Chapter Two

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

Bane's POV

I had no clue about the identity of the man in white, the one who had plucked me and the little mouse from the sterile and cold surroundings that had been my home for over a year, but I had to say that he was not making as good of an impression as one should when they were intent upon acquiring a new employee. I would have preferred a little comfort while we traveled, after a lifetime of discomfort a little luxury would have been nice, so needless to say it came as somewhat of an unpleasant surprise to find myself strapped to a gurney, bouncing and bumping along a road that felt as if it was made of nothing but jarring potholes, while my thoughtful little caregiver sought to keep me as contented as one could possibly be in conditions such as the ones we had been subjected to.

The man with the alarmingly brilliant smile had injected a substantial amount of painkiller into my IV before we left, but our journey had been quite lengthy, in addition to arduous, and I could feel the first stabs of agony, those that had been kept only partially at bay by the dose of Dilaudid, making themselves known throughout my battered, broken body with a ferocity that had me groaning beneath my breath.

I tried to take my mind off of the pain, concentrating instead on the fact that it was dark in the back of the vehicle that we were traveling in, blessedly, calmingly black all around me, shadows that pressed against eyes that I refused to close. I had slept so long already, in my body, my mind and my spirit, and I was determined to stay awake as much as possible, for as long as possible, if only the torment of my body would leave me be so that I might develop a thought that was not mired by the constant companion of suffering, but perhaps I was asking for too much.

The little mouse was sitting beside me; one hand was gripping the side of my gurney, the other was, well, I was not certain what that hand was doing because it was much too dark for me to see her clearly. I knew that she was afraid; I could hear the quick gasps working in and out of her lungs as they escaped up her throat, through teeth that sounded as if they were tightly clenched together, and I wondered what had frightened her so badly. I knew that she felt apprehensive around me, but surely not enough to affect her in this way, not when she had never shown such blatant signs of fear before.

"You will hyperventilate if you continue in this way, my dear," I said quietly. "It seems that we are in for a long journey, so let us we pass some of the time with a little conversation instead, beginning with what it is that has you so frightened."

No response.

I felt like a fool in that instant, belatedly remembering that she couldn't hear me, that she was deaf, and after I had thoroughly chastised myself for my idiocy, I risked touching her, finding her hand, the one that was gripping the gurney with my own, wincing when she gasped and seemed to jump straight into the air…though she did not pull her hand away from mine, which, I suppose, was a good sign, one which suggested that I was not the source of her fear, at least, that I initially was not, though I had more than likely had just added myself to the list of things that scared her, if I were to hazard a guess.

Her hand felt tiny in my own, small, cold and clammy, and I squeezed her fingers gently with mine, in a manner that I hoped was comforting to her while I pondered how on earth I was going to communicate with her. It was too dark for her to read my lips, and tracing out what I meant to say on her palm would be a lengthy and no doubt confusing way for us to conduct our conversation. I found myself cursing the blackness that I had praised only moments before when suddenly it was pierced by a thin ray of illumination, from a small flashlight that was gripped tightly in the hand of my own personal Nightingale.

"Clever girl," I said, pleased to see the soft smile that curved her lips in answer to my compliment. "Why did you keep this source of illumination a secret up until now? We could have been having a wonderful conversation to pass the time if I would have known that you had that flashlight in your possession, my dear."

She smiled again, then looked away from me for a moment, and it dawned on me that she was shy, a trait that I found surprisingly endearing. After a moment passed by in silence she returned her eyes to my face and began to speak, in a fashion all her own, that is.

I know that you are in a great deal of pain, she said, moving her lips slowly to form each word, curling her thumb, unconsciously, I would wager, against the fading callouses that still covered my palm. The darkness soothes you somewhat, and I would much rather know that you are as comfortable as you can possibly be, even if it necessitates sitting silently in the dark.

I was right about her, having recognized her kindness and compassion in that hellish hospital. I knew that she would continue to care for me, to safeguard my recuperation against those who might intend to hinder me, but the question still remained about her obvious fear, and though it might have been better to leave the subject untouched, I could not help but feel bolstered by my curiosity to pry a little.

"Thank you for thinking of me, my dear," I said, boldly running my thumb in a circle around hers, drawing yet another flush to her cheeks, this one pinker, and even more becoming than the first. "Though I suspect that the glow might have proved useful in chasing away whatever fear has come over you, or is your terror one that cannot be conquered by the presence of a paltry beam of light?"

She started to answer me, to explain herself, but a stabbing pain coursing its way through my body distracted me, caught me off-guard, so much so that I moaned before I could stop myself, and though I knew that the little mouse could not hear my guttural groans, she could see the look of agony that had just overtaken my face, and the change in her, from one who was meek and quiet to one who was boldly in control, was instantaneous.

