Although this chapter picks the story up just when we left it in "Scientist", the following won't necessarily be a linear chronological continuation. Think of it as a journey through space and time on a ship of imagination. :D There will be some stuff from the future and some from the past, intertwined but not really rigidly connected.

Scutum, or the unexpected reactions of a troubled heart.

In which nothing is as it seems at first.

Part 1

The Talk

Helena's eyes never left his, staring in wonder, still not really believing he was here.

"We haven't got a chance at proper introduction," he smiled down at her, a boyish, honest grin. "Anthony Dorrance. Astrophysicist."

Her complexion turned an interesting shade of greyish green. Bane's smile faltered as he observed changing emotions on her face; irises steeled in an expression he remembered all too well from their last conversation.

"You fucker."

This wasn't what he had planned. His hands flew to her arms, keeping her close when he saw the slightest indication she might move away.

"Helena…"

"You stuck up, bloody megalomaniac. Do you have any idea... No of course you don't." Her lips thinned. "You talked with me through all those years and never mentioned you're… you?"

"What do you want me to say? Would you expect me to write: Hi, it's Bane, don't tell CIA my secret identity. I miss you, so let's not be mad at each other. You said some things, I said some things. I broke your leg, you killed our child. No hard feelings. Let's go back to the way things were when you were my prisoner?"

She gave him a withering glare at first, but in the end couldn't hold in a little laugh at his outrageous words.

"You always were utterly ridiculous."

The way she said it made it clear she wouldn't dismiss the notion he'd say it all as entirely impossible. She fell limply forward, rested her forehead on his clavicle, inhaled deeply.

Bane buried his nose in hair at the top of her head. Almonds. Sweet smell mixed with something warm and flowery, finally real and not imagined.

"I couldn't tell you. I should keep away from you, but I couldn't bear it. So I arranged for you to work for me. And we had to communicate then. And I could steal bits of information from you. Get to know how you were holding up. Were you happy? What did you need to be satisfied?"

"All I ever wanted was a peaceful life," she murmured, snuggling closer. "And I lost that the moment I met you." She looked up at him, earnestly. "And it was worth every minute being together."

He swallowed over a hitch in his throat.

"I want you to get away with me, soon." Another misstep, he saw it even before he finished the sentence. Sighing deeply he stroked her back. "But let's not spoil today with talk of the future. Sit with me."

"We should talk about future. And past. And what does it mean, that you're here now," she argued.

Bane nodded, a short curt movement of his head.

"Take a seat please."

She circled him, careful, considering.

"To talk?"

Signature curt nod put her at ease, but not entirely.

"How do you want to do this?" Bane asked. Best to be done with questions swiftly.

"Explain from the beginning. How did you become the man you are?"

"You understand it will take a good while."

She marvelled at range of emotions clearly visible on his face. Irritation, showing in tensing of his jaw. Delicately flaring nostrils in anger over her persistence. Obviously, he didn't want to hide from her, which in itself was a big theatrical gesture. Probably calculated. Still, she liked it. Appreciated the thought.

Before Helena could answer, her stomach emitted a growl worthy of a prowling tiger.

"I have time," she said quickly.

Lopsided grin made her heart melt. How many of those had she missed back at the monastery? Over the years apart?

"Hungry?"

"Rather peckish, yes," she admitted sheepishly. "I have some soup back at my place, we could go there?"

"No need to relocate, I am perfectly prepared to provide for my guest. If you please," he said, gesturing towards open kitchen behind them.

Helena sighed slightly and obediently shuffled to a barstool overlooking working station.

"What do you have? And don't think I'm taking you off the hook, you can still speak while working."

"Indeed," he murmured, the sound muffled slightly by refrigerator door between them.

"Indulge me and tell what did Americans relay to you about my beginnings."

"Later."

"Humour me."

"Perhaps later," she said, watching his hands and stressing the first word. If she looked up her resolve would crumble. "You start, and then we'll straighten out any doubts and fill up blanks later."

Bane's hands stilled for two seconds over vegetables. "As you wish. I will give you shortened version, and then elaborate if you find yourself curious about any details. Is that acceptable?"

