A/N: Disclaimer for ALL CHAPTERS! I do NOT own Batman or any character or place that originated from Christopher Nolan or any comic book published by DC Comics. I do own the original characters and plot.

Doctor Sa'id Alfarsi held his wife and young daughter close to his body as they crouched under their kitchen table in preparation for the blast.

The city was quiet for the first time in months; a hush had descended as if the whole of Gotham was holding its breath. That is, in fact, exactly what Dr. Alfarsi was doing at that very moment as he attempted to soothe his daughter's trembling form while she clung to him. Not even the newscasters on the television in the other room, who had been giving the world moment-by-moment updates on the status of the bomb and its imminent detonation, had said a single word in over ten minutes.

Gotham City and its people were doomed. There was no question now. No one was coming to save them.

It was the screaming, from the street down below their modest third-floor walk-up that gave them any indication that the end had finally come. Strangled sobs came from his wife as she clung to him harder, almost clawing at his person while he attempted to portray a peaceful demeanor. His daughter remained quiet, trembling.

"Shhh… rohi… shhhhhh…" he implored his wife, rocking her gently.

He braced for the blast, attempting to be calm in the face of death. He could not help his thoughts as they drifted to places he did not expect. Would there be pain when the blast reached them? Or would there be a bright light and then… nothing? Would they feel it as their bodies were incinerated? Would his quiet daughter, who in fear, had been unable to speak for days now, finally cry out as the blast from a nuclear bomb seared her flesh till there was nothing left but ash?

The doctor suddenly realized that his mind had wandered for far too long. Death should have already come and gone. He struggled to concentrate on the screaming outside, realizing after a few moments that it was not screaming as such, more like yelling.

Cheering?

'… bomb has detonated over the bay. I repeat; we have reports that the nuclear bomb has been detonated over the bay, away from Gotham City. Gotham City has been saved. We will report more on this breaking news story as information comes in.'

Dr. Alfarsi listened intently to the television in the other room while still trying to decipher the noises from the street below. His wife listened as well, quieting her sobs, as she was no longer filled with fear but… hope. She allowed her husband to gently remove himself from her embrace and watched as he stood to investigate. What the doctor saw when he peered out the window and down onto the street gave him hope as well.

The people of Gotham City, young and old, rich and poor, were emerging from their homes, their hiding places, their shelters. They met each other on the streets in celebration. Because if Gotham's Liberator had accomplished anything, it was bringing Gotham's people together as equals in the eyes of each other. Men, women, and children all embraced one another in friendship. They had survived.

They had been saved, but by whom?

The doctor stood, lost to his thoughts for a long time, holding his wife and daughter as they watched the street below. It wasn't until he heard the newscaster reemerge on the television behind him that he was able to tear himself away from the window. He and his wife watched in anticipation as the story unfolded on the screen.

'We are getting reports that there is still fighting on the ground in Gotham City. We would like to urge the people of Gotham that it is still unwise to leave your homes so please, stay inside until reinforcements can be brought in to assess the threat of the terrorists who remain.'

The doctor continued to hold his wife and daughter close, wary of the knowledge that even though the bomb was destroyed, there may still be a long fight ahead.

'We now have confirmed reports that it was, in fact, the Batman who was responsible for detonating the bomb over the bay. Eyewitnesses are telling us that the Batman reemerged from hiding in those last moments, attached the bomb to his flying vehicle, and flew it over the bay. It is unknown-'

Dr. Alfarsi watched as the newscaster abruptly stopped her report and conversed with a young man who was suddenly at her side, whispering in her ear. He watched the young man walk away, leaving the woman newscaster speechless for a moment before she could gather herself and continue.

'It has been confirmed. The Batman… is dead.'

The doctor watched as the newscaster faltered. She couldn't look up towards the camera for several moments. When she finally did, her eyes were glassy and brimming with tears.

'Reports confirm, that the Batman, in a heroic effort to remove the bomb from the terrorists, had no choice but to deliver the bomb into the bay moments before detonation, sacrificing himself to save the people of Gotham City.'

His wife gasped at his side.

'I would… like to offer a moment of silence… for the Batman. Whoever you were, Batman… we thank you.'

