Maybe I'm Afraid, but Still I Swear, You Could Take My Life With Conscience Clear But You Should Still Hear

He awoke with a start and was surprised to find that it was dark. Nothing was present in the room to have woken him, so he supposed it was merely a dream. He took stock of himself, pleased to find that the intense pain that had been his world for years, apparently, was greatly diminished. He was aware of it, but it did not control him anymore. The sound of his own breathing was somewhat startling, but could be ignored. The mask was tight on his face, and somewhat uncomfortable, but definitely worth it.

He was hungry. Did he dare remove his mask in order to eat? Was there any food to be had? He surveyed his room and found none. There was a mirror in a far corner of the room. He stared at it for a while, warring with his desire and fear of seeing the state to which his body had been reduced. He rose from the bed slowly, feeling a dull ache in every limb, but not intense pain. His walk was shuffling and clumsy, but he made it to the mirror without incident.

His body was fairly covered with scars. One long mark stretched from the base of his neck all the way down his back. The others were smaller and less noticeable. He supposed that one was caused by the bumbling doctor. The thought made him savage and he grasped the counter tightly to keep from striking the mirror or the wall. Calming himself, he looked at his face and at the demonic apparatus attached to it. He smiled, imagining how the doctor would react to his new face. The expression was mostly hidden and he considered what a powerful tool it would be to have an unreadable face. Not that he had been particularly expressive beforehand, of course.

He considered removing the mask to observe the damage to the rest of his face, but did not see the point in doing so. Instead, he turned from the mirror and dropped to the floor. His arms protested when he started doing push-ups, but he continued nonetheless. He exercised his unused muscles for some time, until he was covered with sweat and began to fear that he would not be able to climb back into bed. Carefully, he pulled himself up the chair and threw himself onto the bed. It felt very welcoming and he fell asleep almost instantly.

The sun fought against the curtains and hurt his eyes as it reached his face. He turned away and was pleased to feel a familiar discomfort in his muscles. His strength would return now that he was not incapacitated by pain.

"Good morning," a voice said.

He opened one eye to observe his visitor and felt something like relief to find it was only Talia. He grunted in response to her statement.

"I brought your breakfast," she told him.

He sat up slowly, enjoying the soreness that had replaced the constant ache in his muscles. "How am I to eat it?" he asked, his voice sounding more like a growl than he intended.

If she thought his new face fearsome, she did not show it. "We can give you an extra dose so you can take your mask off for a little while," she informed him.

"Show me how it works," he said.

She explained what each piece did and he did as she suggested, the back of his mind cursing himself for not observing his appearance when no one was around. Though he imagined she had seen the damage while he was unconscious. He removed his mask slowly, with fingers he refused to admit were shaking. The air felt cold in his lungs as he breathed in deeply. The dull ache in his body increased, though only slightly. Still, it was clear that he would want to eat quickly.

He fell on the meal with a swiftness that made her smile. How wonderful it was to eat cooked food. Fires were difficult and discouraged in the Pit. He paused in his haste to look over at the mirror, and was surprised to find that his face, though scarred, was not particularly damaged. One scar ran across his cheek and through his upper lip, but the others were all small and hard to notice. He found this absurdly reassuring and pulled his mask back on in disgust.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"In the Himalayan Mountains," she told him.

"Why?"

"That is where my father makes his home."

No wonder the man had been so forceful in his demands. "He took a great risk bringing someone like me here."

She frowned. "Why?"

"He is a great man, you said, and must have enemies. How can he know I will choose to serve him and not them?"

"Do you have to serve anyone?" she asked.

The question was innocent and he smiled. "No, but I am sure your father will not consider that possibility."

"Oh." She was silent for a while. "Will you stay here and train with my father's men?"

He looked at her, surprised. "I did not realize I had a choice."

"You saved my life. And we saved yours. The debt is cleared on both sides," she said confidently.

Somehow, he did not think that Ra's Al Ghul felt the same way. "What will you do?"

"Stay with my father. He will train me to be in the League of Shadows, perhaps becoming his heir at some point." She sounded apprehensive.

He tried to remember what he had heard of the League, but could recall nothing. "I have nowhere to go," he said, surprised by his honesty. It always seemed to come more easily when he spoke to her.

"Then you will stay here, with us," she said with the naiveté of a child.

"That will be dangerous," he responded quietly.

"You will protect me." She smiled reassuringly, patted his arm gently and left. He frowned after her, wondering, and feeling he knew the answer, how her father would feel about that.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review!