Hope
(oh, hope is the sweet face of perdition and i can't slip away from its lovely blue eyes.)
PART 1
The ancient world
I wait for the night to follow me
With sugar plums, with sugar drums
I wait for the night to conquer me again
I can't say yes, I can't say no to you
- i -
conquer
As it was near midday, the sun was high above a forgotten part of the world. And yet, it was a beautiful place. The landscape was astonishing, arid desert as far as the eye could see. Sometimes a building would appear, as if sprung from the very ground. Men seemed to have once tried to tame it by building raw constructions; but it was long time ago now, and nature had reclaimed its rights. Wind had huffed sand into the rooms, eaten up the outside walls and seemed to have made flee the last occupants.
Some men stayed. But they no longer deserved to be qualified of this noun; it was barbarians, once civilized, but over the years modeled by violence, hardened by pain, returned to their archaic state. Bellicose, cruel, lawless, it was a long time since the guilt of committing all sorts of crimes disappeared, buried under the tight skin. What they wanted, they took, and no one dared to poleaxe them.
Among this sort of men, an innocent soul would sometimes light up, and uncover the deep treasure of compassion into the darkest hearts. It happened here, in this so very lost area. A child, delicate and quiet like a lotus blossom; a child, with clear eyes and full red lips. A child, born and grown into the worst Hell on Earth.
But she had escaped from this place. Talia was… free. What an odd sensation, liberty. It was like all the ghost sensations she felt over the years of her tiny existence, came rushing to the surface. The sunbeams were burning on her skin, her blood was boiling inside her, a chill was running up her spine and liquid was rolling down her cheek. She carried her fingers to her eyes, and gasped when the translucent fluid on her phalanxes turned red in a flash.
She was crazy. Here was the only explanation; it was to climb and reach this so wished freedom that made her lose her mind. Talia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steadying her body and soul. When, blinded by the sun, her eyelids fluttered open, all Talia could see was sapphire and sand. She considered the sky for a moment, but then, she had it to contemplate for thirteen years now, down into the Pit; and so she turned to the desert ahead of her, embracing the view in front of her. (Here is the world, tend the hand and pick it.)
She drew the hood on her skull, and breathed deep into the freedom's toxin. Then she put a step forwards, and then another. At first, it was difficult; the fear that this liberty of deciding of the simple direction could be tear from you in a second. And of course, there was the only idea of choosing that made her want to stop…
But she didn't. Talia kept going until her bare foot ached so much that they were bleeding. She didn't even though of the Pit for a moment, her spirit so focused on the basic movement of walking on the sand. God, for a while, she didn't even though about Bane. Bane, Bane, Bane. Her protector, her friend, her equal, her — would she dare saying so? — soul mate. Talia stopped for a second, looked up in the sky, sky they had shared for a while now… and kept walking, couldn't look back. It was very selfish, but she mused she would come back with help, some day. Alone now, she couldn't do anything, could she? You are looking for excuses for yourself, Talia. You deny it, but you are a coward. Weak, stupid coward.
She wonders why her of all people must survive. She'd like to hide in a hole, and never come out to the sun, but she did survive and now she must walk for the sake of the only one who was here for her (before she leaves him to die).
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It was dark and cold when she reached the first house she ran into. Trembling, she weakly held a fist to the door, and it seemed to take all of her strength to knock. In the second it took to the door to yawn, she imagined hundreds of horrific scenarios, where the bad men grabbed her and forced her again down the Pit, or where the bad men beat her or undressed her, like they did to her mother. She was so scared for that second that she fell on her back as the door opened wide, carving the curvy shape of a women in the warm light.
Talia vaguely heard the silhouette gasp and yell, but she wasn't sure — her blood pumped at her ears, making a noise that drowned every others in it; and by extension, Talia felt herself loosing her breath too, her mouth like full of water, water seeming to be flowing from her very eyes. She watched the shape rushing towards her, and the only thought that crossed her mind was that angels existed, that one of them was in front of her, that she was going to be healed by heavenly goodness and that everything was going to be fine.
