbothered by the sight of the very stars falling from the sky.
"Gentlemen," he stated, not asking them anything, not extending them an invitation to speak.
Gordon threw his shoulders back and puffed out his chest. "You're the doctor in charge of this circus?"
Dr. Steele wanted to slice through Gordon's left carotid artery but held himselfstill, allowing only a small smile.
"Excuse me, but you are?"
Gordon's expression slipped when he wasn't automatically recognized.
"I'm commissioner James Gordon and running to be Mayor."
Dr. Steele arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow, "commissioner and campaigner, there's no conflict of interest there?"
Gordon chuckled, tried to appear folksy, almost said "aw shucks" as he put a hand on his hip, "the former commissioner but you know, it never leaves you."
"Well, how is it I may help you Mr. Gordon?"
Gordon cleared his throat as he pointed to an empty chair, sitting before Dr. Steele even nodded.
He sat back in his chair and picked up his engraved pen from the gleaming surface of the table, looking back up at Gordon as he began to speak.
"The men and women in this room risked their lives for this city, my city, our city," Gordon started, bolstered by light applause and hands slapped on the table from the blend of law enforcement representatives.
Dr. Steele kept his face neutral, close to pleasant even as Gordon continued.
"I understand your job is to keep those two alive," Gordon practically spit, "but it would go a long way in healing this fractured city to have those two face justice."
Dr. Steele blinked a few times, "I understand the seething masses pressing against my medical center want blood, it is clear in this room how much you want my patients ripped from their beds, but I will not allow harm to come to them in order for you to obtain votes and let them be sacrificed to the city."
"How long are you planning on keeping them from standing trial?" Gordon asked, pivoting.
Dr. Steele opened Bane's chart, glanced over the recent EEG values and lab work.
"Mister Gordon," Dr. Steele started until Gordon interrupted him.
"Jim, please."
Dr. Steele gave a tight smile before continuing, "the brain is complex, at this point, with their healing even at this state, the coma is keeping that pain at bay, waking them prematurely could be traumatizing and agonizing.
"I don't give fuck how they feel, how many of us died?" a voice from GPD shouted out.
"Wake them up, start their punishment now," another voiced chimed out.
The voices crying out for justice overlapped, Leaf moved the camera over every angry face and then back to Gordon who was trying to gain order.
Leaf never turned the camera towards Dr. Steele who sat and began writing out two lists, one was for Talia and the other for Bane
He began writing out the chemical sequences of the drugs he would begin administering to wake them from their comas, he was already planning how'd he'd flip flop his schedule and plan on waking them, allowing them to be conscious creatures of the night where he'd treat them nocturnally, they'd sleep through the day.
He'd have a stranglehold on a rigid chemical cocktail to force their bodies to obey.
He'd present progress to good old Jim Gordon while keeping to his shadow logs and accelerating Bane and Talia to where he wanted to see them, have them perform the way he envisioned.
As the room grew in a hateful crescendo, Dr. Steele continued writing out an entire treatment plan, changing his schedule of when he performed his rounds, he was only stuck on what to tell his wife since she enjoyed working nights, he didn't want her to be on site when he was working.
He made a doodle of a car with a looping bow next to a picture of a ring with a huge stone perched upon the poorly drawn prongs, smiling that she'd gladly drive to the day shift in the car of her choice.
Leaf zoomed out and captured Gordon shouting over everyone, eventually getting the majority of the voices silenced.
Gordon looked around the room, meeting the angry eyes of all those with a badge before turning and addressing Dr. Steele.
"I recently visited Allan Crowley, he presented me with a medal for the work I did in service to this city during the occupation, according to reports he'd seen, he seemed confident that the criminals were well on their path to wakefulness."
Dr. Steele felt his gut clench.
Allan Crowley was a billionaire on the Board of Gotham's Medical Center, a significant donor and powerful voice of suggestion.
Mr. Crowley's involvement in politics made him a powerful ally to whomever he threw his support behind.
Dr. Steele set down his pen, a Father's Day gift from his daughter, and clasped his hands on the charts in front of him. "What is this path that Mr. Crowley sees for my patients?"
"Two months doctor," Gordon said, rising to his feet, essentially ending the meeting as he continued.
"Election day is in a little over three months, two months doctor, I want this city on a path to salient healing and repair in two months," he added as he held up two fingers, but not in peace.
Dr. Steele smiled and offered the smallest nod as Gordon had already moved on, shaking hands with many of the officers in the room, considering the conversation over, any debate ended.
Dr. Steele looked back at his handwritten columns, making further notes.
Two months was just fine.
Sixty days for the people.
Eight weeks for the city that needed closure.
Two months was just fine because Dr. Steele planned on having Bane and Talia awake within a month.