It was still raining when Susan awoke. The fog was pressing its slow white face to the window, peering in at her; she dragged the bedclothes up around her naked figure and turned away from the dreary gaze of the morning light. With her face settling onto the pillow, inhaling the familiar scent of sweat and her own floral aroma, she half expected to feel a hand reaching under the covers to yank her brusquely from the bed. But there was no hand because there was no Bane. And Susan was happy to wake up alone, with only the depression on the other side of the mattress and the smell of him in the sheets to serve as the only evidence that he had fallen asleep beside her.

The memory of him lingered though; mingled with the sights and sounds and sensations of the night before. She could still hear him breathing in her ear, feel the mask against her neck and the blood thrumming beneath his skin, desperate and savage…Susan had not remained on top for long; he had grown suddenly aggressive, with a grip that she had been sure would have broken her if not for some small ounce of restraint. She had fought for control and the challenge delighted her. But then…he had changed once more beneath her touch; growing gentle, tender, thoughtfully slow…and that had startled her more than his snarling ferocity or the hands pinning her to the mattress.

What unsettled her even more, however, was her own behavior. The fact that his skin had not burned where she peppered it with kisses; that she had not flinched away from the heat of his touch; and that when they had settled she had resisted so little when she felt his arm around her waist, pulling her closer and pinning her to his form…that sort of affection frightened her.

But even still, she could not remember sex being so enjoyable and she relished in the soreness of her limbs and the stiffness in her walk with a small knowing smile as she rose languidly from the bed, letting the sheets fall away from her naked figure. Crouching to retrieve her clothes from the floor, she winced at the tenderness between her legs. Bane's magnitude did not disappoint, she mused wryly and bristled slightly at the thought of making this sort of thing a habit; good thing she was adaptable.

She laughed at the thought and stepped lithely into her clothes and then out into the hallway. The apartment had settled back into its eerie silence, the wood floor whining weakly as she strode into the parlor. Yes. Empty. Bane had obviously retrieved what he had shed the night before and gone about his business. He was most likely out in the city, taking one of his regular leaves; he and Barsad liked to take patrol and he often attended the "court hearings" that took place downstairs in the lobby of City Hall. On one or two occasions he had invited Susan down to savor the scene with him; she had refused.

So, after fetching something edible from the fridge, she was free to wander about the apartment and its many rooms at her leisure, stretching every now and again to ease the tension in one of her many aching muscles. The clock on the far wall and the sickly green light, choked by the fog, streaming in from the windows told her it was hardly midday. No training this morning. She felt the solemnity of her forced routine slipping already but she didn't balk at the thought; she figured last night had been enough to count as vigorous exercise. Instead, she made her rounds, chewing thoughtfully on a plum, checking the stock of Bane's medicine and relocating a few of his older books that she had carelessly scattered about the place.

She was halfway done restacking them in his room when the domesticity of the act struck her with blunt force. What was she doing? She was alphabetizing. Frowning angrily, she sent the entire column tumbling to the floor and abruptly left the room. Without a second thought she pattered across the hall into the adjacent room, slid the glass door wide, and stepped out onto the patio. The chill of the air bit into her face and sent a scream of clarity running down her spine.

She realized then that her behavior had become habit. She had almost found a bit of pleasure in dawdling around the house like a fucking simpleton. She sneered at her own obedience and with a grunt, she threw the pit of her finished plum over the railing, following the little black core with her eyes as it tumbled through the air and out of sight.

If Bane's torture had not driven her into submission, neither would his affection. Just the thought of it sent her head reeling. Spotting Barsad's forgotten pack of cigarettes, she snatched it up; it was half empty. She sank into one of the folding chairs she herself had set up on the terrace, her cold fingers fumbling with the lighter. The first inhale was a relief.

