FROM THE ASHES

Author's Note: I usually write from an omniscient limited POV, but I thought I'd try writing this story in omniscient unlimited as a challenge. Let me know if it's too confusing. Thanks for reading, and please take a moment to comment/review. I enjoy hearing from my readers.

Chapter 1

Talia's scream shattered Bane's sleep.

Instinctively he leapt out of bed, rushed to the door that separated his bedroom from hers, moving far faster than should have been possible for a man of his size. A second scream prickled the hair on his arms as he burst through the door. Across the room, another door shot open, and his second-in-command, John Barsad, stormed in, pistol in hand, the American's expression as alarmed as Bane's, his attention on Talia in the dim lamplight.

She thrashed about in her spacious bed, silk sheets crumpled, blankets in a pile on the floor. Sweat made her black kimono cling to her small body. Perspiration darkened her short sable hair.

Bane sat beside her, the mattress protesting his weight as he reached for her shoulders.

"Talia," he said, his mechanical-sounding voice wheezing through the mask that covered most of his face. "Talia, wake up." His big hands engulfed her shoulders, gently shook her before drawing her toward his bare chest.

She awoke with a gasp, one fist flashing defensively toward Bane's head. He blocked the blow, held her wrist firmly. Her sapphire eyes locked with his. Fear there, rage.

"It's all right," he crooned. "You're safe. It was just a nightmare."

A pause, then the mist cleared from Talia's gaze, and tension left her shoulders, lowering them. A sigh of relief slipped between her beautiful lips.

Bane touched her cheek, repeated, "Just a dream."

Talia closed her eyes for a moment, appeared to center herself, nodded.

To Barsad, Bane said, "Thank you, brother. You may leave us."

Barsad gave a tight nod of concern, his fingers relaxing on the grip of his Beretta. With a final glance at his two superiors, he retreated. Outside, in the hallway, two of his League brothers approached, one with a pistol in hand, another with a katana.

"I heard her scream," the formidable black man said, a Nigerian known as Yemi. "Is she all right?"

"Yeah, just a nightmare," Barsad assured. "Bane's with her. Nothing to worry about, brothers."

Yemi frowned at hearing of their mistress's continued night terrors; they had plagued her since coming to 'Eth Alth'eban a week ago. With an encouraging nod from Barsad, Yemi and the other man headed back to their rooms one floor down. Barsad stepped into his bedroom just across the hall from Talia's chambers.

Talia's scream had jolted Barsad from a deep sleep, his reaction automatic and quick—get to her, protect her from an attack. But of course such a danger was next to impossible here in the underground fortress of 'Eth Alth'eban, headquarters of the League of Shadows. Yet such an impossibility could not deter her men's reactions to rush to her side.

As he set the pistol on his nightstand, Barsad ran his fingers through his brown hair, sighed. Crawling back under his blankets, he knew Bane would remain with Talia until she was comfortable and calm once again. Or perhaps his friend would stay with her for the rest of the night. Barsad frowned. No, he'd be surprised if that happened. After all, Bane and Talia hadn't slept together in nearly two years. Well, Barsad considered, not counting that last night in Gotham, but Bane had said that occasion had been chaste, and Barsad believed him.

For Bane's sake, Barsad often wished Talia would rekindle the physical relationship she once had with Bane. Over the years, Barsad had watched the two be pulled apart by work and circumstances, living half a world away from one another most of Talia's adult life. The separation had changed Bane, damaged him, made him even more driven and ruthless, more isolated. And then had come the disaster in Gotham; fresh damage, something that had affected Talia far more than Bane, sending her into a deep depression and not just because of the physical injuries she had suffered. Barsad feared she might never mentally and emotionally heal, a fear Bane shared. Helping Talia—the League's commander—recover was now Bane's focus, often superseding even his duties as acting commander.

Barsad rolled over, restless, his senses still on high alert from adrenaline. In the quiet of the dormitory, he could hear Bane talking with Talia, but the closed door to her room kept any words from reaching him.

"You should let me give you something to help you sleep," Bane said to Talia as she propped herself up in bed with her pillows.

"No, I'll be fine," she insisted.

"The nightmares are getting worse," Bane observed.

Talia waved a dismissive hand, avoided his gaze.

"What was it about?" he pressed, still seated on the edge of her mattress. He told himself that he should not maintain such an intimate post, but he could not remove himself.

"I don't remember. It was just abstract images."

