Chapter Ten: The Eye of the Storm

It was the middle of the night when Sarah woke up, fully awake and brilliantly alert. Bane had fed her spaghetti, and it had been the most bizarre sight to see him standing in the doorway with a bowlful of pasta in his muscular hands. Sarah could feel the itchy prickle of the cast on her leg, and she swung herself out of bed very slowly and carefully. She had no idea how bad the break was on her leg – putting any weight on her leg would be painful, she was sure. But she needed to get out, to move, so she set her teeth tightly and tried to shift all her weight to the opposite leg.

Even being exceptionally careful, Sarah was drenched with sweat and her lower lip was swollen from biting it; her leg started throbbing, and she eased herself down in a stiff-backed chair on the opposite side of the room. She panted and let her splinted leg splay outwards, trying to catch her breath. She felt curiously weak, as though she had been sick for many weeks – her muscles quivered with her breathing, making her feel nauseous. Still, she had gotten out of bed, and she was proud of this fact. Tori was fast asleep on the floor, wrapped in a blanket and with pasta sauce still smeared on her cheeks.

There was a thick gray curtain over the wall, and the draft beneath her feet felt wonderful after her feverish nightmares. Already they were fading away, and she was grateful.

Reaching up, she pushed aside the curtain with some trepidation, wondering if it was covering an obscene message or a hole in the wall. Even in the dark, Sarah could see that the place had once been a posh, upscale apartment but had been reduced to bare walls by thieves.

However, the curtain wasn't concealing a wall. It was covering a window.

She sat there, stupefied, for the better part of five minutes trying to take it all in.

It had been so long since she'd seen out a window, never mind seen an awe-inspiring view like this one. If it had been daytime, and months ago before war had fallen on Gotham, the view would have been truly breathtaking. But right now it was sickening and fascinating all at once, staring out at the smoke-gauzed skyscrapers. She could see the pinpricks of muzzle fire in the streets, where skirmishes and battles were obviously being fought. There was a slight rumble, and a soft explosion lit up the upper corner of the window. That must have been on the east side – that could have been her apartment.

If they had stayed in her apartment instead of going out, they would never have been caught by Bane.

What did he want with them? Why them, out of all the thousands of women and children? Simply because they had crossed his path at the right moment? Sarah shuddered, remembering that night, where the gang had surrounded her. There had been only a few times she had been scared for her own life, and two of them had been due to Bane's men. Sarah drew in a ragged breath, trying not to think about when Bane had forced her to bathe in front of him, forced her to bare her soul in front of him. And that was all he had wanted – she had the feeling he could have cared less about her exposed skin. All he wanted was her humiliation.

He was a monster.

But she couldn't kill him, not in this state. How could she escape? Getting the two of them free would be nearly impossible, and even if she could miraculously get Tori out of here, where would her baby go? There was no true safe place in Gotham, and Tori wouldn't make it five minutes before being caught, murdered, or...She needed to stop thinking. But what was the other option? Stay here until Bane tired of them and snapped her neck like a chicken bone?

Sarah turned her mind off.

In college, she had fancied herself somewhat of an artist, and she wished she had stayed in school. It would have been worth it, just to learn how to paint the horrifying scene in front of her. The once beautiful towers of Gotham had been reduced to rubble and smashed windows; the skyline, which used to be full of glittering yellow lights, was almost completely dark. Anything glowing in the darkness was a target. But she couldn't paint it, even though she saw the smoky gray watercolors in her mind, intermingled with the rosy red and fiery oranges. In a different life, maybe – in a life where she hadn't gotten pregnant out of wedlock, hadn't married George Reid in a blind panic, hadn't done so many things wrong.

But in a different life, she wouldn't have Tori.

In a different life, Tori wouldn't be going through all this.

She stayed in the chair until dawn, trying not to think and failing miserably. Somehow, all of her mistakes and blind errors had led to the two of them being captives of a terrorist.

When she came out of a light doze, Bane was standing next to her with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the sun rise over Gotham.

"Beautiful, isn't it," he remarked in his smooth voice, instinctively knowing she was awake. She jumped, but only a little.

"Destruction?" Sarah asked, a bite in her sleepy voice.

