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Saved.
Man was I wrong. My "salvation" was a rough equivalent of a military camp. Bane was thrown into a cage that's previous owner must have been a lion. I threw a holy fit when they separated us. They sedated me and I became virtually useless.
"Bat!" I yelled from the makeshift medical tent.
After a few moments Batman came strolling in, followed by Gordon.
"Ah, you're awake," Gordon stated. "I'd like to ask you some questions, if you don't mind."
"I don't mind," I drawled. "But what I do mind, is you taking away the only person in this fucking tin shit house that's been protecting me."
Gordon looked abashed. Most people did when I started swearing. Apparently I didn't look the type. Appearance's can be deceiving.
"Elsbeth," Batman butted in. "Bane is a dangerous criminal. A patient here at Arkham. He cannot be allowed to roam free."
"Oh, well if we're getting down to technicalities, so am I," I argued. They both just stared at me. I quirked my eyebrow at them and shook my head.
"I'll answer your questions Mr. Gordon," I said. "But when I'm finished, I would like to go see Bane."
Gordon pondered on it for a few moments before saying,
"You can go, but it will be supervised."
I couldn't help myself. I burst out laughing, which turned to groaning because I leaned to far over and stretched my poor abused thigh muscle. I hoped I didn't pop a stitch.
"Mr. Gordon no offense, but Bane is the least of my worries right now," I breathed. And wasn't it the truth. According to the Joker, I was only allowed to leave in a body bag, and only at his leisure. I wanted to punch his head so hard it caved in. Problem with that was he was too damn fast. Maybe Bane could just step on him like a bug. Squish him.
"I suppose your right," he conceded. About two boring hours later, Gordon had finally run out of questions.
"Finished?!" I asked hopefully.
"All finished," Gordon laughed. "I'll escort you to where he's being held."
Getting off the bed was an issue. So was walking. I had a pretty pronounced limp. I figured it would take about a day to get used to the soreness, and be able to push through it. A thought occurred to me as I was gimping over to Bane.
"Hey Gordon," I asked.
"Hmm?" he responded, letting me know he was paying attention.
"Can I have the Joker's knife back?" I questioned.
"It's evidence," he sighed, looking at me like I was nuts. "Why do you want it back?"
"No particular reason," I beamed. "Just hoping to return it to him in a similar fashion to which it was given."
Gordon shook his head at me. I thought I saw a small smile appear under his moustache. I liked Gordon. He was cool headed, and collected. Smart and a genuinely nice person. Not something you see anymore. Bane came into view and I felt my blood light on fire. He was in a cage, like a fucking animal. It was almost too small for him, even with him sitting.
"Get him out of there!" I commanded.
"Elsbeth," Gordon began but I cut him off.
"If you're so worried about him escaping or hurting someone, cuff him to me," I cried.
"Elsbeth," Gordon chastised. "Bane could easily rip your arm off."
"Bane," I asked, approaching his cage. "Would you rip my arm off?"
"Not unless it was absolutely necessary," he responded.
"See?" I boomed, looking back to Gordon.
"Elsbeth, he just said he WOULD rip your arm off," Gordon replied, removing his glasses and massaging the ridge of his nose where they sat.
"If it was absolutely necessary," I finished. "Gordon!"
I may have whined a little bit there. But I wasn't ashamed. I didn't think we were safe here, and I wanted Bane out of that cage and near me at all times.
"For the record," Gordon said, removing a key from his pocket and opening the cage door. "I don't think you having Bane around is a bad idea. But if Batman asks, you stole the key from me. Got it?"
"Got it," I said grinning. Bane moved out of the cage and stretched a little.
"I'm going out on a limb here for you," Gordon commanded, addressing Bane. "Please don't make me regret this decision."
"Thank you," Bane said. Gordon gave me one last, fleeting look before he left.
"And thank you Elsbeth," Bane retorted, turning his eyes to me.
"Anytime," I chuckled. "Let's walk a bit; I want to see if I can stretch this muscle out any."
"You should rest it," he warned.
"I know, but in this particular situation, where the Joker could come bursting in at any moment, I would really like to be able to at least gimp-run," I gasped, grinding my teeth.
Bane chuckled, but didn't protest. We walked maybe twenty feet from the cage before my leg began to cramp something wicked.
"Ah!" I screamed, and fell over on my butt.
"Elsbeth," Bane blurted out, crouching down to be level with me. He was looking questions at me.
"It's just a cramp," I whimpered, trying to massage it out.
"May I?" Bane asked. I shook my head. He began to gently massage the muscles, just above my knee. He worked his way slowly upward, until he was right below my wound. He was good. Very good.
