She Rises by Paradisical815
Featured Song: "Careful Hands" by Sleeping at Last
Chapter Twenty-Six: Thin Ice and Deep Water
She fell asleep by the fire, her head tilted backwards onto the edge of the pit, her mouth hanging slightly open and her hair messy. Bane thought to let her be at first, but soon realized that, she being who she was, she'd roll off into the fire in the middle of the night. So he picked her up easily, one arm under her knees and the other across her back, and carried her to her cot. She didn't wake up and he didn't expect her to, and she was warm and solid against him, her face pressed against his chest. He set her down on her cot, gently, and pulled a blanket over her. She did not move but she was breathing evenly, her mouth still open and her hair spread messily over her pillow. Bane watched her, for a few seconds, before turning away to his own cot.
He'd long since grown used to sleeping with his mask and it was only a little thing to fall asleep in it now; he laid down on his back and listened to the sound of Kathryn's breathing over the mechanical hiss emanating from his mask, and soon he was asleep. He did not dream.
Two more days passed, and still all she ate was the soup. The weight stopped dropping off her but she looked gaunt and pale and very unhealthy; her movements were slow and uncoordinated and her words were slurred and Bane had seen people starve to death before.
"Are you doing this as a rebellion?" he asked her on the second day, and she shook her head, her hair swinging around her face.
"No," she said, her voice quiet. "I want to eat. I just… I physically cannot keep anything down. It's not a choice."
"Why?" he asked her, and when she met his eyes, there was a desperation there, a muted plea for either help or understanding, he wasn't really sure.
"Maybe my body's doing penance and my mind just hasn't caught up yet," she said. "Or hasn't figured it out."
"You said this happened before."
A single nod.
"What allowed you to eat again that time?"
She raised her eyebrows. "I went to confession."
"That was all it took?"
"It's not a small thing. Not when you have to confess what I did then. Or what I do now."
He searched her face and she let him. He didn't think she particularly cared what he looked at, or how he examined her. She didn't seem to care about much at all these days.
"How is your wrist?" he asked, finally, his voice mild. "There should be significant improvement."
"It's only been a week." Her voice was quiet. "We have twenty-four days to live. Why does it matter how my wrist is?"
"It matters to me," he said, and took her wrist in his hand. It was healing very slowly, still vividly bruised, still very swollen, and she hissed when he pressed a thumb near the break. He looked at her face again.
Whether her fast was intentional or not, if she didn't begin getting sufficient nutrients soon, she would die.
And Bane was slightly perturbed at how much the idea of that repelled him.
He let her be for the most part but made sure she ate what little she could; he was surprised to find her missed her biting sarcasm, her antagonistic burning that had both irritated and amused him. She made small jabs here and there but they seemed to be more reflex than anything, like she was just going through the motions. She was very pale but she was clinging to something; Bane thought again of a cliff. He wanted her to fall or jump but she was clinging on by the fingertips, and he wondered if she'd be able to pull herself up again or if she'd simply give in.
An idea sparked in his brain. He needed something to shock her out of her stupor, something that would either loosen her fingers or give her the strength to pull her over the rocky ledge within her mind-
And Gotham was full of opportunities.
000
It didn't happen the way he'd expected, but that hardly fazed him anymore as his plans regarding his captive very rarely went as he wished; less than two hours later, there was a hard and slightly frantic knock on the door, and Bane glance to Kathryn without really thinking about, and was surprised to see that she was already looking at him, brows raised over her hollow eyes.
"I think it's for you," she said evenly, and Bane had to hold back a surprised laugh. He gave her a look instead and unfolded his bulk, moving quickly and steadily to the door, opening it to reveal the worn face of one of his mercenaries.
"Abdullah," he said, mildly. "Is there a problem?"
The Middle Eastern man glanced past Bane, towards Kathryn.
"You may speak. She poses no threat."
Abdullah raised his eyebrows, still looking at Kathryn, but didn't argue.
"The cop, John Blake- he and Gordon will be in Wayne Tower tomorrow."
"Why?"
"To talk to one of the board members, Lucius Fox- apparently there's someone else with them. A soldier posed as one of the delivery men."
He glanced back at Kathryn. She was sitting very straight and her eyes were gleaming dully-
Bane looked to Abdullah.