A single tear slipped from the doctor's eye as he watched, still holding his wife and daughter in his arms, and silently thanking the Batman for his sacrifice. He saved them. He didn't have to. He could have been anywhere else. But he was with the people of Gotham City in their final hour. Determination suddenly overcame the doctor.

He turned to his wife, kissed her fiercely, hugged his daughter tightly, and then went to gather his things.

"I must go. I must get to the hospital."

"What?" His wife was stunned. "No! You can't! You heard what she said; we must stay inside. It's still dangerous out there."

He sat on the bench near the front door of their small apartment, slipping on his shoes, and then his warm jacket. He had lost weight in recent months from rationing their food, now his jacket fit looser on him than he remembered. Although, he was still lean and fit for fifty years old. His dark hair was still rich in color except for the grey at his temples. He was a handsome man; his light brown eyes were kind.

He stood up and took hold of his wife's arms, stilling her frantic movements as she began to panic. Once he had her full attention, he spoke, softly.

"I can no longer stand by while people out there are dying because they have no medical help. Look at what he did for us, Havva. He saved us. He didn't have to, but something brought him back to us and he saved all of us. I must do my part. I must honor the gift he gave to us."

He watched as his wife struggled with his decision, her lip quivering as she began to feel shame for not wanting to let him go. But after a moment, she nodded, understanding that the people of Gotham City needed her husband more than she did at that moment.

"Promise…" she started. "Promise that you will return." Her eyes bore into her husband's, looking for his confirmation.

"Rohi…" He pulled her body close to his, still looking into her eyes. "I promise, I will return to you, and to Eda. Promise me that you will stay here, inside this apartment, and you will not open the door for anyone until I come back."

His wife nodded.

"I love you both. I will return."

With a gentle kiss to his wife and his daughter, he quietly slipped from the apartment, listening to the door lock behind him.

Dr. Alfarsi was cautious as he slowly made his way to Gotham General Hospital on foot. The people of Gotham paid no heed to the warnings that, in light of recent events, they should not venture out. The doctor merely blended in with the crowd.

'Safety in numbers,' he thought.

The doctor's trust in his ability to blend in with the crowd came to a sudden halt when he realized that he was being followed. There were two men, dressed in plain clothes. They could have been normal citizens, or thugs, or even mercenaries for the Masked Man. It did not matter. He had to make it to the hospital, knowing that he would find safety there… at least he hoped.

He was only a block away from Gotham General when a man approached him from a side alley, startling him.

"Dr. Alfarsi?" the man inquired.

The man looked military, with an American accent. He was in his forties, dark hair and brown eyes. His features were handsome, his jaw line chiseled and his hair cut short. The only feature that seemed out of place was the obvious scarring on the man's neck below his left ear. Scarring that appeared to be severe burns. The man was completely covered, however, so it was impossible to tell just how extensive they were. The doctor attempted to be calm. Perhaps the man just needed his help like so many others that waited for him inside the hospital.

"Yes?"

"Please come with me."

The doctor took in the man's appearance, still unsure if he were friend or foe. He began to step away with caution.

"Wh-?"

But it was too late. A black cloth bag was forced over the doctor's head from behind. Strong hands pulled the doctor's arms behind his back, securing them together at his wrists as he was dragged into the alley for several paces. He could hear the door of a van slide open just before he was thrown inside.

"Be careful with him. We need him." It was the voice of the man who approached him.

Another pair of unknown hands situated the doctor into a more comfortable seated position as the van roared to life and sped off. To where, the doctor could not be sure.

"Please, I have a family. They need me. Please, just let me go." The doctor knew his pleas would go unanswered.

"We are quite aware of your family, Doctor. We followed you from your home, leaving a few of our men behind to protect them while you are away. Please don't give us a reason to harm them."

The doctor panicked internally, wondering if he should have just stayed at home like his wife had wanted of him. It probably would not have made a difference, he realized.

"Where are you taking me?" the doctor inquired, softly.

"Not far."

That was all that was said for the rest of the trip, nearly 10 minutes in the doctor's estimation.

When the van pulled to a stop, he was forced, more gently this time, out of the van. He was lead through a door, up a flight of stairs, and down a hallway. The smell of the building was clean, clinical, perhaps a dentist or doctor's office. They stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway, where his escort knocked and waited. When the door opened, the doctor was shoved through. Once inside and the door shut behind them, they removed the bag over the doctor's head.

