Chapter Nineteen: You Need to Heal in Order to Die

Bane's breathing hitched dangerously out of sync with the timed frequency of his aerosolized breathing rate at the single word that slipped from between her lips.

That single no was water on a dying plant.

Bane never blinked or took his eyes away from Gwendolyn after her eyes fell away from his naked torso.

Gwendolyn rubbed at her eyes, feeling grit in the corners as she looked around the medical suite. "Where am I?" she asked as she brought her eyes back to Bane's, struggling not to stare at his broad, bare chest.

Bane carefully closed the distance between himself and her elevated hospital bed.

"Do you remember what happened Miss Mourn?"

Gwendolyn squinted at the blinding overhead fluorescent lighting as Bane drew closer.

A bolt of pain shot from her shoulder and across her chest as she tried to sit upright too fast.

"Someone shot me?" Gwendolyn asked with a high lilt as she raised the hand of her uninjured arm, shakily hovering over her heavily bandaged shoulder.

Bane nodded as he fiddled with a prefilled syringe at her bedside, the contents a pain reliever that would keep the bulk of her discomfort at bay but allow her to remain conscious, start moving around more, begin to regain her strength.

"Why did you save me?" Gwendolyn asked as she smoothed her hands over the stiff bed linen.

Bane regarded her silently, his lack of an answer made Gwendolyn think she was only being kept alive long enough to do Talia's bidding and then most likely killed.

Gwendolyn had no clue to the turmoil that was happening in the front of Bane's mind.

She had no idea the pyroclastic meeting of hurricane-force thoughts, actions and subsequent consequences that whirled in Bane's frontal lobe.

"What is that?" she asked, her voice hoarse when Bane flicked a couple bubbles from the syringe as he turned towards her.

"It'll help you heal Miss Mourn," he murmured in a soothing melody.

"Where are we?" Gwendolyn asked as Bane pushed the contents of the syringe into her IV tubing.

He adjusted the rate of flow before answering. "Somewhere for you to heal, somewhere safe."

"What happens after I heal?" she asked in a choked whisper.

Bane began to turn away, ignoring her question because he couldn't give voice to his wants.

"Please," Gwendolyn pleaded as she shot out her hand, gripping onto his muscular forearm.

Bane froze at her touch, turning back perceptible of slowness. Behind his mask, his mouth grew dry, his mechanical breathing turned into a series of struggling, staccato wheezes.

Behind his mask, he pressed his lips together before raggedly exhaling, focusing all of his attention on her IV tubing, wiping an alcohol swab over the port before emptying the contents of the syringe into the plastic bag of fluid.

"How long will I be here?" Gwendolyn asked as she stared up at Bane's masked profile, unable to stop her gaze from sliding down the vascular striation of his neck, the rounded curves of his broad shoulders, bare chest, and belly. Her sparkling cerulean orbs traced each scar, each raised ridge of malformed tissue that marred his skin.

"I don't know Miss Mourn," Bane finally admitted.

Gwendolyn didn't believe him.

Bane truly wasn't sure how long they'd be there. He knew that she had to heal, his eyes couldn't help but flick to the plastic drain protruding from her gauze-swathed shoulder. Bane knew at this point, Gwendolyn had to be handled with care, the surgical drain was anchored into place with a thick suture, and he wouldn't allow himself to risk complications by moving her around too soon.

Before Gwendolyn could press him with more questions, Doctor August Fell chose that exact moment to knock three times on her closed door.

Gwendolyn heard the primitive growl escape from the front of Bane's mask at the interruption.

She watched him disappear behind the privacy curtain, straining her journalist ears but unable to discern what Bane and Doctor Fell were discussing.

Doctor Fell's nurse appeared with a tray of food for Gwendolyn, light and easy to digest foods with her belly still sensitive from the opiate and anesthetic remaining in her system.

As August Fell's nurse slipped by Bane, hugging the doorway in order to have no possible contact with the muscularly impressive, masked man, Doctor Fell explained in a low tone that he'd received a phone call from Talia and had told her about Gwendolyn needing surgery and that she was now recovering.

Behind his mask, Bane clenched his teeth until his jaw popped, he hadn't wanted Talia to know what had happened, didn't want her showing up earlier than she'd intended due to the shooting and how that could impact her message getting out to the people of Gotham City.

Bane didn't want to leave Gwendolyn's room but wanted to continue the conversation without the risk of her hearing something that frightened her further.

Bane peeked around the privacy curtain, catching Doctor Fell's nurse peeling open a small container of vanilla pudding for Gwendolyn.

"I need to attend to a pressing matter Miss Mourn," Bane delivered on a mechanical rasp, staring a few moments longer before abruptly leaving her room, closing the door firmly behind himself.

As Doctor Fell's nurse remained with Gwendolyn for a while longer, Bane and August Fell continued their conversation in the hall outside her room.

Bane knew as August Fell spoke, that he was withholding the entirety of his conversations with Talia.

Doctor August Fell was keeping a lot unsaid. He didn't dare allude to the fact that he'd told Talia about Bane's possessiveness and protectiveness of Gwendolyn once she'd arrived at the Tri-Towers. How he'd told Talia about the bed baths and the demand for quiet and privacy upon threat of his very fucking life.

August Fell's conversation with Talia had been brief but left Talia with a dull ache in her belly when she ended the call.

She wasn't going to be able to get to the Tri-Towers until the end of the week as she'd initially told Bane, but her worry had been mollified to some degree when Dr. Fell explained that Gwendolyn couldn't be moved in the immediacy and that the masked man seemed to understand that, in addition her surgical drain wouldn't be removed for a couple of days based on her healing progress. Talia reiterated her plan to arrive at the Tri-Towers and ended the call with August Fell, returning to the plethora of tasks, meetings, and an unending agenda as she stepped back into the couture heels of Miranda Tate.

As Dr. Fell and his small staff retired to their living quarters or stations for the evening, Bane returned to Gwendolyn's room.

He found her deeply asleep when he pulled the privacy curtain out of the way.

Bane crept into the room softly, his footfalls quietly nonexistent despite his bulk.

He stopped at the side of her raised hospital bed, the monitors offering a soothing lullaby of her various functions with regular tings, beeps, and chimes.

Behind his mask, Bane licked his lips as his eyes fell upon a smudge of vanilla pudding that clung to her lower lip.

His hazel eyes exploded with temptation as his hands moved without thinking and fumbled with the various snaps and straps of his mask. Bane depressed a teal blue button that temporarily converted his breathing to his damaged pulmonary system, he couldn't sustain the state long but would risk feeling like a turtle stuck on its back in the desert as the moon rose and carnivorous nocturnal creatures sniffed out his exposed, vulnerable belly.

Bane pushed his mask off his face before slowly reaching out and brushing his thumb along her lower lip, capturing the pudding on the scarred pad of his thumb.

His eyes pulsed but never left her sleeping face as he brought his thumb to his scarred mouth, licking the overly sweetened pudding from his rough skin.

Bane closed his eyes as his body was wracked with a shudder of pleasure, willing to suffocate to inhale the delicate scent of her skin as he lowered his face, his lips hovering over hers.

A frown pulled at his forehead and hobbled his surging lust as he felt a stab of regret for the hastiness of their coupling, his frantic touch and neglecting to savor any part of it. He hadn't bothered to take the time to find out how to make her breathing change as she couldn't articulate her pleasure.

As Gwendolyn continued to sleep in her heavily sedated state, Bane pressed his lips to the side of her mouth, catching the anesthetic odor of her wound dressing and light scent from the hypoallergenic soap.

"Would you choose to leave here with me Miss Mourn?" Bane asked her unconscious face.