A/N: Oh, why hello there! I'm so glad you have returned to this project of mine! Thank you for all the continued feedback - it makes me beam with giddiness like a kid on Christmas morning XD What can I say? I heart you all :D

Umm - so where have I been, you ask? I don't know. No, actually I've just been a lazy butt and haven't even attempted to write. My muse, bless her soul, has been very idle lately, and I have filled nights that I should have been writing with pointless TV and horror films, among other hobbies of an artistic nature.

Well then, enough about me. On to the story!

Chapter 9

Sophie decides that she can allow herself the luxury of relaxation after she is safely out of the portentous hallway. It is something she has not experienced in days and she thinks it will do her some good. Climbing the stairs after placing the untouched food tray - with the monstrous book sitting on it with the fare - on one of the counters in the kitchen, she goes to rejoin Morton in the security room, fully planning on taking the chair that had been formerly offered to her. She enters the room wearily, and seeing its only occupant is busily involved in watching security footage - which she is still quite antsy about - she slides into the unsteady rotating chair and focuses her gaze on the blank screen before her. After a few minutes, there is a sound of acknowledgement from where Morton sits.

"Oh, geez I'm sorry. I didn't hear you come back in!" He turns in her direction, "Was the big guy still asleep?"

"Yes," says Sophie with relief, "Or at least, if he wasn't he didn't make it known..."

"That's good." Morton glances at the screen he has been watching and then back to her. "So Carter returned your bag to you the other day, did he?"

She nods, an annoyed look creeping onto her countenance. Morton chuckles.

"Did he, y'know...analyze your mental condition?" Another nod - another short laugh. "Expected, I guess."

"I think he was just trying to convince me to come back," Sophie admits uninterestedly, "He was saying all these things about how "significant" my job is."

Morton replies as he once again studies the screen, "And did you kick him out after a few minutes of that crap?"

"I did, yeah."

"That's good - oh hey!" Morton's face lights up, "It's you!" Sophie's stomach drops, but she rolls in the chair over to him when he motions to her. It is what she has been dreading: the day she all but broke down in front of the terrorist. The day she had broken the first and foremost rule of not speaking to him all because his words had struck a cord in her. She bites her lip nervously and persistently notes the reactions Morton is giving to seeing the footage.

She sees herself nearing the cell, then reacting to hearing his unexpected comment with a sharp flinching motion. She sees him stand, stretching, then presumably speaking again. And then, with renewed fretfulness, she sees herself verbally respond. Morton's posture stiffens in his chair. After he observes her address the prisoner a second time, he turns his head to look at her, feelings on the matter unreadable, for his face has taken on a pale vacant appearance. He says nothing and goes back to the screen - she's seated on the floor now in the video, pathetic with her head hanging. What Sophie would give to simply have let the confrontation go after she left that day, and in hindsight, she still feels utterly foolish for letting it get to her like it did. When the experience has been relived in its entirety, Morton speaks.

"Is this why you haven't been in, Miss Scott?" His tone is stringent, borderline accusatory. "Is this why you "haven't been feeling well"?" She has no time to defend herself, though she knows any effort would be ineffective. "This is why I told you not to talk to him! This is why you have that rule and others - because people like him mess with your head if you let them, and you just let him."

Sophie cannot say anything else but, "What was I supposed to do?" in a very small voice.

"Anything but that!" he gestures forcefully at the computer screen, "Anything - you should have just...left instead of responding! What did he even say to you in the first place?"

"He...he commented on how early I was - I said that I had a new schedule from Doctor Carter, and he asked me if I hated him for it." Sophie stops to take a deep breath, "One thing lead to another and he started...comparing me to himself, then trying to convince me that I should talk to him more or something..." She is surprised at how lucid she is able to be while explaining.

Morton's anger seems to slowly develop into some sort of sympathy, though she knows he will not forget that she had gone against policy. "He wants you to just, chat with him?"

"Yes. I...told him that I'm not supposed to, and I didn't want to lose this job, and he said to me "you won't"...twice, I think, but when he did he said it in a voice that was..."

"...like a friend? Is that how he talked to you?"

