Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any characters created by Bob Kane or Chuck Dixon. This story is based off the trilogy by Christopher Nolan with tidbits of the comics laced in.

A/N: As always, thank you for being so patient. Thank you for favoring the story or putting it on your alert list. Most of all, thank you to those who have taken time to review.

Bane

The world had become strange to him. What once set order to his life had some how been swept away by an inconspicuous breeze. Sense of duty, his bloodlust, and self-absorption had drifted. The world had turned upside down and become slanted. He was only just stumbling around attempting to gain footing. Even when Talia brought out his softer side, he was still thirsty for strength and power. Now, it was different. Once again the change brought on by a young girl.

He was once a conquerer of his own mind. He had discipline and self-control, but now he felt lost.

A week had gone by. The bruise around her neck flushed into a multitude of colors on her tanned skin. The gashes and cuts on her foot and wrists were nothing but scabs. They were training again and she was giving him the silent treatment. Morning through night. But when she looked at him, it wasn't the usual fire that simmered there when she was on her silent strikes. Her eyes would trail over him, morosely, before looking away. As if every look she were to remind him that he was abandoning her.

She didn't want him to leave her.

"Just you." she had said to him.

He should have killed her when he had the chance. Now, he lacked the conviction to do so. As a result, he now had this girl tied to him. She wanted them to have a 'normal life'. The thought was abhorrent to Bane. A life of mediocrity and honesty were for weaker men. His life was taking what he wanted, when he wanted. Or at least, it had been.

He sat on his cot, holding the small stuffed bear in his hands. How did life come to be this way? How did the love of his life become a shell? How did the girl he once sacrificed himself for, end up planning his murder?

"How are you adjusting?"

Bane looked up from the old scripture he was reading. A slender woman, all in black, leaned against the door frame with her arms crossed. Her red lips curled in a playful smile. He had missed the mischievous glint in her eyes when she would look at him. These days, it was a rare event for them to be alone and for her to smile for him. Only him.

"I am an adaptable human being. The others despise me or live in fear of me."

"That has never bothered you before." she observed with a quirk of her eyebrow.

"I prefer it."

Bane paused for a moment. Listening to the outside hallway. No other movement. No other sound. The acolytes may have retired for the night and he was thankful to not have any eavesdropping.

"Except, I have a feeling your father is not too keen on me as well." he added in, once assured of their solitude.

She pursed her lips then. The shine extinguished from her eyes. She stepped into the room with a sigh and closed the door behind her.

"You are not like the others. Your reasons for being loyal to the League of Shadows make him tense. He feels you cannot be trusted."

"And what do you feel?"

She stared hard at him for a moment. Her long fingers strumming idly against her arm. She slowly came to leaning against the table which he was reading at.

"I have trusted you with my life. It is because of you that I was able to find my father. But you are not bound to me. My father commands and so it must be obeyed. If you do not like the way the League functions, you may leave. I would not be offended if you do."

How could she not understand? How could she not understand why he would rather be here than anywhere else?

Bane leaned back in his chair. The old wood creaking as he looked up at her. For a moment, he was unsure if he should vocalize his thoughts. But, one fact had rang true since their life began together. Bane was always honest with her. So he shall remain.

"All my life I've been in prison. I have fought for survival, fought to be number one. To me, the entire world is a prison. Life is a prison. Time is a prison. Your father wishes to be regarded as a god. He wishes me to shackle myself to him, give my life freely and without question. There are some things I cannot do. I can bow to your father. I can obey every rule and tradition. If everything is but a prison, then this is the best one there is… But, I cannot give my life to your father. It all ready belongs to you."

Her brows came together. It was a rare moment in her adult life to be taken off guard, he knew. Her pale eyes bore into his own. Almost painfully. Searching for any trace of dishonesty. Then, her lips were suddenly flush against his mask. Those beautifully soft lips that he had yearned for since she had grown into a woman. His eyes were open, gazing into her lashes, experiencing the agony of not being able to feel those lips against his own. Her eyes opened as her face pulled away. In a swift movement, she straddled him in his chair. His hands clamped tightly down on the wooden arm rests. Unsure on how to proceed, unsure of what exactly she wanted; he remained very still and merely gazed questioningly up at her.