"Perfectly, yes."

"Before that, a drink?" he asked, turning without waiting for a reply.

"You're stalling," she noted dully. "Why?"

He brought out two bottles of beer, handed one to Helena after opening it with his thumb.

She stared for a second, astonished, and then a slow leer creeped on her lips.

"Neat party trick."

He winked over the bottle at her, as he took a healthy swig.

"Liquid courage," he admitted.

Helena only arched one brow at that. As if he ever needed that.

Bane went back to chopping.

"I was born exactly fifty one years ago, in part of the world that can only be described as backward and forgotten. My father was a terrorist, mother also, although she would probably use term guerrilla fighter. None of that mattered anyway. She had delivered me in prison, which she was an inmate at. I was to serve my father's sentence, since he was resourceful enough to escape the country before being apprehended."

His face was blank, as if he recited a passage from a book.

"First five years of my life are a mystery even to me. Sometime then my mother died. I don't really remember her. I was crawling through corners and shadows, until one day someone noticed me, took care of me. But the prison is no place for a child. I killed a man for the first time when I was six."

Slight smile stretched his mouth on one side, a memory bringing back complicated feelings, not all bad.

"Life in the prison, we called it the Pit, was the only thing I knew until I got myself a teacher. Some priest, imprisoned for god knows what. Pathetic man. I was a teenager by then, and I showed him the ropes. He taught me to read in exchange."

"I read everything in sight. Every little scrap of junk I had was traded for books. I learned about history and fantastic world of manners and kindness, so foreign to me. The priest noticed my hunger for knowledge, and as I grew he used it to procure more favours from me. He showed me direction in which to study, told me which titles, authors to seek."

"Then, when I was about sixteen, they lowered another pregnant woman in the pit. Another child was to suffer through its father's sentence. Naturally, I was curious. There were women between us, but the new one was different. She was delicate, proud in a way no one else I saw was. And calm. I couldn't understand how she was so peaceful. Serene."

Helena observed how his body transformed, moving in softer more careful way, with gentleness she rarely glimpsed before. Now she knew who inspired that in his heart.

"She had knowledge no one else could have. We became friends, and when she finally delivered the baby I vowed to protect the little girl with my life. Her name was Talia. You might know her as Miranda Tate."

As could be expected, the scribe gasped in surprise. Everyone on Earth knew name of Gotham's benefactor turned villain.

"When she was four there was an accident. A man who was taking care of her mother, our medic, forgot to bolt the cell they occupied. Left them vulnerable." Bane fell silent, processing anew the rage he felt, the horror and despair. "You understand, a woman of this finery at the fingertips of all those people… We were all animals, but some more than others," his voice trailed, jaw set in an uneasy, angry grimace. "She died soon after."

"I took care of Talia. As she grew, I taught her everything I knew. Prepared her to escape the Pit. And she did. She did so beautifully, went without any hesitation or regrets weighing her down, like I never could. I made her run and stayed behind myself making sure no one would touch her. On that day I got most of my scars and the pain that later… Well, we'll come to that. Eat."

Helena straightened, shaking her head slightly. Bane's tale was mesmerizing. He seemed mostly detached. Mostly. Whenever he spoke of Talia or her mother every emotion he felt towards them was visible on his face.

With healthy dose of surprise she looked down at the plate he set before her. Simple sautéed chicken and mashed potatoes, with mushroom gravy. Chopped salad on the side. It looked delicious. Tentatively she dug in, after stealthy glance to her left to make sure Bane ate too.

"It's really good," she said.

"Why, thank you," Bane swung another sip of his beer. "Why so surprised?"

"Didn't think you had time to cook."

"I make time for important things in my life," he replied, challenge clear in his eyes. "Besides, it's hardly a complicated ordeal."

"Shall we continue with your story?"

"Let's finish eating first."

He seemed sad. Helena couldn't make herself press him harder. Gripping fork tighter than necessary, she tried to convince herself the urge to comfort him was natural.

Too soon for that still.

They ate in silence.

At one point Bane moved his elbow slightly too far and bumped Helena's forearm just as she raised a piece of chicken. The look she sent him after eyeballing cross-eyed her soiled nose was devastating.