"I don't know!"

"How do you not know? You obviously have had this on your mind ever since it happened!" The wrinkles around his eyes deepen, making him look more his age then ever. He glowers at her, outwardly unsure of how to react to all of this. Sophie just sits quietly in her chair, looking at the floor for the time being. Morton's shoulders go slack eventually, and he leans on one arm on the dull grey countertop. Almost in a reluctant mumble does he say, "Sorry - I know you don't need the yelling right now. I just...don't really know what to do about this."

"What you have to, I guess: telling Doctor Carter or someone." Sophie's voice is almost as quiet as her superior's. "But he's going to talk to me again - I know he is. Am I really expected to just keep my mouth shut when he says that I hate humanity? He makes me sound like I belong in a cell too, sir."

Morton doesn't even correct her on her formal term for him, instead turning his forehead into his hand helplessly. "Okay," he says, then repeats, "Okay...here's what's gonna happen, now. You're going to go down to the cell right now and indulge his request - "

She interrupts, "What? I can't I - I can't just talk to him like he's - "

"You have and you can. I'll come in every morning and watch you over the cameras to make sure you're okay, then I'll delete the section of time you are down there so the Doc won't find out, are we clear?"

The figurative briar patch of Sophie's mind grows more tangled still, her disorientation more acute then ever. Curiously enough, the ubiquitous fear and dread she has been feeling has been replaced by this, if only for a short time - though a blessed time it is. She looks up at Morton, a truly kind soul behind the rough exterior; flawed in his reasoning, but it is for her sake. She is grateful that he is encouraging this breaking of the rules on behalf of her job and the money she so desperately needs, but is far from ecstatic at what the route entails. Far from ecstatic by any means.

The man gives her another knowing, almost paternal look and says, "We're going to fix this. You won't have to worry about it for long, I bet."

...

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...

She has a hard time believing she is doing what she is doing when she starts down the hallway, a daunting task at hand, more so then she has ever experienced before.

Willingly conversing with a mass murderer as if he is a regular man? It seems surreally impossible. It is an entirely different matter, Sophie deems, when said killer verbalizes first, poisoning her mind with words intended to tear at the emotions. But making "small talk"? She isn't sure she's even got it in her - the will to summon up a subject that is light enough to qualify. All she can think about are the last few days and the mental agony that she has experienced. The cruel consciousnesses that she had discovered in her state of sleep deprivation, affecting her even as she recalls the particular instances. Her body feels heavy and her heart is troubled, each step making her feel like she is going willingly to her own execution. She senses that receiving the lethal injection would be a gentler demise.

Morton made aware to her that she is actually the only one in the building, minus him and the indolent, old security guard doing nothing for the establishment at the door. So why then would Doctor Carter tell her - through Morton, no less, who should have mentioned in the first place that there were to be no others with her; these people clearly put too much faith in the abilities of their staff and security cameras - that she wouldn't be alone when she is? Something is not right about it all, and considering that she does not much like the doctor at all these days, her displeasure with him grows. But something is definitely up. She decides to leave it be for now.

Sophie finds that she is surprisingly calm when she reaches the cell, more so then she would have ever expected to be if anticipating that she would be doing this. She looks in to see that the dweller is sitting on his bed, back against the wall with his eyes closed, as per usual. She watches for a moment, conventionally, trying to ignore the sheer size of the monstrous human being, then clears her throat the slightest bit, as to gain his attention.

A low and humorless laugh fills the air, followed by the dissonant mechanized voice that has permeated her thoughts and memories. "There is no need for such caution. It neither suits you or is necessary - I already knew you were here."

"How?" she asks, for it's hard to say anything else at the time.

Without opening his eyes he raises a hand and taps one ear with his index finger. Immediately she feels incredibly stupid for asking. Had she really thought that he was so different structurally from any other living, breathing individual?

"It is not nearly time for the evening provisions, and you have already visited me once this morning. And so I theorize that you have returned to talk?" He does not wait long enough for a response before adding in a scathing fashion, "Did you not request that I stop speaking to you only days ago, and now you return, commanding my attention?"