She swung her flashlight 'round to the side of the trailer that was housing us as we were conveyed to destinations unknown, revealing a wall of cabinets that I had not noticed, and gingerly stood, fighting for her balance as she searched through drawer after drawer until she came upon what she was looking for. She took the time to wash her hands at a makeshift basin beside the cabinets, showing attention to detail and sanitary precaution that I appreciated before covering her small hands with white rubber gloves, and then she turned to look at me once more, with worry clear in her eyes, battling with a hint of resolute determination that endeared her even further to me.

They have laid in a supply of Dilaudid, which I am qualified and prepared to administer to you, if you wish for me to do so, she said, wincing when she saw me grimace as another excruciating jolt of pain rocketed its way through my body. That is, if you trust me enough to allow me to care for you, sir…..

"I know of no reason why the two of us should stand on ceremony, my dear," I said, hoping that she was capable of following my words, given that I was speaking through teeth which were tightly clenched. "That being said, you should address me simply as Bane, and know that I have no doubts or fears in regard to your expertise in these matters and fully trust that you will do everything in your power to ensure that I receive the finest care that I possibly can in conditions that could be called rudimentary, at best."

She smiled and nodded, then turned to collect her supplies, approaching me slowly afterward, with only the barest hint of trepidation still evident in her steps. First I'm going to flush the IV line with saline, she explained, gently grasping the catheter that had been placed in my neck at some point, to ease the administration of my prescriptions, as well as to give the medical professionals a handy spot from which to draw blood whenever they deemed that it was necessary that they do so. Your mouth will fill with an odd taste, the best way that I can describe it is to say that it will taste the way that rubbing alcohol smells, if that makes any sense at all.

It did not make much sense to me at all until she injected the saline into my catheter, and a strange taste flooded my mouth, one that was indeed reminiscent of the way that rubbing alcohol smelled, and then she flooded my veins with the drug that worked surprisingly well at keeping my pain at bay, not banishing it altogether, of course, but making it tolerable, enough so that I could get some much needed sleep.

Rest now, Bane, she said, reaching down to pat my hand before she rearranged my covers, tucking me in as a floating, blissful feeling took hold of me and encouraged me to close my eyes, an action that I fought, so that I might ask her one last question before I drifted off to sleep.

"You have an advantage over me," I said, embarrassed to hear that my words were slurred just a bit, which I knew was ridiculous, considering that she couldn't hear my voice. "You know my name, but I don't know yours. It doesn't seem quite fair to me, to know that you hold the upper hand, my dear."

She smiled at me and moved her hand to my forehead, brushing back the hair that had grown long while I convalesced. Her lips moved, forming a name that I missed altogether, and though it made me feel foolish to ask her to repeat herself, I did so none the less, because I was bound and determined to learn her name before I allowed myself to sleep.

If she thought that I was foolish, or possibly a little slow-witted for missing her name the first time around, she did a wonderful job of keeping her criticisms to herself…though she did exaggerate each syllable very precisely, and very slowly, which I suspected might have been a bit of teasing on her part, a notion that she verified with the twinkling that I could see in her eyes.

Muh-lay-nuh, she enunciated, and I noticed, for the first time, that her lips were full, pouty almost, and they made me feel things that I had not experienced in a long while, lascivious feelings, ones which I had no business whatsoever entertaining, but ones which I considered none the less, and I wondered at my obliviousness up until that point, if I was just noticing how wonderfully kissable her mouth seemed to be.

"Spell it for me, please," I asked, wanting to see it properly, to ensure that I had it right, so that I would not make a mistake when I imagined it as I looked at her, as I spoke to her, and later, as I thought of her.

M-a-l-a-y-n-a, she said, continuing to brush my hair back as she spoke, her fingers feeling almost hypnotically good as they smoothed over my scalp. Now close your eyes and get some sleep. There'll be plenty of time to talk later, once you've rested.

I imagined that she enjoyed telling me what to do; I suspected that she was a bossy little mouse, in her heart, but I did not mind very much. If the truth were to be known, I rather enjoyed her authoritative nature, because it showed that she cared, though, I supposed, I might not find it nearly as endearing if I was not under the influence of a potent opioid.

"Malayna," I murmured, my eyelids growing increasingly heavy, until finally I had to give in to the urge to close them. "What a lovely…lovely…name."

Malayna's POV

Oh, man…this was bad.

It was my duty to be a caring and compassionate caregiver, one who earned the trust of my patient, who provided them with emotional support while they healed, but that trust and support was never supposed to cross the line from the basic care that all people were entitled to into something more. I was supposed to be thoughtful and empathetic, but I wasn't supposed to befriend my patients, and I was never, ever supposed to develop, let alone act upon a physical attraction, but that was exactly what I was doing at that moment, as I watched him sleep.

I couldn't pinpoint the exact instant that I had noticed that he was an attractive man, it had been happening so gradually that I hadn't even acknowledged the truth until recently. In the hospital I'd observed him as intimately as a woman could a man, I'd done things to him that would no doubt embarrass him, if he could remember them, but it wasn't until that moment, traveling with him, sitting at his side while he slept, that I took the time to truly see him, and realized that he was a very handsome man.