"Really, Bane?"

"That wasn't intentional," he chuckled, leaning over the counter to get a paper towel.

"It's hard to believe that sentence whenever you're involved," she said, sulking.

He scoffed and gently wiped sauce off her face, holding her still with warm fingers under her chin.

"I could do it myself," she murmured, forcing herself to keep frowning, even after he let her go. Her ears warmed.

"I know." He tucked back into his potatoes. "Still, the damage was done by me, so it's only natural I was the one who took care of it."

Helena glanced at him just as he licked some sauce off his lips. The argument died on her tongue, mind went blank.

"Also, you let me," he said looking pensively ahead.

When they finished, Bane cleaned the dishes, refreshed Helena's drink and ordered her to get cozy on the sofa.

She had a little panic attack while he was still busy in the kitchen, thinking over how and where to sit. Should she lay sprawled on one sofa, making him rest separately on the other? Sit, prim and proper, leaving him enough space to recline nearby? Would he even want to? Eventually, she decided to leave a bit of suspense for herself, and curled up in a corner, shielding her legs with a blanket. Sufficiently open, since there was more than enough place beside, but visibly closed off to any contact.

He sat at the opposite side, legs sprawled, leaning on the backrest while nursing his half-finished beer.

"Where did I stop?"

"You know where. Scars."

"Ah yes. Courtesy of the medic. He tried stitching me up after I was beaten by other inmates. The result you saw. Also, there was pain. A lot of crippling pain. Coincidentally, we had a plague at that time too," he added conversationally. "I'm not sure how long it lasted. Enough said, when rescue came, I was indifferent to anything but death."

"Rescue?"

"Talia found her father after escaping. His name was Henri Ducard, a mercenary. Only he became much more than that during those ten long years between Talia's conception and the day she located him. He was known as Ra's al Ghul, Demon's Head, the leader of League of Shadows."

Helena would have burst with laughter, if she hadn't heard that outrageous name before in correlation with Gotham.

"Are you a part of this organization?" she poked tentatively.

"I was," he nodded. His eyes were glued all the time to the sight outside.

Helena kept observing him.

"I was rescued at Talia's explicit request. Most of inmates were killed during that operation, but some survived. The medic. My teacher. I was taken to League headquarters, nursed back to relative health. It was then I was given the mask. It operated on a volatile, extremely addictive drug. Venom. No idea who thought of the name, but it was very apt. It had unfathomably strong painkilling effect, and also acted as a booster. One of the reasons my muscle mass was so great."

"It's still not too shabby."

"I'm a shadow of my former self," he noted without bitterness. "Both Talia and I were trained in martial arts, history and most importantly - purpose of the League. They discovered my good sides, and honed them to make me a perfect killer. All the time, I could feel Ducard resenting me, for fulfilling fathers' role in his daughter's life. Eventually, I was excommunicated out of the league over a minor mistake, and had to make a name for myself."

His head shifted on the backrest, gaze piercing. "I did everything to make people fear my very name. How I got it you might suspect," he smiled as Helena nodded. "And then I multiplied every cruel deed by ten, and then more still, until I could wait until work came to me, instead of the other way around. I couldn't see Talia often enough, because her father forbid any contact, so we had to hide well. I had more than enough time to plot, burn, pillage and destroy. Then you happened."

There was something in the way he said it, that made Helena's heart ache. Timbre of his voice hitched, wistfulness crept between the syllables, reminding both of them of everything that transpired.

"It was only a year. Not even that." Helena stated. Defensively, but with a hint of resolute determination. She won't be swayed or distracted again.

Bane smiled, looking out to the sea.

"You unsettled me. I never felt the need to experience the so called normal life. You changed that." He swallowed another gulp of beer, frowned at the bottle and put it away. "But then I had to let you go."

She wanted to tell him she was sorry, comfort him and smoothen the bitter grimace around his lips. Her hands fisted on the blanket, eyes turned to the sea as well.

"Right after I left the monastery, I got a word about Ra's al Ghul's death. He was the man who tried to destroy Gotham back in 2008."

