POV: MICHELLE DANVERS

Eyes glazed over as Danvers did her best to focus on the steady downpour of the rain outside. She found that more beneficial in terms of sleeping than the common suggestion of counting sheep. Her lids grew heavy, drooping once... twice... three times.

"Which desert exactly, Ms. Danvers?"

Lids now the weight of air, the attorney was wide-eyed and startled. Bane's curiosity wasn't the alarming factor. Danvers wrote that off as he was constantly gathering intel on the people surrounding him, good or bad. The aspect of the question that had the flesh of her hands pulled taut over her the ridged bone of her knuckles was the answer.

Fabric draped from every corner of the room, the rich aroma of the foods in front of them lingering within the billows. Six friends, three women and three men were enjoying their first exotic meal. One of the women had her arms crossed. Her features were soft and rounded and twisted up in an expression of hesitation.

"Oh, come on! It's called Bastilla. It's just chicken... with cinnamon and powdered sugar - that's what it is, right? Right - on top. It's like a desert, Miss-"

The young girl squinted, shaking her head back. "I know what it is. Chicken isn't a desert though and that's my problem, this is weird. I'm going back to the hotel, guys. Enjoy your weird... thing."

"It's our first night! Don't be such a downer."

Ejecting herself from the cushions, the woman exited the small restaurant and fell into the throngs of people passing in the narrow alleys. Even with the cerise sun sinking into the horizon, this city refused to relax. Trinkets and treasures of every imaginable classification were being sold. Animals, food, textiles... the list went on.

Amidst her gawking, the young woman crashed into a sturdy shoulder. She wheeled around, hurrying to apologize and instead saw only the hooded figure duck behind one of the many booths that decorated the street. Something strange settled in the woman's stomach. Enough of a feeling, in fact, to provoke her to turn around and return to the restaurant.

Danvers didn't realize that the images burning her memories had affected her physical form so severely as they had. Her wrists were trembling with the crushing force that her fists were exerting, clenching as tight as they could. Had she endured her violent response a second longer, the tender skin of her palm would've produced blood.

Attempting to mask the vehement reaction his posed question had caused, she shifted on the bedding. Crossed her legs, uncrossed them and lifted her waist, only to drop it seconds later. She decided against turning over to reveal her expressions to him. He was a skilled man, probably in more ways than she'd ever know. Determining if someone was lying by peering into their souls, Danvers considered that a skill he had, in all likelihood, mastered long ago.

"It was a long time ago, I don't remember the name of the place."

That was a blatant lie and she knew it. There was a full-bodied remorse undulating within her chest, wrapping its distorted fingers around every rib. "Arabia or something. If I remembered every vacation I ever went on, I'd be well... naming them off for hours. My parents were wealthy, my friends were wealthy. Vacations were common."

POV: BANE

With the tip of his finger grinding into the pad of his thumb, it was clear that Bane's attitude was changing rapidly. His eyes wouldn't stay in one spot for more than a few seconds until they'd leap onto a new area. At the mere mention of Arabia, his mind began flipping through a series of possibilities. But it was impossible - and his mind was very close to ruling it as such and moving on, being extra careful now not to let the past leak in and interfere with his plan.

But being already emotionally distraught from the loss of Talia, Bane was easily cracking and showing more dimension to what he kept locked up and hidden away inside. His back rose and fell higher and lower each time as his thoughts progressed. Now, it was becoming too uncontrollable to not be persistent on the subject. He started playing with words in his head, stretching out the strange silence between him and the attorney.

"I know the Sahara desert well.", he finally spit out.

POV: MICHELLE DANVERS

Taking note of the extended period of silence, Danvers thought her answer was sufficient enough for Bane and he dropped the subject. That would have been a thought that was easily negotiated within her own mind if the strange breathing patterns couldn't be heard over the crackling fire. He was heaving each breath of air as if he was labored in doing so.

Seconds before Danvers considered turning over to get a visual assessment on him, he spoke. It was harshly uttered and a bizarre statement to make. Her muscles relaxed, arms snaking around her sides again. Brows furrowed, lips turning down in a nonplussed frown.