"Perhaps we should continue this conversation outside."
He stepped out if the room and the door shut behind him with a solid click and he looked around at the younger, darker man.
"That's her?" Abdullah asked. Bane raised his eyebrows. "The one who led the two revolts?"
"The one who failed to lead two revolts," Bane corrected, ice in his voice. "What concern is it of yours?"
Abdullah looked somewhat lost for words. "I thought she'd be older, is all. She looks young."
"She is young," said Bane shortly, his eyes burning into the younger man's. "You, however, were telling me about Wayne Tower."
"Yeah. That's all I was told- just that they'll be there tomorrow."
"Who told you?
"Talia. Not in person, I mean. We have communication set up. She said not to tell you."
Bane was thinking furiously and ignored the last jab. "Talia will not be able to remain in the tower after tomorrow. Go. However you are communicating with her, tell her she needs to be prepared to be in the middle of an ambush."
Abdullah gave a single nod and glanced back at the door.
"What are you going to do with her?"
"You ask too many questions, boy. Go."
Abdullah turned on his heel and after a few minutes, Bane followed him, climbing the winding stair down one floor and then he knocked once on the door to Barsad's quarters; it was not Barsad who answered.
"Who is it?" asked a soft, lilting and decidedly feminine voice. Bane's eyebrows lifted.
"Open the door, Ms. Wakefield."
There was a moment of quiet, the clicking of a lock, and then the door opened. Bane looked down at the small brunette girl and thought, almost absentmindedly, that she was the exact same height as Kathryn.
"Where is Barsad?" he asked her, his voice hard but not unkind as he stepped into the room. She moved away from him and closed the door.
"Sleeping."
"And he left you alone?" His voice was mild but his eyes were not. "Has he grown so careless?"
"He's a decent person," said Holly, a certain bite in her tone. "Maybe you should spend more time with him."
"Is he in love with you, girl?"
"You don't have to be in love with someone to treat them with respect."
He raised his eyebrows. "That was not my question."
Her eyes flashed. "You'll have to ask him."
"Bane." Barsad's voice was quiet and Bane looked around slowly to see his old friend standing behind him. His hair was messy but he was dressed and there was a gun slung across his back.
"We will be launching a counter-attack tomorrow," said Bane amiably, his voice echoing around the apartment. "At Wayne Tower. Unless, of course, you are too busy?"
Barsad's face remained expressionless. "How many?"
"I think fifteen will suffice. We will leave at eight in the morning."
He turned back and nodded at Holly. "Ms. Wakefield."
And then another idea struck him and he stopped at the door, turning around to look Barsad in the eye again.
"I want you on patrol tonight," he said, his voice congenial. "The clown is beginning to make trouble again."
Barsad nodded. The door clicked shut.
Kathryn was sitting up straight when he went back into the apartment, her eyes not bright but with a certain gleam to them and they followed him as he shut the door.
"You obviously want to ask," he said, his voice hollow even to his own ears.
"Is there going to be an attack tomorrow?" she asked, bluntly, and he raised his eyebrows.
"Not as such, little one. It would be, perhaps, kinder, to call it an trap."
"Are you going to kill them? The cops?"
He turned slowly to face her and she met his gaze evenly, something desperate in the set of her brows.
"Do you know them?"
She was silent and he moved closer to her, each step slow and calculated.
"I know John Blake was part of your failed rebellion last week. How does it feel, to know he is still fighting, while you are nothing more than a prisoner of war?"
She didn't rise to the bait. He searched her face and felt a flicker of anger.
"Perhaps I'll bring you his body."
"You won't be able to touch him," she said quietly, a flat confidence in every word. The anger tightened.
"Are you so sure?"
There was no response and the gleam in her eyes was so slight and so faint and he felt a sudden surge of dislike mixed with curiosity in regards toward John Blake.
"No matter," he said coolly. "Tomorrow will bring what it will bring."
000
He left her to her own devices and went to meet with several other members of the League, planning the ambush for the following day. It would be simple; Wayne Tower was not built as a fortress and it was certainly not filled with soldiers. Bane had known for some time that some of Gotham's elite had been sheltering in the upper floors of the tower but, as Talia was among them, he granted them protection by pretending that he had no knowledge of it. That protection had already ended; he knew that Talia would be seeking refuge elsewhere, and he was not worried about her ability to keep herself safe. He did wonder, however, why she had not informed him the first time John Blake had stumbled upon the tower.
