My first Dark Knight Trilogy fic. Hopefully this will be the first in a series of one-shots on Bane and Talia. Honestly the pairing had to grow on me a bit but once it did I found I had tons of ideas.
Enjoy!
Whenever she came to him, grinning from ear to ear, tugging on his hand and begging him to come with her in that excited whisper, he knew she was about to do something that could land them both in a lot of trouble.
He would say no at first, of course, and slowly but surely she would break him down. He hoped to never make an enemy out of young Talia. For god's sake she was only eight and she already knew exactly what to do to get what she wanted from him, there existed no doubt in his mind she would grow into a fearsome woman.
Granted he had what he often heard referred to as a "soft spot" for the clever and vivacious girl, she had been the only good thing he had to hold on to for a very long time, but he was a hard man to manipulate. He wasn't entirely certain exactly how he had ended up wrapped around her little finger, but he found he didn't particularly mind. As company went she was a pleasant presence, always ready with a laugh or a smile. Simple things most would pass off as insignificant, yet they meant the world to him.
Many of his contemporaries found it odd that given the choice someone like him would choose to spend his time with a child, but he did not pay a great deal of mind to what they thought of him. They couldn't see what he saw. That spark of brilliance in her that only seemed to grow as time elapsed.
He did everything he could to kindle that bright curiosity. He had educated himself in math and science, literature, history, and language long before he met Talia. Now whenever she would point at some new wonder and exclaim "what is that!" he would sit her down and carefully explain. More often than not they would get side tracked on some point or another, but he would continue answering her questions until her interest was fully satiated. He chose not to concern either of them with rigidity in regard to what she learned as long as she remained eager for knowledge. She did not seem to possess quite the same total recall he did but she more than made up for it with a wit as fast as any he had ever encountered. He was confident that between himself and The League's scholars she would receive one of the best and most thorough educations available.
There was a steady rhythm to their game of tug-of-war. First she would bound into whatever room he might be occupying, light on her feet, showing off what she had learned in her kunoichi training with Ra's. He would stop what he was doing and offer her a compliment, because she would look at him with big, pleading eyes like his seal of approval was the only one that mattered and in all fairness she had improved vastly in the eight months they had lived with She was progressing quickly through the ranks, despite starting off at a very low level due to her lack of strength and experience. Already she could successfully execute a back flip, walk with out making a sound, and run correctly through countless stances.
Usually the praise left her beaming and then when he was well and thoroughly convinced she was the most endearing creature on the planet she would wave him in close and cup her tiny hands around her mouth to murmur whatever scheme she wanted him to go along with.
For his part he would shake his head, "I do not think that is a good idea, my dear" he would tell her, more gently than the men he trained with would have ever believed him able to manage.
At that point her expression would crumple and she would let out a terribly wounded little "oh". She would shrink into herself and her lower lip would tremble just so and he would feel extraordinarily guilty, even when he knew full well it was all a ploy.
"Are you sure?-", she would wonder aloud in a tiny, timid, tone. As soft and sweet as a dove cooing and he would marshall all of the steel he possessed to patiently refuse her again.
It was typically then that she would grow frustrated and begin to break out the big guns.
"But Bane!", she would wail, "I thought we were friends! Why don't you ever want to play with me?".
That was a lie, they spent most of their spare time together, much to Ra's al Gul's apparent dismay. He did not know what he had done to earn the dislike of his little companion's father, but he felt it acutely. Perhaps if that were not the case he would be more willing to indulge Talia, but as it stood any transgression on his part could have potentially serious and unpleasant consequences. At the very least it certainly wouldn't improve their leader's opinion of him. He simply could not afford to afford to drive any more of a wedge between himself and Ra's.
He would never take the time to dwell on it though, because her bright blue eyes would well with the most convincing fake tears he had ever seen. If he didn't know better he would have sworn she could sense his resolve hardening and had redoubled her efforts in direct response. The frustrating thing was that it always worked. He really couldn't stand to even see her cry, let alone make her cry so he would respond falteringly, "You know that is not true".
She typically took the opportunity to level him with a mournful stare, "You never cared about breaking the rules in the other place", she would mutter and her tone would lead him to wonder how a child could manage to sound so bitter.
He could not deny that her second statement was a true one. Back in that hell hole brutality on the part of the guards had been so rampant he'd had no choice but to ignore authority all together for the sake of their survival. They used to spend hours coming up with ways to trick, swindle, undermine, and otherwise make a mockery of their captors. More often than not these were far more than idle musings, they became real plans they carried out with a high degree of success.
To his mild horror she had not left her taste for trouble behind in the prison. Moreover, he knew he had only himself to blame. It was he who had taught her to steal, and pick locks and lie through her teeth at anyone who might suspect there was something more than innocence behind that impish smile. At the time he had only been conveying what was necessary to keep her alive, but he was beginning to fear he had robbed her of any sort of moral compass in the process.
"Please", she would implore, seemingly having cottoned on to the fact that a long period of silence on his part meant that victory was half-way hers. "Please come with me. It won't be any fun without you".
It was then that he would give in, he couldn't let her be sad any more than he could explain the nature of the corruption of the pit they had been held in for so long. They day would come that she had matured enough for him to make her understand, but for now there was no simplification, no sufficient understatement, that made it an acceptable thing to tell an eight year old girl.
So he would surrender, she would smile, and every, single time he would admonish, "You are going to be the death of me".
Like it or hate it?...Let me know!...