He took in his surroundings. Yes, a doctor's office. It was dark, no lights were on, but everything was intact and not vandalized.

The doctor was led further back to an examination room. The sight that greeted him was not what he had expected, and yet, given the men who captured him, he was not entirely surprised.

On the examination table in front of him, lay Gotham's liberator, the Masked Man himself.

Bane.

He was unconscious, bleeding, charred, and broken. The doctor was sure that the man lying in front of him was dead. How could he not be? Eyeing his injuries, he looked to have been… blown up? It was a rather fitting predicament, the doctor thought.

"Good evening, Dr. Alfarsi."

A voice spoke from his left. It was a distantly familiar voice. The doctor turned to confront it. He took in the sight of a ghost, a man he thought had been dead for quite some time, long before he came to America with his pregnant wife several years ago.

"Amin?"

"Sa'id." The man offered a less formal greeting.

The doctor could not believe his eyes; it wasn't possible. The disappearance of Amin Samara was widely spoken of in most medical circles in Iran. The unknown whereabouts of the kind doctor, who never made it home from his shift at the hospital, was speculated to death. It was thought that he had been taken prisoner by the Iranian military police, never to be heard from again.

"You were dead."

"Mm… yes," he said with an amused smile.

Amin was casual and polite. He allowed the doctor to gawk at him for a moment, trying to compose himself. Amin had aged much since their last meeting. He was in his fifties; dark hair peppered with grey, a grey mustache and dark eyes, handsome still, the likes of Omar Sharif.

"How…?" the doctor started.

"We do not have much time, Doctor. As you can see, our brother is in need of immediate medical attention. Attention that I cannot wholly provide. But you… have skills beyond most doctors in your field. Skills that, I believe, are being sorely overlooked. Tell me, Doctor. How is it that one of the most brilliant surgical minds in the world is wasting his time in a place like Gotham General Hospital? You have the skills to save those who are much more deserving, don't you agree?"

The doctor flinched. Although it was not the first time that he, himself, had made such a realization, he would not fall prey to the group's extremist rhetoric.

"Every human being deserves to live. None is more deserving than another." The doctor was defiant.

"I hoped you would say that." Amin smiled. "That is why you are going to save our brother. And moreover, given your elite talents, you are going to repair his body to pristine condition."

The doctor was suddenly incredulous, looking back and forth from Amin to the monster lying on the table.

"Pristine condition?"

"Yes. You see, our brother has struggled with the state of his damaged body for quite some time, never having the opportunity to have his injuries corrected…"

Amin directed the doctor's attention to Bane's mask.

"It pumps analgesic gas into his system, alleviating the near constant state of excruciating pain his body endures. Even now, the mask is dulling his pain receptors, which is why he is not dead. But it will not be long before his injuries overtake him."

The doctor could not deny how intrigued he was by the mask. He longed to study it. Yet he understood that this was hardly the time. His life and the lives of his wife and daughter were being held hostage by the monster lying in front of him, even in his unconscious state. The doctor turned back to Amin, ready to make a deal.

"If I do this for you… Havva and Eda… you will not… hurt them?"

The doctor was struggling to remain calm as he thought of all the terrible things they could do to his wife and daughter. It was his only concern, making sure they would remain safe and alive. His life, he understood, may be forfeit by the end of his task. They would not leave him as a loose end, someone who had knowledge that Bane was still alive. And once more, being the doctor who repaired the monster's body back to 'pristine condition', they would not want that known to the public.

Amin watched the emotions play across the doctor's face. Yes, he had the doctor right where he wanted him. He would do this, if only to save his family.

"I would not dream of bringing harm to Havva and Eda. But you must understand, Doctor, I am uneasy with the position of power that I am putting you in. You could end our brother's life so easily. So in order to… keep your motives in line with ours… we will hold your wife and daughter until you have succeeded."

"And if I don't succeed?" the doctor barked out. Sa'id could not let them think that he had all of the control. Sometimes, a mere man cannot contend with God's plan.

"Oh, you will succeed, Doctor. Havva and Eda are depending on you."

