Hey, friends!
I gotta say thank you to Baniac for the awesome reviews and for being my Beta reader. To batmanbane for the awesome and constructive reviews (I realised I like to jump from one thing to another, for a story to work, it has to flow, and yes I will answer your questions…. In the next few chapters (mwahaha!)) and to all the readers who reviewed, thank you so very much *HUGS FROM ME*. To all the other readers, who read but choose not to review, that's OK. I know you're out there, so thank you for reading. I hope you are enjoying! This is my first attempt at a fic that I really want to make at least 25-30 chapters, so bear with me. If I make mistakes, or leave things out – tell me! Oh, and PoisonousAngel, Spilt Tea, Baniac, Batmanbane, Fragile Dream, Miss Sparrow, Sweet Little Mary Sue, KoolAid51 have some AMAZING works out there in this fandom. If you haven't checked them out DO IT NOW!
I love this fandom, because I am already a major fan of all things DC. I tend to like the villain's more than the heroes. Bane was my favourite, and Veritas Liberat my favourite story arc. (Secret Six and Suicide Squad are also favourites of mine, along with Hellblazer.) When I first saw DKR at the cinema, I immediately fell in love with Tom Hardy's Bane - I always had faith he would deliver. If you know the comics, you can see from Batman Begins, things were leading to Bane. I was just pissed when Selina Kyle… did what she did. But, she is still cool. We all have our head-canon of Bane. What is yours? (Leave comments in the reviews)
Love y'all.
Chey xxxxx
Steph sat beside Bane in the back of the truck, Barsad in the driver's seat. The last time she had been in a truck with Bane, she was driving. There was an awful lot of "last times" that came flooding back to her mind. She looked at him, and he returned her gaze.
"What?" he asked
"I'm just remembering when we were younger, back in our home. When I first came to the League. You had not been there long either."
"Correct. I had been there a month before you. I was recovering from the operations that Talia's father had ordered to be performed on me," he replied, his voice overcome with painful memory.
"I remember the first time I met you…." she started, and continued on…., her voice mingling with her memories.
She had been eighteen years of age. Tall and lithe with a grace that time and age had not deteriorated. The first person she had met in the League was Bane, who was pacing the great hall. When he heard the door close, his eyes shot straight to her. She carried a blue flower and had pots and pans tied to her rucksack. She noticed how much noise the the pots and pans made, and put a hand behind her to steady their movement. She surveyed everything around her, including the male who had stopped his pacing to turn and look at her. She held his gaze. It was hard not to notice the man wore a mask, his shirtless torso scarred. She had noticed the long scar running from his neck down on his back before he stopped pacing, and deduced that the mask delivered analgesics through a gas vapour. She had seen him questioning her stare but, not being able to help looking away, she headed straight for him. It was almost like a magnetic field had existed between the two, and he slowly took a few steps toward her also.
She stopped within three feet of him. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance….." her unfinished sentence invited him to reveal his name.
"Bane," the mask answered back. "You are?"
"Sent here by Henri Ducard. I am the daughter of John Torrance. My name is Stephanie." She usually didn't offer anything. But this man's magnetism was astounding, and she felt as if she needed to know more. Much more. She knew her eyes were over-eagerly shining, and she knew that the power that passed between them was not a hallucination.
Then he did something she did not expect. He bowed to her. The gesture was one of a gentleman that was in the presence of a lady. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, daughter of John Torrance."
She could do nothing but offer him a handshake. When his large hand took her slender one, she knew she definitely wasn't dreaming.
She heard a child laughing on the stairs. A girl. She craned her neck to look, and then returned her eyesight to Bane, who said, "Here she is. Talia. She is the daughter of Henri."
Steph nodded. The child bounded down the stairs, her hair in a bob-cut. She was full of carefree laughter and a child's pleasantness. She ran to Steph and immediately questioned her, "Are you like me, are you like me? Are you feeee-male. A girl like meeeee?" Her head cocked to the side, and her azure eyes stared up.
"Yes, young one. I am." She laughed.
