FOUR: Two Weeks
Barsad spent the next two hours, after discovering Isidore with their prisoner, thinking over his dilemma of whether or not to tell Bane.
He had known Isidore for two years, and in those two years they'd fought side by side in some of the toughest, gruesomest battles, saving each others lives. Of the thousand or so soldiers under Banes command, Isidore was his closest friend, in a way Bane never could be so long as he was his leader. Not once had what Isidore said or done hinted that he was a rapist; if he had, then Barsad wouldn't have had anything to do with him. But what if Isidore was always attacking women throughout the duration of their friendship, and even further back?
As the hour approached midnight, Barsad was becoming too tired to think further about it, and retreated to his quarters.
It was pitch black outside as Barsad stumbled toward his room, and after a few moments the motion sensor controlled light above his door suddenly burst to light, Barsad stood in the centre of the light.
"...Barsad" a voice came from behind and immediately Barsad recognized it as belonging to Isidore. He spun around, expecting another confrontation.
"Man, I'm not here to fight, really!" Isidore said quickly, holding his hands up as he took a step into light, though from his shoulders up was still mostly in the dark and difficult to see.
"What do you want, Isidore? I can't deal with this right now" Barsad complained, holding back a yawn and straining his tired eyes to see Isidore.
"I've been thinking about everything I said to you earlier today, and I want to apologize. I don't want what happened today to come between us." Isidore said.
"What, you mean what you said about me not having a dick and being a lapdog?" Barsad began and Isidore put his hands in his pocket while looking away and shuffled his feet slightly, like a school boy caught breaking rules.
"All of that is just shit talk I'm not concerned about, Isidore. What I'm more concerned with is what the fuck you were doing in there!" Barsad continued.
"I don't know what happened. I went to help her and she started acting like a bitch, and I was patient but then she kicked me in the face -broke my nose- and I lost my temper." Isidore lied.
"You got so angry you just had to rape her?" Barsad asked, incredulous.
"I...I don't know what was going through my head. I was angry and tired and had been drinking, then I saw an opportunity and took it. But you were right, it was disgusting, I see that now and I feel ashamed." Isidore continued intensely.
Barsad regarded Isidore closely for insincerity or deceit, then said with a sigh, "You did a lot of damage to her, which Bane will inquire about. I've known you for a long time, Isidore, so I'm taking your word. I'll leave out the attempted rape if you swear to me you haven't tried it before and never will again."
"Barsad, I have a wife and a little daughter back home who I adore. I have never and could never defile another fathers daughter in such a way. I can't explain my actions earlier, but I am disgusted and shocked with myself."
Barsad looked at him for a few seconds then nodded once in acceptance. "The girl's ankle still needs seeing to; we will both go in the morning. You can do some translating for me too."
Isidore quickly closed the distance between them and grasped Barsad'a shoulder, then with a smile said, "Thank you, brother."
Barsad nodded once then Isidore turned and walked away. As Barsad watched Isidore leave, the light turned off automatically and Barsad was plunged into darkness. He pivoted round and continued to his quarters, however the light did not come back on again, the bulb having blown, Barsad speculated until he walked into his locked door, then his thoughts returned only to his warm bed.
Bane was feeling the effects of lack of sleep as he glanced at the clock on the dashboard which indicated midnight. He became more awake once again when he saw the familiar landmarks of the village he was entering, anticipating eagerly his meeting with the now very grown up Talia.
Switching off the engine, Bane stepped into the chilly midnight air and walked towards the only house with a light on. Making sure to keep his footfalls silent, he crept down the dark hallway towards the heavy, satin purple curtain that acted as a door.
Reaching out his hand to pull open the curtain, it was shoved abruptly across by the person on the other side before his hand got within even a foot.
"Did you really think you could mask your presence from me, my friend?" Talia spoke proudly with a smirk.
With a sigh and a smile - noticeable only by the crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes - Bane said, "I was simply testing your abilities. Your senses are as sharp as ever, little one"
Talia wrapped her arms around Bane's waist, placed her head against his chest and looked up at him.
