Disclaimer: I do not own anything but my own OC.
Amy regretfully realized that with her new bandage a bath was out of the question. Instead she found a plastic bag and placed it over her injured arm, taping it down. She kept her arm outside of the shower curtains the entire time to be absolutely certain that it would not get wet. That, coupled with the sprained ankle she couldn't stand on, left Amy like a particularly yoga enthusiastic stork. Needless to say the ordeal was frustrating and far from the relaxation Amy had hoped for.
The only upside of the exhausting day was that as soon as her head hit the pillow, Amy was sound asleep. Her dreams were full of nonsense that only ever made sense in sleep, because never would she ever really think of Bane as anything like a friend.
The next morning, Amy was roused by an insistent knocking. She grabbed a robe to throw over her tank top and panties before limping to the door. As a habit, she checked the peep hole. She saw a bearded man, probably in his early thirties, his impatient knocks not reflecting in his strangely amused face. Judging by the little of his military style shirt that she could see, he had been sent by Bane. She was about to tip toe back to her room and pretend she wasn't home, when the mystery man spoke.
"I know that you are home. Get dressed and meet me outside. Bane wished to speak to you." He had a slight accent, something European, like Russian or Romanian. When Amy checked the peep hole again, he was gone. She was getting really tired of men that just assumed she would follow like a good little puppy.
Amy brushed her teeth and got dressed in blue jeans and a maroon cable knit sweater. Deciding against her usual booties, she dug up an old pair of running shoes from the back of her closet. If it was Bane who wanted to see her, there would be a lot of walking involved, and she was already at a disadvantage with her hurt ankle. After pulling her hair into a tight ponytail, she put on minimal make-up. She might have been ready to abandon her prettiest shoes, but she wasn't about to completely let practicality take over. Feeding the kitten and gulping down a granola bar, Amy grabbed her coat and made her way down the stairs. Her limping made an odd rhythmic sound on the stairs that was very different from her usual confident stride.
The bearded man, or rather mercenary, judging by the huge gun slung over his shoulder, was waiting for her in front of the building. When he heard the door open, he gave her a creepy little smile, as if they were enjoying an inside joke, and set off. Amy rolled her eyes. Of course only the mildly insane worked for Bane.
It wasn't too long until Amy realized that they were headed towards the Court House, and although she wasn't thrilled at the prospect, she knew that that was where Bane spent most of his time. Or so they said, anyway.
The guards surrounding the Court House moved aside to let her and her escort pass, giving the latter respectful nods. She figured that he must have been above just any regular mercenary, probably a little more trusted by Bane. She mused over that for a minute, making a mental note to remember that in case it came handy later.
No sooner had they entered the building, the massive doors shutting behind them, that all hell broke loose.
The room was suddenly filled with screams and gun fire, Amy being unable to pinpoint where either was coming from. She was about to bolt outside fearing getting trampled by the panicked crowd, when the bearded man grabbed her by the elbow and shoved her against the nearest pillar. He draped his body over hers and began firing at seemingly random targets behind the pillar. His gun was one of those that fired continuously, although Amy had no idea what it was called, but at the moment that didn't matter. What did matter was that it was right by Amy's ear and the sound of it deafened her. All around them people swarmed, shrieking, shoving each other, trying to get out. Amy was suddenly thankful for her human shield and the solidity of the stone behind her. Alone, it was likely that she would have already been dead. The bearded man had stopped firing, and pulled away from her. He shoved what Amy identified as a sawed off shotgun at her, his face frighteningly serious. She had thought that he would enjoy the chaos.
"Stay here!" he yelled over the din and disappeared into the crowd. Amy started hyperventilating. She had never fired a gun, and she doubted that she would actually be able to shoot some even if she knew how. She had never been the violent type. Seeing no alternative, she shut her eyes and crouched down, hugging the cold metal of the weapon to her chest and hoping for the best.
It was only a minute or two before both the screaming and the gun shots died down completely. Amy's eyes shot open when she was roughly yanked to her feet by her elbow. It was the bearded man again. He grabbed back his shotgun, attaching it to his utility belt. Not letting go of her elbow, he made his way to the doors. His grip was strong and Amy was still too disoriented and woozy to protest being manhandled. His pace was brisk as he led her out of the building and down a snow covered street. There were fewer guards out on the steps now, most of them having run inside. Amy didn't see any civilians either, which made her wonder just how long the whole confrontation had taken.