Her small hands enclosed around his. Leading them up her thighs and to her waist, as she leaned over and sucked on the side of his neck. His eyes clamped shut and he hissed at the sensation of her warm mouth on his skin. She allowed his hands to roam over her body. Greedily taking in every curve. She felt so soft to him. The countless times, he had imagined her could not compare. Unable to kiss, the actions between them turned rough. Her, biting and scratching. Him, bruising her pale skin with impatient hands.

He flung her unceremoniously onto his bed. When he pounced on top of her, she helped push down his trousers. When he entered her, she made the sweetest sound. As they moved together, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He felt a euphoria never encountered before. A sense of wholeness that no meditation had ever come close to.

She whimpered for him to go faster, harder. His sweet, little Talia. He watched her writhe beneath him. Every shudder and gasp being seared into his memories. He could feel his time coming close and then she asked something unexpected.

"Choke me."

His large hand grabbed her slender throat. Such a dainty thing. When he squeezed it, she moaned as her eyes squeezed shut and her face turned red. Her body tensed. Her walls spasming, clenching and unclenching around him. He bit his lip as he climaxed, and felt the blood trickle onto his tongue. His heartbeat was thundering in his ears, but he heard her rasp his name. He opened his eyes and saw her desperate fingers grasping on to his wrist. Alarmed, he immediately withdrew his hand from her throat. She coughed and sputtered as she was allowed to breathe once more. She touched her tender neck and he could see the harsh marks beginning to form there. Mortified, he pulled himself away from her and brought up his trousers.

His body was still tingling and the deranged mixture of sexual satiation and pangs of guilt left him without words. Her pale eyes found his once again. A sweet smile on her small lips. She motioned for him to lay down beside her, to which he contentedly complied. He had never thought to experience this moment. Laying with her, looking into her eyes as she looked into his, wrapped in silence and comfort. He ran his fingers softly up and down her arm. He wished he could press his face against her skin and hair. He wished to breathe her in uninhibited. He wished to press his lips against hers. But these were acts that were barred from him. He could only settle for what his hands could touch and his eyes drink in. It was torture to know that would never truly be enough.

Her delicate hand raised up to caress his mask.

"Life may be a prison, but we are tied to one another. It is the sweetest fate, old friend."

The memory left a coldness in him. A heaviness in his chest. A despair and rage left without direction. He could not think of a single person who had twisted him as badly as Talia had. He could only recall feeling the same betrayal, anger, and sadness as a child. A resentment towards the father he never met, yet was paying for the crimes he had committed.

Bane's lips pressed together and his large hands twisted the bear threateningly. He wished to tear it to shreds, but he couldn't. He couldn't destroy the single remaining relic of the goodness that once existed within Talia. Why did he have to torture himself so? With shame and self-disgust, he pushed the bear away and sat in the darkness of his cell.

Sometime between leaving Gotham and reaching their destination in Asia, Bane knew she was planning some sort of 'accident' for him. She couldn't return to her father with Bane on her heels.

Neither would Ra's al Ghul rest until Bane was dead. What the demon commands, must be done. If Bane slipped away, the man would hunt him down to every corner of the Earth. The only notion that Bane could cling to was that Ra's al Ghul was still unaware of Bane's knowledge of the Lazarus Pits. He could use them to heal himself. His stature would remain a characteristic which would be simple to pinpoint, but he was hoping that without his mask it will be easier for him to blend in and disappear.

Until then, he was not sure. Survival was the key objective for the moment. The girl now posed new problems. She wanted to be with him. His own survival would be hard enough to maintain. Let alone hers.

He could hear her sleeping next door. Her nightmares had returned with a vengeance. He could hear her fervent murmurs and groans through the night. She does not say what they are. Perhaps she does not remember in the morning. Perhaps she does not want to remember.

When he stalked into her cell, he could see her in the dark. Laying on her stomach with the blanket twisted around her legs. He kneeled close by the cot and watched her face that was pressed against the thin pillow. Every now and again, it twitched into a grimace. He could see her shivering from the cold. When she abruptly flipped onto her back, Bane took the opportunity to untangle the blanket and lay it over her cold body. His eyes lingered on her neck, thinking about the bruises that were hidden by the shadows. They make him think about the memory of Talia.

Just like Talia, she also placed her lips against his mask. Foolish girl. She wishes to be his. She does not even understand what that means.

