Devotion to the end
Barsad dropped on his knees, uncaring of the rubble that dug into his bones, and chucked away his rifle. His whole attention was fixed on his brother and leader.
He had been devastated when he discovered that Talia, the woman he was supposed to protect, had died, in a vehicle wreck nonetheless, like a common person. And then Barsad had run with his weapon in his arms as fast as he could manage back to the center despite the aching bruise on his front where a bullet had pierced the protecting vest and rammed against the skin without breaking it. He had headed for the building where the cops and army of Bane had fought, relieved that the street was deserted, but littered with garbage and some bodies. Undeterred, seeking his leader, Barsad had entered the destroyed lobby to look around for traces of the man. That was when happened upon Bane in a heap by a crushed wall.
Barsad quickly scanned his leader and was displeased with what met his eyes. The tubes of the mask were damaged beyond repair and pieces of the hard mask behind the straps must have grazed Bane's face since blood tricked out where there shouldn't be space for blood. Bane's clothes were dusty and smattered with blood, both his own and someone else's. Barsad swept his frantic eyes over Bane's powerless form and noticed the slowly growing stain of red over Bane's abdomen. Fatal wounds, but not immediately deadly.
Barsad's mind darkened at the thought of what those perpetrators had done. Left him to die slowly, not even giving him a death blow of mercy. He couldn't contain the snarl, as he became angry with the bastards who had condemned Bane to suffering with climbing pain. At least the League of Shadows had been quick about ending lives, be it through plane crashes or walks on thin ice.
Suddenly Bane stirred and he opened his eyes, focusing on Barsad. The wounded man shuddered as he took a new breath. Breathing hurt him, his lungs protested against the movement. Barsad calculated that Bane's ribs where shattered on many places. Tired eyes stared up at him.
"What of Talia?"
No time for trivia, only the most important information was wanted at this point. It was obvious Bane had already realized what had happened to his protégé since Barsad was by his side instead of hers. But he asked for details. Barsad ducked his head in shame but kept his eyes on Bane's, giving him the respect he deserved.
"I failed you, brother. We were overpowered. I lost her."
Bane used some of his last strength to shake his head, the tubes dangling sadly at the miniscule motion.
"No, you have done nothing wrong. You performed your duty well. You are my brother."
Something nudged at his thigh and when Barsad looked down, he saw Bane's calloused hand there turning, palm up. He interpreted it as an invite and grasped it gently, wove his slender fingers with Bane's cool ones.
Barsad offered to create a makeshift tourniquet for the wound on Bane's belly. Bane declined, pointing out that he wouldn't prefer to go with massive pain from pressure. His body was becoming numb anyway; a relief for an agonized man like Bane who had been doomed to forever suffer from his condition.
They fell silent for a while. Barsad's pulse slowed until it almost matched Bane's labored one. For his own small comfort, Barsad summoned peace and calm, a trick he had been taught in the League of Shadows so many years ago. At long, Bane's fingers began twisting in Barsad's grip and his eyes sought out Barsad's. When the man spoke, his voice was ruined by huskiness and he appeared unaware that he was whispering. Barsad leaned closer over him to hear. No scent of chemicals left Bane anymore.
"I know my fate. I shall have peace. Except…" His brother paused with a quiver and for once, Barsad thought Bane showed uncertainty, doubt, fear. "I was born into the darkness but now, it frightens me. Barsad. The darkness creeps closer."
The room was showered in light from the sunny dawn. Barsad gripped Bane's hand tighter.
"I'm here with you, Bane. I'll keep you safe."
"But…will you…am…on?"
Barsad only caught some words and syllables and bracing himself on one elbow by Bane's side, he emitted quietly, "I wish to hear you, brother. Will you let me remove the mask?"
Bane gave his permission and producing a small knife from a pocket on his trousers, Barsad cut through the straps and divided the mask in two, only having to lift them aside to free Bane of the device, sparing Bane from further pain by not lifting his head to slide the mask off. Bane gurgled and shook when the broken thing was pulled away, his cheeks had caught in the sharp hooks of twisted Kevlar and blood smeared the pale skin. Barsad winced when the thick, round respirator left the mouth's cavern and made Bane groan and breathe faster.
Finally done, Barsad put the halves on the floor and caressed a tear that ran down Bane's temple before he inched closer into Bane's side, molding his body to the leader. Barsad was unaffected by the state of Bane's face, only seeing his brother and friend.
