Sleeping Sun

by PoisonousAngel

Talia al Ghul is gone, and after Bane dies, the League of Shadows has no heir. Coming face to face with his humanity after the revolution, Bane decides that a blood heir is what he wants for his legacy. He wants to have a child, but first he needs to find the perfect woman to give him one. He's found her... Now he just has to convince her. Bane/OC COMPLETE

26. Something Real

Part Three: The Heir

Chapter 26

Something Real

It was rare for a man like him to lose all sense of connection to his emotions. For as long as he could remember, he'd been so secure, so calm and collected because to act out in the opposite way was useless to him, and would only hinder his development as a perfect soldier with the brightest of minds. Yes, he had done very rash and dangerous things, had gone above and beyond for a goal some would deem unreachable. But everything he'd ever done, everything he'd ever strived for, had come from his focused confidence, his ability physically, and his intelligence he'd continued to grow since his very first memory. He was a man who knew himself, who knew his capability, who could take any situation and make it work in the way that would guarantee victory for himself or those who'd employed him. He was, quite literally, perfect for this world he'd been forced to thrive in. This life that had been given to him without say.

But to feel this way now, to feel this disconnected to everything inside him… Bane could hardly bear it.

They'd travelled to nothing. They'd left the mansion with weapons, with their sense of duty and obligation that had been engrained in them ever since they had climbed the mountain to serve a higher purpose. They had gone on to enact that purpose only to find that there was no purpose to enact. The League of Shadows had prepared themselves for the restoring of balance, and when they finally reached their destination, they discovered that there was nothing to see to. At first Bane had become angry, so angry and displeased that someone, an unknown enemy, could fool them in such a way. Everything about the threat had been utterly convincing, yet they had left their headquarters with hopes of the destruction of that threat. Someone was going to pay, he'd decided at the time. Someone was going to be punished for such trickery. Bane almost wished, minutes after that declaration, that he could go back to feeling that anger and deadly disappointment.

The disconnect to his emotions came when Barsad radioed the mansion, and no one radioed back. There was no answer, no evidence that they were receiving a bad signal. There was absolutely nothing. Just the sound of static when the line remained inactive.

And as they began their travels back, at such a speed they would kill a person if they were too close to the path, Bane fell deeper and deeper into an unknown part of himself the longer time went by without any answer, the more Barsad tried contacting the mansion and being met with only silence that literally caused him pain.

Bane was a smart man. It took absolutely no amount of thought for him to figure out what had gone wrong. There was no threat waiting for them at their destination because that threat had gone somewhere else. Bane was meant to leave his mansion behind with a horde of the League with him.

All so that the threat, the true enemy, could invade his home.

The place where his daughter lived so peacefully. The very spot she had stood, waiting for him to return to her.

He wished he could feel anger. He wished he could feel annoyance of the highest kind. Bane wished he could feel anything at all.

The only thing he could experience was the sound of the static on the other line of the radio.

The League never spoke to him. A strong sense of willingness to please their leader, and maybe some fear mixed with it, caused them only to speak to Bane through the right hand. Bane stared off distantly, remained silent and hardly blinking. Any moment now he could kill someone, or kill them all so that they would feel only an ounce of the suffering he was experiencing, knowing he'd left his girl, and her mother, behind to face unidentified dangers without him. Barsad was the only one to mutter something to him during the race back, which was left completely ignored. Barsad was the only one brave enough to risk it. Finally they reached the base of the mountain, the blue flowers nearby blowing in the cold breeze and adding some otherworldly color to a land of white and gray, like little blue eyes of demons living in the earth who shamed him for leaving the females so defenseless. It felt like hours, long abysmal hours, for them to climb in their vehicles back to the mansion tucked into the mountain scape.

Bane found his home still standing, although damage scattered the walls and the roof. Small fires were simmering here and there, but would never build up enough strength in the cold to take the mansion whole. The red of blood in the surrounding snow was even more vivid than the blue of the flowers. Bane knew what he would find inside. He would find bodies and he would find destruction.

The static on the radio continued on like a curse.

He was out of the vehicle before any other, slicing through the harsh wind that stung his skin and tried to keep him back from witnessing what he had not been there to stop. He got to the large doors of the mansion, found one busted in while the other was tapping against the frame, snow blowing inside, some speckled with blood. His men were running behind him, weapons out and eye's sharp for the enemy, scanning the area like hounds. Bane shoved the large doors open, ripped wood and cracked it with brute strength his men feared and respected. He hardly cared about the blood and the bodies.

He desperately hoped he would not find lifelessness in a certain two.

"Emmeline!" he roared.

The silence of the mansion was worse than the static.

His men flooded the space as more continued their investigation on the grounds. They walked over bodies, stomped out fires, checking for life of those they recognized and those they didn't. The power was out and the windows were broken, sending in piles of snow to cover the blood, even freezing those who had been clinging to life and ending the struggle. There were so many dead, both those of their own and those who'd come to steal away the family of the Demon Head. The League of Shadows had fought bravely, the initiates who had finally been given a true chance to test their new skills and various disciplines. They had tried, although somewhat uselessly, to defend the mansion, to kill the enemy. Blood stained the wooden floors, the walls splattered with it like paintings in a house of horror, like the very structure had wounds of its own and was dying from them. Over on the wall there, right over there, was a chunky wet spray of brains and hair. If he'd been in his regular mind, Bane would know that he could trust his right hand to deliver the orders. Because he was not in his right mind, the mind of the father he was consuming him and eradicating that of the Demon Head, he instantly began his search. Barsad, knowing what he had to do, raised his voice over the ruin.

"Find the heir," he shouted, pointing in different directions so that they could split the task. "Find any survivors, but the priority is the heir and her mother. You will give answers or you will join those on the floor." Barsad looked near him, feeling the heaviness in his chest, and saw a woman. A dead one. He almost mistook her for Dominique.

He didn't know what he would do if he found her in this cluster of bodies.

Bane practically ran through the mansion, peeling his coat off along the way for added quickness, searching in every single room his daughter could've been in during the attack. There was no time to assess the damage, no time to find answers other than where she was, what had happened to her. He couldn't feel his heart, couldn't feel the cold on his skin. Could feel nothing at all except for the encompassing dread eating away at his insides. This was the curse of someone with a child, he thought distantly, leaving Emmeline's recreational room and heading for her bedroom. If something happened to the child, it was such agony that it could even kill a man such as him with one mighty blow.

"Emmeline," he called again, listening intently, so very intently for his daughter's sweet little voice. For his name on her lips.

For the sound of her mother, another face he desperately needed to see.

She wasn't in her room either. None of his men were coming to him with answers or even his daughter's body – it killed him to even picture it. The only other space he could think of would be his own wing of the mansion, the place where Emmeline would go if she ever craved safety and security. Hopefully, in this chaos, Dominique had thought the same. When he arrived, he saw that his room was the least destroyed. Only the doors had been blown in, but the rest of his personal area remained untouched. The logical answer was that they had already taken what they'd come for.

He called his daughter's name again, felt defeated even as he said it, as he repeated the name twice more and was given nothing in return. If he found her dead he would kill everyone, each and every last person he laid eyes on so that they could feel even a fraction of the despair that would come with the loss of a child. And still, Bane thought, trying to find something, anything to ease the agony… Still it would not be enough.

His eye caught a blinking light. Looking over, he found the monitors on and working, found that even if the rest of his room hadn't been ransacked then his equipment sure had. Everything was jarred and misplaced, his studying of the placements telling him that it had been done quickly and without confidence, rushed. He turned the screen on, discovered the cameras in his room had been activated. Obviously the enemy had not bothered with covering their tracks in all areas. With some of that same despairing hope he realized had not left his system even after prison, Bane worked the controls and brought up the hours earlier when he hadn't been in the mansion.

There they were, he thought, watching the footage after a few moments of searching for the appropriate time. There they were, hiding away in his room as the mansion was ambushed, the camera in the corner of his ceiling showing what he'd needed to know.

It was almost relieving.

"Dominique," he whispered, watching the mother of his child try her very hardest to keep their daughter safe.

Emmeline was crying and shaking in the corner, covering her face every now and then in hopes that the act might shield her from the horror, that she might be consoled by it. Dominique had been the one to mess with his equipment, and Bane realized then that she'd tried to contact him but hadn't known how to. When the men came, they grabbed the woman as she'd tried to sprint back to her child. It wasn't a minute later that the two of them were taken away, Dominique quiet so as not to bring more harm to their daughter, and Emmeline hysterical, crying for her mother, crying even for Barsad at one point.

Crying for him.

She'd told him to be safe before he had left. She'd told him not to get hurt.

Bane had left them with people who hadn't protected them the way they should have. He had left, and now his daughter and his lover were missing. The females. His girls.

His… family.

There was no emotion, no feeling. There was only… despair.

"Bane."

Barsad's voice. Turning from the frozen image of the enemy taking Dominique and Emmeline away, his mind already imprinted with the faces and no familiarity coming to mind, Bane looked to his right hand, found others trailing behind him.

Found the others dragging a bloody body.

"He is not one of ours," Barsad told him, taking the jacket of the bleeding man himself and hauling him closer to the Demon Head, almost like a gift at Bane's feet. "He is the only one of their kind alive. Most of the League members who'd remained here are dead or seriously injured. His death, although inevitable, will be slow without assistance."

Bane stared at the body as if he'd been the one who had single handedly kidnapped his daughter. He approached the man and assessed him, going over every inch for details. The man's face was practically bashed in, a head wound bleeding profusely and flowing into his ears and mouth. He was missing a few fingers, had a chunk taken out of his shoulder by either sword or rifle, and was choking from the swelling of his throat. The eyes were swollen shut as well, ugly things that hardly looked real.

But he was not one of his own, Bane reminded himself, kneeling down slowly and keeping his gaze on their captive. He was a demon, a minion sent from hell to torment him with the taking of his flesh and blood, and the woman who would come to his bed. A doomed spawn who would tell him what he needed to know.

He would crush him under the heel of his boot.

"Tell me where your kind have taken my daughter," Bane said lowly, his voice hauntingly calm and his eyes staring desperately like a madman, wishing he could rip out this man's innards expecting to somehow find the truth in them. "And then I will kill you quickly."

The man opened his mouth, choked and made a gargle noise as more blood blocked his voice. His hands, the mangled one even, tried to grasp onto something that would bring him relief.

There was none. Not anymore.

And when he was given his answer, when he paired those findings with coordinates from his communications chief's in case the wretch had been lying, he felt something. He felt rage like he'd never felt before.

It had come like a blessing when he'd wrapped his hand around the captive's neck after he gave him what he wanted, his grip choking still even after the heartbeat stopped, Bane's hand somehow wishing him could kill him multiple times. The rage rushed him when he felt the bones pop under his palm, when blood ran over his fingers. One dead now.