"Rebirth."

She looked out on the scene and tried to see what he was seeing. How could he see something beautiful in all this, besides the odd attraction to things like train wrecks? But then she stopped trying to see with her mind and started trying to see with her eyes. It could be beautiful, if she thought of it as a painting. Hadn't she been admiring it last night, thinking how the sunset streaked the smoke so beautifully, like a gritty impressionist piece of art? A necessary war, and for a split second she could see what he meant, about a purging being necessary.

But then it wasn't a painting, it was raw and real and full of frozen corpses.

"It's not rebirth," she said, her voice hoarse. "It's people dying and their children becoming orphans. It's their houses being burnt and their spouses being slaughtered." She twisted upwards to look at him momentarily, her eyes narrowed. "Does it ever bother you, Mr. Bane? Knowing that women and children are being raped and butchered because of you?"

She added venom in her voice that she didn't know she had, twisted the knife of her words in a way she hoped would hurt.

He was silent for a moment. "I take no pleasure in seeing innocent people killed," he responded evenly. "But I take great pride in seeing justice done. The people who survive this war will be strong and full of life. They will be the kind of people who are worth their lives."

"You believe life should be earned?" Sarah asked, coughing and muffling the sound with her thin wrist.

"Yes."

"Tori was an accident," Sarah said flatly. "She didn't earn her life. George and I considered having her aborted. So what do you think should happen to all the newborns in Gotham, Mr. Bane? Should they be forced to earn their lives?"

"Your daughter is a poor example," Bane said darkly. "And you know this. I am not one to deny the unusual, and your daughter is exceptionally brave for her age. She earned her life when she stood up for another's."

"People are standing up for the lives of others and they're getting shot," Sarah said, her voice rising with passion, "and nobody is giving a damn."

"The very same people have lied and cheated their way through life," Bane said. "One act of bravery does not erase an entire life of deception."

Sarah fell silent, too tired to argue. Why was she trying to debate a maniac? He held their lives in his fist, and yet he didn't seem to be rebuking her; he seemed to encourage their little arguments. She shot blindly and hoped it would get a rise out of him. "Who was that woman here yesterday?"

Out of her peripheral vision, she saw that her blind swing had hit something. He didn't move, but he didn't breathe either. The steady beat of his mechanical breathing hesitated for a noticeable second.

"A general of mine."

"Can you thank her for me? For washing Tori's hair? She made...a very good impression on her." When Bane didn't answer, Sarah pressed on, testing her weight on the ice. "I didn't know you recruited women in your army."

"I recruit whoever I deem worthy. There is a spot available for you, if you would simply lose the morals which blind your vision to the world."

The comment stung – it wasn't the first time Sarah had been told her morals and optimism were blinding her view of the world. "If you honestly think I would join you, you're more insane than I realized," Sarah hissed.

"Calm yourself," Bane said, sounding amused. "I offered the same to Detective Blake. Your incorruptibility is the very reason you would not take arms by my side, and also the precise reason I offer you that choice."

"How..." the words stuck in her throat. "How is Detective Blake? Is he...dead?"

"No. But the children he recruited into his army have all perished."

Her heart sank to her stomach like a granite block.

"Does that make us so very different, Ms. Reid? At the very least, I make sure I recruit men into my army. Not boys or the children you weep for."

Bane left her staring out the window at the ruins of Gotham with tears on her face.

Sarah came back from the bathroom with a determined look on her face, trying to overcome the pain and roiling nausea. Tori was on the floor with a new blanket wrapped around her shoulders, coloring in a Barbie coloring book with a small box of crayons spilled around her. The sight was so familiar and mundane that it took Sarah a split second to recognize why it was strange.

Where on earth did Tori get crayons and a coloring book?

She sat down on the edge of the bed and Tori looked up, looking fed and content for the first time in what seemed like eons. "Miss Talia is in the kitchen with Bane," Tori reported.

"Miss Talia?" Sarah asked, clothing her eyes. The pain was becoming a little more than she could handle; she forced it down mentally, picturing a box she could stuff her pain inside. Surprisingly, the image in her head worked for a moment, but when she opened her eyes the pain came back in a rush.