Since they had been reunited Talia had hugged him like this almost every encounter, and yet the frequency did nothing to stop him from tensing up completely, even if only for a second, in shock.
His life wasn't full of hugs, and if it was anyone but Talia snaked around his torso, he would have knocked them out by now. But it was Talia, and so, slowly and awkwardly, he hugged her back with little force, afraid of hurting her.
Talia pulled away with a small laugh as she noticed Bane's discomfort, then made her way into the room lit by a single, bare, dim light bulb. Bane followed after her, pulling across the curtain.
"The computer hacker Amélie Marie Mercie has been captured, and the hard drive located. She says only she knows of its existence and that nothing has been done with the information." Bane reported.
"And do you believe her?" Talia asked, moving to sit on a worn couch beside a small fire.
"She was rather convincing under the circumstances. I do." Bane replied, still standing in the centre of the room.
"Then I believe her, too." Said Talia, and she patted the seat next to her. Bane moved to sit, falling back into the seat heavily.
"And where is the hard drive being stored?" Talia asked, moving closer to him and resting her hand on his chest.
"In her grandmothers home, in France. I will send men to destroy it as soon as I return to base, and kill her soon after." Bane answered, glancing down at her hand, before taking it in his own. Her hand, he mused, seemed as small in his much larger one as when they were in the Pit together.
"Hmm, leave the hard drive for now. I have been thinking further about the French girl. She is a world class hacker, and in a technologically world dependant on computer systems her skills could prove more than useful to our cause. How would you feel about holding her for a longer period of time than first supposed?"
"For a second time in my life, I have given myself to the League and to you. I will do what needs done for the cause, always. However, I do not think my army is a place to hold a prisoner. We are nomadic soldiers, with enemies throughout the world. Your prisoner may expire before her use."
"Darling, I know how dedicated you are, that's why I go to you for the most important tasks. I would trust no other. The League has not recovered from its failure two years ago in Gotham; we have no other choice."
Talia removed her hand from Bane's and moved it to his face, her delicate fingers lightly trailing over the tubes of the mask as she stared into his eyes and he stared back, before she broke contact with him completely.
"Besides, I'm sure you could convince her to work for our cause, instead of keeping her a prisoner, as you call her." She said with one eyebrow cocked.
Bane said with a smile in his voice, "Do not doubt how persuasive I can be, little one. I will keep Miss Mercie for now and see what comes of it. What work do you have in mind for her?"
"I'm aware she has written a programme, called the 'Clean Slate', which she hasn't fully developed. The programme in itself would undoubtedly be useful to us, however it is the searching component of it that interests me.
"As you know, I have been working alongside Bruce Wayne on the renewable energy scheme. I've had to put a lot of money into building a nuclear fusion reactor which I have yet to see.
"I do not think Mr. Wayne has used my money for other means, although I have no reason not to after how he betrayed my father. Well, nine days ago Mr Wayne told me the reactor would never work.
"I've done quite a bit of digging and found a paper published exactly one week before Wayne informed me of the projects failure, by a Russian scientist on the realistic weaponisation of fusion reactions, and I don't think that's a coincidence.
"However it seems this Russian scientists name has since been completely censored to protect his identity and it is believed that he has been placed in hiding. We need to uncover the name of this scientist then find his whereabouts and acquire him." Talia divulged the next steps in her plan, and Bane listened, understanding his next duty.
"Then I will ensure Miss Mercie performs well and finds this elusive scientist." He told her. "And what of Mr. Wayne?"
"When all our preparations are complete we will show this Batman, this traitor, the consequences of betraying the League of Shadows, and Ra's Al Ghul." Talia said looking away from Bane with a blank expression, venom lining every word.
Bane placed his hand on her shoulder lightly, gaining her attention, then said "Yes, he will."