Her face twitched again. He could see her jaw working, the sound of grinding teeth reached his ears before a low groan rumbled from her chest.. He wondered what she dreamt about. Was it her family dying? Was it of the man she killed? Was there a serial killer stringing her up and finishing what was left incomplete in real life?

Perhaps she dreamt of him. Of Bane. His foolish girl, his little dog, his little lion cub. She was crumbling in the loneliness of her mind.

He reached a hand out to her. Brushing his fingers against her hair. With several strokes, her teeth ceased grinding. The muscles in her face relaxed and she murmured some indistinguishable words.

"Just you." she had said to him before.

He brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek, barely feeling it at all. A single finger ghostly trailed the outline of her lower lip. His life had belonged to Talia. Ever since he was a young man and she, just a girl, in that prison. The little dog says her heart belongs to another. It belongs to him. He wondered how she could feel any sort of ludicrous attachment to him. But was it not the same with him and Talia? The ones that give you meaning are the ones you cling to.

Day and night, her antagonizing words would run through his head. "You'll never be free and never have true power because you'll always be chained down by yourself."

When had he become so weak? This girl insinuated that her heart belongs to him, what use did he have of a heart? He destroyed her life and now she wants to trail after him. Her mind was his. Her life was his. If Talia was where he was, she would wish to possess the body as well.

But, Talia had been in his position before and he, in the girl's.

Would he truly go so far? He found her to be agonizingly plain when his eyes first glanced over her in the court room. She fooled enough people to make them think she was a boy. Her physical appearance paled in comparison to Talia's refined and regal looks.

Regardless, he found himself realizing she possessed characteristics that Talia lacked. The roundness of her eyes and the clear emotions they continuously portrayed. Unlike Talia's, which have been schooled to convey only haughtiness and frigid anger. He could hardly admit to himself that, yes, he did find the girl to be pretty.

Moving carefully, he gently sat himself on her bed. He could see the girl stirring in the dark, sensing the weight shift beside her. Her eyes blinked sleepily for a few moments before staring wildly in his direction. She knows it's him, he can tell by the look in her eyes. She was only waiting for her sight to adjust to the dark.

His stare pierced through the still air, never leaving her face. He watched as her brows furrowed and a tongue darted out to lick her chapped lips. Her jaw clicked, but yet she said nothing. No 'why' or 'what'. Silence rested over them like a thick blanket. He leaned forward and touched her face as he had done before. This time more firmly to feel her skin.

It was soft and warm, but not completely unblemished. His touch glided over the occasional cut and bump of a bruise. Not the face of an elegant young woman, but the face of a fighter. One that has bore pain and scratched up from the bottom to survive. One day, she won't be pretty. One day, she will experience a broken nose, a shattered cheek, and cracked teeth. This is the life he's brought her to. This is the future he has promised her.

He watched her stop breathing as he touched her. The blackness of her eyes leering up at him. Those eyes he had become so accustomed to. She was so unwittingly honest to her emotions. Every little flicker of them that transpired beneath her dark eyes were like a breath of fresh air to him.

His hand went down to her neck and caressed the tender tissue there. He felt her swallow nervously beneath her bruised skin. As he touched her there, he thought about Dorcha. He imagined walking into that cellar room to see her hanging there. The mere thought of it caused anger to roll in his stomach. Bane would have killed him. He would have smashed his skull in with his bare hands for brutalizing something that belonged to him.

That's what she was. She belonged to him.

The girl sat up abruptly when he moved his body to cover her own. He only gave her a slow shake of his head. Do not do that again, it said. He pushed away the blanket and gripped her behind the knee, pulling her down on to her back once more. A shaky breath passed between her lips as he moved between her legs, the cot creaking loudly in the dark. His hands moved slowly up from her knees, to her thighs and waist, and up onto her sides. They swept up to her collar and then down again. She was breathing quick, tight breaths when one hand clasped the zipper.

Her hand closed over his wrist, stopping his movements. His eyes flared angrily before her hand loosened its grip and traveled gently up his arm. The touch exploring the scars and dense muscle before adventuring up to touch his bare chest. The sensation made the hair on his arms stand on end. His body was frozen beneath her unexpected touches.

Shyly, she sat up again and Bane stiffened as she planted her lips against his skin. First, on the shoulder. Gentle, chaste kisses that moved across his collar bone and up to his neck. His eyes closed momentarily, reveling in the feeling of her smooth lips against his skin. They opened again and he felt a grim heaviness settling in his stomach.