Talia's eyes rolled back in her orbits and her body gave away as she collapsed.
When she woke up hours later, for a moment she thought she had been taken back to the Pit, and the heat on her forehead was the burning and vengeful sun as the bad men were about to throw her into the crater without the rope, and she would fall, fall, fall and hit the ground and break her neck as the face of Bane would appear in her field of view, without mask, hard feelings in his eyes, and the mouth twisted by the twisted words of truth he'd murmur right into her ear canal until she would have expel her last breath of life.
You deserve it, you deserve all of it, YOU DESERVE IT!
"No!" she roared as she brusquely straightened up.
Her vision blurred, and she took her time to regain herself. She slowly sank into the mattress as she made no move, looking desperately at her hands posed on her lap while thinking: "Don't be red, don't be covered in blood, please, don't."
Several minutes passed before Talia lifted the head. She absently noticed the girl backed against the room's door's frame. Seconds passed as her eyes finally looked at the girl, beholding her presence; and so she narrowed the eyes, examining her.
She seemed to be around sixteen, even if her eyes looked like hundred years old, and was tall for her age, dressed in worn pale colored clothes; her masse of wild yet beautiful brown hair framing her tanned face, now in between scared and intrigued. As her brown eyes met Talia's blue ones, the girl lost the expressions, like a mas dropping on her visage. She walked into the dark room, only enlightened by the sieved light coming from the curtains. She handed a cup to Talia, who took it suspiciously — who, when she saw the clear fluid in it, greedily brought it to her lips.
The girl crouched to Talia's level and her mouth opened to let Arabic words out: "So. Who are you, boy?"
Talia's eyebrows flew to her hairline as she murmured: "I am no boy. I'm a girl." She lowered her eyes again on her cup, playing it careful. "Who are you? Where am I?" she asked, an anxious pitch in her voice.
Maybe her dream came true.
Talia heard the girl expire a long breath. "Ah… Do you know in which country you are at least?"
"Yes."
"The desert is about a bit less of fifty miles from here. You seem to be come from there (she bowed towards Talia's feet). Does that help you?"
Talia nodded. The girl tilted the head, seeming to be sweeten by something in Talia's expression and regretting her harsh words. She sighed a short breath, like… sympathizing.
"My name is Hope." She finally let out.
Talia lifted the head; the girl waged hers. "You are in the nearest village, in the house of my mother and me. We are… well, one could say curers. Mother took care of you yesterday night. She treated your feet — which were in really bad condition —, and gave you some medicine, before you passed out — again." She grinned in the darkness, but Talia didn't find the strength to return her smile.
"But you're not from here, no? I can tell by your accent."
The girl considerate Talia's face with frowned eyebrows for a second as Talia hold her breath. "No…" she finally murmured, a finger caressing her chin. "We are from America."
Talia snorted in a doubtful manner. "What would Americans be here?"
A silence followed her words. "What's your name girl?" Hope finally said.
"Talia."
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The first day, Talia remained in bed; the second, she ate like she hadn't eat in a week – which was sort of true –; and the third, she helped at the kitchen and the garden. And so she considered her stay paid, and decided to leave at night.
During the few days she passed in that small house, Talia got to know the two occupants of it. It was Hope, the girl, and Miranda, the mother. The first one said her name was English, and translated it in Arabic for Talia to understand. When she heard it, Talia was stunned. If that's not a sign…
But mostly, she stayed quiet, still. She listened every word shared, observed the dynamic between the two. They were part of a whole, which was all Talia could think. She contemplated, amazed, how they worked. Both were so used to the other's company, they almost didn't need words. When they worked on a patient, it was almost as if they were the same body; the movements of one merged into the other's.
The house was also a peaceful temple. Never a glass would break, never a word would be shouted, never a door would slam. It was so calm and relaxing that Talia understood that she didn't belong here, that she had rocked their worlds by knocking on their doors. And she kept doing that by staying here, silent as a stone, unable to let the harsh words of her story out. And she felt so terrible about it, because Miranda and Hope were so nice to her that was sickening.