"Bane! She is like me! A girl! We are girls and you are a boy!" Talia then turned to Steph. "He is my best friend in the world. Can you be my friend too because we are both girls?"
"I would like that very much, Talia. Your best friend told me your name already. I am Stephanie, but my best friends call me Steph."
"Well, I am ten years old and I am a girl like you. How old are you, Miss Steph?"
Bane seemed very surprised by Talia's sudden forwardness. He spoke slowly. "I looked after her in prison, in there for our parents' crimes. The pit was no place for a girl…." he trailed off.
"Steph took meaning from those words. "So, you raised her a boy? Smart move," Steph said, smiling.
Bane faced Steph, and she noticed what looked like surprise in his storm-grey orbs. "You are a smart woman, daughter of John Torrance," he took a slight pause and she heard the mask wheeze a little. If she wasn't mistaken, she would have sworn he was taking a deep breath, " After what happened to her mother, there was no other choice."
She nodded in understanding. "I grew up with older brothers. As a child, I was a tomboy. Gender never played a part in my life. When I reached Talia's age, limitations and expectations were imposed upon me because I started to look female. Since then, I spent my time rebelling against those same limitations."
Bane raised an eyebrow. She offered him another smile, but one that was a cover-up for the emotion she suddenly felt. He spoke slowly and carefully in a matter-of-fact tone, "A female may do anything a male may do in life. A man can never experience the closeness of a child in the womb, or the pain of child-birth."
"Miss Steph, can I show you the dolly that Bane made for me?" Talia asked, chirpily. Steph welcomed the break of intensity she was immediately aware of.
"Why, of course, young lady. But first I must make my acquaintance with your father. Could you be my escort and take me to him please, pretty girl?"
Talia giggled and took Steph by the hand. Bane was frankly astounded by this as his body language had suggested. .
"She has taken to you. It is a rare thing for her to show such trust to a stranger. But then again, there are no other women, save her elocution teacher in this compound. She has known but one other woman in her young life, and she was taken far too early."
Steph nodded. If there was one thing she was good at, it was reading between the lines. The woman Bane spoke of was obviously Talia's mother. The way his voice usually exerted power and dominance had wavered toward the end of his statement, giving her the impression he had cared for her very much and that he had witnessed her death, or at least saw the start of the events that led to it. She knew it must have triggered him into saving Talia's life. This pit, prison...whatever...it had left its mark upon him in more ways than one.
Talia was tugging on her arm, but Steph stood her ground. "I imagine in some way the injuries you have sustained were in the Prison you spoke of. I can only assume that through your words there is a pain that goes beyond the physical. I don't claim to know you, nor of your trials and tribulations. I know enough from what you tell me. But, you are a free man this day, the prison in your mind is the only thing keeping you from being completely free. I cannot tell you how to live, but live you must. It's what she would want."
Bane stood, completely astounded. If it wasn't for the mask, she was sure she would have seen his mouth form the shape of an O. To be honest, Steph often found it amusing at the look people gave her when she showed how easily she could read them. But with Bane, she was intrigued. She imagined that this man had told nobody of what he and Talia had endured, had kept it locked away in the recesses of his mind. And that was what she referred to as the 'prison in his mind.' The child suddenly pulled her hand away, and Steph heard soft, determined footsteps. She saw Bane acknowledge somebody with a lowering of his head and a nod. Then she heard the child's eager tone. "She is a girl like me, Papa. And she is my new friend. I like her very much. Can she stay, Papa, please?"
The man called Papa stepped forward, his arm extended. Steph turned around, and faced the stranger. He had blue eyes as deep as the ocean, his greying brown hair slicked back. He was almost as tall as Bane, and he was a decent build, trim and muscular but not overly so. He looked about her father's age, between 45-55. His good looks were apparent, and Steph's little experience of men his age (with the exception of her father) that were good looking were arrogant with it, but his aura had no traces of arrogance which she found strange. "Henri Ducard. I am Talia's father, and she is quite taken with you," he said, friendliness in his tone.
"Stephanie Torrance. Daughter of John. Heir to..."