This was not what he wanted. These actions towards him were tender… intimate. So very willing. It created a terrible ache in him. From the weight in his stomach up into a sharp pain in his chest. How could something so innocent create such misery in him? All he could see was pretty Talia pressing her lips against his skin. This was not what he wanted from the girl. He would much rather have her hate him.

His eyes began to burn and he quickly closed them. She seemed to be content in the silent exploration of his body. Down his arms, chest, and stomach her hands read his scars like braille. They sloped around his sides and on to his broad back. They swept down his spinal scar. His eyes sprang open and, with his one hand, he violently shoved her back down on to the cot. She gasped in surprise before his hand grabbed her around the jaw.

His fingers were digging horribly into her skin. He could feel the outline of her teeth against her cheeks. He just wanted to break them. Crack out all of her teeth and break her slender jaw. The confusion and pain in her eyes flashed up at him, but there was no fear.

"You have crawled beneath my skin." he hissed vehemently through his mask. "You have ruined my perfection. You have made me weak. I have beaten you. I have destroyed your life. Indirectly caused the destruction of your family. What must I do to you?" he lifted her head and slammed it forcefully back down onto the cot. She growled in pain and her dark eyes ignited with rage as her hand enclosed uselessly around his wrist.

"What must I do to make you hate me? Admit to me that you hate me." he ordered.

Her fingers bit into the skin around his wrist, but he hardly felt it. Her eyes darted between his own. Still vicious and sharp in their black rage. He realized she was not afraid of him. She was not afraid that he may kill her. She was not afraid that he may force himself upon her. It destroyed him even further to know that she trusted him so fully.

Even though he did not loosen his grip on her jaw, he heard a single word pass through her clenched teeth.

"No."

Pilar

Her defiant answer angered him, that much she could tell. She could hear the sound of his harsh breathing as it passed through his mask. His hazel eyes continued to be locked with her own. Something indescribable to her bubbled beneath their surface. He was content when it was only him touching her, but was angered when she wanted to touch him.

He wanted her to hate him. She should. She should hate him. At one point, she did. Felt it within the very core of her being and wished he would die. Not just die, but die at her own hand. He had disrupted her life and taken away all which she valued. Stripped her down to feeling like nothing but a worthless animal. She had no name. She was not a person. Just a dog.

When did that hatred begin to die? He gave her a new life. A life where she could be strong and live without fear. A life where she didn't have to be washed away into the sea of faces and be a nobody. Now she had nothing. Not even her father's virtues to live by and give her purpose. She was absolutely alone.

She had nobody but him. Her captor, her mentor, her companion. The man that has committed countless evil acts. The man that can kill without a single thought… but cannot stand to be touched by her. He wanted her to hate him. It's easier for him to understand. Hatred and fear are the only things a monster knows how to respond to. Affection is foreign to it.

"Stupid girl." he whispered vehemently. "You are a mediocre disciple. You are tactless, disobedient, and your good-nature makes you a poor excuse of an assassin. You're language in crass and your grasp of the real world is naive and laughable. I was going to twist you into a soulless and violent creature. Force you to kill the Batman as one last act to squash his despising dedication to this foul city. Then, I was going to grab you by the head and snap your thin neck in one… quick… twist." he growled.

He was close to her. The air ventilating from his mask tickled her ear as he spoke. She was hyper aware of the bodily warmth that he was exuding. From where he rested between her thighs and up onto her chest which was covered by his own. It would have been a pleasant feeling if not for the distracting ache in her jaw and the sharp pain from her teeth.

His original plan was to kill her. Would he do it now though? She couldn't imagine him doing so. Not after everything. Not after all they had said and been through with one another. He cared for her, didn't he?

The thoughts sounded pathetic, even to her. She had seen Bane kill a man without giving a single reflection about it. He could do the same to her. He was a trained assassin and all he had to do was flip off the emotion switch and just do it. Would it be so terrible to die right now? Did she have anything else to live for… besides him?

It was so degrading and awful to know so. She once had dreams and aspirations. Now she had fucking nothing and she couldn't stand the prospect. All of the things that Bane had taught her, what use were they, if he were no longer around? She would simply just wander around again. She would rather not exist than do that again.