"Yes...and no - I'm not making you do anything." Sophie is very still, as is he whom she answers. They are both as unmoving statues, wrought by two very different sculptors with visions of raw power and simplicity. "You can say "I told you so" - if you want." She's aiming to sound better then she feels, her distance from the cell helping, even if she has to raise her voice a little from its natural volume.

He laughs again, still grim like an ill omen has just fallen off her tongue and come to pass. "I could, yes," he undemonstratively declares, shifting where he sits and finally opening his eyes to absorb what lies around him, "but," he continues, "what good would come of it? There is no purpose in frivolity." His remorseless gaze sweeps over; he blinks, slow and deliberate. "Calm yourself." - so much for hiding the tension she feels - "I don't wish to elicit another absence due to unstable sentiments. At least not today."

A beat goes by, the awkwardness building the instant he finishes his sentence. Sophie is besieged by it, and without further contemplation on what may come of it, she pronounces, "I saw you...um...finished that book I brought you?"

"I did. An excellent work."

What am I doing? she thinks before saying in a rush, "Do you want more books to read?" She can't believe that she is doing so well. It is almost unbelievable that she has managed to almost get over her panic so rapidly - perhaps it is the pressure, or her atrocious habit of over thinking things.

He regards her distrustfully, brows knitting together and eyes narrowing. "So affable all of the sudden. Why? Is there something you expect to gain from this? Some form of...apology? Your efforts are in vain if that is your intention."

Sophie draws a deep breath, "No, that's...no. I don't want an apology."

"Oh, of course not!" He mocks her again, "You women just assume that those of the opposite sex are "sorry" for their past words. Never needing proof, only assuming." Derision is not fit for such a formidable man, the sound of it unseemly as it is produced through his mask.

In a rare moment of pluck, Sophie says in an uncharacteristic tone, "I didn't really peg you for a sexist." She bites her lip after, realizing that she has just made a very blunt statement. Things like that only get you in trouble, idiot! Why, oh, why did she say that? What could have possibly possessed her to say something that audacious? She had gone into this convinced that she would keep to flippant subjects that would cause no harm or emotional breaking - despite when he had just said about wanting to avoid that - , but this embittered and violent man is not one for idle chitchat.

Fortunately, he doesn't seem to think too much of it. If anything, he looks fascinated by the sudden nonconforming way in which she formed the statement. "Hardly," is how he rejoins. "Humanity may do as it pleases, regardless of gender, they have only to be prepared for the results of their errant actions."

Sophie's watch reads 8:30. She decides now is the time to leave, so that Morton has the right amount of time needed to clean up the video footage so that her being here, talking to him never occurred. "I have to go," she articulates.

He is silent at first, nodding only once, but seemingly then recalls that he has left one issue unresolved and says, "I would like more reading material." No "if it is alright". No "if it is not too much trouble for you". Just a statement full of expectation that he will actually get what he wants promptly.

"I'll...I'll get on that."

And so ends the first civil exchange between the terrorist and the young woman, now a tad less frightened then she had been before.

Sophie knows more then anyone, though, that it would be unwise to think herself in the clear just yet.

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...

Upstairs, Morton leans back in his chair, watching the camera feed, the screen now occupied by only the monster in the cell. He silently applauds Sophie for her composure throughout the generally courteous looking conversation, and in due course undertakes the process of erasing the evidence that she had ever visited the man for an additional amount of time.

No one will find out.

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A/N: HA-HAH! I am finished at long last with this installment! I hope you enjoyed it. I was feeling kind of poetic during certain little sections of the Bane/Sophie interaction, so if you noticed that...that is why ^.^

I hope to keep the plot moving. I will be trying to speed things up just a little bit in the next one, which will cover a longer expanse of time, because I'm itching to get Bane out of his cell and back into the world! I mean, obviously he can't control the girl after only a couple of talks - they need more time. I'm thinking just a couple more chapters in this environment, then I shall set Bane free!

Thank you for reading - would you leave a review on your way out, my friends? I would be most happy if you do so and would love you forever...in a completely non-creepy way ;)