Beyond The Shadows

Ten

Bane sat for several minutes longer in the back of the black sedan after Hafif had parked outside the jet hangar. Numbly he stared at the leather seat back in front of him.

"It will be about half an hour before the others arrive," Hafif said. "Do not wander off."

With that terse order, the man left his driver's coat on the seat and exited the vehicle. Bane knew Hafif would not have done so if not certain that no one had followed them from the hotel. From the trunk, Hafif removed his pack, leaving Bane's behind, and walked with confident purpose out onto the ramp where their jet was receiving the last of its fuel. Sunlight flashed against the handgun on his hip.

Now that both Thomas and Edmund Dorrance had been dealt with, Bane got the impression from Hafif's stony visage that he was relieved to be nearly through with this mission, as if the very personal nature of their venture displeased him. Throughout these short days, neither Hafif nor Passat had spoken more than a sentence or two to him. At first Bane had figured it was merely their aloof nature as trained men, but after sensing Hafif's current mood—perhaps something the man would not have displayed if Ducard were present—Bane began to wonder if they resented their master's solicitude for this deformed criminal. After all, he was not one of them, and his injuries—both emotional and physical—portrayed him as inferior to them. Perhaps, Bane thought, he would one day be able to prove them so very wrong.

As the conversation with his father played over and over in his head, Bane shifted in the leather seat, fingers twitching until his agitation chased him out from behind the heavily darkened windows of the vehicle. He paced inside the hangar, protected from the sun but not from its stifling late morning heat. It had to already be over forty degrees Celsius. Sweat poured down his face and neck, the mask smothering him. He clawed at the knot of his tie until it came free. Tossing it back into the car where the suit coat lay, he unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. He pulled the tails free of his slacks as he continued to restlessly walk back and forth, ignored by the couple of airport employees who passed near; ignored, that is, after their initial stares at his mask.

He wished he could tear the mask off as well. Would his conversation with his father have ended differently if he had sat before him as a whole man? His father would have better recognized his mother in his features, he was certain. Then he berated himself for leaving so abruptly when he had not gotten the welcoming response he had desired. Perhaps if he had remained longer, allowed his father to get to know him, to understand and appreciate all that he had suffered, things would have been different. Like Ducard had said, such information might have softened Edmund Dorrance. Now he would never know.

No, he told himself after further debate, he was a fool to hope anything would have been different. His father had a family, a career to preserve. Even if he lacked his hideous physical aspects, no doubt an introduction to his father's family would drive a wedge between Edmund Dorrance and his wife, perhaps even between him and his children, raising questions that had only uncomfortable answers. And then if he was truly suspected as Thomas Dorrance's murderer, his father would have to choose between the man who had created him and the man whom he had created. No, Bane assured himself, it was far better that he forge his own way in life. He had kept his promise to his mother; that was all that truly mattered.

When another sedan pulled up near the hangar, Ducard, Temujin, and Passat emerged. After removing their belongings from the trunk, Ducard spoke briefly with the Saudi driver before the car pulled away. Seeing Bane, Ducard came toward him while Passat and Temujin carried their bags toward the jet.

Unexpectedly, Bane had trouble finding his voice at first, so Ducard rescued him, "Did you find your meeting to be satisfactory?"

His choice of words left Bane somewhat flummoxed, yet he figured Ducard's seeming detachment was an effort to separate emotion, and thus pain, from the ordeal, for surely Ducard could see by his demeanor that the meeting had decidedly not gone well.

"I—I think he believed me…about my mother, I mean, and who I am to him."

Ducard removed his sunglasses. "And you told him of his father's death?"

Bane nodded.

"It appeared to me," Ducard said, "that he was neither alarmed nor angered."

"I don't know. I'm not sure he could take it all in just then, especially after all the other things I had told him before that. But, at least, I know he believed that his father is dead."

"And did you discuss your future?"

Ashamed, he could not meet Ducard's eyes. Instead he stared at the man's crisp, straight tie, the suit coat still buttoned. "No. I figured if he wanted to be a part of that, he would have said so. He did not."

To internally realize such a painful thing had been barely endurable, but vocalizing the rejection gave free rein to his emotions, and he had to rapidly blink, his head still bowed, in order to conceal his feelings.

"It would appear," Ducard said, "the apple did not fall far from the tree."

