Disclaimer : I do not own any of these characters, which are based on Christopher Nolan's TDKR.
Author's note : I have never written a fanfic before, but I was deeply moved and interested by the backstory of Bane and Talia and wanted to learn more about them. I would also love a League of Shadows film featuring Ra's. But, in the meantime, here is my humble attempt at providing extra scenes within the context of the story of TDKR.
I put romance in the category because it was the closest option. However, I feel that they, being ninja assassins, would not be the types for overt romantic gestures or I love you's and that their relationship was more complex because of their shared experience. The are, in my mind, each other's everything : parent-child, brother-sister, lovers, but most importantly friends and soulmates.
I. My Heart Beats Just Below the Surface
"Have a good evening Mr. Wayne," Miranda Tate said politely, then turned quickly so Bruce Wayne wouldn't see her satisfied smirk.
She walked around the balustrade overlooking the dance floor below, nodding and smiling politely at her masked guests, until she found a small space of solitude. She went to a desk under an ornate mirror. She gazed at her face – Miranda's face – and pressed her lips together to control the sadness. She unlocked a drawer from which she pulled a yet unused disposable cell phone. She had dozens everywhere in her house, only meant to be used once. She dialed the number and waited patiently until the familiar hissing sound of his metallic breathing jolted her heart.
"Bruce Wayne has come out of hiding," she said simply. It was innocuous enough, had someone overheard, since the return of the playboy billionaire to Gotham society would soon be the talk of the town.
She neared the balustrade railing and spotted her mark dancing with Selina Kyle… "And he's taken an interest in your cat," she added with slight amusement.
She heard him breathe in deeply and finally his voice resonated through the phone. "Then perhaps your seduction will not be necessary. The Cat certainly has the body and the skills to get the job done," he told her, sounding amused but with a lethality she never failed to perceive. She should be above such things, but it panged her that he would have noticed the woman's attributes. She knew that he hadn't said it to belittle her, that instead he said it fairly hopeful that she wouldn't have to go through with that part of the plan (something, deep down, she hoped herself, despite their bitter disagreement on the subject). But there it was: she fell victim to a demon that whispered that her friend had noticed another women, a woman who would have seen him much more recently that she had, and it compounded how much she missed him. She inhaled loudly, trying not to betray her jealousy and longing. He wasn't speaking either.
She finally broke the silence by saying: "Have Barsad be at the pick up tonight". She hung up before he could answer. She then pretended to fumble and drop her phone and swiftly stepped on it, the stiletto breaking the screen. She picked up the cell phone, giving an embarrassed look to the sympathizing couple that had seen her, then she covered her eyes with her mask before heading upstairs towards her bedroom. She had already been seen in the hall and the festivities were well underway, her absconding wouldn't be noticed.
She had swiftly changed into black pants, boots and top and put on a large trench with a hood (which she pulled over her head), before she went by the back elevator and slipped out by the fire escape door that lead to an alleyway. She walked two blocks to find a run-down black 4-seater for which she had the keys, and she drove off quickly.
She waited with the grey case in hand, till the handsome mercenary came out of the shadows. She knew he instantly recognized her but he said nothing. Barsad was loyal to the death to Bane, and thus to her, but he was not a friend. Bane and she had no friends, except each other. Still, one could not ask for a better spiritual brother than Barsad and she always felt a bit better that he was with Bane when they were separated, though it often was Bane, ever the protector, who would save Barsad's life.
The young mercenary flipped his sniper rifle behind his back and made a gesture to take the clunky metal box she was holding. Talia brought it closer to her, communicating that she would follow him. He nodded reverently and brought her down the sewers.
He led her through a maze she already knew, though she hadn't seen it in months. She could have found her way; she always could find her way… to her protector. She knew he had felt her coming, as he stood tall, his hands fidgeting on his sides. Looking intently towards them. His gaze burned through her, though she didn't look up to see his eyes and could only see the expanse of his naked torso. She couldn't have the men recognize her. Only Barsad, Bane and herself knew the truth about Miranda Tate.
Bane made a few quick gestures and the mercenaries quickly dispersed from the area, and he turned to go to his private quarters: a single cot, covered by a tent, next to various television screens, photos and plans. She followed silently and passed him as he held up the tent flap and let it fall as soon as she was through the entrance. She put the case down on the cot and finally took off the hood and looked directly at him. Though the water and welding noise was deafening, they couldn't afford to speak. She knew he was angry by the glare he gave her, but as soon as she brushed her hand to the mask that covered all of his mouth and nose, his gaze softened and one of his big hands delicately ran down her wrist and forearm, his touch giving her goose bumps.
She pulled her hand away and went towards the grey metal case. He quickly went to get another green case, which was code-locked, and put it beside the original case and opened it. She opened hers and started to transfer piles of small flat circular canisters to his. Her case also contained medical supplies, a towel and a container of water.
He brought a foldout chair and heavily sat on it. She noticed the embers of a dead fire near the entrance of the tent and it warmed her. She took out the necessary supplies and put them on the bed, mechanically grabbed the bowl he handed her and poured half of the water container. He had put a sealed 2-liter container of pinkish liquid and a bag of toiletry near his chair and he took out the small digital timer, set at twelve minutes.