I could still see him in my mind's eye the way that he'd looked while he terrorized Gotham, with a mask covering his face, leaving him only his eyes to communicate with, eyes that were intense and arresting. In the hospital his oxygen mask had covered less, but it had guarded his features none the less, and now I could see all of him, in between the times that I deemed it necessary that he receive a little help with his breathing, and no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't keep myself from staring at his mouth.

When I first caught myself in the act I did my best to lie, to say that my gawking had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that he had the most beautiful, most kissable lips that I'd ever seen on a man. I told myself that I was ogling his mouth because he was one of the few people who'd taken the time and showed the patience necessary to communicate with me, and allow me to converse with them, but then I realized that mere appreciation wouldn't fixate itself on a gorgeous set of lips, and it damn sure wouldn't make me feel topsy-turvy all throughout my body, which meant that I was lying to myself and avoiding the truth of the matter, the fact that I was attracted to him, that I wanted him…simply put, that I had the hots for him.

I was pretty much a novice in the game of attraction, and I was fairly certain that it was more than likely due to the lack of viable communication between me and the men that I met, rather than a lack of desirability on my part. I wasn't a beauty queen, not by anyone's standards, but I wasn't chopped liver either. I believed that I was fairly pretty, not that I ever obsessed over that sort of thing, but I found myself wondering more and more what Bane thought of when he looked at me. I suppose that it was stupid, as well as reckless, for me to even care, but things had changed drastically between us, we were in an entirely different world than the one we'd lived in before, and I just couldn't help but allow myself to daydream a little while I watched him sleep.

He looked so young while he slumbered, with all of his waking concerns gone, but then, I suppose that we all did. He had given in to the lure of medically induced sleep a little over three hours before, and he'd rested easily the entire time, peacefully, but I began to notice his brow furrowing more and more, and I saw his head move back and forth with increasing regularity as beads of sweat sprang up on his face.

At first I thought that the effectiveness of the Dilaudid was wearing off, which was bad news, because he still had three hours left to go before I could give him anymore, but then I saw that his eyes were moving steadily back and forth beneath his eyelids, and it dawned on me that he was having a dream, a bad one, it would seem, and I watched as his lips began to move, forming words too quickly for me to follow them completely, though one, in particular, stood out clearly.

Talia.

Gotham City had believed her name to be Miranda Tate, but that had been a ruse. She was, or, rather, she had been Talia al Ghul, and it was soon revealed that she was the one behind the plot to destroy Gotham, a conspiracy originally devised by her father, Ra's al Ghul. There were several speculative stories that dealt with the explanation of the relationship that had existed between Bane and Talia, but no one, other than the surviving member of that connection, knew the truth.

It hurt me, to see the physical evidence of the anguish that he was suffering, a pain that had grown to include tears coursing down his cheeks, but it also made me jealous, made me envious, and those were feelings that shamed me, despite my inability to control them. It was one thing to be covetous of a woman who was tangibly in your life from day-to-day, but it was something entirely different to find that I was envious of a dead woman, one who still clearly held sway over Bane.

I watched him for a few minutes, torn over whether or not I should wake him, but all indecision went right out the window when I saw his large, powerful body tremble with the force of his sobs, and I knew that the time had come for me to act, and I tentatively rose to my feet and placed my hands on top of his, which were tightly gripping the sheets that covered him to the middle of his chest, and when that didn't work I placed my palms against his cheeks, wiping away a mixture of tears and perspiration.

There were several moments in my life when I wished with all my might that I allowed myself to vocalize my thoughts, but it was something that I'd allowed to grow dormant in my life. I had tried to begin with, when I first lost my hearing, but I'd foolishly allowed the taunts of others to defeat me. This was definitely one of those moments, and I took a deep breath, moving my lips so that I might form the words, and searched within myself, striving to find my voice, no matter how awkward it might have sounded.

"B-bane," I said, my throat choking, and trying to close, against the unfamiliar sensation of sound traveling out of me. "It's o-only a dream. W-wake up now…wake u-up."

He thrashed his head back and forth, twice, then a third time, before he woke with a start, his eyes wild and unfocused as his hands shot up to grasp my face, pulling me down to place his lips to mine, kissing me with a desperate fervor that was filled with relief, and I didn't allow myself to think, I simply felt, and returned the kiss with all I had, and it was one of the most glorious moments of my life…until he realized who it was that he was smooching, that is.

He slowly pulled away from me and opened his eyes, which were filled with a gamut of emotions. "Well, well…this is quite a surprise, Malayna," he said, gazing at me with an intensity that made the blush that I felt burning my face strengthen to a level that was almost painful to me. "Here I was, expecting Talia, but you are not her, are you, my dear?"

Indeed I was not, which was a fact that ought to have pleased me, knowing who she was, or, rather, who she had been, but instead it depressed me, because I wasn't the one that he'd wanted to kiss.