She hoped it was all a harrowing nightmare she would wake from any second. The serrations of the blade against her trachea made it agonizingly clear that it was no illusion.

No, please God! Anything but this.

The silent supplication derived from desperation, the final entreaty from a helpless being to a deity whose existence she often doubted.

When the knife shredded her blouse, her body went into a trancelike state. She presumed it was a sort of defense mechanism executed by her brain in order to allow her to tolerate the travail. At first she closed her eyes in an attempt to mentally escape the hell she was trapped in. It didn't work; it actually worsened the situation. The deprivation of sight only heightened her tactility, an unfortunate enhancement that resulted in the pronounced perception of the barbarian's infliction of abuse upon her reluctant body. He manhandled her like she was a rag doll, treated her as if she were an inanimate object who was put on earth for his perverted pleasures.

She then changed strategies. Opening her eyes, she decided to focus on anything other than the disgusting mass of flesh that was viciously molesting her. She became hyper-aware of each and every detail of her surroundings. Time seemed to slow; every second felt like a minute. Her sense of sound amplified, and all she could hear was her own rapid respiration. Her heart felt like it had ascended into her throat. Gazing up to the dark, cloudless sky, she intensely studied the falling flurries as if they were the only things in existence. Each flake was so tiny, so insignificant. As the rapist prepared to finish what he started, his victim felt just as meaningless as any one of those snowy specks. If there was a God, even He couldn't save her. No one could.

Katharine let out a strident gasp and abruptly broke her repose. The yuletide horror rarely followed her into unconsciousness, but on the nights it did, it never failed to awaken her. Her chest was tight, her hands were trembling, and her torso was bathed in a cold sweat. Hoping her sudden motion hadn't disrupted him, she looked over to Bane lying beside her. If it had not been for his serendipitous succor, her life would have turned out far worse. In fact, she might not have been alive at all.

She liked sleeping with him. It wasn't the sexual significance of the act, but rather the act itself. She enjoyed being close to someone so strong, someone she knew would never intentionally hurt her, someone who had actually protected her from harm. Feeling such safety in the bed of a terrorist was something she never could have imagined. She could hardly reconcile that the man adjacent to her was the same person who she had watched decimate Rogue Stadium nearly a year before.

He still seemed sound asleep, and for that she was glad. She knew rest never came easily to him and hence hated the thought of waking him for any reason. Although her thirst was intense, her determination not to interfere with his slumber won out in the end. After settling back into bed with minimal movement, she stared into the darkness and attempted to forsake her most awful memory. Within seconds her savior was facing her.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine."

Though he didn't have a visual advantage, he could tell she was lying. The reason for her mistruth was evident; he didn't have to guess what had unceremoniously roused her. She put on a good show, but he knew the assault continued to haunt her. No stranger to night terrors himself, he contemplated whether to offer counsel or not. Given her belief in the therapeutic powers of speech, he decided that talking it out might be beneficial to her.

"You had a nightmare, didn't you?"

"Something like that," she replied somberly.

"Tell me," he encouraged tenderly.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Eager to get back to sleep, he initially accepted her decision. As he waited to resume his rest, he noticed that she did not reposition herself on her stomach which was how she ordinarily slept. Her distress was glaringly obvious, and he could not doze off in good conscience.

"There were certain things I was disinclined to discuss, but that never stopped you from trying," he pointed out.

He had her there. Refusing his request after he had basically told her his life story would be grossly unfair. Moreover, he was the one responsible for her deliverance. She had one brush with death whereas he probably had hundreds. If anyone could relate to what she had been through, he could.

"You know, don't you?"

"Yes."

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she lamented. "It's been months, I should be over it by now."

"What you are feeling is very natural, Katharine. You were traumatized by what happened."

"But it didn't happen . . . thanks to you."

"The deed was not finalized, but you are still suffering from the aftereffects of being so violently degraded."

"I barely think about it anymore so what's with the nightmares?"

"Your pain has manifested in your subconscious. While awake you are able to expel it because you are in control. That control is abnegated during sleep, and you are forced to relive the occurrence as a result."

