So, I can't keep away. Yeah, you might have noticed.

My idea with this series is one installment per month, no matter if pre or post Gotham.
"Scutum" was spanning March 15th through to March 18th; this one starts where we left off. Next chapter will be set around Easter. It's still April, so it counts, right? :D

Well, here it is, I hope you enjoy.
R&R!

(Review responses at the end)

Sculptor, or shaping the future one day at a time.

In which a seed is planted and it takes root.

Part 1

The Seed

Bane returned to the living room right after disposing of Helena. He slipped on a shirt, tossed carelessly on the floor minutes before, and wordlessly helped Grace transfer pot of tea and cups to the coffee table. She found some cookies and arranged them neatly on a plate.

"You don't look like a scientist," she noted, taking a seat on the other sofa and helping herself to a biscuit.

Bane poured the tea, indicating with his hands and eyes the usual questions, whether to add milk or sugar, and handed the woman her drink.

"Are you really an astrophysicist?" she continued, after nodding her thanks and taking a sip.

"Yes," he grunted. Muscles in his back were still unusually tensed, sore around his lower vertebrae. He'd have to check what that was about. For now he focused on schooling his expression in polite disinterest, and took a swig of his drink. Mmm, earl grey. Soothing.

"Do you have any publications under your name?" Grace continued to drill.

He smiled, knowing exactly where she was going.

"Of course."

"Did you write them yourself?"

"Yes. They have been reviewed by multiple peers."

"You have a lot of scars for a scholar."

"Do they bother you?"

"How did you get those burns?"

"I was in Gotham."

"You have a knack for answering questions without parting with any valuable information."

"Perhaps."

"Tell me, Anthony, what kind of scientist has motion detectors in double perimeter around his house?"

"A careful one. What kind of old lady knows how to disable them?"

"A nosy one." She smiled, smug.

Bane sipped his tea.

"I'll keep my eye on you."

He shrugged and looked to the side - Helena gathered herself enough to come to them. His eyes softened when they met her worried gaze. He knew he would be watched, scrutinized and tracked down, and all of that by people more dangerous than a retiree. He could live with whatever investigation Grace had coming. As long as Helena would be close, he would be fine. Even if close for now meant at the other side of the table, sitting on a rug of all places, like she needed to have both of them under her watchful gaze.

"So, Grace, what the fuck?" the younger woman asked, sliding the last empty cup to herself and dismissing Bane's help with a wave of her palm. She poured the tea, frowning, splashing hot liquid on the saucer.

"Language, darling."

She chuffed at the chastisement and shook her head. Two cubes of sugar splashed into the cup, and she stirred angrily.

Bane thought she looked cute when irritated. It wasn't the cold rage he was used to, nor the distant resentment he remembered. She was irked but calm. Interesting.

"Don't you language me, what was that about?"

"I was worried about you."

"Uh huh. You might have noticed somewhere in past few years that I actually live next door. Perhaps during the time you used to live in this very cottage?" The 'used to' part was stressed, with semi-threatening lean on the table towards the woman to heighten the effect.

"Darling, I was playing bridge-" Grace started, the blasé tone way different than the quick and sharp one she used to ask Bane her questions earlier.

He wondered what her agenda was . And why it seemed like he'd have to peel some layers to get to the bottom of it.

Helena groaned painfully, thumped her forehead on the table. Bane barely had time to move up and away his cup to avoid spillage.

"Are there no more physicians who respect patient confidentiality?" The scribe moaned, shoulders slumping for a bit.

"Sven asked me how you brave your cold. Imagine my surprise." To anyone else Grace looked like personification of sage aunt, careful about her little niece and mindful of her image. Bane noticed the studied way in which she arched her brow, a touch of distaste in her tone. Yup, like that fairy godmother from 'Sleeping Beauty'. The red one. What was her name?

Helena raised her head to rest it on her palm, elbow propped up on the table. Inelegant, but cute. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I imagine you left poor Graham with the dishes as soon as everyone left and trotted here asap."

Grace had the decency to blush.

"I knew it." Satisfied scoff was accompanied by a triumphant glare as Helena straightened back to take a swig of her drink.

"I just put two and two together. You let me know that Dorrance is here. Then fall silent for a week and I learned from Anna some man drove you around town. And now Sven says you were unwell. Of course I was worried."

"Of course," Bane echoed, sipping another gulp.

They both turned to him, glaring. Maybe he overdid it this time with the mocking.

"Okay, so I'm fine and I'm sure you saw that before you decided to interrupt our little tete-a-tete. Why come in for a chat?"

