INTO THE FIRE

Thirty-five

Bane lay on his side in bed, propped up on one elbow, watching Talia as she slept. Her long hair lay tumbled about her pillow, untamed and luxurious in the early morning light filtering through the windows of his suite. He remembered their prison days when he and Melisande had always kept Talia's head shaved to help disguise her gender. Of course the other prisoners had thought it was simply to keep her free of lice. Now Talia's hair was just like her mother's when Melisande had first entered the pit, before the prison had stolen its luster.

Over these past few years there were times, especially whenever Bane shared these rare getaways to Rajasthan with Talia, he wondered if his sexual attraction to her was founded in his old desire for her mother. After all, now nearly thirty years old, Talia looked even more like Melisande than she had when she was younger. No, he told himself as his admiring gaze traveled over her flawless skin, he loved Talia for who she was, not because of the woman from whom she came. How could he not love her when they shared so much history and so much of the same drive, the same goals?

Thinking back on their lovemaking last night, his happiness waned. They had not been together for almost a year, but it was not the passage of time since their last visit that he sensed to be the true culprit when it came to the changes in his beloved. Subtle changes, true enough. Changes that a lesser man would not perceive. Changes that Talia tried to mask and perhaps thought herself a success at doing. But he knew her far too well to be deceived, though a part of him wished it were otherwise, for her transformation left him hollow.

Afraid Talia might awaken and read the turmoil in his eyes, Bane carefully extricated himself from Melisande's blanket without disturbing her. He crept out to the veranda, silently closing the glass doors behind him and settling into his familiar chair, which creaked in protest beneath his two hundred and sixty pounds. The morning was pleasant and cloudless, the air alive with the myriad voices of birds, large and small, throughout the immense palace compound. He sighed and enjoyed the renewed energy flowing through his veins from his time spent in Talia's arms, the first night of five here, if matters with the League allowed.

Bane frowned as he reflected upon last night. Though Talia had responded physically to him, there had been an emotional distance, almost a sadness. Since she had gone to Gotham nearly eight years ago, they had successfully left all cares and worries outside of his bedroom. But last night…she had been attempting to hide something from him, surely knowing even as she tried that it was impossible to fool him, even when his passion for her nearly blinded him. Now he debated whether to broach the subject with her or simply to overlook it and hope that her distraction was a passing melancholy that would fade the more she relaxed here in the company of those who loved her.

His fingers twitched in irritation. Though he always berated himself when his thoughts swam in such shallow depths, he could not avoid the anger and jealousy aroused at the thought of some man of significance being the cause of Talia's turmoil. Yet how significant could anyone be to her if she willfully came to Rajasthan to be with him? He frowned. Perhaps she had not come for him at all but instead simply to see her grandmother and to find some peace away from Gotham's crushing demands. It pained him to no end to think she gave herself to him simply out of habit or pity or guilt. But then he scoffed at himself. You are forty-five years old; she is still in the bloom of youth. No doubt she prefers someone younger, less…battered, but she is too kind to say as much.

Perhaps it was time he freed her.

To still his unrest, he breathed deeply, closed his eyes and relaxed into his morning meditation.

By the time the opening doors disturbed his peaceful trance, the sun had risen high enough to blaze horizontally the length of the veranda. He smelled Talia, felt her presence, searched her energy before slipping out of his meditative state. She smiled mildly, sleepily down at him, dressed only in a red silk kimono. The sun's rays caught her long, shapely legs; her summer tan had begun to fade. Her glance touched upon the crochet he had left on the small veranda table last night, then she settled into a spacious, cushioned wicker chair just on the other side.

"It's nice to feel the warmth," Talia murmured. "It's already so cold in Gotham."

Bane's attention went to the distant palace, and he thought of Maysam, saying her morning prayers. She was probably praying for them, for Allah's forgiveness of her granddaughter's fornication with an infidel fifteen years her senior. Bane smiled to himself. Of course Maysam did not judge them. No, she only prayed for them and no doubt had since she had learned the full nature of their relationship a few years ago. Neither of them had told her, but it had taken little deduction on her part after she had gone to Talia's room one night.

"What are you smiling about, habibi?" Talia tilted her head in an effort to see his expression in the morning sunlight.

"Your grandmother. I was thinking about the night she caught you escaping your room to come be with me."

The memory drew Talia's smile as well, and she chuckled. "Yes, she tried to act so shocked, but of course she wasn't. When she made a half-hearted attempt to scold me, all I had to do was tease her about Barsad, and she knew then she didn't have a leg to stand on."

"It was her concern because of Amir and Iba, of course," Bane insisted. "She was afraid of them finding out and causing trouble."

"Well, they know about us now."

"Yes, I regret that."

"I don't. Narrow-minded fools hiding behind their religion. They only found out because of Iba's palace spies. I hate her."

"Perhaps we should not have come here now that they know. It has caused trouble for Maysam. She claims otherwise, but Hisham has told me the truth of it."

"Hisham should not gossip like an old woman."