His fist tightened momentarily on the sketch of the upper floors of Wayne Tower and then he loosened his hand, pointing a finger at the different exits and assigning different mercenaries different stations. It was second nature, to look at a building and strategize the fastest ins and outs, how to herd people like a flock of sheep and how to be gone within seconds, and he knew the strengths and weaknesses of his people. He knew who to put on the front line and who to keep for reinforcements, and he almost didn't have to think while outlining a plan with his fifteen men and women.
Almost. But he did, his brain turning it over and over reflexively, finding holes and things that could be improved on- not much, in a case like this, a clear cut in and out. But it was good practice for more difficult attacks.
There won't be any more, he reminded himself, and his fist tightened again. You have three weeks to live.
Are you ready to die? asked the Kathryn in his mind. He did not answer.
The trap was set.
000
He knocked on the door to Barsad's apartment yet again, and it was, again, Holly Wakefield's voice that answered.
"Who is it?"
"Open the door."
It opened and she looked up at him, glass green eyes wide and flat and extremely unimpressed. Bane raised his eyebrows.
"May I come in?"
She stepped aside wordlessly and shut the door behind him; when he looked at her again, her arms were crossed over her chest. She was incredibly beautiful, but she didn't seem to be the type of woman who really cared how she looked or who noticed.
"I wanted to speak with you," he said, his voice lilting under the mechanical hiss. "About your friend Kathryn."
"Katty," Holly corrected in a way that seemed automatic. "She likes to be called Katty."
"Be that as it may, I will continue to call her Kathryn. Since the failed uprising, your friend has taken to a sort of… strict fasting."
Holly raised dark eyebrows.
"She cannot eat," Bane clarified, his eyes boring into hers. "She says that it is involuntary-"
"-do you believe her?" Holly interrupted. Bane gave her an unimpressed look, his eyes tightening. "She can be pretty sneaky."
Bane had the distinct impression that she was mocking him and he didn't appreciate it.
"It doesn't matter if I believe her," he said, his voice dangerously mild. "What matters is that she has grown quite weak."
"How weak?" Holly asked after a moment, her voice testing, clinical, her eyes very hard to read.
"She collapsed two days ago. Her movements are slow, uncoordinated, and she cannot focus. She needs food, soon, or she will suffer permanent damage."
"More than she already has?" Holly's voice was quiet. Bane's was a growl.
"Yes."
"What do you want me to do?"
"You're her friend. How do I fix her?"
"Well, I don't think ductape is going to work this time."
It took all of Bane's considerable self-control to not throttle her.
"You could let her talk to me," she said then, more seriously.
"That would not, I think, be wise."
"Why?" she asked, her voice challenging, and Bane did not say that he didn't want to deal with the strength of the two women together and the havoc that they could wreak. Anyone who Kathryn Sherman would kill three innocent people for was not someone to be underestimated.
He said nothing and her eyes searched his face.
"We were together, you know," she said abruptly. "When you blew up the stadium, we were all at Katty's house, the four of us. The golden four." The last two words were more for her, it seemed, than for him. "I saw the look on her face, and I remembered thinking… thinking she was gonna do something stupid, and that it'd either save us or kill us. When I could think anything, I mean. It was just blank at first."
"She did not save you."
"She hasn't killed us, either," said Holly cheerfully. "And we learned… well, we learn fast. We can take care of ourselves."
"Can she?"
"You're the one that's held her captive for the past two months. You're the one that's tortured her, and she's still alive. You tell me."
The mask hissed. "What makes you think she's been tortured?"
"I know my friend," said Holly firmly. "I knew it the second I saw her."
Bane thought back to how Kathryn had looked when he first met her; she'd been about twenty pounds heavier and had been more colorful, more bright, her eyes gleaming with something that was untouched and raw, and now she was pale and worn.
"How do I… help her?"
"Let me talk to her," said Holly again, more insistently.
"No," Bane said simply, and the girl's eyes went icy.
"You've been with her for two months and you really have no idea how to help her?"
He said nothing and anger prickled under his skin like nettles.