She was cut off mid-sentence, "I know your father. A good man. Knows the meaning of balance."
"My father passed away, a year ago yesterday..." Her voice was a mere whisper. Bane caught her eye. The look was not lost upon her.
"That is grave news indeed, young Torrance. News I am loath to hear. He has obviously left a great legacy in the woman who stands before me. This consoles me, somewhat. Your father was the epitome of honour and justice."
Steph looked Ducard straight in the eye. "With all due respect, Mr Ducard, I know what my father was. What he still is, even though his earthly body is no longer here. You do not need to tell me to console me. You sent for me, a year after his passing. I am here in your home. Two weeks ago I get a letter from my deceased father asking me if you should ever get in contact, I should honour your request. Here I am. I know who you are, and what your organization does. Again, here I am. Why?"
"The anger you feel after your father's death is understandable," Ducard said, and Steph's expression flashed angrily at the word death. "I too have lost a much loved one," he continued, "yet the word death will not pass your lips when you speak of your father. There is denial, and an unspeakable anger that resides under that skin. Revenge scorches your very soul. You cannot think this way. Opportunity will show itself. But never look for vengeance. It will destroy the very core of who you are." With this, Ducard's features softened.
Bane nodded to Steph and started to walk away. She got the impression that he thought this conversation was no longer for him to participate in. She wanted to tell him to wait, to stay. She noticed that as he was walking, he turned once more and looked at her. She knew the look that she reflected back at him contained pain and anguish, and she hated herself at that moment for her weakness. She watched him hesitate for a moment, his steps faulting. The look he conveyed to her made her think that whatever thoughts were swirling about in his mind, were apparently causing him to momentarily lose his composure. What came out of his mouth seemed to have surprised himself and shocked the hell out of Ducard, judging by the shift in the older man's stance.
"Supper is at 1800 hours, in the dining hall. Talia and I sit with the other men, but on the left hand side of the table. You are welcome to sit with us."
She acknowledged his invitation with a simple acceptance. "Then sit with you both I shall. Thank you," with a nod and a smile. His heart felt lighter at seeing the anguish momentarily dissipate from her face to be replaced by a smile; at something he had said, no less. This was only ever experienced with Talia or her mother, and Bane knew to tread this new ground carefully. She kept her composure, when inside it felt like her insides were dancing, 'for chrissakes Steph, it's just dinner. Get a grip girl.' She thought, but the thought had followed up with something she had not felt in her young life quite yet. It was a strange feeling, yet pleasurable and left her wanting. She knew that physical attraction existed but due to her tomboyish ways, she was one for hanging out with the boys, not talking with the girls about them.
Ducard turned back to Steph, her steely composure back in its rightful place. It seems you have so far made a good impression here, and I imagine that would be the same on whomever you meet. You are your father's daughter."
Instead of choosing to feel angry, she chose to accept Ducard's words. "Thank you. I am often told how akin I am to my dad. I loved, and I always will love him, more than life itself." Her expression changed to one of great contemplation. "I have a question,". "Why did my father say if you asked, to come here?"
""Because..." Ducard paused. "Your father was serving in Northern Ireland back in 1971. I met him after what had happened at McGurk's Bar. Fifteen civilians were killed and seventeen more were injured by a bomb that had detonated inside the bar, placed there by the UVF. Your father had saved my life that day. I was there on a recon, and was gathering intelligence when I realised there had been a bomb placed. As I shouted 'get out' to the civilians surrounding me, the bomb detonated. I was blown halfway across the street. Your father was the first to get to me, and put his heart and soul into bringing me back to consciousness. I was very lucky to be alive. I had suffered injuries that were life threatening. I recall being thrown around 10 feet into the air, and when I landed, I lost consciousness. When I woke, I couldn't speak. I was told by your father as I was recovering, that I had landed on a wall which had broken the left side of my ribcage, puncturing my lung. Your father likened me to Lazarus of the bible. I had died twice on the operating table."
"He never spoke about that, Mr Ducard," Steph said, astounded that her father would not have related such an incident.