"Do you ever have nightmares about your life?"

"Yes."

"How do you deal with them?"

"I don't let them rule me."

"Do you think they'll ever stop?"

"I suspect so in time."

As to whose he was referring to, she did not know.

"I never thanked you for saving my life."

"Yes you did."

"Maybe later, but not that night. Not when I should have."

"You were afraid of me, weren't you?"

"At first. But then you helped me and . . ."

"You were still afraid."

"Yeah," she admitted.

"Are you afraid of me now? Is it fear that motivates your actions where I am concerned?"

His question seemed more like an accusation, and it wounded her more than it should have.

"Is that what you think?"

"I don't know what I think anymore. I don't know how we came to where we are now."

"Where are we?"

"I don't know."

He wasn't alone in that respect. Their relationship—if it could even be called that—was not subject to conventional methods of categorization. They could be labeled friends as well as lovers, however the connection they shared was more than skin deep. Each had precluded the other's disaster, and their actions in regards to one another inextricably bound them whether they liked it or not.

"I'm not afraid of you, Bane. And if you're still looking for some ulterior motive in me, you're not going to find it," she said disappointedly and rolled away from him.

By the time the sun's rays permeated the cabin windows the next day, Bane was already gone. It was still dark when he left for his run, and he relished the brisk early morning air of the forest. He set out with the sole purpose of clearing his head; instead all he ended up doing was thinking, namely about his churlish words to Katharine the preceding night. She didn't deserve his suspicion; she didn't at all strike him as a deceitful person. Actions did indeed speak louder than words, and so far hers were not at all ambiguous. She had numerous opportunities to flee, and yet she had declined them all. She must have spoken honestly when she said she chose to stay otherwise she would have hightailed it the first chance she got. Exactly why she wanted to remain with him was a conundrum he had yet to solve. He had reached one conclusion with surety; he could not employ her as a hostage even if push came to shove. Nothing would cause him to expose her to additional trauma.

Barsad should not have taken her, but Bane's regret of his brother's impetuous decision had long expired. He was grateful for the opportunity to get to know the woman who he saved, the woman who saved him. There was no doubt in his mind that he would have succumbed to his injuries had she not found him and intercepted Barsad's call. He held no credence in a higher power, but if he had he would have ascribed her presence at City Hall that fateful day to a miracle.

Katharine woke up alone literally and figuratively. Regardless of her sincerity, she realized that Bane would never take it at face value. He had invested his trust in someone unworthy and been burned as a result, an all-too common mistake made by most people at least once. But Bane was not most people. Nevertheless, his intimation of contrivance on her part was more upsetting than she liked to admit. She had come to trust him even though the feeling was not mutual. She doubted he would ever trust anyone after what Talia had done to him.

She struggled with trust issues of her own due to parental abandonment. Every time she opened herself up to someone she paid a hefty price for doing so. When she'd finally had all she could take of rejection, she resigned herself to the fact that she would have to go through life alone. She knew walking a solitary path would not be easy but preferred it to wasting her time on the wrong men and being constantly spurned at their hands. She was done with all that and vowed to never again wear her heart on her sleeve. But she liked Bane. A lot. Too much. She treaded carefully for the most part, fully aware that their involvement was most likely a fling, a flickering flame that would eventually burn out. As much as she hated the idea, she had to do her best to prepare for it. And that would entail restraining her emotions where he was concerned, a task that was proving far from facile.

When she heard the bedroom door open shortly after dawn, she closed her eyes and feigned sleep. He seated himself on the side of the bed and waited for a spell. Emitting her best fake yawn, she turned to him and waited for him to speak.

"What I said last night was improper."

"You said quite a few things last night," she reminded him as she sat up and attempted to tame her recalcitrant tresses.

"I had no reason to make such an inference. I should have consoled you instead of unduly questioning your motives."

His compunction pleased her, but she did not want him to know it.

"Don't worry about it. I didn't even give it a second thought," she lied and refrained from lip chewing in the hope of passing her own personal polygraph.

