A/N: So, as far as I know, I had the second Bane/OC story up on this site. The first I recommend to everyone. Huge and Mighty Forms is an extremely wonderful story. But, anyways, I'm glad everyone is jumping on the Bane bandwagon. As far as the music playlist goes, I have it set up, and if you all want the blog link, I'll put it up on my profile. Anyways, enjoy this chapter.

This chapters contains violence.

XI.

Ouch. I have lost myself again.

Fiona was hauled off the bike and thrown to the cement floor of the garage. Above her, Bane towered, his dark eyes seething and his breathing heavy. He cracked his knuckles and Fiona gaped like a fish out of water. Bane's foot collided with her stomach, sending her reeling in a dark, hollow pain. She could feel the air rush out of her lungs as another kicked was aimed at her back.

Fiona rolled away from Bane, gasping for air.

The woman struggled to make it to her feet, the room spinning dangerously. Losing the balance that wasn't really even there, Fio fell to the cement, her wrists bracing her as her bloody knees stung.

She hissed in pain, but quickly grunted as Bane's boot made connection with her ribs. Fiona collapsed again, swallowing and rolling in pain.

She wasn't going to die.

She wasn't going to beg.

"Get up."

Fiona stumbled onto her hands and knees. Coughing violently, the young woman quickly swallowed again, fighting the bile that was rising in her throat. She moaned in pain, grasping onto the wall for support. The slick cement didn't help much as she soon found Bane's hands pulling her to her feet. Fiona quickly braced herself, her eyes frantic with fear.

She wasn't going to die.

She wasn't going to beg.

Bane's fist connected with her stomach, sending her doubling over, garbled screams of pain were murdered in her throat as he quickly kneed her in the face. She cursed, her fingers prying at his strong ones, desperately wishing he would release her hair.

She screamed again, making eye contact with Trish, who was standing in the doorway of the garage, watching in fear. Trish's hands quickly clamped over her mouth as Bane turned around, following Fiona's gaze.

"Leave us. Take the others to patrol the streets. We have unfinished business," Bane spat, shoving Fiona towards the doorway, "Our wonderful girl here went and did exactly what she said she wouldn't. She blew it."

"I... I d-didn..."

Bane shoved her roughly through the doorway, his hands grasping her throat as she was pinned against the wall. Fiona's face grew red as she gasped feverishly. She could feel the tears pricking her eyes now.

She wasn't going to die.

She wasn't going to beg.

"Bane..."

"You too, Daggett. Leave."

Footsteps resided. Fiona's throat was released. She fell to her knees, air rushing into her shocked and faltering system. Bane only laughed.

"Pathetic."

Fiona screamed as she was thrown up the steps into the living room. Fear swelled in her chest as Bane's footfalls came closer and closer.

"Weak."

Bane's hands grasped her shirt, lifting her up and shoving her hard down on the glass coffee table, which in turn shattered beneath the small woman. Fiona wailed in pain, the glass digging into her flesh and tearing the skin.

"Insignificant."

Fiona cried out as Bane's fist collided with her abdomen, her back digging into the glass even more. Clawing at the material on her shirt, Bane swiftly hauled her onto the carpet, watching as she frantically struggled to stand.

She blocked him out, a strong ringing taking the place of every other noise in the room. She gasped for breath and hissed as Bane stomped on her back, the glass burying deeping and cracking.

Fiona screamed louder than she ever had in her life.

The pain was hot and white and she thought she was going to pass out.

"Up."

She clawed at the carpet in pain, screaming at every movement.

"Get. Up."

"No," she wailed, her hands shaking madly as she clawed at the air. "L-Leave."

Bane's head tilted, "And on what ground do you think you have the rights to command me?"

Bane's hands were careful now, hauling Fiona up, gripping her waist. Her eyes shut tightly, more screams flying from her throat as hot tears spilled down her face. Fiona struggled to breath, her lungs falling into convulsive spasms.

Her eyes widened as Bane kicked the balcony door open, displaying the view of Gotham and the long pool which rested high above the city. Fiona screamed again, kicking furiously.

"Please..."

"Please, what?"

"D-Don't..."

"Don't, what?"

Fiona could hear the smile in his voice.

"I c-can't swi-"

His foot tripped hers as he shoved her shoulders forward, sending her toppling into the water. Water rushed into her lungs. Panic rose in her chest.

She was going to die.

She was going to beg.

Bane rested on his haunches, his fingers dipping in the water, testing the temperature. The water mirrored his reflection as he watched Fiona pull herself onto the stairs of the pool's shallow end. He laughed, watched her writhe as the muscles in her back worked to pull her up.

He knew she had been broken.

If she hadn't been broken, Bane realized, he was toying with a woman stronger than most. Surveying the bloody water stagnantly seeping around her, Bane stood full height, watching her with each step her took. His fingers found the material of his shirt, playing with the fabric on the sleeve. He stepped down one of the steps, his boots sloshing in the water. Quickly pushing the black sleeves up on his forearms, Bane grasped Fiona's arms and pulled, heaving her out of the water.

She coughed and moaned, her fingers digging into the pavement.

"C'mon, Fiona. Let's get you up," Bane muttered, his lips curling into a snarl as he clutched soaked waist, pulling her onto two feet. He kept his hands on her, examining her back as she stumbled blindly to the penthouse. She fell against the glass door, crying out.

For a moment, he regretted what he did, but it was only because he knew he was going to have to fix her. He had no intent of helping her, but as his eyes scanned across the damage, he realized he was going to have to.

Bane wasn't comfortable with removing her clothing, but she was wet and shaking so he only saw it as a way to possible calm her down.

Leading her to the sofa, she sat down quietly, her eyes staring off into the distance as he gently tugged at her shirt. She didn't protest, but simply hissed in pain. The black shirt was carelessly tossed to the side, disposed in the corner.

"Stand."

Fiona simply looked at him, fear and shame written across her face.

"I am helping you."

"Just kill me."

Bane shook his head, standing in front of her on the couch and tugging her boots off. He quickly tossed them aside like the shirt before tugging her to her feet and turning his attention to her cargo pants. His large finger fumbled with the button and zipper.

"Why would I kill what I fixed?"

He growled slightly as the button slid back through the hole, proving too small for his hands. Bane sighed, trying again to undo her pants. His brows furrowed and he blinked as something wet hit his hand. Looking up, he caught Fiona wiping away tears quickly.

He almost grinned.

He had broken her.

Fiona lowered her head again, moving his hands away as she undid the button and zipper, discarding the pants quickly. Bane simply looked her over, inspecting the large lacerations on her knees and trying to avoid her lace undergarments.

Bane had seen women naked before. Of course he had. He was a man. He was no virgin, and though he had not seen a woman in her natural state in a while, Bane still had self control, and as Fiona's eyes widened, he gave her a look.

"I'm not going to rape you, Fiona. That would be in very bad taste. Not something a gentleman would be."

He shifted, his fingers coiling around her wrist as he pulled her through the kitchen and through the study, motioning to the toilet. Closing the lid, he nodded.

"Sit down."

Fiona did as she was told and waited as Bane disappeared through the doors. She heard a bit of a commotion and when he returned with a first aid kit. he went to work right away, cleaning and stitching and bandaging. His hands weren't meant for this kind of work, Fiona knew. His hands were built for destruction and killing, not comforting and healing.

But, Fiona didn't protest as his calloused hands flew across her back, pulling the shards from her skin and stopping the bleeding from the deep holes. He was helping her. But he was the one who did this.

Half an hour passed in silence.

Fiona growled as he stood, surveying his work. She still hated him, even if he was saving her life.

She wasn't broken.

She was angry.