Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Batman.
Hello readers! Sorry for the long absence, I've done my best to continue writing but honestly moving to a new city on a different continent is kicking my ass! Things have mostly settled down but I'm already taking classes/starting work. Between all of these things, I'm afraid I haven't been able to give this story much attention.
Thanks for understanding, and thank you so much for sticking with me.
Tetracycloxin, myoxitol, hydroxylbetazine…
This is what her days are concerned with now. Bane is at the crux of them, of everything really, but these liquids, changeable and fickle, are the spokes in the wheel. They are blocks with which Evie plans to build everything else, because right now nothing is more important than creating that serum.
Yet at the same time a small part of her doesn't want to finish the task. If she's done, what left is there to do? What worth to her life? Bane enjoys her body and her mind now, but one of those two is certainly more disposable than the other. Evie doesn't want to entertain the possibility that she'll be tossed aside once she has supplied him a new formula.
There's a sort of beauty to be found in chemistry, though. It's a slow process that produces art, patient and precise. It's not for the hasty or the haphazard; caution guards every step of the procedure.
Evie is no chemist, but she understands the basics enough to appreciate just how complicated Bane's serum must be. By all the laws of nature, the amount of analgesic he needs is enough to knock out a small elephant, but it must also be refined enough for aeration. In other words, he requires a liquid formula which can be turned into gas by his mask and then delivered to his body through inhalation.
Bane is a paradox, she thinks, lying languidly on the mattress and watching him put on his vest, his massive back muscles rippling like waves in the ocean.
It's been three months since she was first taken into his custody, and in that time she's seen him choke a man to death with no more than a contraction of his fingers, seen him knock through a brick wall with one solid punch. But without the mask, he can remain on his feet for only ten minutes at most, and the crippling white-hot pain sets in within two. Evie has never seen him eat or sleep. She knows he must, but never has she witnessed it with her own eyes.
Bane is more than a man. He is power itself, an unstoppable force.
Evie bends to him, as slim and flexible as a reed, lifts herself up at the touch of his hand. When he takes off the mask to kiss her, she is never allowed to see or touch, though she pleads and begs. Nor does she ever see him naked. This is the nature of their relationship: Bane, all knowing and withholding; Evie, in the dark and helpless but receptive nonetheless.
The first time she produces a formula which is comfortable for him over the full course of a day, he covers her eyes with one hand while fingering her with the other, bending her right over the work table, and then, mask off, sucks on her nipples. When he bites down on one, hard, she comes immediately, trembling uncontrollably beneath him.
But by the next morning when it's clear the effects have worn off, Bane strings her up by her wrists, knotting the other end of the tie to the bar holding up the drapes. He then shoves one of Mayor Santoro's vibrators into her, sets it to the lowest buzz, and leaves her hanging thus for hours.
The weak and constant vibrations leave her completely unrelieved but continuously aroused, so that by the time Bane returns to the office that evening, Evie is a mess of frayed nerves and painfully sensitive.
"My serum should have been done long before now," he declares, untying her wrists. "I've been far too lenient with you. You'll start over tomorrow."
She nods, shaking and sinking onto the floor, aching for his touch but fearing it also. Everything about Bane is a double-edged sword. That night alone in her parlor Evie rubs herself furiously, but her own fingers can do nothing when unyielding flesh and forceful hands are what she craves.
Captain Jones' face turns to pulp below Bane's knee, squashed as easily as an overripe fig.
Blake is huddled behind a column with Lucius Fox and Miranda Tate, for the second time within mere feet of Gotham's reckoning but once again hidden. He fingers his Glock 17, feeling the reassuring cold metal against the pad of his thumb. With one well-placed shot to Bane's head he could end all of this, though it would mean certain death for himself as well; he is deep in the den of snakes.
His own life matters very little to him at this point. He's always known, after all, had accepted years ago, that he would perish in the line of duty. So much the better if he went down after killing one of the worst threats to the citizens of Gotham.
But there is more at stake now.
Blake had lied to Commissioner Gordon and Captain Jones; he hadn't just happened to wander into the upper stories of City Hall and bump into Fox and Tate, who have been held hostage since the day Bane took over the city. The truth was that after several months he had resolved to go back and kill Bane once and for all. Selina Kyle would skin him alive if she knew of his foolhardy plan, but after all this time he had still not been able to shake the image of him and Evie from his mind. It was only blind providence which led Blake to find Fox and Tate first, and the news they imparted to him was so astounding that it must be dealt with before anything else.
Along with displacing Bane, locating the nuclear bomb had always been Gordon's top priority. But after Blake was told that the bomb was set to blow whether or not the unknown triggerman detonated it…
Well, everything else was demoted to secondary importance.
Blake doesn't know what he can do about the bomb, especially now that the covert special forces sent from the outside world have been killed in front of him, but at least he can contribute to Bane's demise. He'll just have to trust that Gordon, Fox, and Tate will figure out a way to neutralize the bomb.
"What should we do with the bodies?" one of Bane's men is asking, a tall and lanky dark haired man with a Hungarian accent and an assault rifle in his hands.
"Place them where the whole world can see," answers Bane simply, already turning to go.
Blake slides his gun from its holster. He looks at Tate huddled beside him, her expression strangely calm. Though he's never met her before, Blake can tell she is a person of upright and steely principles, a reliable person who will do what's necessary.
"There's a girl in the mayor's office," he whispers to her. "She was taken by force and has been Bane's captive for months. She has likely been subjected to sexual abuse. If you can, find her and see her safely out of here."
Tate's face takes on a stricken look. "What?"
"Please. She's important to me." He's about to rise, gun cocked and ready, but a weathered brown hand on his knee stops him.