"He is very loyal to your mother, as are all of those who have served her for so long. It pains him to see her upset by the arguments with her brother-in-law and wife. She holds her own, of course, but Hisham sees the emotional damage to her afterwards."

"Well, I keep trying to convince her to move to Gotham with me, but she is set in her ways now. But I won't let Amir and Iba keep me from coming here to see her. And they won't keep you away either, whether I'm here or not. Fuck them."

Bane frowned. He hated hearing her curse. She had never done so before living in Gotham. Yet another change that vile city had affected upon her.

"I will deal with Amir and Iba," Bane said. "You must let go of your anger toward them; it would displease your grandmother. Let me handle the situation."

Talia sighed and faltered, letting her anger drift away on the gentle breeze that played with the hem of her kimono, rippling it like bloody water. "Thank you, habibi."

They fell silent for a time, enjoying the dawn. Hisham would be here soon with tea and coffee. Of course the old servant did not approve of Bane and Talia's shameful liaison, but Bane knew the man well enough to know Talia's beauty worked upon him as well, as it did any man with eyes in his head. Perhaps Hisham's closely-held opinion was colored more by envy than religious dictates. The thought drew a smug grin from Bane.

With a glance at Talia, he saw the distance in her gaze as she stared toward the palace, and his grin died away.

"Where are you, my little mouse?"

His voice seemed to take her by surprise, and she quickly tried to recover with a small smile, but her eyes avoided him. "I am right here, of course."

"Physically perhaps. But something has taken your mind far from here."

She weakly waved a dismissive hand. "There is always something taking my mind away—the League and my father's unfulfilled destiny, just as such things occupy you as well."

"No, this time it is something else with you," he said quietly, with no rebuke for her effort at deflecting. "You know you cannot deceive me, Talia. This matter has been heavy upon your shoulders since you arrived here. Last night…it was not the same. Only a part of you was with me."

With lips pressed in a tight line, she stared downward at her hands in her lap as if interested in her fingernail polish, looking for a flaw. "I'm sorry, Bane."

"There is no need to apologize. I am not angry, only concerned." He wanted to touch her, to draw her attention back to him as he normally would in such a situation, but something that lingered from last night kept him from following his impulse. "Tell me what is troubling you, habibati."

She gently shook her head once. "Nothing. I'm just tired still from the long flight."

"Talia, you know there is nothing we need to keep from one another. We never have." He peered closer. "Have we?"

This question seemed to pain her, producing a line across her forehead, just below her small mole, the one that mirrored the one Melisande had had upon her chin. Bane managed to hide the discomfort Talia's hesitation caused him.

"When I was growing up," she began softly, still unable to look at him, "you always thought it was Mama or Papa whom I wanted to make proud. But even more than them, I wanted you to be proud of me. I could bear it when I disappointed them, but I could never bear it when I disappointed you."

"You have never disappointed me, Talia."

Her despondency increased, the furrow multiplying on her forehead, her beautifully crafted eyebrows knitting. "I have been the cause of so much pain in your life, Bane. I don't want to cause more."

"Nothing could pain me more than your silence, habibati." He waited until she finally managed to look at him. "You must tell me."

Talia hesitated, chewing her lower lip. "You know, of course, about my business relationship with Dominic LePage…"

"Yes, he was instrumental in your appointment to the Board of Directors at Wayne Enterprises." There was more Bane could say, of course, because he knew everything there was to know about the son of French immigrants who had made their family fortune in America. Bane had made it a priority to be educated about all those who moved within the same circles as Talia. It was the only way he could protect her from afar.

"Dom and I have worked closely on a number of projects and fundraisers," Talia continued, her voice a bit stronger.

Bane's fingers twitched at her use of the man's shortened first name, at the familiar way she said it.

"Over time we have become…good friends. You know I'm cautious about such things. I've tried to keep my…associates at arm's length. And you must never think I would compromise the League or our plans."

"Of course not."

"But the tabloids have been talking this past year or more about my…detachment when it comes to serious relationships. I don't want to damage the persona I have necessarily nurtured all these years as one of Gotham's more socially-conscious philanthropists. A woman viewed as a cold bitch does not find doors opening for her. And we need such doors, as you know. So I thought perhaps Dom would be one of the safer men to allow in." She faltered momentarily, agitating Bane. "But I'm afraid I have become more involved with him than I had planned."

As she had related all this, Bane's hardened gaze had traveled back to the stone buildings of the main palace, and there it remained as he slowly nodded and asked, "And what does this mean, Talia?"

She hesitated again, and he could feel her desire for him to look at her, but he could not yet do so. "It means I've disappointed you."

"How?"

"How?" she gave a choked, cynical laugh. "I have developed feelings for someone who represents so many of the things we are striving against."

"You have had many relationships since going to Gotham. A powerful, beautiful woman who did not engage in such things would be viewed with suspicion. You have done your part to blend into that society, to play a part. I have no concerns that you will lose sight of the League's plan, your father's plan, for Gotham, regardless of one man."