Sex was just sex. Insignificant. Fleeting. She couldn't remember the specific reason why she had gone to him last night but she couldn't say she regretted it. After his brief and startling show of affection, she had retreated to her room in a state of shock and confusion. But it was all made clear when she had returned to him and saw the light turning in his eyes; she gave him precisely what he wanted but was too proud to ask for, too righteous to simply take. Could she say the same for herself? The thought of wanting him resounded with submission; it was at last surrendering to his subtle manipulation, to the hands and the force that had claim that had so brusquely claimed her life and steered it thus far. But…

In many ways, she had claimed him. He had submitted to his own desire. Susan had merely to conduct her will. And it had felt good, hadn't it?
She was thinking too much. If this was madness, it was surely disappointing. The cigarettes were making her nauseas now and she flicked the butt over the side of the terrace as well. With one final glance out over the city, she picked up the crumpled pack of cigarettes and retreated back into the apartment. Once inside the room, she eyed the empty bottle of vodka on the floor and thought better about picking it up. She wasn't a fucking housewife.

The notion stuck like a viscid, black stain in the back of her mind as she wandered into the bathroom for a shower. Lingering momentarily in front of the mirror, she noted the bruises in her state of undress. On her hips, on the pale undersides of her forearms, in the crook of her neck. Black and blue and red all over. She couldn't help but laugh dryly as she stepped under the hot stream of the shower but the cackle quickly melted into a groan of pleasure; the water felt wonderful on her muscles. She worked with what little products Bane had afforded her: miniature hotel soaps and shampoos.

Pausing in her ministrations, she wiped the soap from her face and stood plainly in front of the showerhead. She held her palms out, beneath the torrent of water and shivered with an inhuman ecstasy. The seedlings seemed to quiver with joy at the sudden attention as well. The green had spread farther across the valley of her palms, she noted, no longer confined to the center of her hand. Her brow creased momentarily with concern but she blinked away the unease; she should be glad she was healthy again.

And yet…she had let her power fall into neglect by settling into Bane's schedule. She would certainly need to remedy this. Susan mildly considered killing him. No. That wouldn't do. Her boredom would indubitably multiply. And besides – she figured they had both agreed on some unspoken promise not to kill each other. Imprudent, as Bane would say.

But she would not allow herself to grow indolent or assume the role, although twisted, of happy homemaker. Cleaning up. Providing for Bane. Waiting around for him to return. Warming his bed at his expectation…With a grunt of displeasure she switched off the shower and stepped out into the humid air of the bathroom. The steam clung to the mirror, screening Susan from the almost laughable atrocity of her body as she quickly dried off. The towel wrapped firmly around her, she stepped closer to the counter, running her hand briskly across the muggy glass of the mirror. Her reflection blinked back at her amidst the haze and she frowned, noticing something off about her face. She peered closer.

Her eyes, once a steady and frigid shade of blue, were turning green.

The color had already swamped most of the blue of her iris and continued to snake steadily around her pupil. A strong, fierce green. What was this…

Her gradually worsening panic was cut short suddenly by the faint sound of strange buzzing. Susan strained, listening hard before tucking the edge of the towel neatly under her arm and moving out into the hall. She was halfway down the corridor when she realized what it was and turning about, made her way to her bedroom. The flora she had produced long ago to keep her company rejoiced at her arrival, the vines unraveling themselves from the bedposts and the curtain rods and reaching for her in hello and the flowers opening their faces wide to smile at her. But she hesitated for a only a moment to return their welcome before striding straight for the bed. Gripping the underside of the mattress she lifted it easily and retrieved the cellular phone she had tucked there weeks ago.

It had stopped ringing by now but flipping it open, she found one message waiting. She opened it eagerly.

St. Michael's. East & Clover. a.s.a.p. – Selina

Susan blinked down at the message, her mind humming. Selina wanted to meet up, that much was obvious. But she hadn't outlined any necessity for calling Susan – just for Susan calling her in case there was trouble. She considered that perhaps the woman had misdialed. No, she was smarter than that especially with the state that the city was in; she could easily be tracked. If she were sending Susan a message she meant it and didn't want to mince words.

She considered heeding the call. She was more than willing to get some fresh air…she hadn't left the apartment since her last encounter with Selina. Not since her mother…the thought of taking to the streets harrowed her for there was no promise she wouldn't set out immediately to kill whoever crossed her path in a fit of retribution. And besides, Bane didn't have to say a word to let Susan know he wouldn't want her wandering about; his possessiveness was obvious enough.