"Katty killed three people to save me," said Holly. "And she's never going to forgive herself for it. I don't know if I'll forgive her, either, but I understand. I'd probably have done the same."
"This helps nothing."
"Neither do you," Holly snapped. "Did you think she'd be fine? She killed three people- did you think that wouldn't have an effect? And you want me to clean up your mess without even getting to talk to my best friend? Let me tell you something- when Katty wants to get better, she will find a way to piece herself back together and that's something she has to do on her own. It's something she wants to do on her own. And you know what? I never cuss, Bane. But you can go fuck yourself."
She turned on her heel and strode away from him, her long dark hair swinging after her and she disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Bane stared after her, torn between anger and frustration and the tiniest bit of admiration.
"If she dies," he said, his voice loud under the hiss, "it will be on your soul."
He did not wait for a reply.
000
Kathryn hadn't moved, but she had a can of soup in her hands and was drinking from it like a cup when he walked into the room Her eyes searched his face briefly and then she raised her eyebrows.
"Something wrong?" she asked, casually, and Bane wouldn't stop to think until much later that she knew his face well enough to gauge his irritation in under a second.
"Your friend is not an intelligent girl."
"Holly? She's one of the smartest people I know."
"Debatable," he growled, and he was surprised to see a smile spread across her face.
"Where you talking to her?"
He gave a terse nod and her smile spread into a grin.
"Did she sass at you?"
Bane glared at her flatly, his fingers drumming an unconscious rhythm against the seam of his pants.
"She does that," said Kathryn, sounding almost alarmingly chipper. "You should have heard some of the times she's told me off. Damn."
"She would do well to temper her words."
"Why didn't you just threaten her? It sure worked with me."
Bane turned to look at her fully. There was a spark there, glowing underneath her skin, and her eyes, while not burning, were bright. Maybe she wasn't quite as weak as he thought.
"Not all tactics work with all people," he said evenly. "Ms. Wakefield seems to have a different pressure point."
"What's that?"
"Barsad," he said, simply, and refused to answer anymore questions.
000
There were easily thirty former employees of Wayne Enterprises living in the upper floors of the building; Bane and his band of fifteen mercenaries went to the floor beneath them wand waited silently. For the next half an hour, Bane did not think. It was a useful trick and one that took him the better part of twenty years to master, but his mind was utterly empty as he absorbed his surrounding and the movements of his mercenaries, and he was plagued by no thoughts of blonde heroes and brunette prisoners and of the ever ticking clock over them all.
After thirty-two minutes, exactly, a sixteenth man came into the abandoned floor and gave Bane a single tight nod. Bane pushed off the wall he had been leaning on and gave the now sixteen mercenaries the signal to move out.
They climbed one more flight of tightly spiraling stairs, eight on one stairwell and the other eight plus Bane on the opposite; they don't need communication to burst through the doors in tandem.
Bane's heart beat steadily as gunfire and screams echoed and he absorbed everything with a crystalline clarity; there were only three people firing back but some of the businessmen fancied themselves soldiers and one man came at him, swinging a lamp, and without batting an eye, Bane smashed his head into an ornate marble column. The man crumbled and Ban caught the lamb, throwing it forcefully at another man charging him.
A fourth source of gunfire came from the loft surrounding the perimeter of the room; Bane looked up and saw a slight man with dark hair just as he ducked behind a column.
He moved quickly to the stairs that led up and saw an old African-American man with his hands behind his head; he saw Talia disappear and two men who were not his with guns, lying on the floor. There was a third man, too, still breathing, and as Bane stepped over him he realized that it was the same man who had given him the soup.
"I'll die before I talk," the man spat weakly up at him. Bane saw no point in arguing.
"I'm on your schedule, captain."
Killing him took less than five seconds.
"There were people living upstairs," shouted a mercenary, and Bane looked up.
"Round them up for judgment," he said, rising to his feet. "And hang them- where the world can see."
He did not wait for them and left wordlessly. There was another idea prickling at the base of his ruined spine.
000
She was sleeping, again, lying across the couch with a blanket wrapped around her, and Bane sat at the table and watched her, still in his coat, still with adrenaline pounding through his veins.