Lucius Fox's eyes drill into his with quiet power and intelligence. "If you care for this girl, do not do this, Officer Blake."
"Someone has to."
"Not today, and not you. Gotham still has need of bright and brave young men such as yourself. They are in short supply these days." The older man's face is tired, drawn, and suddenly Blake realizes that he's thinking of Bruce Wayne. It has come to the point when even Fox and Gordon, the Batman's oldest and most stalwart supporters, no longer believe he will return.
In that moment, Blake decides to live.
He's right, I'm of absolutely no use if I recklessly sacrifice myself here and now. There will be other opportunities. Only by living can I protect the innocent. He slides the Glock 17 back into its holster.
Fox nods.
"You should leave now, Officer," says Tate, who seems to have recovered from her earlier shock. "The men are gone for now. Lucius and I will be accounted for later, they'll know if we're gone, but you need to go. There's a service door down the hall to the left that's usually unguarded at this hour, it'll take you out to White Hill Boulevard."
"Thank you. I will tell Gordon what's happened, and I will be back for you." He pauses. "If you see the girl… her name is Evelyn. Tell her… Tell her I will find her after all of this is over, one way or another."
Selina Kyle is draped casually over the sofa when he arrives back home in his apartment. It's become customary for her to drop by, completely unannounced, at all hours of the day or night. In this new Gotham she's a stray cat, and Blake has more or less taken her in.
It's not that she needs him for a place to stay; now that more than half the city's most opulent homes are empty, there's plenty of spaces she could inhabit, especially with her… persuasive skills. It's not money either; the very idea is laughable, considering how much wealthier she is from her years of thieving than he on his meager paycheck.
Sometimes the cat just likes to drop by for a pat on the head and a drop of milk, that's all.
She raises her head and watches him take off his coat. "How did it go with Captain Jones today?" They've taken to a sort of strange, farcical domesticity, asking about each other's day and sharing very sloppy meals together (cooking is one area in which Blake is better than her, shockingly). It's a lot more practical than it is romantic, but the arrangement does offer a small measure of companionship in an otherwise completely upended world.
Blake reflects that he lost one girlfriend to a serial killer terrorist only to gain a pseudo-girlfriend who steals for a living and sometimes collaborates with said terrorist.
"Jones is dead. So is the rest of his team."
Selina ponders this silently.
Blake collapses onto the armchair, utterly drained. She's wearing her catsuit, he notices casually, which means she just came in from a job or she's about to go out again. Too tired to inquire, his eyelids droop lower and lower until he's drifting along in a blissful and weightless dream…
When he surfaces, he blinks and finds that Selina has laid the table. Two plates, each with a pile of macaroni and cheese, await them.
"Care for some milk?" she asks, holding up a carton with that knowing smile on her face.
Blake doesn't even ask how she got it; the food supply trucks coming in bring only a very limited amount of milk, but he's learned that Selina can get almost anything she wants with minimal effort. He nods, and she pours out a generous measure for both of them.
They eat in companionable silence. Blake doesn't tell her that he intended kill Bane today, that he had his chance and would have almost certainly died if not for Lucius Fox and Miranda Tate stopping him. She doesn't talk about what she does when she's not at his apartment with him. Instead, both of them pretend for just a few brief moments that they aren't trapped in a city that's rigged to blow within a few weeks. They talk of other things, mindless and trivial things of no consequence.
He doesn't ever mention Evie. Selina doesn't ask.
Author's Note: This chapter is the shortest one so far, but ironically took me the longest to write just because I've been so busy. I'm experimenting with a different style, less verbose and more to the point, to better reflect the breaking down of both Evie and Blake's lives. Both of them are in such stressful situations, it's impossible to experience such things without emerging as different people. Hopefully this comes through in the sleeker style.
During the scene in which the special forces men speak briefly with Blake, Fox, and Tate: I remember thinking, "How the hell did Blake manage to find Fox and Tate after they were kidnapped and held hostage by Bane's men?" Then I realized I had already given him a reason in my previous chapter. Funny how my contrived plot is fitting in quite nicely with existing Nolanverse.
Also, people seemed to really like Catwoman so I'm writing her a bit more. The more I thought about it, the more I decided I liked the Blake/Selina buddy cop dynamic, though entirely (fan)fictional. Both of them are loners, and don't quite know their place in this new Gotham. Both of them admire and respect Bruce Wayne/Batman only to come to terms with the fact that he's gone. And both are a bit emotionally stunted. She's quite difficult for me to get a handle on, she's so ambiguous sometimes and I never really know exactly what she's thinking (like Bane). It's a good exercise for me as a writer though, so I enjoy it.
Responding to some reviews:
Ally- I'm definitely planning something big, but I don't want to give it away just yet! It will definitely be emotional and explosive. It might be the hardest thing I've ever written... Stay tuned because it's coming and it will be huge!
frustratedstudent- I want Evie and Blake to meet again too, but I'm not sure it'll happen yet. We'll see where this story takes us, it's going to be a hell of a ride.
RainbowToast- WOW, yes, you hit the nail on the head exactly! I'm so pleased that you understood what I was trying to convey about Blake's mental fragility, and yes, wanting to save Evie and wanting to kill Bane ARE two different emotions, though they intersect! You're brilliant, and I'm so glad you're enjoying this!
Cheekymonkey- Thank you for the kind wishes! I enjoyed writing Selina, and hopefully I portray her well in the chapters to come.
Slytherin- I can't tell you who Evie will end up with, because honestly I don't know yet! And who's to say she'll end up with anyone? Anything is possible, thanks for reading!