Many more would follow.

---

In any other circumstance, maybe she'd have made a joke. She could've cocked her hip, put a Look how cute you are with your little plans look on her face and made him feel stupid about himself. She would ask out loud, How did I get wrapped up in all this again? Since when did I become the supreme baby maker for bad guys? She could've used her wiles, the street smarts she'd perfected in the big city so she could survive and make things work for her, just so she could have a good time. She could've patted Cain Alistair on the head and then made a break for it thinking, hey, I might get shot but I least I won't be locked up in some cage waiting to get pregnant again. No, siree bob.

But she couldn't do any of those things. She was still Dom Cross, but no longer could she think that way. Her life wasn't about her needs anymore. Her life belonged to her child.

Dom had a daughter to protect, so she didn't move a muscle.

But the beast, she knew, feeling it deep inside her like she could feel her own heartbeat. The beast who craved the one's flesh that would harm her young was itching for a fight, and it was mad. So mad that perhaps the anger couldn't be contained.

A son, she thought, rolling the twisted idea in her head as Cain continued his inappropriate leering at her. This man wanted a son because Bane had a daughter, and he wanted that son to come from the very woman his rival had chosen to mate with. Apparently his sanity had been taken along with the badge he'd never deserved.

The beast growled.

"I'm going to tell you the very same thing I told Bane," she began, glaring but remaining submissive. She would unleash her anger as far as she could, but anything more was something she wasn't willing to do for her daughter's sake. "You're insane. You can't even understand how crazy you sound right now."

Cain didn't seem amused. Not in the slightest. "Really? You're going to throw that mess in my face? Just look at you. You were an exotic dancer who showed off your luscious body to a bunch of strangers for money, took an even heftier sum of cash for the use of your uterus, then moved to the middle of Asian nowhere with a terrorist to raise the baby you were originally supposed to give up. So don't try to knock me down a peg, doll. Don't yap away at me with that smart mouth."

"So what, am I just supposed to spread my legs for anyone who wants to procreate?" she asked angrily.

"You did it for Bane."

"Bane is different!"

It was a mistake, she knew. It was a great mistake to say that, to watch that scheming face before her analyze the meaning of her words and know just how to use them against her. Alistair had been a cop, a lieutenant, she corrected, trying with all her might to force the defeat back and remain somewhat strong. Trying… and maybe beginning to fail. He'd been a lieutenant, she thought again, and Cain Alistair was as smart as he was envious. Such a mistake.

"Hmm," Cain hummed, nodding his head, his icicle eyes freezing her insides. "I see. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that Miss Emmeline Cross wasn't conceived within the parameters of the deal."

Dom looked away, her heart hammering, her chin resting on her shoulder. She didn't know if she was on the verge of screaming, or throwing up. Either way, there was too much emotion and it was killing her. She only wanted to see her daughter's face. Even for just a split second. And no longer did she want to talk about Bane, because the high of that emotion was making it hard to conceal such feelings. Such desires. The feelings and the desire she held for the man who'd once employed her for a job that had brought her her greatest happiness.

Alistair crossed his arms, gave her another once over. This time he was only studying the change in the once flighty, carefree woman. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Or a woman in love, I guess." He gave out a chortle and found a millisecond to pity her. "This'll go over much smoother if you just see things as they once were. I'm hardly doing anything he didn't do when he drafted you."

"You're wrong. Bane gave me a choice. It was always my choice."

He lifted a brow like she was incompetent. Already the wheels in his head were turning, and turning in his favor. "Who says you still don't have a choice? Of course you have a choice, Ms. Cross. What kind of man would I be if I didn't allow the lady to choose for herself?" Casually, and with what seemed like all the time in the world, Cain strolled on over to the desks where the computers rested. Confidence swam in the air around him like an aroma, one she was choking on. He hardly even had a problem turning his back to her, knowing she wouldn't move an inch to attack or flee. Dominique Cross would do exactly what he wanted her to do.

"You know what really pisses me off?" he asked her, lifting one hand to rub some loose strands of blonde hair back into the ponytail. "The fact that after all that time chasing Bane, trying to get you to tell me where he was back in the city, you were pregnant with the guy's kid the whole time. There his bastard child was right under my nose, right under my nose," he growled, slamming a fist onto the wooden desk. "And I didn't get the chance to do something with it. Do you know how much I would've loved to toss Bane's pregnant woman in a cage and let her rot there for the rest of her life, naturally ripping the kid away from both of you and making sure she spent her days suffering in the inescapable system? I tell you right now, sweetheart, that I was fuming something awful when Elijah told us about your twisted partnership and the pregnancy that was kept from me. I would've felt bad for the guy had I not been spitting fire. He was crying the whole time he spilled the beans, begging us not to kill him, pleading with us not to tell Bane. When I killed him, I pictured your face on his. I pictured this no good woman who'd made me a fool, and wished I could empty a round right into your head. But you know. Some things just don't work out."

"I would do it all again," Dom said meanly, gathering up venom for her voice. "If I could go back, I would laugh at you."

"Feisty," he smirked, enjoying her now. Knowing he would enjoy her even more. Dom Cross had once played him, tricked him. She truly had been laughing at him without utterly a single sound. Cain moved his hand towards the keyboards, pressed a button that caused the screen to flicker. "Who's laughing now?"

Dom rushed over to the screen, her jaw clenching as well as her heart when she saw the video footage of a small room, occupied only of two very large men, and her very little, very scared daughter sitting in a chair that seemed enormous around her.

She hadn't seen her for hours, had been separated from her for what felt like years. In the blink of an eye, defeat scaled far ahead above strength. She stared at the screen, took in every single detail of her child. Emmeline sat in a chair, pressed securely to the edge of a table, one of the men sitting at the table with her as the other stood guard behind her. The sight of her clothes being different made Dom almost pass out from the possibilities clawing at her brain, but then she noticed Emmeline's emerald green dress still on over a baggy long sleeved shirt that had been pulled over it. Her feet were bare and her already pale skin even more so, her cheeks wet with tears and a small shudder in her shoulders. And the worst of it, the very worst, was that Emmeline was holding one of her arms, cradling it like it was tender.

She was hurt, Dom saw, knowing her child and the pain in her face not only from fear. Those bastards had hurt her baby's arm.

The beast roared.

"Don't worry," Cain muttered dryly, annoyance laced in his voice like her reactions were uncalled for. "The kid's fine. She's having a nice conversation with my boy there."

That snapped Dom back to attention. Her blue eyes instantly went to the man sitting across from her, and the movement of his mouth. The audio was on silent, but that man was talking to her, talking to Emmeline. He didn't seem like he was yelling at her and the way Emmeline held his gaze with her scared brown eyes meant she was listening because she had no other choice but to. Dom opened her mouth some, her breath labored as if she'd run a hundred miles.

"What's he saying?" she demanded, trying desperately to read the man's lips. Hating herself more every time she couldn't make out the words. "What's he saying to her?"

Cain came to stand behind her, allowing one moment to sniff at her auburn waves. His body grew excited. Watching her suffer made him even more so. "You remember how pissed off I was at you? At Bane? You remember how stupid you made me look in my own city? Well here's your payback, bitch."

He pressed another button, and the audio was turned on full blast. Dom could now hear what the man was saying to her daughter.

Every word made her sick to her stomach.

"Do you understand what I'm telling you, kid? Your daddy paid your mommy to have you. He paid her some money, just like this," the man said, holding up a one dollar bill as an example to her four year old. "And got her pregnant with you. She didn't want you the whole time. They made a deal, and your mommy was supposed to hand you over like a toy and run away because she didn't want to take care of you. Your daddy paid for you because he needed someone to run the family business for him. Mommy said she didn't want kids. Mommy said that she couldn't wait to get rid of you so she could spend her money. And do you know how your parents met, little girl? They met at a strip joint. Don't know what that is? Let me tell you. Here, I have some pictures of your mommy when she worked there."

Dom's heart fell to her knees, grief clutching her like a vice. She thought the structure of her chest broke and shattered, tearing up her insides and slashing them to bits. There would never, in all her life, be another pain as great.

She was sure of it.

"No!" she shrieked, lifting her clawed hands like she could somehow stop the conversation through the computer screen, then miserably realized she could do no such thing. They hung in the air instead, useless. So useless and so helpless. "No, no. Please stop. Please tell him to stop."

"No can do," Cain commented, nodding some with approval. "This is how the world works, Ms. Cross. This is your punishment. Finally someone's punishing you."

"I have to go get her. I have to go find her." Dom, shoulders shuddering like her daughter's, tried to move away from the screen and almost absentmindedly head for the exit. Cain grabbed her upper arms and held her in place so she could continue to watch. Continue to listen. "I'll do whatever you want, just tell him to shut up."

"I'll do no such thing. Look how good of a listener your little girl is. Was that you or was that him who taught her so well? She's taking it all in, like a little sponge."

And she was, Dom could painfully see. Emmeline, whose eyes were shiny and tired and scared, stared right at the man. Dom didn't know if it was in fear, or because she really was listening as good as Bane had taught her, but she most certainly wasn't looking away. And when the pictures were pulled out, when the man speaking to Emmeline lined them up on the table for her to see as if they were pages to color, her four year old daughter saw images of the exotic dancer Dom used to be. It was planted into her young head now that even her father had gone to such places, that the man she was so in love with had once seen her as nothing but a business transaction. That they both had.

Everything she hadn't wanted Emmeline to know, everything Dom would've fought to shield her from to keep the horrible truth away, was being forced down her child's throat.

Useless and helpless. A terrible, terrible mother.

The beast… whimpered.

And Dom twitched almost violently from sorrow in Cain's arms.

He forced her to remain still, pressed his front against her back and made her watch. Her sweet scent began to cling to him. "You see, Dom," he started, resting his scruffy cheek against hers from behind, watching the video footage with her. "You really do have a choice here. Now, that choice doesn't involve the conversation ending. Little baby will hear everything she needs to hear. But this is the part where you choose. You either choose to be compliant and give me what I want, or something far worse than this is gonna happen in that room. And you'll be right here to watch it."

No longer could she keep up the act, the silly act of trying to remain snarky and privy to all his threats without worry. No longer could she try to remain strong in the way she'd lived all her life. She began to tremble, just slightly, but it started throughout her body like a soft vibration. Dom then became defeated, and tried one last tactic, something she'd hardly ever resorted to. She tried to plead with him.

"Please don't do this, Cain," she murmured, her eyes still locked steadily on her frightened daughter. Trying once again to somehow send her comfort. "You used to be a cop. Cops don't do things like this. You can't kidnap little girls. You can't rape me."