"Yeah. She got me crayons and a coloring book and some food. There's Goldfish on the, um, little table, do you want some?" Tori asked, gesturing to the nightstand.

Sarah feared that if she opened her mouth, she would vomit. "No, I'm...f-fine..." she whispered.

"Mommy, are you okay?" Tori cried, getting to her feet.

She smiled wearily, her eyes still closed. Picture a box...

"I'm fine, sweetie."

All those boys. Dead.

Tori's little hands patted her knee.

"Sarah, I presume?" It was an unfamiliar voice, one that forced Sarah's eyes open. Smooth and tinted with a vaguely French accent, definitely European.

"Y-yes..." she chattered. The muscles which had been quivering earlier twinged, and she broke out in a cold sweat.

"Take this," the woman said with remarkably efficiency, dropping two small yellow pills in Sarah's palm and giving her a bottle of water. Sarah downed both of them as best she could, but dribbled liquid down the front of her filthy sweatshirt.

The woman was beautiful, incredibly so. Wide, clear blue eyes and dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, with high cheekbones and a strongly featured face. She was gazing at Sarah with a focused gaze, as if watching her for an outbreak of symptoms. There was something unsettling about the steadiness in her eyes, and Sarah reminded herself that Talia was a general for Bane; a little insanity was necessary.

"Do you need anything? Clothes, food, more blankets?"

Was this woman honestly offering to help them?

Sarah realized the opportunity and seized it. "Uh...soap. Some shampoo, please. And some books. Oh, and some socks, maybe a change of clothes. And some paper, maybe? With some pencils?"

Talia got to her feet, unsmiling. "I'll see what I can do."

Sarah reached instinctively, her eyes going blind with desperation, and gripped Talia's wrist. "Please," Sarah whispered, "please, try and convince Bane to let my daughter go free."

There was something very odd in her eyes – confusion, maybe? "I'm not sure Bane will listen to me," the woman said with nearly a laugh. "In nearly every way, you are his. Even if he were to let you go free, neither of you would last long. The whole city knows that Bane is keeping two pets – they wouldn't let you live."

"Please, you have to know –" Sarah begged, not really absorbing any of Talia's words. "You have to let my daughter go. There has to be some place in the city, any place that's still safe!"

"Believe me when I say this," Talia murmured, "you are safest while you are closest to Bane. In the eye of the storm, there is no sound."

When he went to change the bandage on her shoulder, she was amazingly still. He told her to take her shirt off, and she did so without blinking or registering the command. There was a dull, lifeless look in his captive's face, and as he snipped the gauze off her shoulder he couldn't help but notice that she was in some state of shock. It had been building up for days, and this was really the first time she had been able to sit still and think of her plight. After a few days of routine, she would be fine.

But she needed something to think about besides her daughter's life.

So after he had bandaged her shoulder, he settled on large, calloused hand on her uninjured upper arm, the touch surprisingly gentle. She jerked and looked up at him, some of the vapidity clearing from her face.

It cleared entirely when he stroked a single finger up her bare spine, making her excruciatingly aware of her nakedness, her vulnerable position, the fact that she was being taken care of by a terrorist.

He looked at her, making sure he had her full attention. Goosebumps were rising on her skin beneath his warm palm, and he smoothed a thumb across the nape of her neck.

The deep rasp was just in her ear, his voice a silken purr beneath the rough mechanical white noise.

"Never speak to Talia again."

A/N: Dear me, this story is getting creepy!

The inclusion of Talia was a recent plot change, as I originally intended to not have her in the story at all; but it was simply getting dull with just Bane and the two girls for characters. Talia being added makes things much more interesting, and more character development for both Bane and Talia is always a good thing. :) I hope I revealed a bit about the kind of person Sarah is – I hoped to cover something in her personality besides just "eternal mother". I hope it came across all right – I wanted to show her as a bit of an idealist before she got married, but after being married to an alcoholic and a teenage pregnancy statistic, she's changed quite a bit. I hope to get into some more of her backstory in upcoming chapters.

Thank you for all of your lovely reviews once more! I so enjoy reading them – they make my whole day, truly. :)