Amy had to do a limp-jog to keep up with her escort, his much longer and clearly undamaged legs covering the ground faster than hers. Several times she slipped on ice hidden underneath the snow further agitating the sprain and nearly dislocating her shoulder thanks to the man's hold on her elbow. Every time, he pulled her up again and gave her a disgusted look before continuing on.
They finally reached a tall glass building and entered to find at least a dozen guards scattered throughout the lobby. She was confused as to why they were congregating here until the bearded man hit the glossy button situated beside an equally shiny elevator door. If the elevators worked here then this wasn't just a regular building inhabited by civilians. This must have been Bane's army's headquarters, if not where the masked man himself stayed.
Once the elevator dinged to a stop in front of them, Amy and the man stepped inside. He jabbed the button for the top floor, and finally let go of her arm. Amy rubbed her sore shoulder, grateful that he hadn't disturbed her bandaged forearm.
During the awkward ride up Amy noticed that the bearded man had that strangely amused look on his face again. She sincerely hoped that he wasn't bipolar.
The doors opened to reveal a well-lit hallway with only two doors. He led her to the one on the right and opened it with a key that he pulled out of his pocket. Inside it was what one would expect from a pent house in the center of Gotham. The floors were marble with thick white carpet marking the change from the living room area full of fine leather couches to the gleaming silver of the kitchen. Huge shining chandeliers followed the curve of a beautiful spiral staircase in the corner of the room. For all this luxury, the space was strangely lacking of decorations.
The bearded man trotted away down a hallway to her left. Amy hesitated at the door, wondering if she should take her shoes off. The man hadn't, but she only went as far as the nearest chair, and sat down to rest her poor, abused ankle. He wasn't gone very long and when he came back he was carrying medical supplies. He didn't even blink as he stomped over the pristine carpet leaving a dirty trail in his wake. Amy flinched. She was slightly OCD when it came to cleaning. He dumped the supplies on the mahogany coffee table and returned to the door.
"Stay here. Bane will come to see you," he stated and left before she had a chance to even open her mouth. He really needed to work on his social skills.
After feeling incredibly uncomfortable walking around in her outdoor shoes, Amy took them off and set them neatly by the door. She folded her coat over the back of the nearest chair. There was a considerable amount of slush that had cumulated by the door and that had been tracked around the apartment, so with lack of anything better to do, Amy set off to look for a mop. She found one in a broom closet at the end of the hall the mercenary had gone down, along with a bucket and carpet cleaner. She filled the bucket with warm water in the kitchen, also grabbing a towel. It didn't take long to wash the floor, the white marble once again shiny and perfect.
After carefully reading the instructions on the carpet cleaner, she scrubbed the carpet using the towel she had grabbed earlier. Once she was done, the pristine room making her smile, Amy found the laundry room, throwing the towel in the laundry basket. After stowing away the cleaning supplies, she decided to explore.
There were two bedrooms on the first floor, both seemingly untouched. There was also a huge bathroom, following the theme of marble and silver, making it good enough for royalty. She wouldn't have been surprised if the toilet had been in the shape of a throne.
She had just finished organizing the medical supplies the bearded man had left in the living room when the door flew open, slamming into the wall. Amy yelped and whirled around to see Bane stumble in. Stumble. He was covered in blood, his or someone else's she didn't know. When he saw her, he let loose a frustrated growl, as if just remembering an annoying errand, and trudged to the nearest couch, dropping onto it. He put his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees and went completely still, barely even seeming to breathe. Amy stood frozen where she was, her hands limp by her sides. She had no idea what had caused the incident at the Court House, but she assumed that at some point Bane had gotten involved. Obviously, it didn't make him happy.
He was also obviously in pain, if the rigid set of his shoulders were anything to go by, and she knew that pain often made people violent. Considering how dangerous he was without provocation, it was in Amy's best interest to get him to calm down and perhaps feed him some pain killers. Slowly she approached him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. His reaction was instantaneous. His head shot up and he had her wrist in a painful grip, his eyes furiously burning into hers. Swallowing down her panic, Amy forced herself to relax.
"You need medical attention," she said simply. She hoped she wasn't about to get herself killed.
"I am competent enough to treat myself," he said. He let go of her and grabbed for the nearest package of gauze. His hands were shaking slightly, and he had a hard time opening it.
"Here, let me." She made to take it from him, only to have him slap her hands away. He rose to his feet, towering over her.
