The mountains were nothing like the Pit, and to Bane they would never feel like home. The cold penetrated through the wooden walls, sliced through layers of jackets, and was so biting eyes would water. He wondered how Talia put up with it. But she was adaptable, and forever in the shadow of her father, where fires were always stoked and rooms warmed for the great Ra's Al Ghul, Demonhead.

It was on nights like this that he longed for the Pit, if only for the warmth, and the way his little one would sleep at his side, leeching heat from him as he would curl his arm protectively around her. Now it seemed he had followed her to the other side of Hell, for if the Pit was fire and brimstone then the League was surely ice and frostbite, just as quick to kill a man as the flames.

He hated the cold. He hated the way his mask was like ice against his skin, the way his eyelashes collected tiny crystals of frost when he had been outside for too long. He did not regret, however, the decision to come here. To be by Talia's side, he would suffer any hell imaginable-he would suffer the Pit again for her, if only she requested it. And there was a certain satisfaction in watching Talia learn, to grow and become a warrior. If she prospered, it was because of his protection when she was but a child; if she flourished, then it was to his credit.

So it was without much trepidation that he sent her off to train with her father outside of the fortress. While the snow was coming down in lazy spirals, it was hardly storming, and the ground had not yet iced over. There was only a distant fear for his little one, and what may transpire, as he trusted in her abilities, and the self-preservation of her father. For Ra's would not seek to harm the one family member he had left.

This did not stop Bane from being restless.

When the sun set, he began to pace. The snow had not increased in speed, which was a small favor, but every second that went by was another shadow the crept across the snow, the sun dipping down past the horizon, and soon it was enough to motivate him to leave his room, venturing into the main atrium of the fortress, where members of the League passed him by and conversed freely. When one of the Demonhead's private guards walked past, Bane grabbed the man, trying to control the way his fingers ached for a fight, for action. "Where are they?" He growled, the mask amplifying the effect. The guard's eyes widened minutely, the only sign betraying his fear of the much larger man, a testament to the training he had undergone.

"They still have not returned from their training," the guard managed through gritted teeth, pulling away from Bane as the larger man released his grip on him slowly. Bane snarled, the rasp of his mask making the sound come out more primal than human. As the guard hurried away, and Bane was left to stew in his rage.

They should have been back by now.

Bane returned to his room, the tension building in his muscles and fury coursing through his veins. He grabbed his thick fur coat, pushing his arms the heavy sleeves roughly, pulling the thick collar tightly around his neck.

Ra's would pay for this. If Talia was injured, he would pay.

The sun was a low sliver on the horizon, barely lighting the path through the mountain, as Bane's heavy steps crunched through the layers of snow, his pace brisk as he wound his way down the mountainside. It was about a twenty minute hike to where he assumed Talia and her father had been training, and by the time he neared the lake, the sun was but a few glowing embers on the skyline, the shadows heavy on the snow. All the while his blood boiled, and the worry that was once a minor tug was now an insistent throb in his chest.

It was at the edge of the frozen lake that he truly began to panic.

He could only see one dark figure at the edge of the ice, instead of the two that should have been there.

He didn't realize that he was running until the snow had coated the tubing of his mask, the wind whipping against the exposed skin of his face. The last embers of twilight had died, and the shadows enveloped, consuming the lake and the icy mountains that surrounded it.

There should be two figures.

He couldn't decide which was worse-the thought that Ra's was standing there, alone, Talia missing in the darkness; or Talia huddled in the dark, abandoned by her father.

He was but a stone's throw away when he realized it was the latter.

She was a small, trembling form on the wide stretch of white, her dark hair nearly covered with the blowing snow as her hands moved slowly to warm her arms. Bane threw himself at her knees, enveloping her quickly in the warmth of his coat and the expanse of his embrace.

She looked up to him as though he were the sun, finally breaching the horizon after a monsoon.

He looked away. He was no such man.

She clung to him with every ounce of strength she had left, the dampness of her clothing seeping through the layers he wore, and he realized why her skin was so pale, why her lips were drained of color and threatening to turn blue.

This must have been the 'lesson' Ra's sought to teach her; one of minding her surroundings, but mostly of consequences. It was one Bane refused to let her learn alone.