Bane grinned. That was the woman he knew and remembered. Even when faced with a situation potentially dangerous, or as it was now embarrassing, she never stopped analyzing its components. Why, who, when?

Refreshing his drink, and Grace's, he eagerly waited for the following explanation.

"Don't pull the wool over my eyes, missy. All this years you pretended to be just friends, and now this?" She waved her hand towards Bane. "Your generation is certainly generous with affection, I can tell you that."

He bit his cheek not to laugh. Good tactic, deflecting the attack with a blow of her own.

"We were just friends," Helena grumbled.

"And now we're friends with benefits," Bane added. "The modern way to do things." His eyes sent a clear message. He was sure the woman got it when she pressed her lips tightly together in reaction.

"Yes, you're very modern," Grace snorted. "Do you hide tattoos in there, along with all those scars? Writing your thesis with help of some weed?"

"None of your concern," he stated blandly.

"Grace, please." Outrage clear on her face as well as in her tone Helena frowned again. "That is quite enough."

"Yes, darling, it is. I can see I'm not welcome here." Her chin raised in a dignified pose. She placed the saucer back on the table, cup clinking softly, and stood up royally.

Both Bane and Helena followed.

"I will be the bigger person though and still do what I intended to when I came by," she continued. "You are both very welcome at Graham's and mine table for Easter."

"Thanks," Helena nodded, biting her lip.

Bane had a feeling Grace knew it wasn't a happy offer for him. Difficult to refuse, seeing how the scribe was obviously intended to take it.

"Goodbye then, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

She left with a satisfied smirk.

Okay, maybe she wasn't Flora, the red fairy. Maleficent suited her better.

As soon as her back cleared the corner, Helena chuckled.

"I know she's weird, but she's a good soul," she explained.

"She doesn't strike me as the friendliest of types," Bane noted.

He collected the dishes, and Helena took what he didn't manage to grab, followed him to the kitchen.

"Grace is nice, but you're right. She can be a bit idealistic in her views so when the reality doesn't fit, she bristles. Her husband is the soul of a party, and he's the one who gathers local bigwigs for their bridge and other playdates."

"You've ever been?" he asked, loading the dishwasher.

"Sure, once or twice. Too many people, I prefer visiting when there's only the two of them, or three more friends at most. Sunday roast sit-downs, mostly."

"Hmm," he grunted, swiping a dishcloth over the counter.

Helena looked back to the coffee table, checking if everything was in order. The memory of kiss on the sofa warmed her cheeks. That was more than nice. Feeling Bane between her legs was better than anything she experienced in the past few months, and he didn't really have a chance to actually get to work. He had full reign of his body now, so they could finally have proper, dirty, sweaty and sticky sex in the light of day, with full use of every orifice they wanted to abuse.

She nearly moaned at the thought.

It was so foolish though, to entice him when she knew he was far from okay.

Best thing to do would be ensuring he was stable, as soon as humanly possible. Which she hoped would be a record time since Bane excelled seemingly at everything he touched. Why would recovery be any different?

"Would you like to set up Lully?" She offered, turning with her hands resting comfortably on her hips. Open enough, but confident instead of meek.

"Of course." Bane leered.

That would bring Helena to his bedroom. She was aware of his train of thought.

"Don't get any ideas. You go do it yourself. I'm going back to mine to see if the cottage still stands. I shall return in the evening," she professed playfully, but steadily.

A clear message. Don't follow, find something to do. I won't leave for long.

"I'll make some dinner," he offered gruffly.

She was surprised, but easily smiled after initial pause.

"Great. Looking forward to it."

oOo

Helena woke up to the sound of a gardening show, soothing voice of Monty Don instructing what to do when carrot fly attacks. Fearsome prospect that it was, she calmly drew in a deep breath and straightened a bit on the sofa. Bane was at her side, looking lost in thought, cradling her to his chest. She let herself cuddle back closer than before, and wallowed in the heat and scent of him.

Dinner was lavish and plentiful, and she drank a bit too much wine. That was the only reason she let Bane get this close. Maybe also the fact he agreed to watch some shows she liked. All was right in the world, nothing pressing to do, nothing important to address. She looked at the screen idly as stills of summer garden flicked on and off.

"You want to go back to your room for the night?"

She sighed into his flank, reluctantly shifting and straightening.

"I should, yeah," she said, the last word distorted with a yawn.

"I'll call in James to escort you."