"I think you're misunderstanding me. I'm not going to rape you. You're going to do everything I want of your own free will. In fact, you'll be quick to do it. Let's choose now so we can get it all over with." Cain reached up and gripped her jaw roughly, digging his fingertips into her skin and yanked her closer to the screen. "You're going to choose to say yes to me. I think we both know where it'll go if you say otherwise. But let me just show you for further persuasion." He turned his head and mumbled something into his shoulder. It must have been a small radio, a cop's standard, because just then the man standing behind Emmeline tilted his head to his own shoulder, and gave a nod.

Dom watched, her teary blue eyes widening, as that man pulled a pistol out of his holster and aimed it, not a foot away, at the back of her daughter's head.

The beast began to cry.

"One hint of reluctance, Dom, one tiny little shred of a fight against me, and my boy will blow her pretty brown head clean off her shoulders. Do you really want to watch that? Do you really want to keep me from where I want to be, with your lover all the way at the bottom? Give me a son, Dom," he growled against her angrily, and even allowing his lackey to cock the pistol for more pain. "As many times as it takes. Until I've had enough of you. Until Bane is nothing. What do you say?"

There was nothing to consider. There was nothing to argue. She didn't even need to think about it because there were no thoughts to ponder. Bane wasn't here and she was on her own. And Emmeline…

Her daughter would stay alive. Dom would do whatever it took to keep her that way.

"I'll do it."

And the beast… fell to the floor, defeated.

"Wonderful. Put it away," he said into the radio, and Dom was given some kind of relief when the pistol was removed from her daughter's head and placed back into the holster.

Emmeline had no clue. She only continued to listen as tears fell down her pale cheeks.

"What about my daughter?" Dom asked instantly, as soon as Cain backed away from her. "You can't expect to keep her separated from me forever. You have to let her go. She needs to go back to Bane."

Cain scoffed and rolled his eyes, turning off the audio of his man still telling Emmeline of how she came to be. "Why would you even want her to go back there? Someone doesn't like her all too much."

If Dom's heart hadn't stopped beating as soon as her child had been taken from her, then it would've stopped with his voice. "What?" she asked shakily, the emotion still too much. The emotion killing her. She could die from it as soon as Emmeline was returned to Bane.

"How do you think we found you? That mansion is gigantic. Some pretty little light skinned girl showed us the way in return if we didn't shoot her brains out."

Erin. Erin had led the monsters straight to their door. She wanted to survive the attacks and had bargained with the enemy, had given them their prize. And was now, finally, rid of the two females who blocked her path to Bane.

Cain shrugged. "I was listening in on communications. She told the guys there was no need to threaten her, that she would show them exactly where you two were hiding. And here we all are," he said drolly, spreading his hands out. "The little princess lives for now. Maybe we can come up with a plan for her. In the meantime, you're going to be a good girl, right, doll?"

Dom took a moment and closed her eyes. And in that moment, she evaluated her entire life. She thought about her adolescence, being born a girl but raised as a boy, the disappointment of her gender looming over her like an angry cloud and something her father couldn't change. She thought about her lack of connection, her fleeing from it and all the troubles it would bring her, keeping her from experiencing what all women longed for. She thought about Bane, the guy she'd stupidly fallen for because falling had been as unstoppable as a runaway train, and how she had met him, how much she'd fought with him. How that, in the middle of a deal a normal person would never make with another, she had somehow grown severely attached to him. And then she thought about Emmeline. Her daughter, her flesh and blood. The little human she'd created with a mercenary terrorist who was never supposed to have been a part of her life. It hadn't turned out that way, but beginnings were important. The beginning, the very foundation, shaped a person. The three of them, Dom, Bane, and their daughter, had not been wanted for who they really were, who they'd started off as. Bane had been the monster, she had been the wrong gender and unable to love, and Emmeline had been created simply for the purpose of continuation. She had done everything wrong, Dom thought, lifting her hands and placing them over her eyes. Everything about her, everything she'd done, she hadn't done correctly. Hadn't truly meant for it to happen that way.

But she would save her child. She would reunite Bane with their daughter, and allow them to live a long and very full life, together. Without her. She would be the sacrifice for them, and the irresponsible and unreliable, selfish and flighty woman she used to be would give everything up so that her family could remain. So that they could be right, and for once, very real.

If there was one thing she had done correctly in her entire life, it was bringing Bane and Emmeline together. The whole reason why Bane had originally chose her in the first place.

"I'll be good," she muttered, feeling drained, so very drained. But somehow, she felt right too. And because she was still herself, she added under her breath, "Asshole."

"What was that?"

"I'll be good," she repeated sternly.

Cain grinned. He'd heard her but didn't feel like punishing her over it. One of the things he almost liked about Dom Cross was that she had spunk, one that could match his very own. And just look at her, he thought, a haze filling his eyes, one that held absolute victory. She was the mate of his rival. She'd birthed the heir.

He would greatly enjoy tearing her to pieces, and then securing his place above the rest. When he spoke next, he kept his voice one of a cop's, dominating and authoritative. One of a man with nothing left to fear.

"I will kill your daughter if you don't do as I say. Tell me you understand."

More energy, more life, left her with just that very threat. "I understand."

"Take off your shirt and then the pants."

"Promise me you won't hurt her."

"Take off your shirt and then your pants or I'll promise to go down there myself and shoot her right in the forehead."

Dom's mouth set into a grim straight line as she reached for the hem, pulling her long sleeves over her head. She wore a white silk camisole underneath, one sheer enough to see the cups of her nude colored bra. As she pulled her cotton pants down her hips, she realized how detached from the act of undressing she was now when it came to a man she didn't want to undress for. She used to do it all the time, felt no qualms for it and hardly any discomfort back in those days. Recently… she'd only wanted to disrobe for one. Still, she tried to pretend it didn't matter. She waited for more instructions, waited to be told to remove the remainder. But Alistair seemed to enjoy the sight of her camisole and her skimpy flesh toned panties.

"I see why he chose you," Cain murmured, his eyes overbearing and discourteous as his gaze touched her breasts and her hips. He hadn't been given the pleasure of seeing her scantily clad in Gotham City, or at least hadn't seen her this close and this vulnerable. "You're just built for it, aren't you?"

She said nothing, remained still even as he began to advance. Her will was strong. Emmeline would live, no matter what the cost. No matter if she had to give away those desires for that one man she only wanted to touch her.

"We're going to have a lot of fun together, Dom. Just imagine how the big guy's gonna feel after I make his mate my own. Just imagine… you're pregnant again, but this time it's mine. You're not his property anymore because now every inch of you belongs to me."

Cain grabbed her, pushed her up against one of the thick wooden beams holding the roof. She made a small sound of discomfort but allowed him to manhandle her. Even if she didn't have Emmeline to protect, Dom knew she still would barely be able to take him. Cain was skinny but he was tall, adding more weight, using that weight to press her chest against the beam and lock her in place. She felt the full front of him behind her, felt the overly excited erection in his jeans. But it was hardly for her, she knew, trying not to react repulsively to it. In some sick way, this was all for Bane. Everything Alistair did, it was to prove that he was better, stronger, faster. More dominating that now he would purposely impregnate the mother of the Demon Head's child. Cain's hand wandered up her body from behind, his fingers digging into the silk of the camisole, his breath on her shoulder. He breathed in the scent of her, buried his nose in her hair like a hound. Those hands snaked up, grazed the sides of her breasts.

She frowned.

"Tell me you want me to fuck you," he mumbled against her neck.

Dom's chin trembled. After all her years dancing exotically, all the years of hearing men say crude things to her and remaining neutral and uncaring of it, it seemed now she'd lost her ability to tune it out. She looked over as Cain slid his fingers under the silk, her eye catching the computer screen and the sight of her daughter. She could do this for her. She would do anything for her. If she would never see her face to face ever again, then she wished now that Emmeline, after she was saved and back with her father, would not let this ordeal shape her. That she would grow stronger for it and continue to be happy and sweet and soft, the child that had come from two heart-hardened people. She wished for her to have all the exquisite beauty awaiting her into womanhood, wished that she would never forget her mother. And most of all, Dom hoped with all hope that Emmeline wouldn't let the nasty truths of her conception define her. That she would still look to her daddy with stars in her eyes and think he could ironically do no wrong. That she would look back and know how much Dom loved her and had been changed by her.

Dom hoped with all hope that Emmeline would grow into that lovely woman feeling like anything but a mistake. Anything but the fruition of an insensitive deal.

That she would feel only like royalty.

Turning away from the sight of her four year old, Dom closed her eyes and surrendered all.

"I want you to fuck me," she said softly, her voice sad and heartbroken, her eyes filling and falling.

"You do, don't you," he said, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking. He enjoyed her soft squeal. "I'm going to kill Bane, you know. One of these days, I'm going to gut him right in front of you. When he least expects it. When he's trying so hard to save you or his bastard kid. Picture it," he whispered. The image was already killing her.

Cain then jammed his hand down the front of her panties.

Dom flinched and squealed again, making a small mistake by trying to squirm away from him. He didn't seem to care, in fact, he liked her struggle. He grinned against her face, his scruffy blonde beard scratching her cheek and reddening her tanned skin. Dom started to shake, shook from anger, from rage, from fear. She had had some pretty close calls with men in the past because of the way she looked paired with her profession, but to live it like this was something she found she wasn't prepared for. Cain could think whatever he wanted, could make her say and do things that would appear as willing.

This was still assault. And assault, she discovered, hurt.

His hand grabbed her, pinched and scratched the tender skin underneath her panties. He moved it to the back, his other forearm pushing against her shoulder blades, making the wooden beam dig into her front uncomfortably. Dom tried to go into a different headspace, tried to picture herself back at the club. Anything to get away from this very spot and this very moment. She'd been good at disconnecting before, and willed herself to do it again, this one time when she really needed to fly away. Fly far, far away, she told herself, letting out a shaky breath and picturing the ocean, the beach. Picturing herself as the mermaid Bane claimed her to be, swimming away deep into the depths where no one could hurt her, where the man with the mask waited for her upon the land so that he could catch just one glimpse of her shimmering tail or hear one note of her haunting call. She liked this place.

"Say it again," Cain demanded, his knee spreading her legs apart, his forearm pressing harder.

Her eyes were still closed and her voice sounded almost sleepy, distant like her head now. "I want you to fuck me."

"Yes," he breathed against her, chuckling some and feeling high, as high as the clouds. "I wish he was here. I wish he could see."

Dom's eyes squeezed shut tightly, her hands digging into the wood as he shoved two fingers inside her violently. She lost it then, lost her headspace, and wept so softly, like a child. There was no choice, she thought distantly. She had no say, no rights. Tears fell down her cheeks and her auburn waves stuck to them as Cain hummed approvingly behind her, the sound of him fumbling with his pants louder than any raging storm. Her breasts were aching from the wood, and the pain between her legs was intensifying. She had to calm down, she told herself, allowing the tears but not the tension. It wouldn't hurt so badly if she could somehow relax, if she could grow flaccid like a corpse.