The effortlessness of her lie pained him. He wanted to take her hand, warm it in his as he used to do in prison when she had been a mere child and he a teenager.

"I remember a time," he murmured, staring at her, willing her to look at him again, "when we told each other everything. Do you remember those days, habibati?"

Talia's lips twitched in a frown, a hint of shame. At last she softly replied, "Yes."

He leaned toward her, spoke gently but with the firmness of her protector, "Tell me what the dream was about, Talia."

With arms crossed as if to guard against a chill, she hesitated, as she had every night when he asked.

"Talia."

"It will cause you pain."

"So be it. Tell me."

Talia sighed in frustration, forced her gaze to his. "It was about Mama…about the day she died."

As predicted, the mere mention of Melisande pierced Bane's heart with an agony as fresh as the time of her rape and murder in prison. He knew Talia read the reflection of pain on his face.

"And the other dreams you've had these past nights—were they also about your mother?"

"Some…not all."

"What were the others about?"

"Being in the pit prison."

"I feared as much. It was a mistake to bring you to 'Eth Alth'eban. Being underground has no doubt stirred these memories."

"What other choice was there? We couldn't continue to stay with my grandmother in Rajasthan. It put her in too much danger—we're the two most wanted people in the world."

"A risk she accepted. Perhaps we should have listened to her and stayed. She is often wiser than the two of us put together."

The thought of her headstrong grandmother—her only living relative—tugged a smile from Talia. "I do miss her."

"Then you shall go back to her. I am now convinced you will prosper more there. I am sorry for bringing you here."

"We both agreed it was best. But let's not be hasty, Bane. Perhaps in time the nightmares will cease."

"I cannot bear to see you so distressed. I will contact your grandmother in the morning."

"No, let's wait a few more days."

Weighing the risks presented by returning to Rajasthan, Bane studied Talia's drawn face, traveled to the marks left by the pins that had anchored the halo brace to her skull. Weeks of seeing her thus immobile and uncomfortable. Never before had she suffered an injury, not even when a youngster training to be an assassin at the League's former headquarters in the Himalayas. Though Bane had endured great physical suffering during his forty-five years—and continued to do so—nothing pained him as much as seeing Talia struggle through recovering from a broken neck. Her physical healing had progressed remarkably well, and within eight weeks she had been free of the horrid brace. But it was her mental health that troubled Bane most.

"I think it best if you allow me to return you to the palace in Rajasthan."

She offered an appreciative smile. "We will compromise, habibi. One more night. If these troubles persist, then we can consider our options. Agreed?"

Talia's smile worked its usual magic upon him, causing him to relent. "Very well, my dear. I will allow this, though I do so reluctantly."

"Thank you." She briefly touched his big hand. "Now you must get some rest. I'm very sorry for having disturbed you and Barsad."

He put his other hand over theirs, longed to kiss her. "No apologies, habibati. And are you sure you won't allow me to give you something to help you sleep?"

"Quite sure. But thank you."

A hint of her old softness returned, pleasing him and lifting him to his feet. "Very well, my dear. Please don't hesitate to call for me if you require anything."

Talia hid her fears as she watched him lumber toward the door to his room. As her attention trailed over the heinous scar that ran the length of his spine, her heart twisted with sorrow over what he had borne over the years—all for her sake. Then she admired his solid, bulging muscles, his mountainous, broad shoulders. So much power there, a physical and intellectual menace that had cowed one of the world's greatest cities. But Talia knew there was so much more to Bane than just an imposing physique and gifted mind. She knew his heart, she knew the man who had dedicated his life to her and her alone. Her protector, her friend, her former lover.

Shame washed over her as he paused in the doorway and looked back at her. The dark blue mask that provided him with an inhalant of constant pain-killing drugs hid most of his face from her, but his dark eyes revealed his small, reassuring smile. Then he closed the door behind him.

Talia shut her eyes, hated herself all over again for what he had sacrificed for her. Immediately she regretted sending him from her room. Only her pride had allowed it. Truth be told, she had wanted him to stay, to sit with her and talk, like they used to back in the old days, like they had that last night in Gotham. Since her injuries, she had lost so much of her emotional strength. She doubted herself greatly now, on many levels. But when Bane was with her, he gave her some of that strength back, some of her confidence. And she felt, as always, completely safe with him near. Nothing and no one in the world provided that more than Bane.

For a moment, Talia considered going to his room, even if just for a few minutes. But then she sighed at her weakness and forced herself to lie back down. She did not, however, turn off the light.