It had been four months since they had last seen each other but their dance was as it ever was and they didn't miss a beat. Miranda, now shedding her final mask, took off her coat, and started stripping, becoming Talia once again. He gazed in awe as every piece of clothing left her, until she was completely bare in front of him. She let him look, enjoying how lost he was in her. She felt another fire starting to burn in her belly.
He reached out, tentatively touching her cheek, then her lips with is large, rough thumb. She slightly opened her lips and kissed his finger and smiled, a smile she only had for him. She knew it was a risk for them to see each other, but with Wayne back in the picture, the plan would accelerate and how much time would they have then? Too little time.
Her hand landed on his and she followed it as he traced her neck enveloping it in his large palm. He then glided down her sternum and veered towards her right breast, sliding her hard brown nipple between two of his large fingers. Then, he moved to her stomach and applied a gentle pressure. She swallowed but didn't allow the moan that was building in her throat to escape. Her hands started sliding on his arms up to his broad, scarred shoulders to his neck. Their eyes locked together.
She sat on his thighs, the fabric of his cargo pants rough on her soft skin. His hands went around her hips and rested on the small of her back. Se reached back to the case and took out the syringe and plunged it in his neck. He didn't even blink.
She then proceeded to unclasp the mask behind his head and slowly started to remove it. She felt his hand tighten over her lower back and saw the strain on his neck. The local anesthetic hadn't yet numbed him to the blazing pain. His muscles twitched. She laid the mask on one of her thighs and quickly pushed the timer button, the minutes already escaping them. She quickly examined his wounds, white skin still forming the shape of his mask, pink oozing scars covering a distorted chin and his maimed lips – what was left of them. A large gash ran from the left corner of his destroyed mouth to where his left nostril had once been. She took a piece of gauze and tenderly dabbed at the skin to take off the sweat, saliva and specks of pus and blood that the metal from the mask exacerbated. He kept his sight on her, his eyes starting to well up. She took the other syringe and carefully put it under his chin. It was a concoction they had found in the Himalayas that didn't cause too much adverse effect with the gas analgesic that his mask dispensed to continuously relieve him of the constant pain he had endured for her to escape the hell she was born in. Her own eyes started to well up at the sight of this beautiful man, but her lids caught the tears before they fell.
She lightly cleaned his face before handing him his liquid food – 10 minutes left. The local pain relief was short and allowed only reprieve once per twelve hours. The injection didn't remove the pain completely but it numbed it a bit for him to eat and groom.
She started to roughly clean the inside of his mask and the piping exterior, while he grabbed the smoothie and gulped it down hungrily. He wiped his chin, and he grabbed the toiletry bag to get a toothbrush and cleaned his mouth ferociously, having decided he would not be shaving tonight – only 8 minutes left. He rinsed with the water from her container. As soon as he put the container down and looked at her, he was pleased to see she had finished cleaning the mask – 6 minutes left, and she didn't waste any time pushing her lips to his mouth. He kissed her back ravenously. She mapped out his scars with her tongue and he licked her chin, while his hands roughly caressed her back. She stood to allow him to kiss her neck and her breast, sucking and biting them violently. 2 minutes left – a small beep signaled.
He would not have time to cover all of her body but he didn't need to, his hands were already taking over. What he wanted was her mouth again and he took it, though the throbs of pain were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore… 1 minute left. They had to stop so he could put the mask back on. She reluctantly pulled her face away but he tried to hold it back to his. She continued kissing him as she replaced the canisters at the side of the mask without looking (so many years of practice… she could do it blindly). The alarm went off but he endured; he endured for her. She broke their embrace, not because of the fear his spasms could have provoked, not because of the bruising his bracing hands would inflict, but because of the pain of seeing him suffer again and forever for her. She was not as strong as he was; that pain, she couldn't endure.
She quickly placed the mask back on, still standing in front of him, her legs surrounding his. She held his shoulders, studying him as she saw the pain slip away with each raspy breath. She saw his eyes crinkle, sole evidence of a smile and she returned it gleefully and kissed each one of his eyes. His hand continued expanding her as his eyes as started, preparing her, after all those nights without her warmth. He made her come but she remained silent. They both did.
He swiftly unzipped his pants. Pulling her down with the fingers he had hooked inside her, he positioned her over him and she slowly slid down onto him and started rocking until she was completely filled – all in silence. They had done as such for years, ever since their flesh had found a way to fuse as their souls did, after she had matured, during their time in the League of Shadows. So as not to be found out by her disapproving father, even her painful first time, she had born in silence. Since then, silence had become the most intimate part of their mating and of their devotion to one another. Even after her father had found them out, had tried to tear them apart by force, even after she had found her friend again and they were free together, they often coupled in silence. As disciplined and as controlled as she had been, he climaxed and only let out a slightly stronger hiss and closed off his eyes, breaking their united gaze for the first time. She rode him until she shut her own eyes in muted ecstasy.
They embraced, their sweaty body bonded together, and stayed still for far too little time. She would have so liked to sleep in his arms, to mold herself to his mass and find a restful sleep like those long ago nights, but she couldn't stay and they both knew it. She stood up and used the towel to dry both of them. She put back the medical supplies and syringes in the case and dressed quickly. He grabbed her case with one hand and waited for her at the tent entrance. She then walked towards him and put the hood back over her head. Before he handed over the case, she put her hand on his mask again, gliding over the pipes that kept him whole. She approached her head to his ear and whispered the only words they would share in person that night: "Goodnight my friend."