As always, her auditory alteration indicated her mendacity. He knew she had thought about it and accurately presumed that her falsity was a tenuous effort to conceal the fact that he had offended her, perhaps even hurt her feelings.

"If you are not opposed, I would like a second chance."

"For what?" her brow furrowed in bewilderment.

"You tried to assist my coming to terms with the past; I would like to do the same for you."

"The key word there is tried. I didn't help you at all so why do you assume you can help me?"

"Will you allow me the same chance?"

She quickly considered his proposal. Her near rape was the last thing on earth she wanted to talk about, but internalizing the emotions that stemmed from it had failed to produce any positive results. With nothing to lose, she decided to give it a shot in the interest of fairness.

"All right, give me a taste of my own medicine."

"You just woke up, perhaps we should wait until later."

"There's never going to be a perfect time. I'd rather do it now and get it over with."

"I'm not going to probe you. I want you to say whatever comes to mind. Do not filter your thoughts or censor yourself in any way, just unload it. All of it."

She took a deep breath before beginning.

"I met him at the club. He wouldn't say anything, not a single word. That alone told me there was something off about him, that and the weird look in his eyes. It wasn't really a look, it was more like a leer. I was uncomfortable from the start. I should have stopped, but all I could think about was the money I'd be passing up if I did. When you're poor you always worry about money. I did what I thought I had to, and after he left I put it out of my mind. When Jane and I got off I walked her home as usual. We always took the same route, never ran into any trouble before. After she got to her place I continued on my own. I don't remember thinking about anything except how cold I was. I was about four blocks from my apartment when I heard footsteps behind me. I didn't think anything of it at first. When they got louder I started to get really scared. I sped up, and so did he. I was hoping whoever it was would go away, that I was just being paranoid. When I realized who it was, I asked him why he was following me. He didn't give me a straight answer, just made a few cracks. I ran, but he caught me . . . told me he'd slit my throat if I screamed. I knew he wasn't lying," her voice quavered as tears pooled in her eyes.

As draconian a man as Bane was, her effusive outpouring tugged at his heartstrings. He reserved supreme hatred for men who hurt women and wished he possessed the power of reanimation so he could have the pleasure of killing the wretch again, this time very slowly and very painfully. The possibility then dawned on him that he may have indirectly caused her attack; for all he knew the lowlife could have been one of the cons he unleashed from Blackgate. There was no way he could be sure one way or the other.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she braced herself for the worst of it.

"I prayed. I don't even know if I believe in God, but I begged Him to help me. It was the only thing I could do. I should have seen it coming, but I didn't. I had a feeling he was going to kill me, and I couldn't help thinking that I'd rather die in the blast with everyone else because at least then I wouldn't be alone."

"His hands were all over me . . . I felt so sick. It was all I could do to keep from throwing up. I started to wonder whether I'd actually prefer the knife . . . at least that way it would be over quick. I went numb. I felt so hollow . . . like there was nothing left inside of me," her words were halted by an incoming of sobs.

He couldn't stand by and do nothing as she came apart in front of him. He didn't know if anything he did would comfort her, but he had to try. Testing the waters, he inched closer to her and gently stroked her hair while she softly wept.

More than anything in the world she wanted him to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. But he didn't, and his failure to do so only supplemented her sadness. She hated that he still impugned her in spite of the fact that she had done everything she possibly could to prove herself trustworthy. Unable to surmount her need for his arms around her, she enfolded him in hers instead.

As he wholly embraced her shuddering form, her tears moistened his shirt. She clung to him like someone adrift at sea would a life raft. Not exactly an expert at consolation, he did the best he could. He wished he could take away her woe or at the very least assuage it, but he was powerless against the weight of her grief. It was a feeling he loathed above all else. If he had gotten to that alley sooner he may have been able to prevent the calamitous incident altogether.

She felt such peace and security in the soothing arms of the man who had saved her life. As she basked in the solace he generously provided, she began to calm down. The tears subsided and her breathing normalized, but her grip on him remained. She couldn't let him go, not yet. She needed him because he was all she had.