And so she decided to flee without saying good-bye or thank you. She closed the door as quietly as possible, and tip-toped towards the exit, the solace, the freedom again. Oh, that freedom, that liberty so recently acquired, that so addictive thing that drawn her toward the road. She was like tied to it, now, like she could not do another thing. But she hadn't expected to run into Hope.
That one was apparently up late to garden a bit, and was on her way home. When she saw Talia, she first believed about a mirage. But no; she was really there, flesh and bone and emotions that were about to make her explode and her back to Hope.
"Hey!"
Talia turned to look at her, scared like a caught doe. Her eyes were the most fascinate thing about her. You could read everything so easily in them, Hope had noticed; and tonight they screamed her craving to break into a run. Talia watched Hope slowly raising her hands in the air.
"Please don't run off" Hope said as she walked towards her. When she finally got to her, Talia was still paralyzed, hesitant. "Were you— were you leaving?"
Talia didn't respond, but Hope seemed to have caught the flash of guilt in her blue orbs. She opened her mouth to say something, but as nothing came out, she closed it and turned to walk away (to freedom).
"Where would you go? You haven't told us a single thing about you, Talia. You didn't say what happened to you, why you were so scared. You didn't say if you had any family, any home. Talia — you're thirteen. The road's dangerous, here. You won't make it one mile."
Talia felt herself touched by the girl's determination, but liberty was like a mermaid and she couldn't resist to her sweet pitch. She bit her lip, but opened her mouth anyway.
"Look, I appreciate your concern. But I really have to go."
"What is so important that you can't wait for the day light!?" Hope finally screamed.
Talia froze. Her shoulders shook, and as she turned, her eyes were bright, as she would have broken down. But she did not, just as the first day. She took a deep breath, and one second to regain her inexpressive face. Calm as sleeping water, Talia, as sleeping water.
Yet, her eyes had still kept a glimmer. A tired glimmer, like she resigned to let something inside of her go, something long kept buried inside. Oh, I'm never going to meet her again, so who cares if I let her see a bit of my broken soul? No one would know, and this girl will forget about it tomorrow (oh dear, at that time she didn't know how wrong she was).
"When my father had fallen in love with my mother, who was the daughter of a war lord, this one sent him in prison for life. My mom took his place. She was pregnant. I was born in that prison. One day, there was a rebellion and my mom was killed. Another burst out, a few days ago. And I escaped. I need to find my father."
Talia watched Hope lick her lips, than look away. When she pitched her eyes into Talia's, they had something more than determination in it and something else Talia couldn't quite place.
"What do you need?"
Talia's mouth opened in surprise. Hope's eyes wandered on the landscape again. She signed.
"I can understand the need to find a father. And, uh — well, you don't look like you are going to give up on this. The least I can do is to prepare your trip. So, what do you need?"
"I, uh — provisions, I think. Uh, a cover, maybe."
"I'll get you the cover; take as much food you need in the garden."
As Hope turned to walk away, Talia stepped forward.
"Hope? Thank you."
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Notes: Trust is my first real fanfiction in English and in the Dark Knight category as well. I find Nolan's films so complete and so inspiring, that I always wanted to add a bit of my ink in it, but never dared. As I am French, I'll ask you to don't mind the mistakes but make me notice them instead.
This story will be a slow burn and separated in three parts; the first one is very short, because it's only two chapters. The second part will introduce Hope's character at about thirty-one years old, and the third at about thirty-six, and will contain The Dark Knight Rises' events. There will also be a romance, but it will be placed later, very later – as I said, a very slow burn —; so basically it is a Barsad/OC story. This story is really serious, so if you're looking for a quick romance or a meaning less sex story, this story isn't for you.
I am really excited about this, but I'm not very patient, so I count on your reviews — if there will be — to encourage me, so I don't give this one up. Thank you for even reading anyway!
[EDIT: This is the rewritten version of Hope. Tell me what you think of this new writing style!]
[EDIT: Trust's trailer: /watch?v=XK3ftHXZBto]
Review?