"Bane." A near desperate urgency in her tone now as she reached for his hand upon the arm of his chair, the one upon which he wore the brace she had given him. She squeezed his fingers to finally draw his attention back to her. He tried to soften his gaze, but he could tell by the sorrow in her expression that he had failed. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

He forced a flicker of a smile, the best he could manage, though he knew it did not fool her. "There is nothing to apologize for. I know you are lonely there. The fact that you have denied yourself love this long is a testament to your strength."

"Love? I didn't say that I love Dom."

He gave her hand a returned squeeze before releasing it. "The word does not need to pass your lips when it is so plainly in your eyes, habibati, now and last night."

"No, you're wrong. I care for him, yes, but love…" She shook her head.

"You deny it because you've never been in love before, Talia. Yes, there were the boys in school, but they were just boys, and you were but a child."

"I know what love is, Bane," she insisted almost angrily. "What I feel for you is love."

"Of course, habibati; you love me, but we both know there are many forms of love. And what you feel for me…well, it has changed, as it should. I've never had any delusions about our relationship. You must not fear that I will feel jilted by any of this. As long as our plan remains your priority, as I know it will, I do not begrudge your feelings for this man or any pleasant distraction he provides for you."

She studied him. "Don't you get lonely?"

Bane manufactured a teasing smile. "I have Barsad."

His unexpected humor almost made her laugh, but sadness choked the sound before it could escape her. "You know what I mean," she chided.

"I only get lonely when I think of you."

"Oh, Bane…" She had to turn away, tears threatening.

"We have talked about this before, Talia," he said, his tone becoming a bit stern. "I've never wanted your pity. There is no reason for it. I am living the life that I have chosen. If I wanted it to be different, I would make it so."

"It's not pity. I want to be with you. I wish we could see more of each other. Perhaps then I wouldn't have…done what I have done."

"Things have happened as they should. You have no reasons for regret." Laboriously he stood with a grunt, his back protesting his carnal activities. "Now, my dove, you should shower and return to the palace. Your grandmother is expecting you for breakfast. She will be calling soon to scold you."

"Bane." As he passed her, she reached for his hand, stopping him on the threshold. Her large eyes looked up at him, a million unsaid words there.

He offered a small smile and touched her cheek. "No Gothamite can ever come between us, habibati. You have always been a part of me. And you always will be." Then he pulled away and returned to his room.

Once Talia was in the shower, Bane got dressed for his usual morning walk through the palace courtyards. The exercise would help loosen up his back and give him time and space to clear some of the turmoil that he had hidden from Talia. As always, he carried his phone with him, for he never allowed himself to be inaccessible to his brothers, even when he was here.

He passed Hisham on his way out, the servant carrying in the tea and rich-smelling coffee. "Will you be gone long, sir?"

"I will be back by the time you bring my breakfast, Hisham."

Once outside, moving alone with agitated strides across the pavement, Bane allowed some of his restraint to weaken. His fists clenched, and he longed for violence to release some of his pain and anger. The thought of Dominic LePage nauseated him, especially when he imagined him with Talia. The man was toying with her and was clever enough to somehow have fooled her. She was lonely, nothing more, stressed by the double life she led and still haunted by her father's death as well as his legacy. It was too much for her, Bane lamented. He never should have allowed her to take on this role. LePage would only end up hurting her, and Bane could not let that happen.

His phone began to ring. A glance at the ID encouraged him to quickly answer.

"What news, Finn?"

"I was able to confirm the intel," Finn Donnell's voice came through as clear as if he were calling locally. His tone was a bit elevated, as it often was when something of the utmost importance was discussed. "The good Doctor is indeed determined to defect. His government has increased pressure on him and threatened his family should he not turn over all of his research and submit to their designs."

"As we expected," Bane said with a nod, his focus instantly shifting from his personal pain to the requirements of his office. "Our previous efforts to acquire him have been unsuccessful. Perhaps now he will be receptive to a deal proffered by one of our brothers. I will contact Sao to arrange it."

"Well, tell him to hurry because we're not alone in this race."

"The Americans?"

"Aye, among others."

Thoughtfully Bane grunted, his mind already compiling information and formulating plans. "I will call him now."

"And you'll inform our sister? Or shall I?"

Of course Finn did not know Bane was with Talia at her grandmother's, and this fact made Bane smile a little at the continued success of their deception. "I will talk to her after I speak with Sao. I'm sure she will approve my plans and the funds necessary."

"Will you require any of my men for the extraction?"

"No, Sao's men will be sufficient. And I will personally lead the op."

"Very good."

"Keep me informed as to the plans of our American friends."

"I will. Our brother, as you know, is highly placed. He's working tirelessly on this."

"You will extend my thanks to him. Give him whatever he needs. It is time we kindle the fire, brother." Bane paused. "There is one other thing I must discuss with you. An op for one of your best assassins."

His stony gaze reached back along the large courtyard to the guesthouse, to the doors of his veranda. He saw Talia standing there, dressed only in a white robe, fresh from her shower, hair wet, a cup of tea in her hand. She was looking at him. Bane turned away, his grip tightening upon the phone.

Finn's question pulled him back. "Who is the target, brother?"

"Our sister's latest lover."