He picked her up as though she were porcelain, bundling her to his chest and cradling her like he did when she was but a small child. He was a pillar of strength as he carried her small form back to the fortress, the wind picking up in strength and the snow coming down in drifts. It coated Bane's shoulders, finds the cracks between his mask and flesh and burned an icy trail along his skin, quickening his steps, for if he was uncomfortable than she was surely in agony. He ignored the guards at the entrance and the uncertain glances they gave him, heading straight for the bathhouses that he knew would be mostly deserted at such a late hour. It was a small grace that there was no one there when he kicked open the heavy wooden door, for he did not want to waste time frightening away more recruits.

He did not waste time with clothing, easing them both into the edge of the large communal bath until the water was up to his chest, holding Talia so only her head was exposed. She still did not respond, though, clutching at his chest, her cold fingers nestled into the warm layers of his tunic.

He was reminded of the first time he held her, when she was just born, and she had been handed to him by the senile old doctor, his smaller frame and youthful appearance still dwarfing the tiny babe. He had washed her then, too, with what little water they had, knowing that the tiny bundle he held was more precious than any treasure he had ever known.

But at least then, she responded to his touch. Now she was all but unresponsive. Struggling out of his jacket, he threw the dead weight to the edge of the bath. His fingers laced through her hair, cupping warm water and pouring it onto her forehead, the fear that resided in the pit of his stomach rearing its ugly head.

What if she did not respond.

What if Ra's had killed her.

What if he had only left earlier; maybe he would have been there in time to save her, to rescue her.

He rocked her body gently in the water, trying not to let the strength of his grip bruise her, fighting the urge to cry. It had been years, decades even, since he had felt such an urge. But just the idea that his precious Talia might die was enough to choke him.

He would not lose her. He could not. Not after they have survived the Pit; he would not let her meet death from the cold, when she had suffered the most blistering of heat.

There was a gasp, and her eyes fluttered open.

Bane knew the sweetest of reliefs, the purest of joys, as her hands came to clutch at his tunic, pulling him closer to try and absorb some of his heat. She rested her head against his shoulder, too exhausted and cold to want to discuss what happened with him.

It was enough that he had found her, had rescued her.

But Talia was not content.

It took a few moments before she could think clearly again, her mind too focused on the way her body shook and stomach cramped from the cold. Now that she was secure in Bane's grasp, though, she could really consider what had transpired out in the snow.

If she was the true daughter of Ra's al Ghul, she would have been more aware of her surroundings, and not fallen into the ice in the first place.

She would have been able to build her own fire, been able to warm herself. She would have had the strength to make it back to the compound on her own, like Ra's undoubtedly expected her to.

She would not have relied so heavily on her Protector to come rescue her.

Talia let her mind drift as she sank deeper into the warm water, not caring at the way her heavy winter clothes weighed her down, only on the warmth her protector exuded and the way his strong arms cradled her so gently.


Bane began to regret his decision to stay in the water with her, to let her cling to his chest as though she was still a child, a babe. She was no child; now almost sixteen as far as he knew, and stuck somewhere between a girl and a woman. He could not deny his desire to keep holding her; he would cradle her shivering body for hours if that is what it took. But his mind, the part of him that still had a conscience, screamed something about boundaries and how Ra's might kill him.

Her eyes opened suddenly, and she slowly pushed away from his grasp, letting the water support her as she stood away from him.

Thank god.

But then she was stripping the outer layers of her clothing off, and Bane was having trouble breathing, turning away quickly from her. He tried not to think about the reflection of her back in the water next to him, or the sounds of her stripping her soaking clothes from her small frame, until she bore only her chest bindings and loose-fitting pants of the League.

This was a new lesson, then, one that he still had to fully learn; a lesson in control, in resistance. As much as his insides screamed at him to grab his heavy coat and wrap her in it, effectively covering her exposed body, he knew she would not appreciate such a gesture. Sinking lower into the water, careful to not let the water touch his mask, Bane rested against the edge of the pool, listening to the ripple and swish of the water behind him as she moved around, perhaps bathing, perhaps simply stretching her sore, frozen limbs.

And then there was pressure against his back, and he could feel her pressing herself against him, wrapping her thin arms around his waist.

He bit back the panic that threatened to envelop him, trying to think of a way to politely dislodge her when he felt the curve of her chest pressing against him through his soaked tunic.

Fuck.

It was a rattling breath he drew next, struggling away from her, nearly flailing in the pool's waters to escape her. Such a small thing, and yet such a large threat she posed.

She was everything he was not allowed, not supposed to crave.