Bane…

She felt something stir within her at the thought of him, a newfound resilience. She had found the answer to her own ennui, to the sudden and restless hatred she now harbored for the dingy taupe walls and the lonely echo of the apartment. Yes…a little fresh air would be good. What else was there to do anyway? Bane's laundry? She balked at the thought.

Glancing down at the message again, she put the address to memory before deleting the message and flipping the phone shut. She shed her towel and dressed quickly, moving about the room with a brisk excitement, her plants following closely at her heels like an expectant pet. She shooed them away as she turned to retrieve the cell phone and shove it into the back pocket of her jeans. Just in case.

"We're going to have an adventure today," she called to the quivering vegetation around her as she moved for the door. "Wish me luck," she cooed, stroking the soft white cheek of a nearby gardenia perched on the mantle of the fireplace. It sighed faintly in response and she left with a smile on her face, not caring enough to lock the door behind her.

The outside hallway was just as quiet and empty as the apartment and Susan hummed idly to the vaguely familiar tune in the elevator on her way down. She hesitated only momentarily when she reached the first floor as she was met with an eerie unconventional silence; the usual riot had settled to a low murmur of hushed voices. No court hearings today.

She moved coolly into lobby, glancing around for the first time at the high ceilings, the rich brown marble walls, and the wood paneled floors that at one time had perhaps shone impeccably with polish. They were now scattered with papers and splinters and the smudges of agitated footsteps. Here and there were overturned chairs and broken benches, odd pieces of office furniture dumped carelessly and mostly in pieces. It seemed the hearings held none of the order they boasted. Ironic. At the center of the atrium was a tower of sorts, stacked chairs and desks and filing cabinets. If she squinted she could just make out what looked like a gavel resting plainly on the desktop at the peak of the splintering mountain. The judge was obviously away.

The men, armed and otherwise, milling about the room grew quiet as she entered their midst and regarded her with a mix of emotions. Some with amusement, some with alarm. Some with silent respect. She bristled under their gaze and stared each of them down hard. They did not interfere as she moved for the glass doors of the building; either they were Bane's men or they were smart.

"You there!"

The voice rang out from across the room, echoing off the stone walls with crisp authority. She paused, her hand falling short of the door handle, and turned to face the fool who dared to object. The man was standing at the summit of the heap, his eyes trained on her location near the door.

"Approach the bench."

She stared at him for a moment, perplexed by his assumption; she began to laugh and yet she yielded to the stranger's absurd command, momentarily curious. Closer now she could see he was older, but not by much. The suit he wore had perhaps once been nice but was ragged now, torn here and there and patched roughly, stuffed with what looked like straw in the shoulders.

"Are you lost, sweetheart?" he called, turning slightly to sink into his perch at the desk. But when he glanced at Susan again, his smirk faltered and he seemed to recognize who she was. "Well…" he began almost breathlessly, gazing down at her, "To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss…Ivy, is it? Or do you prefer Poison?"

Susan smirked at the name, feeling almost ridiculous at the mention of it. "Who are you?"

"The honorable Judge Jonathan Crane," he announced proudly, adjusting his glasses primly. He leaned forward, peering over their silver rims. His eyes were almost as blue as hers had been… "But they used to call me Scarecrow…I prefer that actually…"

She stared up at him coolly, wondering for all its trouble why Gotham took so keenly to giving titles to its villains. "I've never heard of you."

He frowned and slouched in his chair, obviously disgruntled by his lack of infamy. "Well – the courts aren't in session today. No show to amuse you or your colossal beloved." In irritation, he plucked a few strands of straw from his jacket and flicked them aside, "Be on your way, won't you?"

She lingered a moment longer, somewhat amused by his frustration but then turned on her heel and moved decidedly back towards the door. She was mid-step through the doorway when he called out to her once more.

"So you don't deny it?" he jeered and from where she stood, she could just make out the cold smile on his face, "Your beloved?"

Susan left without another word and pretended she hadn't heard him.