At some point during an indistinguishable amount of time, the soldier, whose name Amélie learned was Barsad, had come into the bathroom. He spoke to her, but said little. Amélie didn't know what he said or did, or how long ago he was there or for how long he stayed. She felt numb and lost, like a four foot layer of glass stood between her mind and her body.
Suddenly the glass thinned until it was gone, and Amélie was back in the dingy, cold bathroom, in a white t-shirt and only her underwear, with handcuffs holding her two raw wrists together. The pains that tortured her body returned; the swollen ankle, bruised face and neck, and a discomfort coming from her back.
But the significance of the pain and the cold and the exhaustion was lost entirely when suddenly Amélie was overcome with the memories of Isidore attacking her and trying to force himself on her.
Was this her life now? Would that masked man kill her grandmother, then return and beat her more then rape her, just as his soldier had tried? Would he let her go, or give her to the authorities for trial and imprisonment, or would he kill her? Dump her body somewhere it would never be found?
Nausea overcame her as worry, angst and guilt made its home in her stomach and mind. To fight against the bile rising from her stomach, leaving a burning sensation in her chest and throat, she rested her head in her hands and tried to control her breathing, which she hadn't noticed had become erratic.
Her hands made their way to her head and found her hair, mad she began tugging on it painfully and punching her head as she remember everything. How could she be so weak? Was this who she was? When faced with a tough situation, would she ultimately crumble and obey? How could she send that man to her grandmother, who'd done so much for her?
Her resolve should have been stronger; she should have been stronger. She should have fought harder, against the masked man, against Isidore.
Everything. Everything was her fault, and she hated herself for it.
She began to cry, not whimpers or sniffles, but a torrent of water from her eyes and mewls she couldn't control while shudders raked throughout her body. Her head felt as though it would explode and she imagined her face was bright red.
Eventually the cries died away, but Amélie didn't feel the release that followed such an outburst, only further disgust. She noticed the trousers folded on the floor beside her.
She lifted them and stood up, keeping her back to the wall for support and held the trousers out in front of her, inspecting them. They were men's combat trousers, identical to the ones the other soldiers wore, and looked far too big for her.
She was proved right when she awkwardly pulled them on, trying not to disturb her foot. The waist band hung incredibly loosely from her hips, and she could have pulled them up to her waist before her toes would peak out the bottom. She looked like a child trying on adults clothes, but conceded they were better than their alternative.
The green of the first aid box was striking compared to the monotone colour of the bathroom, and peaking out from behind the sink it caught Amélie's eye. She hobbled over to it and fell back on her bottom with an 'oof' to pull the box toward her and rummage through it.
Bandages, more bandages, plasters, sterile water, safety pins, tweezers, scissors. Two pairs of scissors.
She took out the sharper of the two then packet all of the other items back into the box in the same order, as best she could. It was then she heard footsteps approaching.
Closing the lid of the box she slid it back where it was, then quickly moved into the corner opposite the door. If it was Isidore then she'd stab him. She looked at the small, silver scissors she was clinging to. They were not nearly sharp enough to do much damage, unless she hit a vital artery, and hit it hard.
As the sound of keys fiddling with the lock of her door filled the tense room, she quickly hid the scissors underneath her and wiped her eyes and face dry. No more crying, no more tears. The door open, and in came Barsad, followed by Isidore.
At the sight of Isidore, Amélie had to fight herself from reaching for the scissors, and she yelled, directed at Barsad, "What is he in doing here?!", then directed at Isidore she yelled, "Get out of here, you bastard, before I rip your head off!"
Barsad spoke to Isiodre, then Isidore turned and spoke to Amélie, in French, "Calm down and stop yelling, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to look at your ankle, real this time, and I'm going to translate for Barsad."
"No, you're not. You're not coming anywhere near me!"
Isidore looked to Barsad, who nodded. Then Isidore approached her and crouched down, exactly how he did the night before. Amélie was looking at Barsad though, shaking her head no. He was supposed to have helped her last night, so why was he leading Isidore to her again? Were they both going to attack her?