He stayed by her side when she finally released him. He wanted to say something, but the right words proved elusive. He grabbed a tissue from the box on the nightstand and handed it to her. She was right; he could not help her.

"Thank you," she sniffed and wiped her eyes.

"I am truly sorry for what you have endured, Katharine."

"Don't apologize for something you had nothing to do with," she repeated one of his former statements to her.

He fought his urge to blurt out that he may have had everything to do with it. His restraint was due to selfishness more than anything else. Telling her may have caused her to pull away from him, a plausibility he could not stand the thought of.

"If you hadn't come when you did, he might have killed me."

"It will get better in time."

"I hope so. I don't want to live the rest of my life like this."

He could tell from her glazed eyes that she was exhausted both physically and mentally. He rose from the bed and procured a sedative from his dresser.

"Going back to bed?" she asked.

"I'm not, you are."

"I don't want to sleep, I might dream about it again."

"Consecutive nightmares are a rarity," he assured her as he halved the tablet and then gave her one of them.

"Is this your not-so-subtle way of getting rid of me for a while?"

"Of course not, but you need to rest for a few hours. Stay put, I'll be right back."

She was tired, and the notion of dreamless sleep was an enticement. With no desire to contend his wishes, she submitted to his insistence that she take a nap. He was back in a flash with a bottle of water in tow. She appreciated his tending of her and guardedly hoped it was a sign that he cared just a little. Once she was lying down, he gave her leg a gentle pat before heading for the door. She didn't want him to go, but stopped short of voicing her objection to his parting.

While Katharine slept, Bane took advantage of her absence and called Barsad.

"Go ahead."

"What does GPD know about us?"

"Fortunately not very much."

"Specificity, Barsad."

"They know our dealings with Daggett, that Miranda was really Talia, the existence of the League. That's about it according to their database."

"What about the Reyes affair? What's going on with that?"

"Well, it made the front-page of El País. It died down pretty quick though, never hit international news."

"It is imperative that we ascertain the FBI's knowledge of us."

"We could find out for sure by using that mole . . ."

"Absolutely not, we know nothing of him. We would benefit greatly from the services of an infiltrator, but it must be someone we can keep on a short leash. Perhaps Alexei can help with that endeavor."

"He's been off the radar for years."

"Be that as it may, he is all we have. I'm charging you with making contact and enlisting his assistance."

"How am I supposed to find him?"

"You have all the resources you need. I need an answer within one week."

"And if he says no?"

"He won't."

"All right, I'm on it."

"This is a covert mission; only you and I are to know of it."

"Got it."

"You'll be hearing from me by next Saturday. I'm counting on you, Barsad."

"I'll find him."

"I know you will."

He had lied; he seriously doubted anyone, even someone as competent as Barsad, could locate Alexei Neimov. It had been over five years since Bane had seen or heard from him. The man was a shadow whose elusiveness transcended even his own. He knew very well that he may have been sending Barsad on a wild goose chase, but if he did somehow manage to pull off the feat, the rewards would be well worth the effort.

It was nearing eleven o'clock, and Katharine was still out. Bane didn't have the heart to wake her even though he should. While he waited, he hoped she was having a pleasant dream as opposed to a nightmare.

They only had two weeks left at the cabin. As the time to move on drew near, he was faced with many problems, first and foremost of which was his sleeping beauty. Bringing her into the League's service was out; she was far too kindhearted for their line of work. She told him of her desire to stay with him, but it was very possible that she would change her mind in time. If that happened, what recourse would he have? Could he let her go, trust her enough not to alert the authorities of what they already suspected was true?

His wanting her to stay extended beyond the aspiration to ensure his lasting liberty. She made his life more tolerable. It was more than sex. He liked just being with her in general. She made him feel normal even though he wasn't and didn't seem to hold his past against him. By continuing their arrangement, her gains would equal his own. He would look after her, see to her every need. She would no longer have to worry about money or housing. And most importantly of all, he would keep her safe. She would not have to live in fear of another depraved maniac harming her. All he could do was hope that she would not experience a last-minute decisional reversal.