He'd taken her thoughtlessly. He had heard of her, previously, of the army raised by a young woman, and she hadn't exactly matched up to the woman he'd imagined. But she was interesting and he took her and he'd thought nothing would come of it, that she'd get herself killed within a week, and the first time they'd fought he'd realized that she was much more than he expected.
And then they'd gone to the courts, and he realized she was nothing like he expected. It was one thing to be brave, to be a leader- it was something else entirely to exhibit a continual disregard for one's own life.
If he'd known, when he first saw her, the effect she would have on him, he would not have taken her. He was doubting and questioning and yearning and it was all pointless, all a waste- they had twenty-three days to live. It was an inconvenient time to grow a conscience, but he couldn't stop himself from thinking about how she would have reacted to the deaths of the soldiers.
It was pointless. He was a killer and he didn't care whether it was right or wrong- he was a killer and he'd kill again and if there was a hell, then so be it. There was no point in repentance, not now. It would only be false.
When she woke up he was still watching her and her eyes fixed on him. Under the mask, he smiled.
"How did you sleep?"
"Did you kill John Blake?"
The mask hissed. "Not this time, dear. But we still have twenty-three days."
"It'd be too kind to just let the bomb do it, right?" There was ice in her voice as she sat upright, and Bane raised his eyebrows.
"Kindness has nothing to do with it."
"You just like killing."
He smiled. "Liking has nothing to do with it."
He saw her anger in the set of her neck and her hand, making a fist in the thin blanket.
"Why even waste your time?" she said, loudly. "Why even waste your time with rounding people up when we're all going to die anyway?"
"Because Gotham doesn't yet know that it's doomed."
"Right," she said, her voice quiet. "Because you can't face them."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You can't face them," she said again, slowly. "You can bully them but you can't do twelve million people the courtesy of looking them in the eye and telling them the truth."
"Do you really believe it would be kinder?"
"It's the right thing," she said, her voice softly insistent, and Bane felt a strange tug. "You're going to kill us all, the least you can do is be honest about it."
"What a pity the world doesn't follow your moral code."
"Please," she said, her voice flat and very tired. "You're just looking for an excuse to hide the fact that you're a coward."
There was a beat.
"And I thought Holly Wakefield was the stupid one," he said, his voice a growl. Her eyes still weren't burning but her dark brows were furrowed and her hands were shaking. "Watch your tongue."
She just looked at him, her blue gaze flat and angry but almost pitying.
"Or what?" she said. Bane looked at her for a few seconds, the familiar anger pounding through his veins, before rising to his feet.
"Get your coat," he said, coolly. "We're going to the court."
000
The courthouse was crowded and more barbaric than it had been the last time they'd been there together; those waiting to be tried were kept in a pin of barbed wire at the bottom of the stairs and Bane caught Kathryn staring at them as they walked past, her eyes wide and stricken.
"Help me," one woman was sobbing. "Help me."
Her walk slowed and Bane put a hand on her back, pushing her up the stairs and through the crowds. She didn't pull away from his hand but he let it fall once they were standing still. They were being stared at. It had been some time since he'd stopped to see Crane's facsimile of justice, and by this time, word had spread of the captive he held who'd tried to free the city. She was not a popular face among this crowd and she seemed to know it. She stood straight, her hands shoved into her pockets, her coat now big on her. Something about her seemed to keep people from hissing at her or attempting to grope her, as happened to so many women in the building.
He didn't listen to the proceedings. He watched the crowd and knew that if they were told the truth, there would be no containing the city. It had nothing to do with cowardice.
Those condemned to die were shot, their bodies dragged away. Bane glanced down at Kathryn, waiting (and a tiny part of him hoping) for her to leap in, to be the hero, to risk her own life to save those of strangers.
But she didn't. Her hand was clenched tightly around her cross and her eyes were hard, but she was silent and swaying slightly.
"Bitch," someone hissed behind them. Her shoulders tensed slightly and the man leaned closer.
"Who says we need to be saved-"
"Get away from me," she said without looking at him, her voice hard and filled with ice. The man grabbed her arm and Bane's hand landed almost gently on the back of her neck. He looked up, his eyes widening, and Bane's hand tightened slightly.
"Alright," he said. "Alright."
He disappeared back into the crowd.
"Thanks," said Kathryn emotionlessly. Bane raised his eyebrows.