"Listen to me. I told Barsad you were not cooperating, that you attacked me first. You broke my nose. That means he has to tell Bane - the boss -, and you'll be in trouble." Isidore began, and Amélie snapped her head back to look at him, horrified by what he was saying.
"You lying piece of shit, you tried to rape me last night! I had to fight against you to get away!" Amélie yelled, furious at what he was saying, and also fearful at the mention of Bane - she had the impression he was not a man to be in the bad books of.
"Yes. I was going to rape you last night. But who do you think they will believe, hmm? Look, I'm trying to do you a favour-"
"A favour? A fucking favour?!"
"I'm doing you a favour by warning you not to tell anyone what really happened, because they won't believe you. Bane doesn't have any patience for liars, you'll only make it worse for yourself." Isidore finished.
Barsad began to speak to Isidore then, and Amélie was lost in thought.
"Barsad says you need to stop yelling and let me do my job." Isidore said then, gesturing to Amélie's leg.
Amélie glanced quickly at Barsad, who was standing near the door and looked confused by what was going on between herself and Isidore, but also irritated. She looked back at Isidore and gave him a glare before pulling up the leg of the trousers, deciding it best to have her ankle looked at by some form of professional.
Isidore retrieved the first aid box and set to work on her ankle. As he worked, and when Amélie noticed Barsad wasn't paying attention to them, she leaned forward and whispered into Isidore's ear, "I'm going to make you pay for what you did to me before I leave this place."
Isidore stopped in his ministrations and looked up at Amélie, straight in the eye. "I look forward to it, babes" he said with a snicker and winked at her.
"Where is Bane? I want to know how long I'll be here for." She asked Barsad, and Isidore translated.
"Bane will be back tomorrow. You'll have an opportunity to ask him all the questions you want then." Isidore translated Barsad's reply.
"He's hasn't gone to my grandmothers, has he?!" Amélie asked, worried.
"Like he said, Bane will be back tomorrow." Isidore translated.
Barsad's small kindnesses to Amélie had given her a false sense of understanding; she thought Barsad was going to help her, but now he was acting cold and distant toward her. Was it because of Isidore's lie?
"It's badly swollen, but now that the support is on it, the swelling will go down in a few days, and it should be usable in about two weeks." Isidore reported first to Barsad, then again to Amélie.
In truth, Barsad was disappointed by Amélie. He thought she was intelligent enough to know to choose her battles, that she understood the best thing to do for her survival was just what she was told to do. Seeing her bruised and hurt in such a way made him uncomfortable and made him want to help her. But he couldn't help her if she wasn't prepared to help herself.
"Good. Thanks, Isidore, I've got it from here." Barsad told Isidore, who packed everything away then got up and left. Barsad did not see the look Isidoee gave Amélie before he left however.
Barsad approached Amélie who was rolling down the leg of her trousers. He crouched down in front of her, and gestured with his hands for her wrists. Amélie raised them to him, and he unlocked the handcuffs and put them in his pocket.
Amélie rubbed her wrists, then moved her hands in circles, enjoying the freedom. Barsad took from his pocket another bottle of water and a packaged sandwich, and handed them to her, and she accepted them hungrily, but not before telling him thanks.
Once she was finished eating, he stood and offered his hand to her. She took it, confused, and allowed him to pull her up and lead her from her bathroom-cell.
They slowly made their way down a hallway, left from the bathroom, to a single door at the very end. Barsad held open the door for Amélie, who hesitated before warily stepping across the threshold and into the room.
The cement floor was cluttered with discarded clothing; long sleeved black t-shirts, combat trousers and nondescript socks. A double bed sat against the longest wall, directly opposite the door, it's grey sheets in a messy ball, though among the grey Amélie could see a blanket with an exotic, red and orange pattern.
To the left of the bed was desk, it's surface completely covered with boxes and files and rolled up paper, and maps of both the local area and international places hung on the wall around it.