To escape the silence, she hummed quietly to herself, some stupid tune oddly reminiscent of the song she'd heard earlier whining through the elevator speakers. The streets were quiet and she walked alone with her hands in her pockets and her hair tucked neatly in a braid she had fastened shortly after leaving city hall; there were few other commuters out and about then and only a few of them glanced at her with any interest. Even fewer allowed their eyes to linger on her as she passed. Whether in fear and recognition or simple curiosity she couldn't tell.

The ravenous flame that Bane had ignited within the city had diminished and the ashes, the ghosts of a seemingly righteous revolution, destruction, and decay languished openly in the streets. Shops that hadn't been elected as service stops for the mercenaries in Bane's army were boarded up and dark; the sidewalks were littered still with broken glass, trash, the odd and disturbing brown splotch of long-fermented blood; and although the citizens of Gotham had never been especially affable, people passed one another in silence, exchanging a sigh or perhaps a frown but nothing more than an unspoken solemnity. Susan observed their hopelessness and could not help but feel some stirring of pity…she had never really invested in Gotham. She had never really even considered it her home, having been exported here against her wishes. But there was something in the clear desolation that didn't require any sort of patriotism; the very air she breathed was rank with a palpable misery. So she kept herself from breathing too much of it.

The intersection of East and Clover was not so terribly far from City Hall and Susan reached her location at length, brightened by the exercise even for the dreary scenery. She stood before the church now, her cheeks flushed and her breath coming out in great white plumes. Susan had never been religious. The question of god or any higher power for that matter was rarely discussed in her household and when it was, it was addressed with the appropriate passion of two entirely empirical scientists. Their religion was a clinical thing. Susan was left to gleam what understanding she could through literature, through her travels, and through the fleeting compassion of her parents. It was not an acute education. No frenzies, no conversions, no visions.

The only churches she had ever seen up close were either the majestic, terrifying impressive cathedrals in the cities of foreign countries or the quaint, cobbled chapels that dotted their endless, green countryside. St. Michael's landed somewhere in the middle of the spectrum; neither remarkable nor charming. A simple brown stone face set with weathered oak doors. The stain glass windows that lined the body of the building were dim from the gray light and a jungle of unkempt and browning vegetation framed the entire church; Susan frowned at the decay and as she made her way toward the front doors, only after several long and cautionary glances down the street to make sure she had not been followed and was not presently being watched, she ran her hand along the dry, curled leaves that reached out to her from across the railing that lined the path; the life in her hands renewed them completely and for a moment, she felt their bright green faces sigh against her palm in relief before she was entering the church and closing the door behind her.

What Susan had expected was a quiet if not slightly disturbed scene of empty wooden pews and a modest altar of marble and felt carpeting. But instead she found herself in the middle of a much more dynamic energy. All but a few rows of pews had been torn up and pushed against a back wall and in the clearing, several tables had been erected along with a few scattered metal folding chairs. The tables were crowded with paper work and some miscellaneous computers and desk lamps. The untidy atmosphere suggested that the church's new occupants were keeping busy. Who they were and for what purpose, she couldn't tell. But the church – undeniably – looked like headquarters.

"Hello, Susan…nice to see you again."

The voice echoed dully on the musty air, calling Susan's attention over her shoulder. Selina moved forward into a square of bleary light pooling in from the window; she'd been standing just behind the door when she entered. The woman was dressed as usual and the intensity of her costume struck a sharp contrast with the mundane background of the church.

"Have any trouble finding the place?" she inquired lightly, flexing her hands in their leather gloves.

Susan shrugged one shoulder and slid her own hands from the pockets of her jacket. "Not much. I can say I know the city rather well."

"Do you?" Selina's red lips turned up in a smirk of unexpected malice. "I would think it hard to get familiar from way up there in your suite at City Hall."

She blinked, deciding to ignore the spiteful edge in the woman's voice. "If I recall correctly, there was a sense of urgency in your message."

Selina seemed to get the point. "Right," she exhaled sharply and promptly rose about whatever sourness she had begun with, "Welcome to headquarters. St. Michael's had been closed for years and we decided the place would give us the right amount of space and privacy."

"We?"

"We'll get to that later," she quipped, "For the sake of time – and confidentiality –I have to keep the details to a minimum. Unless of course you agree to my proposal."