If she could become the invisible woman.

Take care of my girl, she thought, imaging Bane in her head. Imaging him because she longed for him. Because she'd cried for him. Because he had finally given her great purpose. Take care of yourself, big guy.

I'm glad you chose me.

---

"Our destination lies ahead, ten miles north. A drone has already been sent further and has scanned the area. Their security and surveillance is strictly American, and does not rival our best equipment, but it will zero in on us if we approach in our vehicles. The sun is setting. We have barely an hour until dark."

Bane only half listened to Barsad as he prepared himself, knowing the right hand was only doing his duty that would guarantee him a flawless victory after such a vital mission and a battle he would wage before that victory. He'd changed his clothing in the truck to suit his ability for destruction, and because he'd waltzed through so much blood in the search for his daughter. There would be a war now instead of simple reconnaissance, and every last one who'd had a hand in taking what was his would perish. Over a form fitting black shirt, Bane secured the braces and the armored vest that would keep his body from slowing down if he were to be shot. As they'd travelled, he found comfort in the various clicking and preparing of his men around him as they too suited up and armed themselves. The members of the League knew what to do, knew what was expected of them. They knew their strengths and added to them, knew their weaknesses and forced such hindrances from their minds and bodies. They would enter the field of battle and return to the Demon Head his family who had been taken from him, simply because that was what their leader ordered of them.

If they got to kill a large group of cocky Americans in the process, well then it would already be considered a worthwhile trip.

No one could tell if they would be outnumbered. No one could tell what exactly they had on their side, considering that they'd stormed Bane's home and left his people dead and his child stolen. It could very well be the American army itself, luring him in like an animal before they would finally rid themselves of the terrorist who had played their city like an instrument, easily and effortlessly. But no one cared. Not one single soul in the good number of trucks and SUV's that raced across desert and field mentioned a possibility that could leave them all captured or slaughtered. It was what they did, what they would continue to do through Bane's line if the heir was still alive and well. Bane refused to consider his daughter's death until he saw it for himself.

The League of Shadows and its entirety was behind him, with him. The League of Shadows was his.

He would use it to slaughter all who'd taken from him.

Without moving his eyes from the roads ahead of him as they continued to zoom, the small dot in the distance the place he would destroy, Bane gave Barsad his orders to relay.

"We will stop right on the edge of where they can detect us, taking the remaining miles on foot and keeping close to the ground. Limit the number of those who will stay behind with the trucks. They will arrive to retrieve us after the mission is complete. One doctor will be among them to tend to my daughter and Ms. Cross once they have been located. Any and all threat will be eliminated, man or woman. I want no one left alive." Once they were at the drop point, the League gathered together, fell into their forms of stealth. Bane eyed his group, the strongest, the fastest, the deadliest with blade or bullet. These men belonged to him, he told himself, feeling once again that pain when it concerned the future. This was what he did, who he commanded. This was his world in which he thrived.

The world he'd brought his child into. The one he'd intended to give her.

The fate… of Talia al Ghul.

It was his greatest mistake, and he intended to rectify it as soon as he got his daughter back. Bane turned, the head of the large group and the one who would lead and control. He spotted the building in the distance again, knew it would be studied further with every step they took.

"We move as one," he said over his shoulder.

And as quiet as the wind, as unseeing as the breeze, they took the miles in no time at all.

Multiple stories and very large. Going by the outside structure, only the third level of the building was secluded from the other two. Most of it, other than that third level, was a massive open space that was only closed off for the occasional office or storage of the warehouse. The heir and her mother would either be at the top or in one of the small rooms, obviously being held as prisoners kept from all the rest. Assessing the grounds, Barsad fanned the men out, placing them in different points of entry after killing those on guard. A few of their lightest men scaled the walls effortlessly to the second story as the third was impenetrable, becoming the eyes from above while the rest moved on the land. Their bodies and their feet, heavily armed and booted, made no sound, moved quickly as they worked to breech the walls. The only sound that was made was the deadly hissing of the mask of the Demon Head, the only thing felt the red hot fire radiating from him, from the rage that simmered. And when everything was in place, when everyone was where they needed to be, guns out and cocked, Bane joined with the largest of their numbers right at the giant bay doors that would allow them to enter the fray. With the American's communications dead on the outside, the League planned to take the rest by complete surprise, with the heaviest of their wrath on the frontlines. The snipers were ready, the grenade launchers loaded, positioned only to take those where the heir was not held. Barsad, with rifle in hand and braced against his shoulder, gave him a nod.

We move as one.

He didn't need to say it again.

At once the bombs went off, blasting away the barricades to rubble and already enlisting the shouts and worries of the enemy. They worked as one but also in teams. Bane took his to the American men on the floor in front of them, heading straight for the closest bodies to break and disarm. Nearby, he heard the hard bing of his own men who clobbered the face of their opponent with metal attached to their knuckles, or the gush of blood spilt from the swipe of a dagger. Barsad had instantly raised his rifle along with the others following his lead, taking out those in the rafters who were already firing down upon them and covering for their own who would swarm the area. Those quick and stealthy who'd climbed the walls and had maneuvered themselves into the middle ran with swift feet and precise aiming through the structure as the brunt was taken out from the entrance.

Many fell; their own and the enemy. Men shouted, screamed, died. Even the screech of a car was heard as a few of them tried to escape the mayhem, but failed in their attempts as the League struck them lifeless.

All the while, Bane searched frantically for Emmeline.

And then… he heard it. He heard her high-pitched wail, heard it even through the war as if she'd squealed right next to him. The voice of his child. His body tensed, his hands snapping the bones of the unfortunate within his grip with more force than was needed to kill him. His ears, his eyes, his very being, honed in to where his daughter could be, dismissing all who were not her. Barsad was at his side now, two men with different preferences, one using his vicious fists and massive body and the other using rifle and the uncanny ability to never miss the mark. As the League pushed through, they took most of the warehouse, stepping onto the bodies fallen and advancing to take more. To take all. The men of the enemy, those left and willing to fight instead of flee, held up their weapons, prepared to give it all they had on the other side of the structure. There were more shouts and loud curses, the pop of gunfire heard and the smell of blood, of death and fear. What happened next seemed to have been done in slowed time. The doors of the small office across from the League flew open and two bodies ran out. Behind the first one was a man, a man with a snarled expression and stress in his eyes, lifting his arm to shoot, but instead was shot in the head by the League before he could pull the trigger. The other ran out blindly, a much smaller body, little bare feet fleeing as the skirt of the emerald green dress and the baggy long sleeved shirt over it billowed around her.

Emmeline bolted from the office where she'd been kept, all three feet of her, running heedlessly to the men she knew. To the men who'd come for her.

Running straight to Bane with a fearful scream in her throat, and as fast as her tiny feet could carry her.

"Daddy!" she screeched.

He had felt all pain. Every bodily discomfort, every lick of intense agony, had been inflicted on him in such a way that he lived with the aftershocks of it day after day. Suffered from it like none had suffered. Sacrificed in a way no man would ever be willing to accede. Pain was a part of him, like a limb or a sense, with him always and unable to leave.

His great pain did not compare to the image of his daughter running from her attackers with multiple barrels aiming at her back.

If he was to die after everything he'd survived, he would gladly become a shield for the body of his child.

Bane hissed before sprinting, "Fire."

"Fire!" Barsad shouted, already sighting his targets down within his scope.

No time would ever move as slow.

Bane ran out into the open, his long legs taking the strides in multiple feet, his will forcing them to go faster as he sped right for Emmeline, right for his baby girl whose tears flew from her eyes into the air and her small arms out-stretched for him like she'd never felt his touch. She didn't care what was behind her, cared for nothing in the entire world save for the sight of her daddy before her, finally here to get her. Finally here to save her. And at the same time, as the guns on either side lifted and readied, it would be that only one would prevail. Prevail, and kill all.

We move as one.

The League fired at the same time at Bane's back, an explosion of one gun-shot blasting through the warehouse that was made up of an army. Each American threat fell, a giant splash of blood in the air becoming something almost beautiful behind the heir to the League of Shadows.

Bane felt like he'd crashed into her. In reality, he'd fallen to his knees and slid some as Emmeline flew into his arms even as he scooped her up.

The shaking of her body stabbed him. The tears on her cheeks burned him. And the cry on her lips tore him apart. Bane held her close, not tight enough to hurt her, but encompassed her with his arms, consumed her with himself. She clung to him like she never had before, whimpering to him over and over again words almost incomprehensible and hysterical. The enemy was dead behind her and he could comfort her, protect her. Listen to her distraught weeping because even her crying was better than hearing only static on the radio or silence of the dead in the home he'd made for her. Bane buried his mask against her, knew she was just as comforted by the touch and sound of it like he was from the feel and smell of her, and murmured to her in Arabic. Soft and calming words like when she'd been a baby, when she had cried then too.

"Daddy," Emmeline wept, her hands fisting into his shirt, her breath so uneven she could barely breathe and talk at the same time. "Daddy, those men took me."

Those men. Those dead men. No one could hurt her now. "I have you."

"They have injured my arm."

Bane saw red, felt the vicious growl in his chest. Even as she spoke he was already easing her back in his lap and pulling the collar of the large shirt and her dress over her shoulders to see her injuries. Emmeline didn't mind even as the League swarmed the area around them, searching the dead. All she saw was him, kept her big ever changing eyes on his because she needed to see him. Bane pulled the clothing down to her waist, inspecting every single inch of her creamy pale skin. The large bruise around her bony elbow was already black and blue, her arm too small to have formed the imprint of a man's hand. Big fat tears from her eyes plopped onto it as he probed for a break or fracture. He concluded there wasn't any. Other than the nasty bruise, his four year old girl was without immediate injury. Bane held her close again, felt something snap and rebuild inside him as she continued to stammer, her crying face now in his hands.

"I have failed, Daddy. I am not a good heir at all. They took Mama and I could not protect her." Emmeline went to cover her face with her hands, but they trembled too much through her weeping. "I was to look out for her and I couldn't. Now she is lost. My best girl…"

He'd felt all pain, he thought again, but none was worse than this. His daughter was inconsolable and couldn't understand her own words even as she was crushed by them. This was his fault, he screamed at himself. This was all his fault for putting her through the hell of genuine expectation, for giving her a task she was never meant to do. For naming her the heir when Emmeline Cross was anything but. His daughter was without blemish, without despair and heartache and a desperate need for conquest and control. She had come from the one branded monster and had been given the life of a royal like those before her, had been crowned with the duty of seeing to the balance of the world. But in the end, Emmeline could not bear the burden. Could not do what had been expected of her because she didn't carry the malice, the determination to see a new world and create it by turning the waste into ash, and then ash into greatness. Emmeline was not Talia nor was she Ra's al Ghul. Not even was she him, in the ways that would be needed of her.