Amélie didn't get the chance to wonder who resided in this room, before she already knew the answer. This was definitely Banes room. She shuddered at the thought that what separated her from him was a single brick wall, that he slept just down the hall from her. The lions den.
They continued through the room to a door on the other side, which Barsad revealed to be a bathroom, complete with toilet, sink and shower, but then Barsad left quickly with a curse, leaving Amélie alone and confused.
Taking the opportunity, Amélie made her way back into the room and hobbled over to the desk. On the wall was multiple maps of the same places; Gotham, USA, and Morocco, West Africa. On the desk was a wooden box that looked handmade and decades old. It had a rusted latch, and had intricate patterns carved into its lid.
Curiosity took over and she reached out to open it, when a hand clamped around her wrist, not painfully, but strong enough that she couldn't move her arm away.
Barsad stood with a bundle under his arm and a stern expression on his face. Not angry, but cautious - as though he was afraid.
He let go of her and nodded toward the bathroom. Amélie walked back to the bathroom in front of Barsad. He handed her the bundle, then tapped his watch before leaving and closing the door behind him.
She unrolled the large white towel and a bar of soap and a small bottle of shampoo fell to the floor, and Amélie realised Barsad was allowing her the chance to get cleaned up.
There was a mirror covered in splashes over a sink dirtied with shaving foam - did this man have any concept of cleanliness?! Amélie bypassed the mirror, knowing that to see her face now would only depress her more, and went straight to the shower and began undressing.
The water heated to its maximum temperature quickly, though it was hardly warm, and Amélie found herself constantly glancing around the shower curtain at the door. After a few minutes, she noticed the small window directly overhead, the top of it touching the roof. Before she knew what she was doing, she was standing on the thin shower edge and reaching for the pole. She managed to reach the ledge of the window, slippery from condensation, and pulled herself up to look out it.
It was a tiny window; it would be a squeeze even for her, but it wasn't a long drop to the ground, and if she could get through it then she could run the short distance to the forest, the building blocking the view of her escape, giving her enough time to get away.
With what little upper body strength Amélie had, she held onto the ledge as best she could with one arm, while she tried to open the window. No luck, it was locked - might as well have been airtight, because it wouldn't budge.
Three loud knocks came from the door, and, startled, Amélie slipped and fell to the floor of the shower. With a groan she got up, turned off the water and got out of the shower. Barsad open the door then, wondering what the loud bang was, but before he could come in Amélie slammed it closed, calling out "I just slipped, I'm okay"
Barsad had no idea what she said, but the fact she was talking meant she was probably okay.
Amélie got dressed again, grateful for the shower, although she found it disturbing to be in Bane's personal space. She patted down her trousers, searching for the scissors, and found them securely tucked away in her zipped closed back pocket.
Two weeks. She would just have to wait the two weeks until her ankle got better, enough to run on. Until then she would have to built up trust, lead them to believe she was on their side, without giving herself away, until an opportunity of escape presents itself. But then again, would she even be alive in two weeks time?
AN/ How'd I do with Talia and Bane's scene? I don't want it to seem like they're romantically involved, because their not, but they are incredibly close - or so it seems...
I know this chapter was quite dialogue heavy and not a lot of action happened, but it was necessary, so I hope it wasn't boring! And I realise Isidore's French miraculously improved, but that's only because it was killing me to write so incorrectly. On the note of the language barrier, I hope the dialogue isn't too confusing, or annoying; Barsad had no idea what Isidore was saying to Amélie.
Australia - Thanks so much for your kind words, I'm glad you really like it! I'll try to be consistent :)
Guest x - I'm afraid Isidore will be sticking around and making life miserable for Amélie for some time, though he will get his comeuppance! Bane is such an interesting character, I don't think I'll ever get bored of him!
Del - Thanks :)
Veronica - I really enjoy reading your analysis and perspective of my chapters, they're really inspiring and right on point!
Thanks everyone for reviewing, following and favouriting, it's really encouraging.
I hope you all had lovely Christmas' and have good New Years :)
See you all in 2014!
-XCs Kid