When Katharine came to just before noon, the first thing she noticed was the smell of bacon. Suspecting her mind was playing a trick on her, she sat up and made sure she wasn't hallucinating. Rejuvenated by her siesta, the temptation of food lured her from the bedroom into the kitchen.

"I'm starting to think you secretly enjoy cooking," she said blithely.

"I thought you might be hungry when you woke up."

Touched by his sweet gesture, she stood and watched him as he finished making breakfast for her. She wondered if he had displayed such chivalrousness towards his previous lovers as he did her. Half of her hoped so while the other did not; she wanted to feel unique even though she probably wasn't.

"You didn't have to do that."

"Sit down and eat," he said and guided her to the table where bacon, eggs, and toast awaited her hungry stomach.

Having been with him longer than anyone she ever dated, her current living situation was the closest she'd ever come to domesticity. Their time together had not been without its hurdles, but they had come a long way from where they started. Her fear of him was nothing more than a faded memory, and the fact that she enjoyed being with him in every way no longer evoked feelings of guilt or abnormality. Aside from her nightmare and learning his harrowing history, the last two weeks had been the most contented of her life. And that scared the hell out of her. Her concern had nothing to do with who he was or how she came to be with him, rather it existed because she was beginning to feel things she never had before.

"Katharine?"

It was when she heard his voice that she realized she had been lost in reverie.

"Huh?

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah."

He knew she was lying again, but he wanted her to eat and therefore decided not to further press the matter. Just as he was about to encourage her, she took her first bite.

"Aren't you going to have some?" she asked.

"I already have. Eat it all if you can."

"Thank you, Bane. For everything," she smiled with a sparkle in her eyes.

He didn't say anything; he didn't have to.

Sprinting through the woodlands as fast as her legs would take her, Katharine still found it impossible to keep up with Bane. His speed was impressive considering the enormity of his body. Her lack of exercise had taken its toll, and she was surprised at how easily winded she became. As she huffed and puffed, she couldn't help slightly regretting her insistence to join him on his daily jaunt. He usually ran in the morning, but on that day he ventured out after sunset. The sweltering heat of the day had ceased, and the breezy twilight air was a blessing. Thoroughly depleted, she stopped and hunched over to catch her breath.

"Okay, time out," she announced between wheezes.

He halted at her say so.

Grateful for the bottle of water she'd brought with her, she uncapped it and took several long swigs. After drinking half she offered him the rest even though she knew he would most likely decline out of his stalwart aversion to removing the mask. It had been weeks since she laid eyes on his handsome face, and she missed it terribly.

"I don't know how you do it. Your stamina is amazing," she remarked.

"You'd know better than anyone, my dear."

"And you said you had no sense of humor."

"Was there something funny about that statement?"

"No . . . I mean yeah . . . never mind."

He liked playing with her, acting as if wit was a foreign concept.

"Do you want to head back?" he asked.

"Not yet. Any chance we could quit the marathon and just relax out here for a while?"

"Whatever you like."

"Do you remember the brook we passed that time we got caught in the rain?"

"It's just up this way."

After about a five minute walk they came upon her desired destination. It was a beautiful sight to behold. The serene flow glistened in the moonlight, and the heavenly sky was abound with starry vespers that illuminated the stream to an even greater degree. It was the most beautiful place she'd ever been. They sat at the water's edge and enjoyed the fresh air and breathtaking ambiance of the untouched land in comfortable silence until Katharine spoke.

"Where all have you been in the world?"

"Five of the seven continents."

"Do you have a favorite place?"

"I am fond of Italy, the lesser populous regions more specifically."

"I've always wanted to go there. I always wanted to go anywhere other than Gotham."

"Is this the first time you've been out of the city?"

"Pathetic, isn't it?"

"Most remain where they were born."

She was curious to know his birthplace, but bringing up his past and the torturous recollections that came with it was the last thing she wanted to do so she didn't ask.

"Do you miss it at all? Gotham?"

"No. I wouldn't care if I ever saw it again."

He was glad to hear her say that because she probably never would.

"Where are we going after we leave here?"

"Somewhere safe."