"T-Talia," he rasped, hoping she would dislodge herself from him. She hummed contently, though, and he could feel the vibrations from her chest to his back.

It felt too damn good.

"Get off of me," he said in a snarl, trying to distract her from the way his palms shook, his fingers twitching to touch her and pull her to him. She pulled away from him quickly, surprised, and drifted backwards in the water, away from him.

He had never recoiled from her touch before.

"Bane?" she asked quietly, drawing her arms around her chest. His back tensed, but he remained silent, his fists clenching in the water.

She reached out to touch his back, to ask him if he was quite well when he flinched away from her touch, and Talia pulled back, stunned.

This was not what she had been expecting; not at all.

Finally, Bane spoke. "Are you quite well?" He asked, and it seemed to Talia as if he has spoken through gritted teeth. She edged away to the end of the pool, hurt. "I'm fine now," she said quietly, turning away. Nodding in acknowledgement, Bane climbed out the pool, his clothing showering water onto the slick floor, clinging to his body in an irritating way. He grabbed his heavy wool jacket, quickly stalking out of the door to the bath house and into the frigid night.

Talia was alone.

And Bane hated her.

She curled in on herself, wrapping her arms around her and letting her hair curtain in front of her face. He had saved her, and now she had enraged him.

But she didn't even understand what she had done; she had only hugged him. He had never recoiled from her touch so much, and it was vexing that he would do so now. Nothing had changed to her, and yet, it seemed as though everything had with him.

Perhaps her weakness had disgusted him. Perhaps he was disappointed in her, just as her father had been; that was the most likely of answers. Talia hugged herself, trying to ignore the way her emotions tugged at her chest, burning at the back of her eyes.


Bane trekked back into the foyer, clothes still dripping wet. Most of the recruits had retired for the evening, so there were not too many that were there to look at him with confused expressions on their faces. Bane saw Ra's appear from his rooms on the second floor, and for a second, they shared a look.

But Bane stalked quickly off to his rooms, still trying to focus solely on the way the wet clothes cut to his bones like ice. He tried to focus on the cold, the numbness, the chill, but instead remembered the heat of the water, the softness of her skin, her small body pressed against his. It was too much, and Bane all but sprinted to the door of his chambers, throwing them open and slamming the door shut again, resting his head dejectedly against the back of the door.

She was too much for him.

He was able to control it before, but she had grown older, and bolder, and it became harder and harder to ignore her with each passing day; harder to treat her as the child he had known in the Pit.

It had been a stupid idea to take her to the baths. He had been desperate to get her warm, but blankets would have been just as effective, and surely a lot more covering.

Damn it all.

Things had changed between the two of them, whether they had wanted it to or not. Bane tried not to think about what that would mean.


Talia took her time in the bath, only pulling herself from the waters when they turned tepid, wrapping herself securely in a bundle of towels, sitting to let herself fully dry, contemplating the way things had turned out.

Bane had been there when she needed him, but no more than that. Perhaps it was selfish of her, or she was simply used to another way, but it didn't seem like enough, now that she was so used to having all of him, all of the time.

It wasn't fair, for him to leave her like that.

She needed him.

But maybe he didn't see it, or maybe he didn't want her to be so needy, so desperate for his attention. And that, she could understand, because she surely was too dependent on him.

Perhaps it was time to survive without using her Protector as a crutch, to depend on him to always be there when she needed.

If he considered her such a burden, then she would do her best to remove that weight from his shoulders.

She would sleep alone tonight, for the first time in years.


When Talia did not come to his bed by midnight, Bane knew he had hurt her more deeply than she had let on. It burned at his chest, and he fought in his mind for the best course of action.

Logically, he knew it would have happened sooner or later. Talia would not always sleep at his side; eventually she would grow up and move on and sleep on her own, without nightmares.

But his heart pleaded with him to go to Talia's room and beg for her forgiveness, to let him sleep once again with her in the curve of his body and the crook of his arm.


In the end, his head won, and he remained in his room, unable to sleep at all. He waited, hoping, wishing, that she would come back to him, but when the first rays of sunlight filtered in through the small window he had, Bane accepted that she had made it through the night without him.

She no longer needed him, then, and the thought was a stab in his heart.

He would always be her Protector, but now there was less to protect. She could stand on her own.