Emmeline was not the Demon Head.

And somewhere inside Bane, somewhere where it had hurt to even think that she could become what he was, suddenly felt relieved.

He was… relieved beyond measure.

"Emmeline," he murmured to her, holding her head in place so that she would listen to him, wiping her tears with his thumbs. "You are perfect. Your courage is boundless and I am very pleased with you."

"I am only a mistake, Daddy. I cannot please you because I didn't turn out right when you—when you paid for me."

He tried not to let his shock sadden her further, tried to keep his eyes calm and focused. But she only continued to cry in his palms, her words before sounding scripted, like she were only repeating them back to him. Bane subdued his lashing to the grind of his jaw. "No, Emmeline." When she wept, when she molded herself against, pressing her cheek to his shoulder, she softly plead to him. Bane forced her to look at him again, forced her to realize that the world was not shattered. "No."

"I am so cold."

"Listen to me. Listen to your father." He took her cheeks gently in one hand, kept his touch soft even as he wished to strangle whoever it was who told her of how she came to be. That man was dead now, and Bane would not be given another chance to murder him. It was a regret he would live with forever. "I would keep you this way. I would choose you exactly as you are a thousand times. The only mistake is that I was not given you sooner. For you, Emmeline, I would pay any price, and I would give my life if I must. I knew a little girl before you once. She is the reason for my pain, the reason why I must wear this and keep my face from you." Bane took her hand then, placed her small fingers on the grate of his mask so she could feel him. So she could know that because of him and his choices, she was real. "For you, Emmeline Cross," he continued, placing his forehead against hers. "I would even sacrifice her. You are mine. You are my daughter. And you are perfect."

She was listening to him now, if only slightly because of her shakes. But through the fear and anxiety he could see her, his girl who always gave him her full attention, believing anything he had to say. When she did, when he could see that she did, Bane's own panic, the panic that she would grow to hate him as Talia had once hated her father, eased until it became nothing at all.

Emmeline was no longer in hysterics and calmed down enough to where she could be spoken to coherently, so Bane pulled her clothing back over her shoulders, stood with her in his arms. He knew she wouldn't like him leaving her, but the mission was not yet complete. Bane carried his small daughter bridal style over death, keeping her face away from it.

"Barsad will keep you safe until I return with your mother," he told her softly before handing her over.

"Brother," Emmeline sighed, reaching for Barsad and wrapping her arms around him. The right hand instantly brought her to safety. Bane watched them go for a moment, felt such raging turmoil in the few minutes since reuniting with his child.

Then spun around and glanced up at the sound of a woman screaming.

---

Before the breech, Dom was still all alone.

Her teeth were chattering and her nails were digging into the wooden beam. There was a sickness settling in her stomach, becoming something unknown and uncomfortable, making her feel bile rise up her throat and escape past her lips if she didn't strive to keep it down. If this were any other violation, she would fight to the death, would scratch Cain's eyes out and hope to God she made it happen. She would slap and kick, scream and curse, run away if she could so the pain, the assault, would stop.

But she couldn't do any of that. There was a gun to her daughter's head as horrible words were being whispered to her. There was a life to save, the very life she'd felt form inside her. So she remained still as Cain felt her with his vile fingers, remained quiet when he brushed her aching breasts, and remained so very compliant as he whispered to her all the curses he wished on the man she craved for.

Don't worry, doll, you won't miss him so much when he's dead meat. Something will die in you then, and your baby will be nothing but a sad little orphan girl.

Better that Emmeline become an orphan than just another dead girl. Dom would rather an orphan than a corpse.

Cain let out a fast breath through her hair, making the bile rise higher and her head go dizzy as he curled his fingers roughly. When she grunted some in pain, he grinned. "Doesn't matter to me if you're not ready," he laughed against her, his pants now open and only a simple barrier away from devastation. "If you were smart you would force it. You'll learn. You'll learn that I'm it for you now, Ms. Cross, and there are no rewards this time around other than me."

"Just do it," she said through gritted teeth.

He breathed another laugh, removed his fingers and giving her temporary relief. This time, he forcibly held her against the beam as if he were going to arrest her, one hand gripped in her hair as the other fiddled more with his clothing. "You're a glutton for punishment. Stay alert, Dom," he warned.

Stay alert, she repeated in her head, and almost snickered. Yeah right, she thought. She was going to drop off the earth instead. She was going to shrivel up and live only in her head. She was going to fly. She would keep her eyes closed, happy for once with darkness instead of the setting sun. With one last glance to the orange sky through the worthless windows, ignoring the aches and pains in her body, she wished that she could touch the sun. That she could just reach out, and feel its heat. Feel, for the last time, warmth. And see the colors before she would go gun metal gray.

But instead of her eyes drooping closed, they slowly began to widen.

She saw something, out in the distance, on the grounds. She saw a flicker, a shine, right before a thin streak of red. The shine was a knife. The streak blood. A man went down.

She knew why. She had lived with the League of Shadows long enough to know when they would arrive.

And the breech erupted under their feet.

"What?" Cain shouted angrily, turning his attention to the mayhem of sound.

And like the siren, she instantly turned from the soft beautiful woman to the deadly snarling creature out to feast.

Dom spun around as he was distracted, pulled her arm back and struck Cain right in his face, nails clawing down his eye and cheek. Before he could grab her arms as he yelled, her hand bolted out and yanked at the radio on his shoulder, yanking still even when he grabbed her and slammed her with all his weight against the beam. The breath from her body rushed out of her, sending pins and needles running down her back and through her extremities, but she ripped the radio off his clothing, threw it across the room so he couldn't order his brutes to shoot her daughter. Now she had to run to her.

The beast had resurrected.

Her attempt to scurry away went nowhere. Cain grabbed her by her auburn hair, brought her down with him as they fell to the floor. He knew, by former trade, how to tackle a body, knew how to subdue it, but was met with a trickier obstacle of a now crazed mother hell bent on protecting her child. Dom growled as she fought against him, used her strength to get out of his grip. In nothing but a camisole and panties, she battled for Emmeline's life, for Bane's. For her own.

"Fucking Alice," she hissed, kicking him and feeling triumph when it connected to his stomach. She scratched and punched, pushed and squirmed against him. Everything he'd done, everything he'd put Emmeline through, she would take out on him now. He'd stolen her baby, and he would pay. Dom slapped him, kneed him between the legs as hard as she could underneath him. "Get off, you son of a bitch!"

"Whore," he snarled, spat blood next to her and lost some of his hold when her knee connected to his cock.

Dom socked him in the cheek again with the heel of her palm, crawled quickly out from underneath him, scurrying for a moment on fleeing hands and knees and panting as she tried to make it to the door, to Emmeline. She rose to her bare feet, sprinted even as her body ached.

Cain crashed into her, tackling her down with his arms around her middle. Her head banged on the floor, her face pulsing with blazing pain. But through the stars she lifted her eyes, through the throbbing heat and the panic. Dom got her hands out from his grasp, tried to pull herself free on her stomach.

Then took a big breath, opened her mouth, and screamed.

The scream turned into a yelp when she was flung onto her back, staring up at a glowering former city cop.

And then Cain, fucking Alice, backhanded her across the face.

"Shut up!" he snarled, his blue eyes wild, his own breath shaky as he hit her again, causing her head to fly to the side from the force. He heard her whimper some, knew she would remain still for a moment. If she caused another scene he would only hit her harder, so hard and as many times as it took to get her to stop moving. Panic shook him, stirred him up. Whatever was going on, whatever was happening down below, he wouldn't allow it to ruin this. He wouldn't be knocked down another peg and not get the chance to have the woman who'd been another's. It would be him who would fuck Bane's woman. It would be Cain Alistair who would rip from the monster everything he owned. This wasn't about Dominique, he growled in his head, taking a chunk of her camisole and ripping it some just for spite. This was about desecrating everything Bane had ever touched. This was about who was dominant, and who wasn't.

The weak fell, and the strong and powerful remained standing tall. He wanted to rise above all the rest.

"I'm going to slit your daughter's throat," he roared, grabbing Dom's neck and holding her down as he glared above her, her pulse racing under his grip. "I'm going to beat you, then I'm going to butcher her. Stupid bitch," he panted, grabbing her panties so he could yank them away and show her who was king. Who was dominant. "Stupid fucking bitch!"

Dom felt the sob build in her throat…

She screamed instead when Cain was bulldozed over and off of her as if a car had sped right into him.

Cain grew disoriented and lightheaded as he slid some along the floor, his breath gone and killing his chest as he forgot to breathe from the hard impact. When he finally gathered himself, when he rose onto his hands and knees, shaking his head to clear it, he wondered if that little whore had hit him with a tree. He opened his mouth, prepared to curse her before he would kill her.

It zipped closed again when he heard the heavy footsteps of boots.

He looked up, looked so far up it could've been a skyscraper, and met Bane's infuriated glare.

And the Demon Head was not generous with time today when it came to his kill.

Bane instantly grabbed him, lifted him up easily and slammed him back onto the floor, using all his weight into the move to inflict more pain. Grabbing the cop's clothing in a vice grip, he did it again, harder, and felt a bone or two crack through skin to accompany Alistair's sharp yelp of pain. Bane then pulled his arm back, threw a powerful fist into Cain's handsome bleeding face, sending him skirting along the floor like a doll. Fear grabbed the cop, sky rocketed through him like he would burst from its pressure. And unable to think of anything else, he physically panicked as he tried to run for it, as he made to sprint far away, dashing off before the giant could touch him again.

Bane was much quicker. He kicked the cop in the ribs before he could flee, reared the boot back again for his chin. Cain was grunting in pain now, trying with all his might to crawl away. Even an inch away from the monster would be good. Bane only continued to beat him mercilessly, no sound coming from him other than that of the fanged mask. And when Bane dropped to his knees beside him, when those deadly large hands took hold of him again, Cain screamed. Screamed and squealed and sobbed.

Like Emmeline had when she'd been taken. Like Dominique had when she was being violated.

Bane once again lifted his fist, then sent it crashing onto Alistair's spine.

Over and over again, one, two, three, four times. Each strike more powerful as he continued. The cracking of the cop's spinal cord was audible now, blood spurting through Cain's ears, eyes, nose, and mouth, through the rips Bane tore into his back from his pummeling knuckles. The body grunted as it died, lying there uselessly as his back was destroyed, reduced to a seeping fleshy mess. Only when Bane was satisfied did he stop, did he stand before his kill and gaze down at it. Their positions had been reversed once, but only from the weak tactic of poisoning, of the cop knowing he could never defeat him in combat. Cain's cheek rested on the floor, one eye still somewhat seeing and turning to Bane as he waited for his injuries to kill him. He choked on blood, heard nothing but the rush of it in his ears. The giant stared down at him…

Only the dominant stood tall.