"What?"

"The attack that had mass panic and unexplainable fear, looting and pillaging, the one that ended with a train crashing in the middle of the city? That was him."

"Oh, shit."

"Indeed." Bane nodded solemnly. "Talia came to me pledging to help her take up his mantle as Demon's Head. So I did. I plotted destruction of Gotham for years, all because little girl missed her daddy."

The regret was dripping from every word. Helena startled when she looked at him again and saw tears streaking slowly down his cheeks.

"And all that effort wasted anyway."

Helena's hand gained its own conscience for a second, long enough to reach out to Bane. She couldn't touch him, it was too far, but the gesture was enough for him to lean closer and down, laying his head on her legs. For a second she was at a loss, but then instinct and emotions took over and she smoothed her palm through his hair.

Her voice was calm and steady, without hint of forgiveness when she spoke.

"But you would kill all those people without regret, if the bomb would have exploded."

"Of course," he admitted. "For the longest time I was forced into the narrative of fighting forces of evil, of corruption, of greed and shamelessness. We were supposed to be the pure ones, the scalpel to cut out the rot." His fingers played with the thread of fabric before his eyes. "I knew it wasn't true. Only at the end I realized Talia did as well and she planned to bury us all. To truly rid the world of those who soiled it."

"What a crock of shit," Helena whispered.

Bane smiled.

"Wait, but why are you presumed dead? How did you escape that showdown at City Hall?"

"I was preparing the siege itself since early 2009. There were measures I took. We had a hiccup in 2013, which made me think everything over again and make even more preparations in case of any possibility I could think of." Slow smile crept on his lips. "I can imagine great many possibilities."

Helena never doubted that.

"For one, I had these cottages built. For you," he looked up.

Helena's breath caught in her throat at raw feelings clearly visible there.

He lay back down, tossing slightly to adjust his spine.

"I had hideouts and bunkers in various parts of Gotham. I had redundancies, stashes, contacts and double agents, all prepared. So when all hell broke loose, quite literally because I was hit with a rocket, there were enough resources to hide me long enough. And my men are fiercely loyal, so they never even thought of betraying me."

There was that spark, steely resolve and a hint of grandeur, the one she saw in full blown flame in the videos from Gotham.

She couldn't let herself forget he was the same man.

"Good for you?" she managed dryly.

He looked up at her again, confused at her sarcasm.

"They were resources that let me live through an injury that would kill most people."

Them and an enemy, who turned out to be a friend, he thought.

Helena kept petting his hair, but her eyes were cold, calculating.

"Why are you here, Bane? You have enough hideouts ready for you, I'm sure."

"I've got no home, no place to think of as a home. And I'm in love with you. Have been for years."

The effect his words had on Helena astonished him.

She frowned, lips setting into a thin, bitter line.

"What do you expect me to say?" she scoffed. "You leave me without a word for years, even after making sure what I think about you, how embarrassingly often I think about you," she laughed mirthlessly, "How I compare every man in my life to you. In every way. God, you goaded me into confiding in you. In Tony the safe friend, the pal who never got too close, the guy who always understood!" Voice rose to a shout she stood up, leaving Bane stranded on the blanket. "And never been there for me in person!"

Angrily she wiped tears from her cheeks, irritated they even were there. She was irate, not sad.

"I made sure you stayed safe and content throughout the years. Doesn't it count for at least something?" he said hotly, straightening up and looking down at her.

"Does it make me indebted to you?" she hissed, raising her chin to challenge him with a stare.

"It makes us connected," he reasoned, calmly now. Hand he stretched towards her hung for a while in the air, after she reflexively shifted away. "At least I thought it did," he finished.

Helena shook her head in denial, biting on her bottom lip.

"I need to think about it all. Sleep on it." She moved to the door. "Will you be here tomorrow?"

Bane nodded.

"Thanks for dinner," she said leaving.

Before she rounded a corner, she caught a glimpse of Bane running fingers through his hair in frustration.

Well, it was a rollercoaster of a night. If she stayed she couldn't keep away from him and that would cloud her mind. She needed to clear head to deal with that situation.

Tomorrow.