Talia hadn't slept at all, not that she had tried. After sneaking back into the compound, her clothes still sodden, she had burrowed into her bed, hoping to forget about the way Bane had ordered her away, flinching from her touch. It haunted her, and by the time the sun had risen, her guilt was written deep in the lines of her face, etched in the circles under her eyes.

She was miserable, and had developed a delightful fever from her lesson the night before. While she wanted nothing more than to lay in her bed all day, dawn neared, and she knew not showing up for her morning lessons would be considered intolerable.

It was a terrible morning, regardless. Her father seemed more intent than usual to lecture her for hours, on strategy and different cultures, and really, it had all blended together. Usually Talia was very diligent in trying to absorb everything, but today it was a struggle to simply stay awake, her body suffering hot and cold flashes, her eyelids permanently half-closed.

It was sparring, however, that was the worst.

Usually it was her strong suit, as Talia had all but mastered the many different fighting styles, being bested only by her father and some of the more experienced teachers. Today, however, she was distracted, and as a result received quite a few more bruises than usual, the punishing blows stinging her flesh hard enough to draw welts on her pale skin.

While Talia would have usually been done with her lessons at sundown, Ra's had assigned her individual sparring, which entailed Talia attacking a punching bag until her father was satisfied.


Ra's had left an hour ago, but Talia continued to punish herself for her own perceived weakness. Try as she might, she could not forget the way Bane had pushed her away, commanding her to leave. Talia struck hard against the dense bag, hissing as she felt the skin of her knuckles rip open. She swayed, her vision blurring with tears of frustration, and she dropped to her knees, clutching her throbbing hand. Her fever still had a grip on her, and punishing herself like this was not making it any better. Using the punching bag to pull herself up, Talia reinitiated her volley of blows against the bag. She could feel the strain in her muscles, tears of frustration now spilling freely down her face as she hit harder and harder, blood rushing to her head and flowing from her fists until the buzzing in her mind took over, and Talia pitched forward, her knees buckling again as she feel to the floor.

Talia waited for the smack of the cold wood against her forearms, but instead found herself braced against a wall of flesh, strong arms wrapped around her torso and lowering her gently to the floor. While there was nothing she wanted more than to simply stay in his embrace, Talia pushed him away roughly, scrambling backwards to glare at him while scrubbing away the angry tears from her face with her palm.

It broke his heart.

He knew she was mad at him, but to see her still so furious, so emotional, from someone usually so stoic...it tore at his chest, and it felt as though some old wound within him had been ripped open anew. I had taken him years, many years in the Pit for her to learn to trust him, and now he felt as if he had managed to destroy that in one night. Now, he could see how she felt when he had pushed her away, with heartbreaking clarity.

Bane looked away, ashamed.

He almost did not catch the first blow, distracted by his own inner turmoil. But he had been trained too well to let her strike, his large palm catching her fist and absorbing the force of the blow as he looked up in shocked surprise.

"Fight me," Talia hissed, ripping her fist away from him as she fell into a defensive stance. Bane did not respond, taking in her change in demeanor. "Fight me!" She commanded louder, her face still ablaze with emotion. Bane stood, towering over her; not considering her request in the slightest, but not wanting to offend her. There was no doubt she had become a skilled fighter in the short time she had lived with her father, but still. She was no match for him; she seemed to realize this as well, but did not back down, her eyes now calculating as she planned her next move.

She swung again, and Bane dodged, circling out of her range as she glared angrily at him. "Talia, stop this," he commanded, his gaze intense. She paused for a moment, hesitating at the command in his voice, before moving again, aiming a kick at his side. Bane barely escaped that one, the blow grazing his back as he ducked out of the way, irritation written upon his brow.

"Why do you hold back? I know you hate me," she spat out, her emotions finally taking hold of her as she circled him, biting the inside of her cheek to stop the tears that threatened to well in her eyes.

Bane stopped short, stunned.

Is that what she thought?

God, how wrong she was.

"Talia, I.." he began, but she did not give him the chance, charging at him with a cry of frustration, her punches wild and too random to be truly aimed to injure him. She was lashing out. Bane blocked what blows he could, dodging some and taking the force of the others. Talia danced away from him, angry tears now spilling down her face as she tried to focus, to anticipate Bane's movements and seek out the best time to strike.

She did not get the chance.