"Back to the desert?"

"No."

"Will things go back to the way they were?"

Though her query was somewhat vague, he knew what she was asking.

"You will be free to do whatever you like just as you are here."

"What about the training? Is that going to happen?"

He could not withhold the truth from her anymore.

"I'm going to be completely honest with you, Katharine. To this day I don't know why Barsad took you. When I awoke and discovered what he had done I was not pleased, and that's putting it mildly. When he proposed bringing you in I agreed because at the time I didn't think I had any other choice. But since then I have realized that a place in my organization is not what I believe would be best for you."

"Because of my pesky little inability to kill, right?"

"That is not a flaw."

"Barsad told me that there was more to the League than that. Was he lying?"

"He was speaking of our activities before Talia came into the picture. He is quite nostalgic on that front, annoyingly so at times."

"What did you do before?"

"Our goals were more benign, less nefarious."

"I take it you weren't aspiring to blow up cities back then."

"No."

"Maybe that's something you should consider."

"You sound just like him."

Sensing that he was not keen on discussing such matters, she quickly changed their topic of conversation.

"It's so beautiful out here. I'm going to miss this place."

"As will I," he echoed her sentiment.

"Do you think we could come back here sometime?"

We.

A simple word so simple yet so complex.

"I hope so."

The backdrop exuded romanticism and was the perfect place to be with someone special. Try as she did to deny it, the man alongside her fit that definition. A week ago she didn't know if she wanted something more with him, but she now knew for certain that she did. Her efforts to repel her feelings had failed resoundingly. She could no longer fight them; she no longer wanted to. She didn't know what he felt for her—if anything at all—but she was through lying to herself.

The truth is always better than a lie.

He longingly admired her in the lunar light. She'd never looked more attractive than she did at that moment. They had not coupled since her breakdown because she gave him no indication that she wanted to. It had only been two days, and he was already going through withdrawal, but he was not about to make a move knowing her mental condition may still be somewhat fragile. She needed time and space. When she wanted him she would let him know, and he would wait until then.

When she realized his eyes on her she reciprocated his stare. Taking it as an unspoken invitation, she edged nearer to him.

He yearned to touch her, for her to touch him. His wish was granted when she closed the short chasm between them. Leaning into him, she closed her eyes, puckered her lush lips, and kissed the mouthpiece of the mask. No one had ever done that before. His necessity induced fear and intimidation in everyone who laid eyes on it long before he had achieved worldwide infamy. Even the women he'd been with were unnerved by it. But not her. She was different, a rare flower in a field of weeds. He rested his head against hers and ran his hands delicately over her angelic face.

"Please let me see you, Bane," she implored while sweeping her fingers over the tubes with the sweetest expression he'd ever seen. He saw no reticence in her eyes, only acceptance that filled him with a strange warmth.

He promised himself he wouldn't kiss her because of the amorous implications of the act, but her impassionate appeal caused him to renounce his vow and remove the mask at once. After freeing his face from its confine, they resumed their proximity. She traced the contours of his face while studying each of his stunning features: his entrancing eyes, his angular nose, his voluminous lips. The scars were prominent and impossible to ignore, but she didn't want to. They were an integral part of what made him who he was, and to her they were just as beautiful to her as the rest of him.

They started with tender pecks and worked their way to passionate osculation. With each intoxicated by the taste of the other, they devoured one another as if the world was about to end. He gathered her in his arms and relished their corporeal contact. Their upright positions desisted after she slowly guided him backwards to the ground with her supple body atop his. She cradled the back of his bare head with one hand and caressed the side of his face with the other while swirling her tongue in his mouth where it repetitively entwined with his. Her heart raced in arousal and anticipation as she felt his rock-hard cock between her legs. She hadn't planned on things escalating to such a level, but she was not about to complain. Needing more of him, she reached beneath his shirt—the tight black one that fit him like a second skin and made him look even sexier—and rubbed her hands all over his broad, magnificent chest.

His body told him to take her right then and there, but his mind would not allow it. He couldn't be intimate with her in such an inhospitable environment; she deserved better than that. Still it was hard to resist the temptation in the face of her enthusiasm. When he felt her hands at his belt, he voiced his hesitance.