Amin's tone was cruel, all friendliness gone. He waited for the doctor to pull himself together, watching as Sa'id became resigned to his fate.

Amin continued, congenial once again. "I have made preparations for everything you may need during the procedure, Doctor. I will assist you. I suggest you scrub in. Time is… of the essence."

Dr. Alfarsi eased off his jacket, handing it to one of the men who stood at his side. He began to clear his mind, mentally preparing himself for the task at hand. He could not afford to go into the procedure with negative thoughts. Like he always did, when preparing himself for surgery, he set his mind in a more positive direction. He would succeed. There was no other option.

The doctor was in surgery for just over 10 hours. The most immediate issue was in stabilizing his patient. Once the patient was stable, he began to map out a course of action. He took in all of the information he could gather on the man's previous injuries before he was, from what he could only guess, blown up by a rocket launcher. The old injuries were appalling, indeed. How they were treated at the time, the doctor discovered, really was a most gross form of negligence.

Aside from the most recent injuries from the blast, the doctor observed every inch of the man's body with scrutiny. His muscle mass was like nothing he had ever encountered. He recalled how easy it was for this man to snap the neck of that poor nuclear physicist after destroying the Gotham Rogue's Stadium. He also noted numerous scars. It was plain to see that the man had been tortured in his past. Such scars were all too common in war-torn areas of the world. He had seen many such instances when he practiced medicine in Iran. The damage to his spine would be irreversible in the eyes of other surgeons of a lesser caliber, but not him. He was renowned for his talents, had many times provided the expertise to allow people who were paralyzed to move again.

Being a slave to his craft, he could not deny that the man's body provided a challenge, and fascinated him in ways that he had never anticipated. Although exhausted by the end of the procedure, the doctor was attentive to his patient in those following days, being the sole caregiver while the monster's body healed.

It was on the fourth day that the monster awoke.

Bane, medicated to a state of confusion, gradually opened his eyes, observing his surroundings with trepidation. The doctor was at his side immediately, examining him to get a better picture of his current state.

"Mr. Bane. I am Dr. Alfarsi. Please mind the tube down your throat, do not try to speak."

Bane began to struggle with the tube then, now aware of its presence.

"Please try to relax, Mr. Bane. I will attempt to remove the tube but you must stop struggling."

Bane nodded, calmly, and let the doctor do his job. Once the tube was removed, Bane regained a measure of control. He had no knowledge of his whereabouts, if he was being held captive, or if he was in the presence of allies. His next observation was the disappearance of his mask, which was not an immediate concern, as he felt none of the familiar agony he would usually feel without it.

Dr. Alfarsi could not help but stare at Bane for several moments, observing how… normal… the injured man seemed without his mask, human. But it was not long before he went back to the task at hand, understanding that he was looking upon a sleeping dragon that could strike without cause.

Bane was also examining the doctor before him, noting the doctor's attempt to control his obvious fear. He realized, though, that the doctor was intent in his task, gentle and kind in handling him, traits one could only respect. Bane attempted to speak, which was a difficult task because his throat was sore and his voice raspy.

"Where…" he started, then attempted to clear his throat. "Where am I?"

"You are safe, brother." Amin stepped through the door to the recovery room, dismissing the doctor with a nod so he could speak with Bane alone.

The doctor was perfectly content with this, not wanting to spend any more time than was absolutely necessary with such an evil man. He stepped out of the room and walked down the hall to his sleeping quarters.

Once alone, Amin spoke first, intent on debriefing their leader on the state of affairs.

"How are you feeling? Any pain?"

"Talia?" It was Bane's only answer.

Amin took pause for several moments before forcing himself to make eye contact with Bane. His response was calm but sure.

"Dead. Killed by the Batman."

Bane's nostrils flared as he broke eye contact with Amin and instead, looked through him.

"The bomb?"

"The Batman detonated the bomb over the bay, away from the city… killing himself in the process."

Bane was suddenly murderous. His pulse began to race, his breathing rampant, setting off alarms to the medical equipment that was monitoring his body.

How dare he be denied his revenge! Bruce Wayne killed his Talia and there was no way to make him suffer for it!

"Sir, you must not agitate yourself." Amin attempted to calm him. "You are recovering from intensive surgery; you need time to recover."

