XXV.

Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise, run in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies.

Four Months Later

He had never considered himself to be sentimental. Never. He was burly, tough, dark... He was a terrifyingly bulked monster, one who could tear down nations with his hands and rebuild it on the weakest notion of hope... So now, as he turned over the tattered copy of Wuthering Heights for the sixth time that day, he felt himself growl. His fists clenched and knuckles that once caressed soft skin became as white as the snow outside.

Tugging the book open, he scoffed. "Idiotic."

Flipping to another page, he pointed at a paragraph, attempting to convince himself. "Unrealistic."

Part of him snapped as his eyes spotted her handwriting seeping from a page, scribbles overwhelming the thin parchment of the margins. "Irrelevant."

The book was thrown across the room, landing in a grotesque spayed position, it's wings mashed against the cement and wall, folding and ruining the words of romance and gentility and her.

She was gone.

She was a deserter.

She was dead.

It was a mantra within his brain, one that he pleaded with himself to believe. One that he pleaded he would take to heart. One that he hoped would spare him the crushing ache in his chest, the ache that had taken his limbs and mind and heart; the ache that made him... human.

He did not want to be human.

He did not want to think of Fiona Woods.

She longed to be human.

She longed to think of Bane, of his persuasion and suaveness.

But, her swelling stomach did not allow that. The bump, now visible beneath her coat after all these months, reminded her every moment of what he had done... What she had done. She had loved him with all her heart, loved him so much it made her ache with happiness. He had given her a gift... A child...

What was she saying? A gift? No. Oh, hell no.

It was tough.

Those first few weeks, she had been on her own... That was until she had been led into the arms of John Blake. The cop, patrolling the streets for gas, had stumbled into her and nearly shot her down. That was, until she explained how she had been looking for him... She had been looking for help and she wanted to help him stop Bane from burning her city.

She had fought for their trust. Fiona had promised and swore and fought to be helpful. She fought for them to understand why she wanted to help. She was always the grunt. The meetings with the other officers... She had been look-out. She had been one to lower food...

That was back when John and Jim didn't trust her. That was back when she didn't look pregnant.

When James Gordon and John Blake noticed her bump, when they had noticed she was five months pregnant, the two had finally realized why she was here. There were nights when it would be hard for them to understand how she could have ever loved a monster like that, but there were also nights when John could tell how truly upset she was. There were nights when she looked so tired of fighting that she may collapse. There were nights when she was so angry she would scream and holler and put up a fight about everything...

There were nights when John had to fetch her anything she craved or wanted.

There were nights when John wondered why he was caring for the pregnant lover of a monster, said pregnant lover having been a notorious drug dealer he had sought after for a small part of his career.

Her boots crunched against the ice-hardened snow of the pavement, shallow imprints pressed into the clean, white slate. Fiona mumbled something to herself, something about the damned cold, before she quickly took a turn, avoiding a group of men whooping and cheering down the street.

The sky overhead was as white and clean as the ground, and it reminds of her of some Robert Frost poem she read in the 7th grade. Licking chapped lips, the skinny woman blinked at the bustling shopping mart, green eyes narrowing as flakes clung to her thick lashes. She blinked them away, leaving icy kisses on her cheeks and brow. Stalking towards the grocery, she rubbed her hands together.

The perimeter, now that she had scouted the streets around the market, had been clear. Weaving through the lines of people, she hurried inside to the grocery and rubbed her fingers on her coat, shaking slightly as she meandered down the stairs to the basement.

She had interrupted something.

The room grew quiet and one man, a new face, scowled at her.

Foley blinked at Fiona, shooting her a disapproving look.. "Everything clear?"

She simply nodded, skulking over towards John. He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, nodding to her before turning his attention back to the doorway. "That's Captain Mark Jones. He's one of us, Fio," he muttered before sighing slightly. "We need to show him the vantage point..."

Fiona made a face. "I am coming with you."

"Miss, I'm sorry to interrupt, but that won't be happening," Jones' tone was clipped, forceful... Fiona knew he was a military man just by looking at his stance, "You're clearly a bit... occupied."

The redhead scowled, narrowing her gaze at the Captain as he scrutinized her stomach.

Blake narrowed his eyes. "Gordon, you gunna tell him what's really going on here?"

"Captain, the situation is a bit more complicated than you think..." Gordon spoke softly, "This is Fiona Woods."

"You say that like it's supposed to have meaning to me," Jones scoffed.

"I worked under Bane," she mumbled, "This is Bane's."

The room grew silent as her hand ghosted over the swell in her abdomen.

"You're his wife?"

"No."

Jones blinked. "How have you stayed alive this long, Ms. Woods?"

Fiona shook her head. "Some people just don't have the heart to kill a pregnant woman, Captain. Not to mention I'm surrounded by Gotham's finest."

"This vantage point you mentioned," he turned to Blake, "You'll let her come?"

"Of course," Blake nodded, "If we run into trouble, she is the reason we get out of it. Bane's men know her. They let her walk free."

She almost spoke out. Almost warned them of the bounty on her head. But, she didn't. Instead, she smiled and nodded and simply followed the men to the exchange, hating each snowflake that fell from the heavens.

"Sir?"

Bane, from his perch on his cot, glanced up. His eyes scanned the ragged and snow-kissed face of his second-in-command. Barsad, with hair that was matted to his forehead and a nose that was red as blood, breathed heavily as his shoulders sloped.

"What is it, Barsad?"

The man swallowed. "We have intel. A group of men from outside have snuck in. They are currently en-route to Miss Tate's position."

Bane gave a soft growl.

"Well, let us give them a nice warm welcome, Barsad," Bane stood full height, tugging on his coat, "Gather the men."

"Sir?"

"We will make examples of them."

"Of course, sir."

A/N: HELLO, MY LOVELIES. So, guess who is back for the mean time? I am! I've been re-watching TDKR because of a film studies project, so I thought 'hell, why not?'. Here is a chapter so many of you have asked for. Things are coming to a tie soon... Be on the look out for new chapters! Please R&R! Oh! And the song for this chapter was picked by my lovely sister and it's by Fleetwood Mac! "The Chain" is an awesome song, so please check it out!