Then Bane slammed his boot into Alistair's neck, snapping it clean. Squishing him like a bug.

There was no competition here, Bane thought, the mask hissing at his fallen prey. There was only the Demon Head, and his desire to annihilate.

"Bane."

The small husky voice across the room called for him. He turned, found Dominique trying to pull herself to her feet. What little she'd been wearing was ripped, her golden skin already bruising in some areas and the welt on her face growing large. But even in pain, even in thankfulness that she'd been saved, worry was still etched in her blue eyes.

"Where is Emmeline?" she asked him sadly, giving up trying to stand when he knelt down to her. "Where is she? Where's my baby?"

"She is safe," he answered instantly, knowing what was coursing through her, knowing firsthand because her baby was his baby, too. "I promise you, she is safe."

Dom closed her eyes and shuddered, weeping softly from a relief so great she could collapse from it. She blindly reached out for him, gripped the sleeve of his black shirt as she cried. He saw then that although their child favored him, both mother and daughter looked the same when tears would fall.

"They told her everything," she murmured, keeping her breath steady, scooting a little closer to him. "I couldn't stop them. I tried to. He said he would kill her if I didn't…" Her voice drowned out. "I just wanted to keep her safe."

"We will repair the damage done to her," he assured, looking down her body at her ripped clothing. Looking even between her legs. Her underwear remained intact. Bane couldn't have been too sure what had been transpiring before he'd collided into the former cop in a furious rage as he'd held Dominique down. All he knew was that when seeing Alistair above her, seeing him leer down at a woman he had never been able to tolerate sharing with anyone else, had completely turned him into the monster he'd once been considered.

"You have blood on you," Dom sighed, sniffing some as she studied his hands. They were splashed with red. She touched the side of her face where it felt hot and puffy. "I knew you would come for her."

"I came for you, as well."

She smiled softly, let out a little laugh even through the shakes, the trauma. "Now we're even."

Bane looked at her somewhat quizzically as he lifted his hand, tracing the tip of one finger down her welting cheek. He would've killed the cop again simply for damaging her pretty face. "Even?"

"I saved your life," she breathed, remembering a time years ago when she had called out to him. When she had saved a terrorist from death at the hands of cops during his reign. It was almost ironic that he would do the same for her. "And you're here."

Even in times like these, she could be so very annoying. But… it was warmly familiar. "I suppose I must tend to your injuries again."

Dom couldn't even make a rebuttal. Her mind was one of a mother's now. Somehow, it seemed it always had been. "She's safe," she whispered, her chin quivering, her body matching it. "She's safe. My girl."

Bane remained still as Dominique wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer against him as she trembled. He was frozen for a moment, a man unfamiliar with this kind of affection from a woman who'd never hugged him if it didn't involve sex. She had scooted against him in their years of acquaintance, had held him close in bed. But this, this soft, tender embrace, was something he had yet to feel from the siren who had always remained a few steps away. Dominique held him like she could fuse herself into him, like she could join their souls and stay there as one. Bane slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, neither caring about the blood on his hands or the state of her undress. Their daughter was safe and sound. Everything else was dull in that gun metal gray.

"Thank you," she whispered softly.

Before leaving the warehouse, Bane helped Dominique dress in the clothes she'd removed, adding further concealment with the blanket he'd snatched from the bed nearby. He guided her out of the building with a hand on her lower back, giving soft orders along the way. When they finally reached the largest truck, the sky now dark as the sun fell into its final descent, Dom smiled big and laughed tearfully as Emmeline sat up on the seat to hug her. She fell to her knees with her baby in her arms, buried her nose into her bouncy brown hair. It was quite possibly the best embrace Dom had ever felt in her life, because even after learning of her past, of knowing what both Dom and Bane had done to get her, Emmeline still only saw her mother. Her best girl.

They would repair the damage, Dom thought as Emmeline motherly kissed her bruising cheek to relieve the pain. Whatever had been said to Emmeline, whatever she would experience now or later on in life because of what she'd heard today, they would fix it, and keep her whole.

The League of Shadows had no more business to attend to. Bane sat with mother and daughter on the way back to the mansion, Emmeline curled up on Dominique's lap and sleeping as Dominique held the blanket around them both, rubbing her hair back repeatedly. Bane, feeling protective of the females who'd been taken, hovered over them not an inch away. Sometime during the drive, Dominique's head fell onto his chest as she, too, fell asleep from exhaustion. He watched them for a while, studied this very odd clan that had been created between them. These two, he decided, were not part of the League of Shadows. These two… were strictly for him.

Bane wrapped an arm around them and rested his cheek on Dominique's hair.

---

They returned to the mansion and it had been repaired minimally, cleaned during the hours when the best of the League had been away. But once the bodies and blood were swept away, once Emmeline and Dominique were tended to for their injuries and bathed and immediately moved into his room for further protection, Bane decided that the next order of business would be taken care of.

A day had gone by since the League had returned with the heir and her mother, and Erin was in a state of confusion as to why Bane had not yet approached her.

She had fought bravely during the battle before the heir had been kidnapped. Her dress had been ripped and her eye blackened from a hard fist. Cuts decorated her knees where she'd been held down upon glass and shards of wood, splinters of it plucked out by her own hand as the rest of the League returned and demanded answers from her after finding her alive, and demanding them rather harshly because the heir and her mother were gone. Erin had given her testimony because she had no other choice, had told those above her lowly maid status that the mansion had been attacked by American foreigners and that they had taken the heir and Ms. Cross. She thought, at the time, that her statements would be appreciated, that she would be taken to Bane and he would, in his own way, thank her for trying to stop the men who'd kidnapped his daughter. That he would see her valor, her need to try to protect his child like a good makeshift mother, giving her a chance to take another step forward to regaining her place in his bed. Soon, she decided, having planned her entire future in her head the few seconds before she would be found hiding away in the shadows, that step would lead to another. Soon, she could finally have her man.

Her efforts, she found, were wasted. All of them.

And Bane still had not asked for her.

It was that senseless Barsad's fault, she hissed in her mind as she walked through the halls of the mansion, performing her duties of enacting cleanliness. That man had never liked her and she hadn't wasted time on the reasons for his hatred. It was his fault and the Cross woman's fault now that she was opening her legs for Bane again. But Erin knew firsthand that Bane tired of a woman easily. Soon the sparkle of the mother of his child would wane, and Erin would be given another chance to shine bright.

There was a reason why Erin had remained alive after the attack. There was a reason why she was still breathing, and all the others were sacks of dead meat rotting in the ground.

"Why do you smile?"

Erin was hardly startled. More annoyed than anything, especially with that voice, she whipped her head around and met the tired eyes of Barsad. Because the League demanded respect to those in high places, she had no choice but to bow to him slightly in her brown dress. A little curtsey full of disdain and irritation. "Forgive me, sir. My thoughts were elsewhere. I am only happy that the time of devastation has come to an end."

Barsad saw that disdain and irritation. In fact, he matched her for it. "The heir and her mother have been retrieved. Does that, too, make you smile?"

"If the Demon Head is pleased, then so am I," she said, her voice still one of forced respect.

Barsad narrowed his eyes, approached her closer. If she was any other woman, he would think to harness this ability of deception inside her and use it to benefit the League. But Erin was not one to mold because that deception went too far deep inside. She did not have a purpose other than satisfying her own selfish desires, and therefore, making her unfit for their work. "Is that true?" he asked darkly, approaching her and looming over like a shadow. "Tell me personally, Erin. Where were you when the ladies were taken?"

She neatly folded her hands, straightened her shoulders. And tried, very hard, not to let his ladies remark anger her. "I was injured and the heir and her mother were snatched. I watched as they carried them off, pleaded with them not to harm the child. But I was ignored, and would have been killed as well if I'd not persuaded my attacker that I was already dead from his beatings. Now if you will excuse me, I am in search of Bane."

Barsad grabbed her arm, held her in place. "You will no longer be speaking to him privately."

To keep with her façade, she batted her long lashes. "Is that an order?"

"Yes."

Erin tilted her head as her hand fisted. "Have you been asleep these last four years?" she asked, her voice low, with a hint of a threat now that he was touching her and demanding things of her. "I have shared months' worth of intimacies with our leader. I will be so bold to say now that I will hear this demand from him, and not from you. Sir," she added sharply.

"I will hope for the best for you, Erin," Barsad told her, holding her gaze, holding her arm. Rejoicing for this day, finally. "I will hope that you had nothing to do with the heir being stolen. If I find out differently, then I will kill you myself."

"You are scaring me."

He instantly released her, walked off and left her behind.

The fear fell from Erin's face smoothly as soon as he was out of her line of sight. Lifting a brow, she cursed him in her native tongue, thought the man simply dumb for thinking that he could be rid of her so easily. For years he'd tried to kick her out of the mansion, and for years she had remained. Perhaps one day, when the heir and the whore and that cranky bastard were gone because she would demand it, she would thank him for his efforts, for putting more determination inside her to get what she so desired.

Bane was difficult to win, but she was ever persistent.

Erin entered the main foyer, found that she had to wind herself through the large groups of the League. Drawing her dark brows together, she wondered why they were all clustered here, each and every hand within the grand loft of the mansion.

She grew somewhat cautious when she realized that not only was everyone here, but all eyes were on her.

"Erin."

Bane's voice. Turning, and being somewhat pushed into the middle where everyone was now gathered around her, she looked up at Bane. He took charge of his soldiers, leading the circle at the base of the grand stairwell, his arms crossed over his wide chest as he stared her down. Erin broke the gaze as she studied the others, as she saw not too far away from Bane the little heir who was holding onto the legs of her mother and her face turned away from the commotion. The bruising on Dominique's face was already fading but still blue, making her appear as a woman once battered.

But her eyes, closely resembling Bane's in their stare at her, were full of rage.

Erin softly swallowed, instantly formed herself into something weak and delicate, her eyes growing big and her hands folding behind her back feebly. Inside, she was cursing them, cursing them all. Why couldn't they all just die?

"It appears I am on trial," she said softly, batting her eyes again because it was her most powerful tactic. "Have I displeased the League in some way?"

"You have greatly displeased me. You have tried to trap me with deception. You have brought destruction to my house. You have killed my men with your poor decisions." Bane stepped forward, his shadow consuming her. The shadow of the League. "And you have endangered my family."

Her eyes, as innocent as a kitten's, shined with placed worry and accusation. "I have done no such thing, liege," she breathed, shaking her head, her golden brown hair swishing. "My greatest wish has always been that I may serve you."