"I wouldn't doubt it," she affirmed. Thunder rolled above them, echoing miles around. She lifted her head briefly, peering over the heaps of men in front of her. The rain had picked up, though judging by the subtle lightning in the horizon, the storm would pass by the morning. Putting an end to her gazing, Danvers lowered her head back down onto the scarcely cushioned surface. Her arms provided a warmth, one that was comfortable enough that the attorney's eyelids drooped shut. Her breathing steadied as the weighty feelings of fatigue set in. When the thunder next crashed, one of her arms fell limply away from her side.

She moaned in her sleep and in one fluid motion, changed sides. Though she wasn't aware, Danvers was now facing Bane. One hand was tucked under her blonde hair, the other underneath her stomach. Pink lips remained closed, but puffed outward with the gentle exhale and inhale. It was a sleeping pattern that she had fallen into night after night since high school, all through college, and still to this day. All movement ceased as she slipped into a deep slumber for the remainder of the night.

POV: BANE

Danvers' answer wasn't satisfying and caused him to turn his head in disappointment. Despite the thunder vibrating his world around him, nothing could seem to shake him out of the perplexity that he dived headfirst into. His eyes were rigid as his mind meticulously fingered through his past, struggling to relive the sensations he once knew before his tragedy. They were cloudy, mostly because of the painstaking training he went through to erase them almost completely.

However, Bane kept a tiny fragment of it, unknown to anyone except himself. He barricaded it, being sure that no soul could tap into that area and use it against him. He had even fooled the League of Shadows. Though, being in the Pit for as long as he had and withstanding the pain he was dealt, it was no wonder he was able to master such a capability. Aside from the help of his painkillers, he was a living example of strength birthed completely from pain.

Not before long, Bane had realized how long his mind had stepped away from awareness. He slightly fell back and looked around him, eventually dropping his head to Danvers. She was asleep and looking peaceful doing so. He couldn't break away from her face, staring at it with such a force that her skin may end up cracking. The mild burn in his chest suddenly began to swell up and filled his entire cavity. He was seeing something that he hadn't recognized before.

Bane's hand twitched, hesitant to move and execute what his mind was telling it to do. Finally, it reached the courage it was trying for and cautiously approached Danvers' face. Once more he hesitated just before making contact. And then - he did it. He cupped his hand softly over her mouth, careful not to wake her. He blinked before slowly tilting his head to the side, getting a better look. It took only a few seconds until he was able to make the connection. The gate had broke. His emotions, his memories, his youth that he fought so hard to keep down smashed itself free. It was her. The woman from his past.

Tears began filling up around his eyes, which then rolled to the corners and over his temples, descending onto his blanket. A weak cry echoed inside his mask, sounding as if he was struggling to catch his breath. Without warning, he collapsed onto his shoulder, his hand peeling away from her mouth. He then fell flat on his back and gazed stiffly up at the ceiling. One hand lay listless on his chest, while the other was at his side. He lightly shook, feeling as the anger made its way through his veins.

He was heating up fast, his skin now blanketed with a layer of sweat - and not because of the fire. He couldn't understand how, of all people, she would be the one he'd choose. The chances to be practically impossible. But no matter how high or low the probability, the fact of the situation was that the game had now changed. Plans could not commence as they were made before. New arrangements would be reached.

Sleep would be difficult to achieve, but Bane knew it needed to be done. He remained in the same position, reluctant to look at her face anymore. The painkillers were doing nothing to help his heart, which was cracking in all the same places it had before. The years of mending was undone, along with he, as he laid motionless and bound with agony inside himself. His eyes then closed and moments later, he'd fallen asleep.

The next morning, Bane was awake before everyone and prepared to begin the new journey he had constructed seconds after waking up. He kicked the two men to get up, who instantly started writhing in their blankets, still groggy from the prior day's adventures. "Rise!", he commanded with a strong tone. While letting the two men gather up their consciousness, Bane marched to the back of the cave and spotted that the fire was still alive, but barely. He retrieved the cup used by Danvers and scooped water up into it. He turned to the fire and doused it, which hissed and sizzled out. "Time to open your eyes, Ms. Danvers.", he said with slightly less force than he used with the men.