"My pleasure."
The next person- a young man in a tattered business suit- chose exile.
"What happens if they're exiled?" Kathryn asked quietly, her brow furrowed, as the man was frog marched out of the room by a man and a very large woman.
"Would you like to see?" he asked, his voice amiable as he thought of the ice. She looked up at him, and nodded.
Those exiled were marched down to the edge of the city at the end of the day, when trials ended, normally around five in the evening. It was a relatively small group today, eight, and they were escorted by Bane, Kathryn, and six guards. To Bane's displeasure, Crane came too, and brought the pale shaking girl who was his captive. He saw Kathryn looking at her, her eyes expressionless, and wondered if there was an unspoken understanding between the two women.
"Where are we going?" she asked him as they passed the outer ring of buildings.
"Patience," he said, his mechanical voice almost cheerful, and she actually rolled her eyes.
They reached the tunnel that led to the banks of the river and she stiffened; Bane could feel her beginning to comprehend. There was no sound in the dank tunnel apart from quiet footsteps and the soft crying of some of the exiled.
"Why are they crying?" she asked him, a few minutes later, the tone of her voice making it very clear that she did not want to know the answer.
"All in time."
They stepped out into the pale gray light, saw the ice, and she swore.
"What did you expect?" he asked her softly. "A boat to take them to safety?"
"Did they know?" she asked, her teeth chattering as she looked up at him. "Did they know that this is their exile?"
"Some of them, perhaps," said Bane, looking to the ice. "But not all of them."
They were standing close to the ice on the tightly packed pebbles, and Bane did not tell her that not a single person had made it. It was possible to make it to the mainland on the ice- but those exiled didn't realize that, to survive, they should get on their stomachs and crawl. The ice was three inches thick at least, thicker in some places and thinner in others, so it could support the weight of an average human, but not when all the weight was in a square foot of pressure. Bane did not feel an overwhelming urge to tell them this, but he wondered if Kathryn knew.
"Go," snarled one of the guards, and shoved the young man onto the ice. It cracked immediately and he jumped back onto the shore.
"You have to be kidding-" he shouted. "There's no way we'll survive on that-"
"That's the point, princess. Go."
"Are you just gonna let this happen?" Kathryn asked quietly. Bane looked down at her; her jaw was clenched and her hair was falling into her eyes. "You can stop all this. You can save them."
"I can," he agreed, and said nothing else. Her hand was in a fist around her cross and she was shaking violently, not taking her eyes off of the people moving slowly across the ice. Her face was drawn, intense, and she wasn't blinking; Bane half expected her to jump out on the ice with them, and was prepared to throw out an arm to stop her.
The ice cracked and it sounded like gunshots in the cold winter air. Behind them, Crane's captive was sobbing and screaming.
Bane watched Kathryn. The ice cracked again and her face opened like a switch had been flipped behind her eyes- she took a step forward and shouted.
"Get down!" she shouted, her voice reverberating like the cracking ice. "Get down on your stomachs and crawl!"
The ice opened and, with a scream, a woman fell into the water. Kathryn ran right to the water's edge and Bane let her, something very light filling his chest.
"LISTEN TO ME!" she shouted, and a few of them turned back. "GET DOWN ON YOUR STOMACHS, SPREAD OUT YOUR WEIGHT- GET DOWN SLOWLY- LIKE THE FREAKING POLAR BEARS-"
One of the guards grabbed her by her shoulder and pulled her around, roughly.
"What the hell do you think you're doing-"
"They can make it if they get on their stomachs!" she said, loudly.
"The point is that they DIE!" the guard bellowed and Kathryn stared at him for a moment before jerking away form him and turning back to the ice.
Bane looked, too. They were on their stomachs now, moving slowly towards the mainland. The cracks in the ice where spreading, but more slowly, and he felt almost amused. For the first time, he'd been able to predict what she'd do. He'd expected her to throw herself after them, of course, to dive into the icy waters after the woman who drowned, and her actions had been much more logical, but he had expected that she'd try to save them and she had.
He decided to let them live. There was no damage they could do on the mainland, and no real reason, now, to kill them.
The guard thought differently. He grabbed her shoulder again and pulled her around, more roughly, and then he reached up to her, grabbed her cross, and yanked it off her neck.