Bane remained quiet. The air in the room felt heavy to her now, like she was treading in water that was slowly rising to her face. After a few moments of her anticipating, he finally leaned forward some, and growled at her softly. "Lie to me again, Erin, and I will bury you with the others you have massacred."

"Please," she whispered, speaking softly to add to illusion, to make him remember what she had been when the Cross woman meant nothing. When she was only a distant thought in his head. "Do my words mean so little to you? After everything I have given you?"

"You have committed crimes against the League. I have determined them unforgivable."

"So I am to be punished? Allow me to remind you, liege, that I was important to you when she was not considered your family. I was the one who kept your bed warm for years, and you dare to accuse me?"

"You were never important to me. You are a liar, you are a deceiver. And I cannot stand the mere sight of you."

And those kitten eyes, innocent and weak, darkened some. There was a different emotion to feel now, she realized. She had always been confident, had perhaps once felt weary from his ignorance of her, but never had she truly felt fear, anxiety. Never had she felt… that she would be discovered and punished. As Bane let his words sink in, Erin felt another pair of eyes on her. And they were possibly the worst ones of all. Looking over, near to the sickening family of the Demon Head, stood Barsad.

He was grinning happily.

Erin's eyes widened. She'd been played a fool.

"For your transgressions against the League of Shadows, Erin," Bane began, announcing his ruling to all among the angry eyes of those she'd wronged. "I cast you out of my house. You are banished from these grounds for the rest of your days. I toss you out into the snow." Bane spoke loudly, commanding his authority, turning his back as a few others came closer to her to carry out his orders. He walked away from her as easily as a man could, and as carelessly as he returned to his place at the base of the stairs near those closest to him. The heir, the right hand, and the chosen. "Your greatest wish now will be not to freeze before you can escape the mountain. Get rid of her."

She jumped when hands grabbed her arms. Trying uselessly to yank them off, Erin felt for the first time the weakness she tried to use as a weapon. The reality struck like a blow to the head. She was weak and she knew nothing. She was not strong and formidable, and could never fight these men who would throw her out of the warmth and security of the League. She really was a kitten, and the snake had been crushed by the Demon Head. Erin panicked, looked to Bane and saw him ascending the stairwell with those two rotten females. Dominique turned to her one last time, to make the blow more severe. The mother lifted her child into her arms, turned away once Bane put a large arm around her.

A unit they were. A family.

And Erin… had lost.

Before she could scream in rage, the League threw open the grand doors to the mansion, and flung her into the storm.

The doors then slammed shut.

---

The hours in the cold were spent trying to find her way down the mountain. Trying, with all her might, not to succumb to the temperature because she needed to be careful, so careful so she wouldn't tumble off a cliff, tumble off anything only to break a bone and freeze to death. Erin shivered in what seemed like white wilderness, held her limbs close to her body and redirected that intense determination inside her for a different purpose. A purpose of surviving until she could get to the road and have someone, a man specifically, aide her.

She would not crumble from this change in her plan. She would not allow her raging, hateful tears to fall in fear that they would freeze on her face and damage it. But they were coming and they were hurting her eyeballs, every sense feeling just as painful as the agony in her feet and her hands. The wind gushed at her, made her hiss and curse Bane, curse him to hell even as she wondered why, why on earth, had he made such a stupid decision to get rid of her? She could have made him happy. She could have treated him like the king he was, just as long as she would be named queen. She was meant to be a queen, she told herself, looking to the sky to try to figure out some direction, and was only met with a rushing gray blanket. One day she would be queen to someone else. It was her right.

But even as she locked the idea in place, her chin still trembled and her eyes still stung out of hurt. Out of anger boiling inside her.

She would make her way down the mountain, find another king, and have him execute every last pathetic breathing thing inside the mansion of the League of Shadows.

Erin smiled at the thought. Just find your way down the mountain, she thought, gently putting her foot out into the snow to test the grounds before taking a step. Just picture Bane in your mind for fuel, on his knees and begging you to take him back when everything else is lost.

She stopped when her eyes painfully focused on the rush of wind in front of her, the action of blinking and trying to moisten them becoming more and more difficult. She shivered as she squinted, as she tried to make out the odd shape standing not too far away. Perhaps she finally made it, she rejoiced. Perhaps someone was here to help her. The figure moved, held something. It took everything she had left to focus.

There was no time for her to realize that what was held was a firearm.

The shot boomed through the howl of the freezing wind, knocked her back in mid-air. Before she could hit the ground, another shot was fired. With swinging arms she landed on her back, blood seeping into the stark white snow from her collar and her stomach. Everything exploded in intense pain in her body, her frozen limbs, her frost bitten feet, and the gunshot wounds that had come from the gray. She opened her mouth, sucked in a loud and obscene breath full of snowflakes. Opening her eyes in shock, she watched as two black figures loomed above her. They began to lean down…

Barsad came into focus first, his face still grinning, his beard speckled in snow. The rest of him was bundled up warmly, the red scarf around his neck matching the bright blood oozing from her. A gun was held in his hand almost casually, the barrel smoking even in the cold.

"I have been dreaming of this," he told her.

And then Erin saw Bane, dropping onto one knee next to her with his coat's collar turned up high and the mask a little frosty on his face. His eyes were bright and not sorrowful, and yet they were also vengeful, and not full of regret.

Erin finally screamed, as loud as she could, in fury.

"Have you enjoyed your last venture in the snow, Erin?" Bane asked her, tilting his head and studying her as if she were a piece of fine art. "You came to me up this mountain and I thought it only fitting to allow you to struggle your way back down until I snuffed you. I enjoyed giving you the false opportunity to survive. It has made it more rewarding for me to hunt you down. And look at you," he murmured, speaking to her calmly, sweetly. Staring at her like a prized kill. "You look like a cold, frightened little kitten."

She couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't even demand herself to try to stop the flow of blood from her belly with her hands. All she could do was see the men above her, one who used to be her lover, one who had never liked her or connected to her. She had spent a lifetime meticulously choosing her victims, only to be taken out by her last in the end.

"It is customary for me not to kill the women I sleep with," Bane continued, nodding some, little bits of frost from the mask falling into her wounds. "But you, as you have always believed, are special, my dear. You are the one who led the dogs to my daughter, and you are the one who has caused her unspeakable suffering. For that, I have made you an exception. How special you are, indeed." Bane lifted his hand while keeping his now surprisingly calm eyes on Erin's, waited patiently for Barsad to place a very sharp and shiny dagger in his palm. "Please do not fret, my special one," he cooed, setting his large hand on her forehead, brushing back her hair almost lovingly. Finally giving her the affection she'd once wished of him. "I have given my right hand a simple gift of shooting you for his pleasure. Now I will kill you quickly." That affectionate hand suddenly gripped the hair on her scalp, yanked her head back and causing a small mew from her. Bane looked down at her exposed neck, so slim and dainty. So unmarred. He softly traced the tip of the dagger across her skin before leaving it at her pulse. And although his eyes were calm and his voice soothing, the mask bared its fangs.

"Be gone, Erin," Bane growled.

The blade of the dagger was then pulled across her throat swiftly, blood cascading down her chest and melting the snow around her as she gargled, and then fell silent.

Bane stood and handed the dagger back to Barsad, who immediately wiped it on his pant leg and sheathed it. They turned their backs on the dead, bleeding body left on the cold mountain.

And returned to the warmth.

---

Days went by, and they were very hard days. Bane and Dominique sat with Emmeline after giving her a time of rest, and told her of their past together, told her of how – in so many terms – she came to be their plan for the future, and how, in the end, she became their daughter. The one they didn't plan for, the one they hadn't expected. The one, they told her, who came to be everything to them, and what would bring them here as they were now, in the home they shared. Emmeline had paid just as much attention to their story as she had the one told to her in the warehouse. She listened to their apologies, to their explanations, their answers for the questions she would ask with simple, childlike curiosity.

At the end of their conversation, Bane and Dom had to accept the fact that Emmeline was only four, and in no way could she even process the information told to her in a way that wouldn't affect her later. It would be something they would have to continually discuss for possibly the rest of their lives, and never would they grow weary of the task because they understood that they were the cause of it.

Emmeline asked her questions, accepted their apologies, and, for now at least, seemed to forget her parent's faults.

And, for now at least, Bane and Dom felt relieved.

Changes were made to Emmeline's day to day activities. She was given a time period to recover, to heal from all wounds, to be given mental care and constant reassurances. When she seemed to ease back into her normal self, the best thing her parents decided for her was to allow her to fall back into old routine. She was happy to return to her lessons, to continue her education in reading and writing, to play as a normal child would.

As to her future as the heir to the League of Shadows… Bane figured he had an abundance of time to make his decisions.

But the biggest change came when Bane and Dom took her down the mountain after the storm passed, took her to a town miles and miles away, a peaceful town full of families and children. Emmeline had never been away from the grounds of the League, and to see more of the world, to see other people who were not soldiers, awed her. Dom, with Bane nearby, keeping to the shadows with a hood concealing his very infamous face, held Emmeline's hand as she brought her into the town, her girl trying to see everything at once, pressing against her more when it started to become overwhelming for her. Dom found a small group of children playing in old snow puddles, asked Emmeline if she wanted to say hello. When sensing their presence, the children turned to them, their eyes instantly locking on the little girl who could possibly join in their fun. Emmeline looked up to Dom, watched as her mother smiled and nodded.

"Go play," Dom whispered.

With a small bit of shyness and uncertainty since she'd never seen another child before, Emmeline stepped forward closer to them, cast her eyes up when the light shifted. The sky was strange now, and emitting a warmth. Usually the sky was ever gray and cold.

Emmeline lifted her face to the sky, closed her eyes. And felt the first ray of sunshine she hadn't felt since infancy.

Then let go of her mother's hand to jump in the puddles with the other children.

Dom instantly hugged her arms, watched her daughter giggle and play. She turned slightly, found the shadows because she could sense him. She saw Bane far away, past the workers of the day, the other mothers watching their children. She gave him two thumbs up with a half grin.

He could only nod.

Their daughter was healing, would continue to heal and remain in good hands. Now, when she could finally sleep in a bed by herself, when she was sleeping soundly now after a long day of play in the bed she used to share with her mother, Dom crept through the dark halls of the mansion, eased open the doors to Bane's room. She found him sitting on the edge of his bed, only pants on for sleep, the mask right in place. His hands were folded and his body was hunched somewhat, his eyes unseeing as his mind was far away. Dom softly closed the doors, padded across the moonlit filled room on bare feet before sitting down next to him. They sat silently for a while, just next to each other. When she finally cast him a glance, she spoke.

"I know it was hard for you to let Emmeline play with those kids," she said, remembering the intense way he'd stood the entire time their daughter had interacted with the other children, the way his eyes focused sharply on every move Emmeline had made. "I can see it all over your face. Or… at least the parts of your face I can see."

