A/N: John Daggett is a character in DKR and belongs to Nolan. Some of the dialogue is taken directly from the movie.

Keep

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Times like these, I wanted to jump out the window and dive right into the city lights. Instead, I turned over in the empty bed and sank my head in the pillow. Alone. So good to be alone for a while. His cologne still clung to my skin. I'd rub it off in the shower. Last week, he had me against the wet tiles. It hadn't been terrible, but I grew hoarse trying to convince him I was enjoying myself.

I hoped whoever had got him out of bed would keep him there. I was dead tired.

Couldn't fall asleep, though. He was talking to someone. Arguing. The conversation must have gone south quick because I heard him whine and shout. He had a short temper. Of course, his business partners had never seen him lose his cool, but I had and...whatever was going on in the other room must've been serious.

I checked my phone. 2:24 AM. I wanted to get some fucking sleep. I'd have to wake up early and leave. Daggett hated when he found me here past sunrise.

Grabbing his silk robes and pulling them around my body, I left the bedroom.

" - how exactly is that supposed to help my company absorb Wayne's?"

Daggett was getting pretty riled up. I couldn't see who he was hollering at. I climbed a step further down the stairs. All I saw was the massive bulk of a dark figure.

I took another cautious step. Not cautious enough. The floorboards squeaked under my feet. I winced.

Daggett turned around and his eyes found mine. I held my breath, waiting for his anger to be directed at me for eavesdropping. But instead, a look close to relief crossed his features.

"Maura…you're awake," he said with a catch in his voice.

"Leave us."

I flinched. That other voice. It didn't sound human. It was smooth, but alien. I could see him now. He was wearing a hideous mask over his face. A face I'd seen on the news for weeks. They called him Bane.

Fuck, Daggett. What did you get yourself into?

"Maura. Stay. Come here," Daggett pleaded, raising a hand towards me. "I'm in charge."

I should've run back up to the bedroom, but I was afraid that would be the wrong move. Any move seemed wrong now. So I held my breath and started walking towards him.

"Do you feel in charge?" Bane asked in a bone-chilling manner, placing his hand on Daggett's shoulder.

I froze, not knowing what I was supposed to do. Call the cops? Not likely. Run? Where? Scream? I opened my mouth but no sound came out. I realized I was paralyzed with fear.

"I've paid you a small fortune," Daggett moaned, trying to move away from him.

"And this gives you power over me?" Bane challenged, his eyes boring down on him with terrifying intensity.

Then, suddenly, his eyes were on me, surveying me like a slab of meat.

"You don't even have power over your whore, no matter how much money you spend on her."

I instinctively scowled, pulling the robes tighter around me. "I'm not –" But I thought better of it and shut my mouth. I was getting paid, after all.

He turned back to Daggett and grabbed his cheek. I saw him tremble.

"Your money and infrastructure have been important... till now. I'm Gotham's reckoning. Here to end the borrowed time you've all been living on."

I'd never heard a henchman – if that's what he was – talk like this before, like he was some kind of demented prophet.

But it was Daggett's reaction that unnerved me more.

"You're – you're pure evil."

Those were big words coming from a guy who, as far as I knew, liked to destroy other people's lives for profit.

Bane's eyes crinkled. "I'm necessary evil."

And then I saw it in slow motion. Bane's hand going to his neck while the other hand remained fixed on his jaw. The strange thing is, I heard the snap before I saw him do it. But I saw.

"Stop!" someone shrieked in terror.

I realized it was me.

I cried out when Daggett's body fell in a heap on the floor. I couldn't close my mouth. My eyes were dry, but my mouth was filled with bile. A man had just died in front of me.

Bane stepped over him like he was nothing. An ant or a worm.

I had to run. Get my body to work again. I had to move out of his way. I stumbled back, reaching for the banister.

He was getting closer. I put my hands over my throat, afraid he'd wring my neck too. This deformed monster was going to kill me.

But he stopped two feet away from me, and stuffing one hand in his pocket, he took out some bills.

"In case you do not receive compensation for tonight's work," he drawled, letting the bills drop at my feet.

I grimaced to think the hands that touched that money had killed someone. In that moment, I wasn't thinking straight. I forgot myself. Stress of shock, I'll never know. I grabbed the bills and threw them back at him. They hit him in the chest and fell like dead leaves all around him.

"No thanks," I spat, pushing myself up the stairs.

Bane raised an eyebrow, scanning me with obvious disdain. I felt my blood grow cold and warm at the same time.

"You should take it. You will need it when Gotham is no longer the refuge of the corrupt."

He was implying I was corrupt, part of a dirty system. He had just killed someone, but he was making me the bad guy.

"Fuck you."

Oh, I know it was a mistake. A mistake in the string of many and the night was not over yet.

But I was thrown off-balance when I saw no anger in his eyes. No resentment. He was observing me like a mortician looking over a corpse. I could feel his eyes roam from the top of my head to the soles of my feet.

"You ought to learn respect, child."

To think, hours ago I'd felt like jumping out a window. Now it seemed my wish would come true. In a way, I had expected my reckless ways to get to me, eventually. All these years spent frivolously, emptily. Partying, drugs, booze, sex, penthouses, old men, self-loathing, self-love, repeat.

"You don't deserve respect," I spat, my eyes traveling reflexively to Daggett's still warm body.

"And you do?" he returned coolly.

I wiped my eyes. Still dry. My mouth still filled with bile.

I'm not a murderer, I was going to say, but I felt I had reached my quota of boldness. And when that happened, I usually resorted to groveling and begging. I didn't know if I'd have the strength, this time around.

"Barsad," he called out over his shoulder.

A bearded man entered the living room with purpose. He stopped in front of Bane and nodded his head deferentially.

"Take the girl back to the safe house."

I balked. "Wait, what –"

"Silence her," he ordered and I saw the bearded man come towards me.

I shrieked and turned around, but he caught me by the elbows and placed a hand over my mouth. Struggling against his hold was proving difficult when all that covered me was a robe and my muscles were already strained from Daggett's demands.

"She saw too much. Kill?" I heard him ask Bane, as if my life was the weather or lunch.

"Keep," Bane replied instead.