"Where is my mask?" Bane's tone was sinister.

"It is here." Amin brought forth the device, laying it on Bane's lap before he continued. "You no longer need it… for its intended purpose. We acquired the talents of Dr. Alfarsi to repair your body of your old and new injuries alike."

Bane looked closely at Amin now, contemplating the new state of his body. If what Amin was saying were true, he no longer would need the mask for his pain. He would only admit to himself that the idea elated and frightened him. The mask had been his constant companion, an extension of himself. He could not decide at that moment whether he was pleased with the outcome or not.

Amin pulled Bane from his thoughts, intent on finishing their conversation in an attempt to remain on schedule.

"We have acquired a new base of operations. It is imperative that we move you out of Gotham City so you can recover out of harms way. You are believed to be dead, although they have not found your body. We must move quickly, we have been here too long already."

Bane was lost in thought for several moments. He pulled himself back to the present, in agreement with Amin's assessment. A new sense of purpose was building a platform in his mind. He would go away from Gotham City, recover, rebuild his forces and then train his body back to its former glory. But he would return… to exact terrible vengeance for his Talia.

The people of Gotham would burn.

Dr. Alfarsi decided that it would be a good time to freshen up while Amin spoke with Bane. He washed his face in the bathroom sink and had just laid himself down on his cot for a short rest when the door opened and Amin walked through. The doctor stood up, facing Amin as he stood before him, Amin's hands clasped behind his back.

"Well Sa'id, now that our brother is well on the road to recovery, we are no longer in need of your services."

It was not relief that was showing on the doctor's face, but fear. Now that they no longer needed him, would they let him go? He said nothing and waited for Amin to continue.

"We are preparing to leave this establishment at nightfall. I will take over as caregiver while our brother is in recovery. I believe it is time for us to escort you home, don't you agree?"

Dr. Alfarsi could not hide the shocked look he knew was on his face. He stuttered slightly, attempting to respond.

"Y-yes. Thank you," he said with a nod.

"Very well. Your transport awaits." Amin gestured for the doctor to exit the room before him, pausing briefly while the doctor grabbed his coat.

The doctor stopped just outside the door and turned to Amin.

"Havva and Eda… they are safe and unharmed?" The doctor could not help but question, he had to make sure that Amin was keeping his end of the bargain.

"Of course, old friend. They are in fine health. You have succeeded, there is no reason for us to harm them."

Amin gestured for the doctor to continue forward. When they reached the entrance to the office, the man who first approached the doctor on his walk to the hospital was waiting for him. He had a black, cloth bag in his hands.

"You will forgive the inconvenience, be we cannot allow you to know our position. For obvious reasons… I'm sure you will understand," Amin said, quietly.

"Of course," the doctor agreed.

The bag was pulled over his head once more before the door at the entrance was opened. They had not walked far when Amin placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder.

"It was a pleasure to see you again, old friend."

Before the doctor could respond, he was forced out of the office and down the hallway, then down the flight of stairs and outside into the brisk air. He heard the sound of a van door opening, and then he was placed inside, with more consideration than the previous time.

The drive took about 15 minutes, which seemed consistent, in the doctor's mind, if they intended to take him straight home to his apartment. The van came to an abrupt stop and the doctor was pulled from the van and onto his feet. The bag was removed from over his head. It was in that moment that Dr. Alfarsi realized he had been incredibly mistaken.

The view before him was of the Queens River. They were in the China Basin, at the docks, not his apartment. He was standing between the open van door and the edge of the dock, merely a foot or two away. Resignation was all the doctor could offer in that moment, for he feared being a loose end that needed tied, and he was right. He looked to his escort, the man who looked to be American military.

"Are they still alive?"

"Yes." The man was very matter-of-fact. "They are alive and unharmed."

"Thank you."

It was all the doctor could say. He would accept his fate with dignity, knowing that his wife and daughter were still alive. It was their faces he saw when he closed his eyes. He tried to recall the scent of his wife's perfume, the sound of his daughter's infectious laugh. He held his breathe, lost in those memories.

He didn't notice as his escort quietly stepped behind him, aimed a pistol to the back of the doctor's skull, and fired.

The doctor's body conveniently fell into the icy waters of the river below.