The mask made a loud wheezing sound as he sighed. "I worry for her."

"I know."

"I don't want her identity being known," he said softly, admitting to her his wakeful thoughts. "I don't want the world… to condemn her and hunt her down simply because of her blood."

Dom grinned a little, her blue eyes brightening in the starlight. "That's the thing, I guess, when it comes to this parenting project. You want to keep them in a bubble but you also want them to live this great life. All we can do is teach her." She shrugged, wondered if she was even saying the right thing. A work in progress she would always be. "I know you're worried because of what you went through with Talia. But Emmeline isn't Talia. And I can see you've worked very hard to keep her that way. I like what you're doing, Daddy."

Bane looked over at her. She was only wearing another of her off the shoulder tops and baggy sleeping pants, yet somehow she could even make such attire appear sensual. Maybe it was her wavy auburn hair that brought out her eyes, even though one side of her face was faded yellow from old bruising, or the addicting tanned skin covering that amazing body he could never divert from. Or maybe it was that carefree nature, that wild spirit that was no unlike his own that attracted him. Whatever it was, he was more at peace when she was near. "You are well, Dominique?" he asked quietly.

It was hard to take care of yourself when you had a four year old to mend after kidnapping and assault. Every ounce of recovery had gone into Emmeline, to make sure she was okay physically, mentally, emotionally after such stress. Time had flown by, and some would think Dom had been neglected. But she had lived the first half of her life on the edge, thrusting herself into adventure, into madness if she felt like it. She knew Bane kept a close eye on her since the Alice fiasco, but she knew there was no need for more worry. Dom scoffed playfully, waved a hand at him with a roll of her eyes. "I'm a big, tough girl. Just look at me. I've even survived some terrorist's city revolution. Sounds pretty indestructible to me, yeah?"

His eyes were bright and hazel, and charmed. "Yes, it does," he nodded.

Her grin eased into a soft smile as she looked away, down at her lap. A flutter weaved through her body, a deep breath escaped past her lips. She felt warmer around him, she realized. And once again, she craved that warmth. She decided she always needed to have it.

"I like the way you call me Dominique," she began, relaxing into the warmth. The sun. "I like the way you look at me, like you truly believe I'm some pretty fish. I like the way I can annoy you so easily." One corner of her mouth lifted a little higher. "I like how Emmeline takes after you, and that you're both so different from me. And, secretly, I always liked that you chose me. That out of all those other appealing women dancing in their underwear, I was the one who caught your eye. I've always felt important around you, that you made the deal with me and that I gave you a baby. I've always felt… seen. And I don't think I've ever experienced that before you." She listened to her words, thought them good. Nodded because they were. "I like all that stuff. I like you."

Bane blinked a little. Perplexed, he lifted a brow, then asked carefully, "What is all of this?"

It was something she'd been suffering with for four years, for possibly even longer than that. It was something she needed to do, and something that would ease every warring feeling inside her. It was, quite plainly, everything. "I guess I thought… it's about time I start telling the truth. I want things to change, and I want you… to keep seeing me. I don't want to be the invisible woman ever again." She took another deep breath, kept her eyes away even though his were right on her face. She almost yelled at him to look away so she could get all this baloo out. She settled with a snip. "Do you want the truth or not?"

"I do."

The way he instantly answered, the way the mask breathed his request, sent a feuding scuffle of confidence and uncertainty inside her. She was a big, tough girl, she reminded her. And she wanted to speak the truth to the big, tough man whose eye she'd caught. "I told you I was a hard one to catch. And I have been, my entire life. No one… has ever caught me and held me. And no one has ever been important enough to receive complete honesty." She sighed, a long, exhausted sigh. A sigh she'd held in for over thirty years. "I think I'm tired of running from a man, of messing things up just so I can stay free. I'm really tired, Bane. So… I've stopped. I've stopped running."

The invisible woman could be seen. The free spirit could find a home. And the uncatchable woman, the distant siren of the deep, finally wanted to feel the land where the man in the mask waited for her.

"The truth is," she murmured, practically feeling her feet touch the ground, and remain still. "I would cry when I could be alone. The truth is, all my tears were because of you. I've never cried my whole life for a past lover, and yet there they were, big fat drops pouring. It was really different and I didn't know how to handle it. I cried because I had pushed you away from me, pushed you right to another woman. And for years I had to watch it. Because of what I'd done, because I was too scared to fight for you, I lost you. I made a baby with you and yet I couldn't give myself to you because I thought I needed to keep my freedom. The truth is, I've missed you. I missed being the chosen woman. I missed having you around. My baby is exactly like you, and yet I craved you in a way I've never felt before." She stopped, had to stop. Simply had to, before she would continue. Before she would give herself away, finally.

"The truth is," she whispered. "I'm a little in love with you."

And right then, she finally felt freedom, felt warmth. Dom, in the middle of cold nowhere, felt the sun. The bright, hot, glorious sun.

"I'm a lot in love with you," she corrected, finally looking over at him, her charm shining just as bright. "Bane, the masked terrorist. Bane, the Demon Head to the League of Shadows. I'm yours."

His eyes flashed as he stared at her. He remembered allowing her to sink her hands into him, allowing her to pull him down into the depths because he so wished to go with her, to continue to feel her embrace. He remembered his time with her and the choking feeling of thinking she was devouring him whole, that she would only drag him under with her sensuality, her attraction, that special way of her that always got his eyes to linger a little longer than was safe and comfortable. He had once hated her for making him want her, for willingly going out into the water as he truly had, to meet her and allow the seduction of her to cloud his mind simply because she offered him pleasure, his every desire. But her words now went against his protests and his consternations of the past. She was not the terrifying creature in the dark depths meant to tear his flesh apart with beauty and offering.

She was only an alluring woman in the shallows, handing him her heart, her soul, her life. The ability to see her, and to keep her.

You are light, he had said to her in dreams, seeing it now in reality. You shine.

And maybe… it was his time to finally feel the sun, too.

With a large, deep breath, Bane reached up, reached for the laches of the mask. And began to unclasp it.

Dom visibly flinched, visibly panicked. "Oh jeez, you don't have to do that. Don't take it off just because I… Just because I said what I said."

"I want you to see."

"You're only taking it off because I love you."

With his hands around his head, he could only stop and stare again. He had heard those words many times, truth be told. He'd heard them from Talia in multiple stages of her life, from his daughter. Even from Erin, although they did not ring true. To hear Dominique say them, Bane realized they sounded hardly any different from her natural voice, although they were unknown and unused by her. Her words to him, her confession, was like a melody. A haunting call from the water.

Somehow, he'd always ended up following it.

"I know," he answered.

Before she could stop him, Bane released the last clasp. And slowly, so very slowly, pulled the mask away.

The room was dark but was cascaded in moonlight, almost like the bottom of the ocean. His head was cast down, chin practically upon his chest. Dom could see the lines etched in his face, the uneven skin tone from the weather, the harsh constriction of the straps and tight coverings the mask bore into his skin. He seemed almost timid from the reveal, a little appalled himself that he'd taken such a risk. Only Emmeline had ever seen his face, and she'd walked in on him accidentally. Talia had never been given the gift, even for as much as she'd once meant. Throughout their years, Talia had not wanted to see the sacrifice for her life, and Bane had felt extremely uncomfortable making the decision. If she'd asked him, he knew he would've taken it off for her. But she hadn't. She had tried to see the mask as a medal of honor, to uplift him when he'd been severely hurt. Only Dominique had been given his face freely.

Only Dominique Cross.

Gently, accepting the gift and remaining strong for it, Dom placed her hand under his chin, eased his head up.

Emmeline had said he was hurt, and she was right. Scars dug into his skin in the places she hadn't been able to see, the most severe a jagged raised one starting from the line of his broken nose down to his lips. It bisected them, making them a little misshapen that distorted the rest of the bottom half. Scruffy patches of light brown beard grew in patches in the areas concealed, some red and irritated from constant constriction. His nose had never been set, had healed crooked and misaligned. He was a man beaten, a man handicapped. A man left to live with his sacrifice. And yet she could hardly see those negatives. What she did see, what she heavily focused on, were his lips. His surprisingly full lips.

The beautiful lips Emmeline had inherited.

Dom's expression softened as she ran her thumb over his cheek.

"I like your face," she whispered.

She had said that to him before. In a drunken stupor, she had given him sweet words, and said what no other ever had.

He found he believed her.

If a woman in love could reveal all, release all, then he decided it was an eye for an eye. He could give her his face as she'd given him a daughter. He could give her the only thing he kept hidden away from the world. And with this step, he knew that union was set. She would move into his room with him, and she would belong as she'd never belonged before. She was tied to him now, in more ways other than the bond of a child. Realizing that, Bane asked himself if he was willing to spend many years with this woman who'd once been irresponsible and unreliable, distant and flighty. This angering and annoying siren, wild and rambunctious.

Could you fall in love with someone like me?

Someone like you. I suppose I could.

Yes, he thought, feeling her hands along his face, his eyes drooping down to her tasty lips. I suppose I will.

Bane leaned forward, and kissed his woman with eyes wide open.

Dom's hands remained on his face, her gaze locked on his, no one having to hide and no one having to look away. Her lips opened, drank him in, the lips she could see and kiss and taste. Bane took her mouth deeply, grabbed her thighs and maneuvered them until he was above her, remaining sealed to her. He stopped only to slip her clothes off, and never once, in all the time the mask would allow him, did their eyes disconnect, did they even close. She grew breathless and he grew demanding, needing more of this woman like he would soon need the painkillers. His tongue slid into her mouth, made her groan as she arched up to him, their lips smacking wetly before joining together again. Almost sleepily, she smiled, becoming lazy and totally fulfilled.

"I can see you now," she said, allowing him to remove the rest of her clothing as he allowed her his face. She kissed him all over his hurt, was addicted to his face the way he was to the drugs. And when the mask was latched back on, when she heard those wheezing hisses and found him hidden once again, she felt pretty lucky she got to save his life.

"I can see you," she whispered.

TBC

A/N: I hope this wasn't terribly long and I hope you're all still alive. Thank you, with all my heart, to those who have stayed with me since the beginning and those who've read and enjoyed Sleeping Sun. It's been a pleasure to write for you. Please follow me if you wish to read the Bane/Camille one shot titled The Queen is Crowned, which - and please don't forget - will be set somewhat in an alternate universe, and anything else I might possibly come out with. Please communicate with me on Tumblr, since I will soon not be able to communicate with you here due to the ending of my works. And lastly, please remember how grateful I am to you all, those who've delighted in the words I've written and who have been so incredibly patient for the progress and conclusion. The epilogue is next. I hope you will enjoy it. And once again, thank you.