Hopefully, some of those who will read this story were loyal readers/reviewers of 'Gotham's Finest'. I appreciate all the positive feedback and encouragement, but unfortunately... that story has been put to rest. I'll no longer be updating it. I apologize for any disappointment. The 'chemistry' that Michelle Danvers and the Joker had with one and other was not something I was fully behind, and not something that is as dear to my heart as the new story you're about to read. I've developed this character in more ways than I thought possible, and Bane... just so happened to fit in a miraculous, heart-wrenching way. Read, review, enjoy. If you don't enjoy it, move on. I don't have any room for non-productive criticism. This has not been beta'd, so excuse any minimal grammatical and/or spelling errors.

POV: BANE

Compared to the "pit", the prison walls that were currently holding him captive were an image much more suitable for a weak man. For Bane, it was too well organized and was a small reflection of the untruthful shell that enclosed Gotham. Each brick laid was one block more that stacked up to hope - a hope that would keep criminals away from exposure and into confinement, out of the eyes of officials and those alike.

Cleaning the streets was just another way to swiftly pull a mask over its citizen's heads, blinding them to the raw image of what a world less suppressed would equal to. Gotham was magical at choosing their higher power - however, when it came to a man dressed as a bat, the stream was disrupted and made to flow another way. Eccentrics from the woodwork began popping up, painting their faces, wearing masks - a game, Bane thought, nothing but tweaking the tiger's tail.

What these men wanted done was only disturbing a hornet's nest. No goals were being granted, nor promises fulfilled. He'd almost wondered the sincerity in the criminal acts, whether them to be a serious attempt or a means to merely play with their food, not even being hungry. It'd become pathetic and the time to move Ra's al Ghul's plan into motion again had finally come.

However, now Bane had become one of the men he thought so poorly of. Trapped in the cell, he was stuck reflecting on what he'd done wrong. If it weren't still for his mask in poor condition, he'd be able to free himself easily. Though, the damage it had endured was only supplying him with a short-of-sufficient amount of painkillers. And even a small disruption of the flow would cause discomfort. He wasn't suffering completely, but he was reliving most of the pain from his attack done several years before.

The failure of bestowing Ra's al Ghul's vision onto Gotham was adding to what he was feeling in his face. His eyes hadn't stopped glossing over since the moment he was taken down by the Batman. Now with his body propped up against the back of the cell's wall, he was displaying a side of him that was detrimental to his psych. The humiliation and pain he was currently enduring was mixing with and resurfacing the pain he felt when he was excommunicated from the League of Shadows.

He remembered Talia's face, the fight he put up, the words, the shame - everything slammed into him at once and proved to the world around him that something existed inside of Bane that revealed he had heart. It wasn't anything he'd admit, but instead would have to have his body admit it for him. And so it was working very hard to do this.

With his unsteady breathing that was amplified by his mask, his eyes to the floor, and his posture weak, Bane was an easy target for the guards. Many slurs were aimed at him, reminding him of how pathetic he was now and how they agreed that the treatment he was currently receiving was far too friendly. They also thanked the God's above that no doctor would dare attempt to fix the mask. And considering it wasn't completely broken, it wasn't crucial that it'd be arranged.

One thing, however, was arranged - and that was for Attorney Danvers to take him on as a client. He was pleased with his choice, having done extensive research on her. Her credentials, along with her evaluations, proved to him that she was a Gothamite worth getting through to - that she'd not been completely sucked into its sleazy empire. He requested her services and was now waiting patiently for the next chapter of his life to begin.

POV: MICHELLE DANVERS

In the weeks prior, Gotham had crumbled, almost entirely to the ground. Once booming establishments were reduced to abandoned street corners and darkened piles of rubble. The entire city reeked of heartbreak. Though the perpetrator was behind bars, rightfully, most of Gotham's inhabitants were still fearful to step out. Evidence of this was present all over - mail collected on tattered doormats, yards were unkempt. Everything had a layer of snow - or maybe ash, she still wasn't entirely sure - and no one cared enough to clean it up.

"I truly believe we're on our way to meeting our goal," the man continued, staring proudly into the crowd of reporters. "The Rogues will have their field back. The fundraiser is going well -"

"Liar," she hissed. His voice was silenced, a remote tossed onto the nearest cushion. She clutched a coffee cup in her hand, the string from a tea bag still dangling out the side. She hadn't refilled for hours. What was she doing? The answer was a mystery, even to her. The austere, hardened attorney was now listless, and despondent in her city. She blamed her lack of work. Without something to busy her mind with, the misery was more evident. In the strangest way possible, Michelle Danvers had been busy and idle all at once. She went into the office, every day as usual, but common cases were a thing of the past. They seemed pointless in light of all that had happened.

Knuckles rapped against the door. Fear washed over her with the consistency of cold milk, and for a minute, she remained sitting, stunned. Very few people were left in the luxury complex, despite the security promised. Vicious words filled her mind; raid, robbery, Bane's out and there's another -

"It's Jim!"

Upon hearing his name, she sprung off the couch. Sliding the deadbolt to the right, and unhooking the chain, Michelle revealed a snow-capped Commissioner. Something was wrong. She knew that look - she'd seen it cross his aged features too many times before. "Come in, please."

His eyes were cold and still contrite with the task he was given. "I'm sorry, I tried every alternative. You can decline but -"

"Gotham Judicial System would send me off with a fee that could ruin my retirement. They aren't exactly the most reasonable of people right now, Jim. I understand."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be - this isn't your fault. When is the first consultation?" The detached tone was back, something she had mastered. She had just been handed a letter that could sentence her a life of mental, and possibly physical anguish, but this was business. She had chosen this life for herself.

"He... he requested you come immediately. No one is asking you to leave tonight. Tomorrow morning is fine."

Pupils dilated. Skin tightened over bone as she clenched her knuckles under the table. "The trial isn't for months, why-"

Gordon raised his hand, defeated. "I know. He requested meetings beforehand. You'll be compensated for time."

Winter time in Gotham provided a usually unnoticed problem. Everything looked as if someone had turned down the saturation. Before, the neon signs and billboards, the hot dog vendors and multicolored culture typical of New York camouflaged it. That morning, as Danvers watched it whiz by through the tinted windows of one GCPD's Ford Explorers, she saw Gotham City for what it had been turned into; a war zone.

"Michelle Danvers, Gotham City Attorney. ID Number: Four-four-five-seven-nine." A red light blinked above her, granting her access. She cast a reassuring look towards Gordon, and entered.

Whatever construction they had done on the common cells to detain him, they had done a considerably good job. It was dark; perhaps a mockery of his 'preference'. With fists clenched, she hesitated. The entire journey to the department, her heart had raced. Now, there was a dull ache from the overwork, her cardiac muscles were straining to keep up with her adrenaline. Her eyelids drooped as she inhaled through her nose. She had said the introductory speech hundreds of times before, and somehow, she brooded that she'd forget something. There was little she could do about the her voice shaking. Taking one step closer to the cell, she cleared her throat.

"Bane, my name is Michelle Danvers. I was appointed to you. I'll be your attorney in the upcoming trial. I want you to understand that anything you say during this, or any succeeding meetings will be confidential. If I however, feel that you are a danger to myself, or alternatively, yourself, I will remit the case to a medical health professional. Do you understand this?"