Bane lunged, surprisingly agile for someone so large, and while Talia was quicker than him, he had caught her off guard, not expecting him to attack her. She dodged, but he grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her body to him and propelling them to the ground. He managed to pin her arms at her sides once they hit the floor, Bane grunting from the blow and Talia gasping, struggling futilely to free herself. He studied at her, taking in her shocked expression. "You think I am weak," she accused suddenly, glaring up at him venomously. His gaze hardened, trying to comprehend where she had gotten such a ridiculous notion.

"Talia, enough of this. I do not hate you, nor do I think you are weak." He said roughly, his insides aching at the sight of her tears. She squirmed out of his grasp, crawling out of his reach, her fists still balled at her sides. "Then why did you push me away last night?" she asked quietly, defeated. "Is it because I failed my lesson with my-"

"No," came the gruff response, cutting her off. She looked up, not expecting him to protest to vehemently. "Talia, I..." and he trailed off, not knowing how to respond. What could he say that would make it better, that would not reveal the true reason why he had pushed her away? Could he really admit to a child so young that he could no longer see her as the child he had raised; that she had changed. He remained silent, pulling her to him as she curled into his protective embrace. "I did not mean to hurt you, little one," he said finally, and Talia accepted his apology, the anger rushing out of her as quickly as it had come. She could not stay mad at him; not when his eyes pleaded so ardently for her own happiness. She could hear the sincerity in his voice, even if she knew there was more to it; more that he was not telling. But she let herself be content with his embrace, her head resting against his large chest as she listened to his steady heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest finally lulling her to a dreamless sleep as Bane pressed a cool hand to her forehead, the touch of his hand blissful against her fevered skin.


10 years later


"Do you remember the first time we sparred?" Talia asked, her eyes trained on her opponent. He circled her, taking in her question, before throwing a heavy punch at her, hoping to catch her off guard. Talia was faster, though, dodging out of the way, her eyes ablaze as she waited for his response. Bane smirked, or what Talia knew was a smirk, the skin around his eyes crinkling as his eyes danced with mischief.

"I remember you throwing a few weak punching in my direction, if that is what you are referring to, my dear." Talia muttered a curse in Arabic under her breath before attacking him again, throwing a quick-paced volley of punches at him, connecting a few times, though Talia knew it would take much more than a few connecting blows to best him. It was like punching a brick wall.

Talia danced away, mirroring his movements with her own as they danced around the room, Talia hoping to tire the giant, and Bane looking for an opening to catch the agile woman.

He struck first, spinning and nearly catching her with his fist, putting all of his power and force into the blow, which Talia used against him, using his own weight to propel him down as she twisted, catching him in a headlock and using her weight to throw them down, Bane managing to roll them both until she was pinned under him, her sweat-soaked body pressed to his as she clutched onto him, trying to choke him out.

"I seem to remember you underestimating me," she continued, and Bane worked his arm up between her strong grip, flinging her off of him as he stood up quickly. He laughed, catching his breath as the mask distorted his chuckling. Talia narrowed her gaze, feigning irritation, as Bane smiled, mirth alight in his eyes.

"Is that what we're calling it now?" He chuckled, "you pinned underneath me and flailing about? I did not know the criteria for becoming the next Demonhead was so lax..." He trailed off as she attacked, a smile still on her face as she struck a hard blow to his kidneys, Bane merely grunting in response. She spun, aiming to strike his throat, but he managed to block with his forearm, taking the sharp blow as his other fist swung around at her head. Talia ducked under the path of his fist, swinging her leg out to catch him hard in the knees. Bane grunted as he tumbled down, catching Talia by the fabric of her tunic and pulling her with him until she fell on top of him, the breath leaving him in a hiss as her full weight fell against him. Talia straddled him, her arms pinning his as her body pressed closely against him.

"I think I have won, my friend," she teased, her grin feral as she moved against him. Bane's gaze was darkened as his body responded. "And this time, you cannot push me away," she challenged. Bane stared for a moment, stunned at her sharp memory as she grinned down at him. His fists tightened, and he grabbed her hips firmly, rolling them until she was pinned underneath him, her grin predatory as his mask hissed, her legs still wrapped tightly around his waist, his braced hand coming to tangle in the dark curls that had fallen free of her braid.

He had long ago learned his lesson in patience. This time, he would not be so lenient.


AN: Really sorry for the wait everyone. This chapter became much longer than intended. I'll try to update more frequently. Also, there will be copious amounts of smut in the next chapter, in case any of you were disappointed.
Also, if you're looking for more Bane/Talia, check out my new story, Club of Shadows