In a blink she was wide awake. Trying to hide her alarm she didn't move, observed him in the window. The reflection was blurry but his broad frame easily discernible illuminated by faint glow of the computer.

"Okay," she said tentatively, waiting for his next move.

Bane stood up, grunting as his spine complained, leaning palms on his thighs. He went to the glass door and stilled.

"James is not here, isn't he?"

"I don't know where he is," Helena confirmed, unsure what Bane meant by 'here' exactly.

She frowned, concerned, and watched as his back tensed.

"I thought we were back in Gotham," he admitted.

"Where are we now?"

"Home."

Finally she decided to stand up and scale the gap between them. The fireplace was as dark as the rest of the room, but coals radiated warmth still. She shivered as she left the comfort of nearby sofa to stand by the cold glass alongside Bane. Carefully, she slithered her hand in his palm. A non-threatening, reassuring gesture. He squeezed back gently without a word. Helena still wasn't certain he was with her, but she didn't dare pressing him further. Since she wasn't with him during the siege he might have thought she was Talia. Or some other woman. Finding that out wasn't on top of her priority list right now.

"We should go to sleep," he said, a dejected tone in his whisper.

Helena realized he avoided rest for the past two days. Since his episode with the knife.

"You want to take a shower first?"

"Not really," he countered, shaking his head. "You won't sleep with me?"

"Not this time. But I can sit by until you fall asleep," she proposed.

"Don't treat me like a child, Helena," he sneered.

Relief made her smile sheepishly. Anger she could work with. It was the mute, low-spirited Bane she didn't know what to do about.

"I'm not. I can assure you I will be portraying you naked under those sheets. Wouldn't do that to a kid," she teased.

He chuckled lowly, appreciating her effort at lightening the mood.

"You had me fooled with your past flings." He winked. "And I thought you remembered I prefer to sleep nude."

"Ha, ha, very funny."

They walked down the corridor together, silencing Monty Don's rant about tomatoes on their way with Bane thudding the laptop shut. Helena stopped just before his door, and let herself be pulled close in a tight hug.

"See you in the morning," she mumbled in Bane's shoulder, fighting with herself to disengage and move back.

He stopped her, strong arms keeping her close. Not insistently, but firmly enough to counteract her motion. Soft kiss on her temple had her melting back into him, huffing a soft moan. She didn't have enough courage to vocalize everything she felt. Wasn't cruel enough to tell him she loved him, then go away to sleep in the other room. But the understanding between them grew, both of them reluctant to part.

In the end Bane's chest heaved with last intake of breath, making her smile as she heard him sniffing her hair, and he sighed.

"Goodnight, Helena."

oOo

She heard him toss and turn, rustle of sheets and muted creaks of bedframe as telling as his frustrated grunts. He didn't sleep, and she was trying to wait him out, but it was harder and harder as minutes trickled by, the hum of gale comforting despite anxiousness simmering in her gut. To stay awake read every piece of news on the sites she frequented, found a romance novel online, and even tried browsing for some movies. None of that held her interest for longer than half an hour.

She tried to recount the instances she could be sure he slept, from the day he came, up until now. The calculation was disturbing. On the first night, right after their talk, he probably caught couple of hours at best, since he read through all those messages she sent to Tony. To him. Then two nights she couldn't be sure about. Then the one where she was here, the one with the knife. He slept, but she was sure he didn't get much rest. Then on Sunday he had a proper deep sleep, she spent most of the night listening in on him, much as she did now, so she was sure. On Tuesday morning she remembered him miraculously tidying up all books in the living area - he must have started deep into the night. Wednesday and Thursday she slept deeply so didn't have a clue, but Friday she was sure he didn't rest at all because he made bread. The wonderful smell actually woke her up much to her surprise and delight; it meant not only a delicious breakfast waiting for her, but also that her sinuses were finally clear. Saturday again unsure, but since that was the day Grace came, Bane was agitated for the rest of the night. And finally yesterday, when she was positive he stayed up with his research. All in all, she was certain he didn't sleep for half of the nights she counted, and was uncertain about the rest but one, so that didn't help to settle her mind at ease.

He must have been exhausted, and she kept rejecting him, challenging him every step of the way, making him prove he wanted to be here, with her.

Realizing she had essentially been a bitch to him, she reached out for her phone and quickly checked a fact she half remembered. Thanks to the internet she had her confirmation in mere minutes.

With a decisive huff she got up to dress. The noise she made was deliberate. In a quiet minute when she sat down to shake sleep off and calm herself, her ears strained to catch any sounds coming from Bane's bedroom. Nothing. She smirked. So he listened to her as well.