He stared at her for ages, his eyes alive and spitting sparks. She noticed the dark shadows under his eyes and the slight crow's feet just beginning to form at the corners. Without saying a word or a change of expression, he removed his coat, bulletproof vest and the thick long sleeved shirt. Once it was all off he dropped back onto the couch, his eyes blank and distant. She hoped that this was his way of letting her treat him.
To her relief, his wounds were all shallow. The thought of sewing flesh made her cringe. She was definitely not cut out to be a doctor. There was a long gash on his lower abdomen just above the hem of his pants and multiple smaller cuts along his collarbone, where the vest presumably ended. Bane was practically covered in blood, so Amy went to the kitchen for a bowl of water and some paper towels. Wetting a piece, Amy set about working.
It took her three changes of water and nearly an entire roll of paper towels to get him clean. When she was done with that and ready to treat his cuts, Amy had to keep her eyes from wandering. Bane was very well built, and without the blood in the way she could see that he had massive muscles that weren't defined enough to appear vain, but big enough to make him a solid wall of rock. He had relaxed somewhat while she had been cleaning him off, and now had his eyes closed. He looked strangely tired, almost vulnerable.
Amy kneeled on the couch beside him, and used a cotton ball doused in hydrogen peroxide to start on the cuts at the top of his chest. Once those were clean, she put Polysporin on each one, deciding that they would heal fast enough to not require bandaging. She couldn't help but notice how Bane's hands had tightened into fists as her fingers massaged the cream into his skin.
Only the gash on his lower abdomen was left. Seeing no other way to approach it comfortably, Amy stood in front of Bane and gently grasped one of his knees, pushing it away from the other. In a split second he had his hand around her wrist again, his eyes wild.
"What exactly do you think you are doing?" His voice was low and menacing, making Amy shiver with an odd mix of fear and something infinitely more dangerous.
"I need to get the cut on your stomach. I can't bandage it from the side." For a moment they shared another staring contest. When she thought that he would tell her to get lost he simply let her go and leaned back into the couch cushions, closing his eyes and spreading his legs apart. Carefully, her cheeks flaming, Amy knelt between them, trying very hard not to think about how suggestive the pose was. She was no virgin, but there was something so male and so powerful about Bane that it made her feel inexperienced and innocent all over again.
Hesitantly she cleaned the wound with yet another cotton ball. She spotted medical tape to fix a bandage in place. She was almost done, when she realized that his pants were in the way of the bandage's un-taped bottom. Amy had no choice but to boldly shove the hem down. Doing so revealed that the hair trailing from his belly button thickened and darkened here, as if taunting her to follow it. Her face scarlet again, Amy quickly ripped off a piece of tape with her free hand and attached the last side of the bandage. As she ran her hand over the final piece of tape to make sure it was fully glued down, her fingers grazed Bane's overly warm skin. He jerked under touch, emitting a low, strangled sound. Startled, Amy stood, noticing that his eyes were squeezed shut, his brow furrowed as if he was having some intense internal battle.
Leaving him be, Amy went into the kitchen to wash her hands and dispose of the used medical supplies. When she came back, Bane was pulling on his shirt, his back to her. There was something almost nervous about his movements. He headed for the staircase, his gait somehow awkward, as if he was putting his feet too far apart.
"Wait! What happened at the Court House today?" Amy was still bewildered about the entire day.
"A minor rebellion. Nothing of consequence." His voice had a rumbling quality to it, igniting something primal in Amy.
"So I can go home?" Amy noted that she sounded entirely too hopeful.
"It is nothing of consequence for me. You will undoubtedly get yourself killed. We have matters to discuss so you shall stay here until I say otherwise. You may have any bedroom on the first floor."
"I can't just - my cat!" It seemed like the silliest thing to say, but Bane was quickly ascending the stairs and she had blurted the first thing that came to mind.
"I will have Barsad take you back to your apartment to pack your essentials," he replied before finally mounting the stairs, his thundering footsteps sounding overhead.
Feeling confused and tangled, Amy was about to plop onto the couch when she realized that it was now covered in blood. The floor and the carpet had Bane's huge shoe prints engraved in mud and slush. Sighing, Amy set about cleaning again.
Author's note: So, this is another chapter in which I took some risks in terms of Bane behaviour. Please tell me how well he was portrayed in the reviews!
Thank-you all for taking the time to review, favorite and follow. Your support means the world to me! :)
-lavenderbreeze30