The thought of him killing her created a horrible ache within her. She thought about Dorcha. She thought about hanging in the air, choking, and vision blackening. Feeling profound hatred for the man and wishing nothing but to kick, scream, and fight with everything she had. Fighting to the very end to claim back what's hers; her life.

But if Bane decided to end her… there would be no fight within her. There would be no hope. Not because of her knowledge of his strength or how deadly he could be. But because there would be nothing left. She would resign herself to death. From the simple fact that he, the one who has become the center of her life, no longer wished for her to exist. What else could there be in this world?

As she spoke, her mouth struggled against its tight restraint.

"I would… rather you… do it, than anybody… else."

Slowly, his hand unclenched itself around her jaw and he leaned back so he was no longer on top of her. He was giving her a peculiar look, as if she were a question he did not know the answer to. After all this time, she wished she could understand him more. She wished she could identify the flurry of thoughts that bubbled behind his stares.

He sat that way for awhile, staring down at her with his flinty gaze before he blinked and looked away. "Fool, what have you done to me?" he muttered scathingly as he adjusted himself to sit with his back against the wall.

Pilar pushed herself up and observed as he retreated within his own mind. What have you done to me, he says. And what of that he's done to her? What sort of things has she ever done to him that could compare to his actions?

But she could see it in the way he had looked at her. The way in which he looked at her was something that was only reserved for her. It was not even something she could identify. With other people, they were like peons. Worthy of a cool glance or a sharpened, enraged glare. What has she done to him? She did not understand. Was it that he cared for her, when he had no reason to?

She wished he could admit to being wrong. The two of them didn't have to cultivate their loneliness. They didn't have to walk around existing with murderous disappointment. People can belong to one another. They did not have to be lonely.

She tried to think of what to do or say. What does a person do when they see a drowning man? They reach out an arm. They either save the man or become pulled under as well.

She moved closer to him and, without looking for permission, sat on top of him. Her legs on either side of his thighs. Her arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders and she rested her head in the crook of his neck. For a few drawn out seconds, he did nothing. She could feel apprehension slowly trickling into her stomach, but did her best not to show it. She feared he would be able to sense it, like an animal, and snap at her.

Relief washed over her when instead of pushing her away, he reciprocated the embrace. His hands slid up and rested themselves at the middle of her back. She closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of his body and the weight of his arms and hands against her. The last time she had human contact like this was after Arkham Asylum. She had clung to Bane as if his body could absorb all the pain away. Now she held him, wishing her thoughts could transfer between their touch.

You're not just a monster to me. You're not just a monster to me. You're not just a monster to me.

She held on to him and felt her eyes burn as she thought about him leaving her in some foreign country. She would truly have no one when it happens. It filled her with an awful fear. Why does he have to abandon her? Why?

She despised herself for needing him so much. He's ruined everything about her. She will never… never be the same. When she was young, she always felt alone. Now she knew what true loneliness was. To be trapped in a box with no one and nothing in this world to give a shit about her. A pain like a poison pumping through her veins at the knowledge that her own existence was meaningless. She dreamt of men dying. Rotting bodies. She dreamt of being tied down and no matter how much she screamed and cried, there was no escape from whatever awful thing was coming for her.

All because of him.

She wished she had the words. She wished she knew what to say.

"You are the ruin-the ruin-the ruin-of me." She recited. "I have no resources in myself, I have no confidence in myself, I have no government of myself when you are near me or in my thoughts."

As she spoke, she could feel his jugular thumping softly against her cheek. The tune of his heartbeat made her close her eyes.

"You could draw me to fire, you could draw me to water, you could draw me to the gallows, you could draw me to any death, you could draw me to anything I have most avoided, you could draw me to any exposure and disgrace. This and the confusion of my thoughts, so that I am fit for nothing, is what I mean by your being the ruin of me."

His hand went to her shoulders and pushed her away from his chest. They went up to her face, holding her still as he looked at her. She felt the pressure of his strong, calloused hands on her cheeks but the touch was gentle. His thumb rubbed softly on the top of her cheekbone. She felt his stare like a hot, sharpened blade. Cutting through every part of her. Every little bit.

Something unfathomable was behind them. There was nothing for her to compare it to. She had never been stared at in such a way in her life. It was like the world was falling away.

"Take off my mask."