Bane remembered thinking, once, that he did not want to see what she became without her cross. She looked up and her eyes were burning with fury, her brows tight and dark and she grabbed the man's hand with the cross still clenched in it and she pulled it over her shoulder, twisting in a smooth movement so that her back was pressed to his chest and then she grabbed him by the elbow with her over hand and yanked down, hard, bring his arm down over her shoulder- there was a pop and a scream as the man's arm popped out of its socket and his hand opened reflexively and there was a glint as the tiny crucifix fell to the ground- Kathryn drove an elbow back and he doubled over as she twisted away and then brought her knee up to his face with a violent crunch.
He fell to the ground, swearing and moaning, his face bloody, his arm dislocated.
"Do not," Kathryn said, panting. "Touch me."
That's my girl, Bane thought without realizing it.
She stumbled and fell then, collapsing on her hands and knees on the pebbly beach and her hand closed around her cross. Bane moved to her, quickly, but she was already rising unsteadily to her feet.
"Bane," said another guard. "Do you want us to shoot them?"
Bane and Kathryn looked out to the ice in unison. The exiles were moving steadily farther away towards the mainland, still on their stomachs.
"No," said Bane, without looking at Kathryn. "Let them live-they can be a sign of goodwill to the world that we are not the devils they imagine us to be. Come, my dear."
And, feeling Kathryn's once again burning gaze on his face, they disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel.
They didn't speak again until they returned to City Hall. Twilight had fallen when they reached the floor and Bane went directly to the fire pit and, minutes later, the room was filled with the warm glow. He rose to his feet and looked to Kathryn, who was standing by the table, turning her cross over in bloody palms.
"You scraped your palms," he said. "When you fell."
"I know," she murmured, and looked up at him. Her eyes were bright again, and he suspected she'd be able to eat. "Why did you let them live?"
He raised his eyebrows. "There was no reason for them to die."
Her eyes were searching and her fingers were tight on the cross; she burned again but the violence he'd seen in her eyes was gone, calmed by the crucifix in her fingers. It might have just been a symbol but for her it carried considerable power, and that made it dangerous.
"You knew I'd do something, didn't you?"
"I had my suspicions."
"Then why did you let me go?"
"You needed something to… wake you up. I had expected your actions to be much more drastic, however- it was a relief to not have to chase you onto the ice."
"Would you have chased me?"
"Does it matter?"
"Not really."
Yes, he thought, and almost wanted to tell her. I would have.
"It's a horrible way to die," she said. "Drowning and freezing, all at once."
"I'd think burning would be worse."
She searched his eyes for what felt like a very long time, and he knew what she was going to say before she said it.
"Are you ready to die, Bane?" Her voice was quiet, even, and there was no judgment there. It was the third time she'd asked him that question.
The mask hissed as he drew in a steady breath, and he did not blink.
"No," he said.
To Be Continued
A/N: I dont know I guess early morning postings are gonna be the norm now idk guys
Firstly: I wrote this chapter in the last three days because I really wanted to post it before i leave, so there are some things I'm not 90% happy with. I might keep editing it, I might leave it as is, who the heck knows. But this is the perfect place to leave off on and it's a very important chapter, so I really want to get it posted.
Second: it is really challenging and yet really fun to write the slow climb towards redemption and make it believable and in character. I am REALLY enjoying it.
Third: Next chapter, we're going to be back in Katty's POV! She's till dealing with PTSD so it will definitely be interesting to write, and the next chapter... i am excited beyond words. Things are about to get really good, you guys. Like stuff I've been planning since day- not one but like three or four or something. There will definitely be more Bane chapters too.
Fourth: I am leaving on Wednesday! I'll be in London and I will NOT be posting until August 6 at the ABSOLUTE EARLIEST. I'll try to post at least twice before I leave again in September, and at that point I will pretty much be on hiatus until i get back in December. I'm saying this repeatedly so that everyone understands and so I can beat it into my own head.
FINALLY, THIS STORY WILL BE A YEAR OLD THIS MONTH. Freaking crazy. i think i started writing it a few days after I saw TDKR, and here we are!
If you pray, I'd appreciate prayers for a safe trip!
Can't wait to hear your thoughts!