"Better?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," I breathed back. We sat there for some time, just staring at each other. Bane broke the silence first.
"Since we have nothing to do but play the waiting game, why not tell me about you?" he asked.
"Well I was a full time student at Gotham University, before all of this," I said sadly. I missed school. I missed my old life.
"What happened?" he asked.
"It's a long story," I began.
"I've got nothing but time Elsbeth," Bane said, adjusting his position to prove his point. I smiled.
"Victor and Camilla were already pissed that I decided to go to Gotham, and not some Ivy League school like Brown or Harvard. They were really, really angry when I decided to major in History. So the fights began. I moved out, got a job and a small studio apartment in the Narrows. I was happy," I said.
"What did you want to do?" he asked me.
"It seems so silly now," I said, shaking my head. "I wanted to be a curator in a Museum. Design exhibits, travel all over the world to buy and collect priceless pieces of history."
"Sounds nice," Bane replied.
"Did you have any dreams? Anything you wanted to be?" I asked him. It sounded childish, but I truly wanted to know.
"Elsbeth, I was raised in a prison," Bane said. "I murdered my first man at the age of eight. I didn't have such luxuries."
"What?" I asked.
"My father was a revolutionary in our country. He escaped and I was forced to carry out his sentence," he continued.
"That's horribly biblical," I surmised.
He nodded his head. Then laughed.
"That's what I like about you," he barked, still laughing.
"What?" I asked, confused.
"I tell you that I started murdering when I was eight years old, and you get mad at the crimes of the farther revisited upon the son," he replied.
"You were a child, stuck in a prison," I began. "You had no other choice but to kill. It was survival. It's not like you told me one day, when you were bored with your toy race cars and Tonka trucks, you decided to go out and murder someone. Just for shiggles."
"What's shiggles?" Bane asked.
"Shits and giggles," I responded.
I sat there quietly, mulling over everything Bane had just told me. I felt like a fucker. I was all sally sob story because my parents were being meddling sack suckers, when Bane's life was so much worse. Raised in a prison. I couldn't even imagine.
"I'm sorry," I apologized quietly.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," he responded.
"Yes I do," I replied. "I can't even imagine what your life has been like. All the shit you've had to deal with. And here I am, complaining about my life. My life, which has never been hard. Not by your standards. I feel like a real douche bag."
"My life is an extraordinary example of hardship, that is true," Bane said. "But just because you were raised privileged doesn't mean it was any easier than mine. You had a different set of rules. Different pressures placed upon you. I have never known that kind of pressure. To always look nice, be mindful of what you say and to whom. I would have gone crazy!"
I smiled. Bane has a knack for making me feel better. I couldn't help myself; I leaned in and hugged him.
"Thanks," I said. He stiffened at the contact, but relaxed enough to throw one arm over my shoulder.
"No problem Chiquita," he responded.
"Let her go Bane."
I groaned into Bane's chest. His arm slid down off of my shoulders and I turned to look at Batman.
"He wasn't hurting me," I chided. "It's called a hug."
Batman looked unsure for a moment, but when he realized Bane was no longer holding me, he relaxed.
"What's with you guys?" I asked. "I've been alone with him half a dozen times and he has never harmed me."
Well that wasn't entirely true. The first time I met him, he jumped a table and I went ass over head. But in all fairness, he wasn't after me.
"I'm just trying to keep you save," he growled out.
"Tough job," I sympathized. "Lots of hours, no benefits. You should file a grievance with the Joker."
I could feel Bane's chest rumbled in silent laughter. It made me smile.
Batman gave me a look that wasn't too friendly.
"Okay, okay," I gave in. "Nazi. What's up?"
"The Joker is up to something," he growled. "Video surveillance of the asylum show inmates heading this way. There armed, do we have to assume that the main security room has been breached."
"What about Cash?" I asked. I hadn't seen him since yesterday morning. I felt a knot begin to form in my stomach.
"He is helping Gordon escort the employees off the island," Batman responded.
"So what do you think the Joker is really doing?" I asked.
"I think he wants to blow the bridges, completely cutting off Arkham. With all the inmates under his control, it would be like a fortress." Batman said.
"That's annoying," I said. "Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll trip and fall out a window or something."
"What's his end game," Bane said aloud. "He can hold Arkham for awhile, but for what purpose?"
"I don't know," Batman responded. "But I don't like it."
"So we're stuck on this island, surrounded by the most dangerous and demented people there ever were, and to top it all off, the craziest of all psychotic, deranged murderers, is running the joint. And he has a personal problem with me," I said.
Neither of them said anything.
"We're fucked," I stated.