"Now, what did you say? I wasn't listening properly." Bane rolled his eyes slowly at his poor attempt to save Bane's dignity.
"Barsad, I said, but what will you do when I am gone?" Barsad more read Bane's lips than heard him speak, and with watering eyes, he bent over Bane and tenderly licked the dry and chapped lips to dampen them and help Bane form audible words. A barely there whimper at the unusual contact stirred his own lips. When he moved back, he gave his brother a fleeting frown.
"I shall devote myself to fulfilling your plan for Gotham in your name. I will gather what remains of our allies and continue stoking the fire you lit."
"My most loyal lieutenant," Bane mumbled and his gaze flickered, lost focus and Bane, for the first time in a long time probably, in the presence of someone else, worried his lips.
Barsad had vast knowledge of how much trauma a body could take, even a magnificent body like Bane's. He also knew that Bane was bordering on unconsciousness, not dying though. The harm Bane's perpetrators had afflicted upon the man was not going to kill him for at least half an hour. Bane could wake up again and feel the excruciating pain. It would be too long to go through that kind of suffering.
Bane blinked hard and when he opened the eyes again, clarity had returned. Barsad was astounded by Bane's resources and his mental determination to compel himself to stay awake.
"Barsad, my blood and spirit."
Barsad cradled the grey face, ignoring the listless arm that no longer could stay propped on his thigh on its own.
"Bane."
A sincere expression bloomed out on Bane and Barsad stroked the skin under his hands with equal softness and greediness. To touch Bane's living form, just for a bit longer. For in his heart, he already understood what Bane would ask of him.
"I'm glad you're the one to end my life, Barsad."
Through a raspy voice, Bane said those words and Barad's heart seized with concern and sorrow. But he would not fail Bane. Instead, he dipped his head down and rested his clammy forehead against Bane's. A gesture both knew meant agreement and faithfulness.
"You will not die, Bane. Because I will have you here in my heart for as long as I live." His vow surprised him, but that didn't make it false. Absently, Barsad wiped at the tears that trickled down his own smudged cheeks and tickled him.
It seemed to take Bane a lot to let his gaze travel over Barsad's form, not much else moved now where Bane was concerned, except the chest when he inhaled and exhaled. He was in pain.
Bane hissed and spoke, haltingly from the shallow breaths, "Do you remember when you shared my bed our first night in Gotham?"
How could Barsad forget any of the times Bane had honored him with such affection? He nodded.
They had made up camp in a closed down water station far into the sewer system beneath the city. It had just been the two of them that night, the other mercenaries and allies would arrive the next day. And Barsad had joined Bane on the basic mattress and they had stroked, held, touched, probed, spread, rocked each other until they had had their fill of unadulterated pleasure.
Barsad smiled shyly. "You insisted on keeping the lights on even if I saw it irritated you."
Bane commented with a burning intent in his eyes, "Do you know why I insisted?"
Barsad shook his head. He might be one of Bane's most loyal men, but despite their long friendship he couldn't always read Bane's mind.
Bane emitted, "It was because I would happily endure the wretched light as long as it meant I got to see you move against me. Your lovely mouth forming moans and the muscles in your thighs shaking. Your body writhing with pleasure from my touch. Those blue eyes that holds the sky searching for mine. And I look upon you now, my Barsad."
It was time.
Deftly, with years of practice, Barsad sat up and reached for another knife kept in a larger pocket. It was more like a dagger really, adorned with foreign signs and lethally sharp. Barsad lifted a torn piece that had been Bane's functional bulletproof vest and exposed the flesh under it.
The blade reflected the sunshine before Barsad without hesitating or delaying the inevitable brought it down straight through skin, tissue and flesh until it met Bane's heart. It was swift.
Bane jerked, failed to cough, but his eyes were calmly fixed on Barsad's and Barsad drank in the fleeing life in Bane as much as he could before the severed muscle stopped making faint twitches travel up the dagger to the fingers that stayed wrapped around the handle.
Bane passed away despite the valiant efforts his broken body had made to survive. Bane face was serene when the eyes dimmed.
Barsad removed the dagger as fast as he had plunged it into Bane and put it back in his pocket. He should clean it now, while the blood was fresh and could be wiped off easily. But he couldn't make himself. Bane would have lectured him for such sloppiness, but he could not do this now.
As he stood and walked away from his fallen brother without another look, Barsad's heart was beating so fast there could have been two hearts residing inside his chest.