"Katharine, wait."

"What is it? Are you in pain?" she asked with a compassionate look.

"No, it's just that I don't think this is an appropriate setting for this."

"It's perfect," she smiled effervescently before reuniting their lips.

If it was good enough for her, it was good enough for him. Once she loosened his belt, he lifted his lower body in order to facilitate her removal of his legwear and underclothes. After she stripped his nether regions, he sat up and returned the favor, completely ridding her of her garments and revealing every inch of her glorious shape. Her loveliness never ceased to amaze him. She yanked his shirt up over his head and rejoined their bodies in nakedness. Exulting in the sensation of their fused forms, they surrendered to their deepest desires under the twinkling stars.

He kneeled and directed her to do the same. Supporting her by her waist, he raised her left leg over his opposite thigh. He glided his organ into her ripe core as deep as it could possibly go, in a place where no one else had ever been. She gasped in delight and relief as he vigorously propelled his pulsating penis inside her over and over and over. It was wonderful, but she suspected he was holding back, and she knew the reason why. She didn't want to be treated like some doll that could break at any moment. She wanted him to give her all he had, and she wanted to do the same for him.

"More," she whispered.

His velocity swiftly increased at her command, and she moaned in excitement as her body was inundated with unprecedented pleasure. It was wild, untamed, and exactly what she needed at the time. In that ephemeral union she was free of all negativity, unchained from her tenebrous past. No one else mattered because no one else existed. Only she and Bane—her friend, her lover, her savior.

His eyes remained open; he wanted to see how good he was making her feel. The sight of her reaction did not disappoint. Her hair bounced, her breasts jiggled, and her face was aglow with sheer gratification.

Their earlier kisses were not enough; he needed more of her mouth. To that end he moved one hand from her waist and slid it into her thick mane, moving her head to meet his.

No one ever kissed her like he did. She never kissed anyone like she did him.

They gorged on each other continuously, barely coming up for air at all. Their oral activities resulted in a slowdown of their frenetic pace. Their physiques rocked against each other in complete unison as they steadily approached the precipice of paradise. As much as he wanted to keep going for the both of them, the familiar spasms in his spine signaled that his time unmasked was nearly up. With no choice but to conclude, he closed the deal with a sequence of powerful, deliberate thrusts that caused them both to erupt in climax. She tingled in titillation as he released her and restored the mask to his face.

"Well, that was a first," she said as they dressed.

"I think your memory may be failing you in your old age," he kidded.

"I was referring to sex of the outdoor variety. What about you? Have you ever done that before?"

She didn't know why she was asking, for just picturing him with another woman caused a slight pang of jealousy she had no right to feel. She must have been a glutton for punishment.

"Not until tonight."

She smiled and finished redressing. The task took him a bit longer due to his more complex clothing. Once his clothes were back on, he walked over to her as she sat on the ground waiting. He extended his right hand in a gentlemanly manner and gently pulled her to her feet. As they walked slowly but meticulously back to their home for two more weeks, he suddenly felt the enlacing of her dainty digits with his. It was another first for him; no other woman had ever exhibited such demonstrativeness towards him. He accepted her hand and clasped it lightly for the rest of the way.

The remainder of the evening went as usual. Katharine made a late dinner. Bane did the dishes to lighten her load. They shared a long bath. They talked casually and even laughed occasionally. His life in Romania was simple yet satisfying, one he could see himself getting used to if his circumstances were different. But it was not to be; in less than fourteen days it would all be a memory. He never thought he would be dreading his departure. Turning in shortly after midnight, they engaged in a bit of nocturnal conversation.

"My manners seem to escape me sometimes," she said as she huddled against him.

"What do you mean?"

"I never thanked you for talking to me . . . about the attack."

"I should not have pressed you. I didn't mean to make it worse."

"You didn't. I needed to get it out. I don't know if I'll ever get over it completely, but you being there for me helped. It really means a lot to me."

And you mean a lot to me.