Bane produced a grunt of false apathy, but he knew Ducard saw through his effort. "Then where does that leave me if we come from the same tree?"

"You are the obvious fruits of your mother, Bane. And that is something in which you should take comfort."

Bane could yield little more than a weak nod.

"And what now for you?" Ducard prompted. "You assured me that you have considered options should your father prove…less than accommodating."

Bane's lie came back to haunt him now, for in reality he had no true alternatives. He had spoken of Hans and a nonexistent offer to find him employment in Germany, as well as claiming an interest in becoming an interpreter for the military. But even if such opportunities were viable, Bane did not want to leave Talia, especially so soon after their rescue. This was the sole point of relief for him over his father's rejection. Bane knew Talia needed him still…and he needed her. She was the only one who could ever understand him. He had been a fool to hope that his father would even try.

Stalling, Bane scuffed his loafer against the pavement, stared at the shining dark leather as he remembered his sad excuse for shoes in prison, how he had cobbled his and Talia's footwear together, as he had with their clothing as well.

"Well," he mumbled, then straightened and forced himself to look Ducard in the eyes and speak as clearly as the mask allowed, "the truth is I'd like to return with you…to be trained…and to serve you however you see fit."

Ducard studied him for an uncomfortable moment, and Bane feared that the man might rebuff him. Surely his words had not taken Ducard by surprise?

"It is not blind allegiance that I seek in my men," Ducard said at last. "We fight for a cause. It is to that cause that they swear allegiance, not to me, not to any man."

Frustrated, Bane struggled to articulate his plan. "I am here because you saved my life. How many of your men can claim a greater debt to you? What could possibly make a man more loyal?"

Ducard put a hand on Bane's shoulder, his gray eyes piercing. "I don't doubt your loyalty, Bane. My daughter's existence is proof of the strength of such loyalty. But what my men fight for—and what many of them die for—is loftier by far than owing another man a life debt. You must understand that I hold no such debt over you, nor would I do so with any man, no matter what has been sacrificed. If you return with me, you will seek only to serve the cause of justice, not me, not a man, not yourself."

"That's all I've ever sought—justice. Justice for my mother, for myself, for Talia, for…Melisande. So you can rest assured that I am well-versed."

Ducard's hand dropped back to his side. "Yet you know nothing of our…organization. You know nothing of the League of Shadows. It is not the life for every man. It is a solemn commitment fraught with sacrifice; it is not an occupation."

This was the first time Bane had heard Ducard refer to his organization by name. The fact that he saw fit to now share it thrilled Bane and returned some of his self-confidence, gave him hope that Ducard viewed him not as merely a handicapped boy but as a capable man.

"I've lived my whole life in the shadows," Bane slowly responded. "I know nothing else. And from what I've seen so far of the rest of the world and how it views me, I think it's best if I remain in the shadows." He paused. "If you'll have me."

Bane held his breath as Ducard considered him, looking down along his prominent, slightly crooked nose, a stirring of hot breeze toying with his hair. What seemed the longest moment of Bane's life passed before Ducard's gaze softened, and one corner of his mouth twitched in a brief smile.

"Very well," Ducard nodded. "If you are able to stand up to the rigors of training, then perhaps the time will come when you can enter our ranks. But understand me, Bane. There can be no partiality on my part. This goes beyond anything that we—or others—may view as reciprocity. You succeed or fail by your own doing."

Able to breathe once more, Bane tried to temper the eager appreciation in his voice, "I understand. Thank you, sir."

"Very well, then. Grab your pack, and let's be on our way." They turned together as the jet engines whined to life. "By the time we return, you should have the privilege of meeting the League's esteemed leader, Rā's al Ghūl. He will have returned to the monastery by now."

Surprise nearly tripped Bane. "But I thought you—?"

"No, dear boy. I am a mere foot soldier compared to him. Men like me can only aspire to such greatness."

Intrigued, Bane said no more, for words could scarcely be heard now over the engines as they hurried across the ramp.

Rā's al Ghūl. Bane turned the curious name over in his mind. The Demon's Head. What sort of man would take such a title? And why had Ducard and his men kept this seemingly benign information from him during these past months? Did Ducard not trust even the man who had saved his daughter?

As Bane climbed up the ramp stairs to the jet, he wondered of all the other things that remained hidden from him.