Susan frowned with concern; she suddenly felt as if she had walked right into the headquarters of some counterrevolutionary operation bent on reclaiming their city from Bane. Brave, but incredibly stupid. She instantly regretted responding to Selina's message.

But the woman seemed to notice her change in composure. "If you think we're trying to resurrect the ABC café in this shithole, you're mistaken. I'm no idealist. Our little group would be better off joining forces with Bane than working to retake the city but…that doesn't mean we can't help the damage."

Susan did not respond, quietly measuring her words, and Selina took her silence as a signal to continue.

"Since the city fell and Bane gave Gotham permission to tear itself apart, the streets have changed. There's no cops to stop any of what's happening, no rules. The thugs don't even play by their own rules anymore. Bane may have the city under control, may have his men patrolling the streets but they're only there to reinforce the 'justice' where they see fit – which means it's survival of the fittest."

"I never pegged you for a philanthropist," Susan remarked idly.

"I'm adaptable," the woman replied coolly, "But I can't say the same for everyone else out there. The entire city is falling apart. Rolling black outs, gas and water shortages…what's more, the food shipments are just enough to keep the demand high and the people desperate."

"Desperate?" she echoed, her brow quirking in anxious interest.

"The other day, I saw two men fighting over a can of Spam," Selina replied flatly and Susan might've laughed if it weren't all so pathetic. Her momentary mirth vanished however at the other woman's expression of absolute grief. Her voice grew heavy with sorrow and Susan grew uncomfortable at her sudden show of emotion. "People are starving. And who knows how worse things might get when the real winter sets in. Nobody knows what to tell their children…"

There was a moment of silence in which the two women considered the gravity of her statement and Susan felt that same stirring of pity in the hollow of her chest; this time she wasn't quick to chase it away.

"The streets are my home," Selina continued, with a weary sigh, "And these people are the only family I've ever had. If I don't try to help them then they're left waiting for…" she trailed off suddenly and averted her eyes almost guiltily it seemed to Susan, "Some sort of savior."

She thought fleeting of the Batman and chewed thoughtfully on the inside of her cheek. "I'm not seeing precisely how I fit into all of this."

The declaration was innocent enough but her companion took it poorly. Her eyes flashed angrily and her gloves gave a quiet squelch as she clenched her fists fiercely. "Of course not," she sneered with derision, "How could you from your sweet view in City Hall? You'd never even dream that people, real people, were suffering with all that smoke in your eyes. Content to tend your garden and wait around for Bane to fuck you or maybe kill you."

The color rose up in Susan's face as the woman's hostility reared once again and she bristled not at the accusation but at the truth in it. It was enough to curb her tongue and keep her own anger at bay. Just enough. She couldn't deny the turn of her stomach at the woman's words so she glanced away furiously.

"You know you're not very good at this soliciting business. If you were you'd know you're not supposed to insult the person you're asking for help," she murmured, tapping her boot irately on the carpet.

Selina grew quiet; she looked rather sheepish at her sudden outburst and she shifted her weight from heel to another. "I haven't even told you what I want."

Susan fixed her with an expectant look, yielding to her patience for just a moment more.

"Well…as I said, people are starving…"

It took her only a moment to reach the obvious conclusion and she gave a loud snort of laughter at Selina's suggestion. "What? Do you want me to plant some community gardens? You've got to be fucking kidding me…"

The woman didn't even flinch.

"You can't be serious."

"But I am," Selina began, the solemnity returning to her voice in place of the ire, "These people need help in any small way we can manage. If you won't help out of some – freakish, abominable loyalty to Bane then fine, but –"

"I didn't say no, did I?" For the second time, the other woman found herself speechless. The two stared at each other, Selina half hopeful, Susan shifting in her indecision.

"No, I suppose you didn't," she observed and titled her head, slightly. Selina studied her for a moment as if searching her face for sound reason; she like everyone else in the whole damn city probably thought Susan was entirely subjected to some detestable allegiance for Bane. But she could care less about her reputation. There was something besides the pity stirring within her now…

Reaching for the phone in her pocket, Susan checked the time. She'd been gone for an hour or so and since it was her first excursion out into the streets, she didn't want to blow her cover completely. She'd no idea when Bane would be back but she decided not to chance it.