"If only I had arrived sooner I could have . . ."

"Shh," she interrupted his uncalled for guilt. "I came out of it without a scratch. You saved my life, Bane. I won't ever forget that."

"You saved mine, Katharine. And I will never forget what you did for me. Ever."

She cuddled up to him as much as possible; she would have crawled inside him if she could have. He held her softly to him, petting her soothingly to lull her to sleep. Her last thought was of how nice and safe she felt in his arms.

As his flower slept soundly, Bane lay awake ruminating. His unexpected proclivity for her spurred ambivalent feelings within him. It was a source of both pain and pleasure. His physical attraction to her exceeded that of any of her antecedents, but his regard for her went beyond the limits of physicality. He had come to care for her in a way he had never before experienced. No woman had ever been so open with him or shown him such affection. No woman ever wanted to stay with him.

Possessing the appealing qualities of beauty, kindness, and fidelity, she was the exemplification of a normal man's ideal mate. How she wasn't married with a family of her own was a mystery to him and served as further proof that Gotham was full of fools. Had his own lifestyle been more customary, he could envision sharing it with her. But the beaten path was not the one on which he had ever traveled; his road was far more perilous and highly unsuitable for a woman, especially one of her nature. Reality conflicted with him more often than not, and this instance was no different. He recognized that his previous belief that he could improve her life had been nothing more than wishful thinking.

What kind of life could he really give her? Surely not the one she deserved. Residence amongst of hundreds of strangers—all of whom were male—would presumably and understandably disagree with her. Furthermore, he was a fugitive who would have to evade capture for the rest of his life. And that excluded the possibility of a permanent settlement. In the unfortunate event that he was apprehended one day, she would be as well. She could even stand to face criminal charges, as the law would bestow no leniency upon someone who provided aid and comfort to an enemy of the state. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if she wound up in prison for the simple crime of being with him.

And then there were the more personal complications that their continued cohabitation would undoubtedly bring. She was a young woman and as such would eventually want to marry and have children, endeavors for which love was a prerequisite. More than anyone else he'd ever known, she deserved to love and be loved by someone worthy. But he could not be that for her. He loved two women in his life, and there was no room left in his hardened heart for anyone else. It was a harsh truth to face, but one he could no longer afford to repudiate. Katharine had no place in his world, and that verity both relieved and reduced him.

What he wanted didn't matter. It never had and never would.

He had no choice. He had to let her go.

Author's Note: It's easy to understand why they're having such a hard time with their feelings considering Bane's dealing with uncharted territory, and Katharine's falling for a terrorist. Their relationship is highly unconventional, and things are going to get even more complex. The next one is going to be even more intense, I can't wait to write it. It will chronicle their last days at the cabin, and the one after that will deal with their departure. I may throw in one more if I feel it's necessary.

If anyone is interested, I've gone back and worked out some minor kinks in previous chapters. Nothing major plot-wise, just a few technical tweaks here and there along with some dialogue improvements. I've noticed that I got a little carried away with commas in some of the earlier installments, and since I'm a strict adherent of the rules of punctuation I simply could not let that stand. I also strive to mix it up vocabulary-wise, and I cringe when I see the same adjective twice in a single paragraph. I've tweaked the first 17 so far and will probably also do the same with 18 through 24 at some point in the imminent future. So if you have the time, please give those a gander, as they're much prettier and more streamlined. But I'm not done with it yet; at this point I'm wondering if I ever will be.

Well, I didn't make it to 300 reviews by my deadline as I'd hoped, but a mere seven shy of my goal is definitely nothing to complain about. Thank you Hound of Tindalos, Guest, Guest x, amberhardy, Guest, MimiLuvs16, ZeeIternity, AnnaBanana314, Schuneko, Guest, Guest x (not sure if this is the same one as the first), Comingsummers, AvalonTheLadyKiller, and HallowsEve for your wonderful reviews and birthday wishes. I seriously heart my reviewers. Thanks also to each and every one of my readers. I'm really missing some of my regular reviewers; I hope you all are doing well and will catch up later. Happy belated Halloween :)