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gothamflatfoot May 23 2005, 15:39:09 UTC
* In the hospital bed, James Gordon drifts in and out of consciousness as the hours' long intraveneous injection of a powerful sedative works its way out of his system. As Slade promised, he was otherwise unharmed, so in truth it's a matter of time only. For a man of his age, Gordon is in remarkable shape.

As he lies still in the bed, another IV at work but this time with nutrients to help wash out his system, he hears voices. A voice. And words that eventually call him out of the darkness.*

...sorry, 'm sorry...

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oracle_watching May 23 2005, 15:40:39 UTC
Daddy?

What're you sorry for?

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gothamflatfoot May 23 2005, 15:42:59 UTC
* His eyes open to narrow slivers as he looks about the room, bleary. Being without his glasses doesn't help. But his gaze does land on Barbara, and he blinks slowly...and smiles weakly. *

Princess.

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oracle_watching May 23 2005, 15:47:55 UTC
Hi, Dad.

She reaches out to take his hand, then prudently settles for letting it rest on his forearm, avoiding the tangle of IV tubes.

I called the GCPD. They'd red-balled your abduction as soon as they heard about it. They're glad to hear you're all right.

Captain Sawyer's going to be sending someone over here later, when you're up to giving a statement.

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