"He never needed to. He didn't feel it necessary, as he was not after the glory, such was his nature."
Steph's mind was swimming. "So what am I doing here now?" she asked slowly.
"This… is where your father once lived. He was a member of our organization. He was my right hand after he saved my life. I let him go, because I lost my wife. He didn't need to lose his. For those who wish to serve the League, I prefer someone with no obligations or responsibilities.A member who is married or has a family can be targeted. No matter how much conditioning and preparation for such an event to occur, the mind will lose its way over a loved one. Errors in judgement as well as rash decisions will be made. This cannot happen. When we go to restore balance, we operate as many different sections that make up a whole single impenetrable unit. One wrong decision, and the mission collapses. Now you know. I have now met you in person, and I see the same strength and determination in you as I did your father. I would like to extend you the same opportunity your father was given. Can you and will you bring balance to the world where it is needed?"
Steph mused a few seconds. She decided to probe a little more, to prove that she was truly one of a kind. "The League of Shadows, right? And you were born Henri Ducard, but the leader of this ancient organization is known as The Demon Head, or Ra's al Ghul in Arabic. He is known to have many lives, many faces. He is said to be immortal. Nobody knows his true face, but the Shadow affiliates who are sworn to secrecy. A promised swift and brutal death awaits him and his family if they should talk. I will be as bold as to say that you are that very same Ra's al Ghul."
"Perceptive. We could use someone of your intelligence. Are you up to the task?" he asked, she noted his demeanour hardened as he stared at her, as if he was searching her mind.
She held out her hand. In it was a blue flower. She passed it to Ducard, who looked taken aback, but not completely surprised. "I know of your customs. I make sure I research well before I put myself into any situation. You are a legend within the criminal underworld. You are feared, greatly. Rome, Constantinople, London. All have fell under the League's sword. I wish to restore balance. I wish for people to re-claim their humanity, and besides… I have guessed your identity, seen your face. I can't go back now. There is nothing for me," she stated, the passion in her voice clear for Ducard to hear. He didn't need convincing.
"I will get Saito to show you to your room in a few minutes. Saito is the man responsible for kitchen duties. You will like him. I suggest you rest up because tomorrow you will need your strength and you will need your wits. Be aware, many of the men have not served alongside a woman before, especially one your age. You will become a target for their jokes, perhaps even a target for their desires, considering your pleasing physical appearance. Try not to kill any of them."
Steph laughed. "I grew up with older brothers, I can take it."
Ducard grinned at her, a rare grin, "That, I believe you can."
He wandered away, Talia in tow. "Papa! Wait! I promised Steph I would show her the dolly that Bane made me, can she see it please? Please, Papa?"
"Talia, you know you have a wing-chun lesson in less than twenty minutes. Why are you asking me this question when you know you need to prepare, child? Come, let us get you ready. Ken'ichi-san is training you today. Let Steph rest a while, and at dinner you can show her your dolly."
Steph smiled as the child turned and waved to her. She waved back and gave Talia a thumbs up sign. Talia gave her a huge smile and shouted "Ken'ichi-san is going to teach me how to beat boys up today! See you later!"
Following this, Steph meandered around the great hall, admiring the woodwork and the architecture. After all that had happened, her conversation with Bane was in the forefront of her mind. How he looked, how he talked. His body was quite magnificent, and the scars added to his desirability in her mind. The whole interaction had aroused her interest and she felt blindsided, but not in a bad way. There was an exhilarating feeling to this attraction, she didn't understand it that much, but she understood that she needed to explore it rather than to back away from it.
And she always followed her intuition.
A/N: This is Part 1 of this chapter. Part two will follow both Bane, and Steph's POV. Then we will get back to the present. I needed to patch a few things up, try to start making the flow of this story run smoother rather than you guys feeling like you were jumping from one thing to the next, without much explanation in between. Thanks to Baniac and BatmanBane for pointing it out.
Anyway, PLEASE Review. Tell me where I'm going wrong (or right). Thank you so much xxxxxxx