"I should be going," she murmured, tucking her phone away and her companion seemed to understand.

"You have my number," Selina replied, eyeing her hopefully but Susan was quick to brush past her, moving briskly for the door. She was worried that if she lingered any longer she might lose her nerve and turn the woman down flat for want of an answer. The door to St. Michael's slammed heavily behind her and she began again on her journey, curling her hands automatically back into her pockets and ducking her head against the chill.

On he r way home, she considered why she hadn't reject Selina entirely. What the woman had been suggesting was almost pathetic in its idealism. Growing crops for the starving citizens of Gotham…Christ, the notion grew more ridiculous as she turned it over in her mind. And why did Selina think they would even accept her support? Why should they trust a woman who was so quick to kill and who took company with Bane? And while it was true that Susan cared little for her reputation or her public opinion, there was always Bane himself to consider.

Susan couldn't be too sure but if he were to discover that she was allotting her time to assuage the suffering of the city he loathed so entirely, he might be a little upset. Perhaps enough to throw her off the terrace. The potential of his fury might have once been enough to scare her away entirely. But…

There was something in Selina's offer that struck her. It was strange almost…hadn't she just been complaining of her ennui? Of her unseemly and easy obedience? Here was the action she sought, the divergence she craved.

Live with purpose…

She felt her heart give a jolt at her mother's words. This was a purpose if she'd ever seen one…If she wouldn't help these people out of the fleeting goodness of her heart, then she would do it to flex her own power. Put herself to work. If Bane could claim the city with flame and ash, then perhaps she could reclaim it herself and allow it to flourish under her hand….

By the time she reached City Hall, the steps were crowded once more with lines of disheveled, wide-eyed citizens; it seemed the mercenaries had rounded up a few hundred for court hearings and as they barked their orders, the crowd shuffled feebly forward. The bevy of people watched her as she approached and continued to stare as she made her way around the building, opting instead for the backdoor. The air had suddenly grown foul with desperation but the shame she expected to feel was not entirely overpowering. She had resolution now and managed to muster some levity to fix her face with a half-smile as she boarded an elevator and ascended to the familiar hallway. The door to the apartment was unlocked and the parlor, mercifully, empty.

The main room was swamped with steadily darkening shadows, the dismal day growing ever dismal as evening arrived. Sighing wearily, she slipped out of her boots and kicked them against the sofa on her way to the bedroom. She was too busy undoing the braid at the nape of her neck to notice the open files sitting plainly beside the medicine kit on the kitchen counter.

The vegetation rustled against her legs like a friendly cat when she entered the bedroom and she glanced lovingly at them as she passed, shrugging out of her jacket and hanging it primly on one of the bedposts. The vines that reached for her and curled lovingly around her shoulders put her at ease and reaffirmed her decision to help Selina and her pet cause. At the end of the day…it was something to do. She could work out her reasoning later on.

So much for the cold and calculating Susan Isley.

I'm in.

Her fingers moved slowly over the keypad of the cell phone and she watched the little digital envelope of her affirmative message sail away into oblivion with a grim smile. She didn't bother to wait for a reply and had just returned the device to its hiding spot when her company announced his unexpected presence.

"Susan."

She started at the rumbling sound of her name and stifled a gasp as she turned to face him where he stood in the doorway.

"Bane," she murmured, clenching her fists tightly to steady herself. The flora retreated as he lumbered into the room, eyeing her over the lip of his mask.

"You've been out," he said simply, more of a statement than a question.

She smiled tightly. "Just around the block."
"You lie."

He was close enough now that she could smell the musk of his sweat on the neck of his black t-shirt; close enough now to see the flush of activity in her cheeks and the wild light of her eyes. There was nothing she could say.

"But I don't care," he finished and his intention was clear in his eyes. Susan complied, all too eager to drop the conversation entirely.

"Long day at the office, dear?" she cooed duskily as he pulled her roughly into him. She softened under his hands, shivering as she felt his fingers smooth through her hair. Closing her eyes, she sighed into his neck and let him lay her down and her disquiet slipped away from her.