Making a show of waving a hand through the gap in ajar door she alerted him to her presence outside.

"I'm up," he said.

She opened the door but stood on the threshold, holding the handle. Partly to do something with her hands, partly to stop herself from going to him and snuggling close.

"Gathered as much." She gulped, losing her thread of thought. He was bare chested, thin sheet low on his hips, sprawled comfortably in the middle of white linens, propped up a bit on the headboard. Smug smirk twisted his lips.

Those lips. She kissed them not two days ago.

"You were saying?"

"Oh, right," she murmured. "I'm going to my cottage."

His smile vanished.

"Can't stand listening to your tossing, and I have a nice herbal tea back there. Would you like to tag along?"

He nodded and she wasted no time in turning away and walking slowly to the living room, lest she saw too much and wouldn't be able to leave at all.

Bane didn't keep her waiting long, and they set into the night, dark, cold and damp, walking in companionable silence down a rocky path.

"New Moon coming or going?" she asked, opening her door.

"Coming. Should be next week."

Wooden steps muffled sound of their boots when they descended to the kitchen area.

"What are you working on when you think I don't look?"

"My memoirs."

Helena chuckled, looking for the box with tea, while Bane put on the kettle. She chucked the bags into mugs and stood by, hip propped on the counter, waiting.

Bane leaned his hands on the wood beside her, bending his head and stretching his spine.

"I'd like you to get that looked at," she said.

"Would you come with me?"

She thought about it. Was it really to his advantage if she coddled him every step of the way? Should she accommodate his wishes, or was it better to make him deal with everything on his own?

Before she realized the silence stretched for too long.

"Never mind," he huffed, straightening back up.

The kettle whistled, and he turned the heat off and poured the water.

"What's in that tea?"

"Lemon balm, chamomile, hops, mint, passiflora and lemongrass," she read.

"Comprehensive blend," he noted.

Steam billowed under cold clinical light, the mugs a deep indigo, framed at the top with burnt sienna corresponding to the oak of the tabletop. Helena watched them for a while, aware that she was observed in turn.

"Let's make a fire, hmm?"

Bane nodded and started up to get to the back terrace and the fire pit, leaving her to gather both mugs and then collect some blankets and pillows to make a comfortable nest by the fire. By the time she was done with her task, Bane has completed his. He made last corrections to a neat bonfire raised up on rusted planes of steel, then turned to sit on a chair, cushioned and covered. Let Helena fuss over him, tucking warm wool wherever she saw fit, before she handed him his mug.

"Thank you," he said, looking in the flames.

Last time he spent a night like this he was on a beach with Talia, watching summer spectacle of a meteor shower unfold over their heads.

"You're very welcome," the scribe said, smiling pleasantly over her tea.

"For bringing me out of there," he clarified. "I appreciate it. In fact, I appreciate everything you're trying to do," he admitted looking her straight in the eye.

"I'm sorry I've been unpleasant."

Bane shook his head, but she silenced him with a frown.

"No, really. I want to be with you. It's just… You keep telling me to come to you. You have to give me room to make at least one step then." She reasoned. "I don't want you anymore hurt than you are. And that will happen if you have another fit while sleeping, if I'll be in bed with you and you'll see me as some ghost from your past."

Her words were merciless, but she knew he could see what was the reason for them. No matter what he was before, she was with him now.

"So, no sex until I'm healed?" He was bad at hiding his disappointment.

"No sleeping together," she corrected. It would be too harsh to shut that door completely. On both of them. Especially with the way he perked up. "But for now, I'd like you to settle and find a comfortable schedule, without a disruption some good, um, exercise would bring."

He hummed, mulling over her words.

"That sounds reasonable."

"Also, I've noticed that if an episode happens it's around one or two in the morning. We could program Lully and give it a week to see if it helps. But you need a regular sleeping pattern for that to work."

"Mhm."

They finished tea and kept staring at the flames, Bane occasionally getting up to feed them.

Helena fought to keep her eyes open.

At one point she dozed off. Cold wind sneaked under blanket, the fabric slipping out of her fingers when she slouched in her chair. Her head fell back too far and she startled, aware that she was being carried, but too cozy to really do anything. Bane was murmuring something softly, shifting her in his arms. She focused on the cadence of his voice, deep rumble going through his chest and the warmth surrounding her.

Review responses here:

Adarya, Hello my dear, so happy to hear from you again! Missed you too. :) I was so hyped after reading your reviews I got right on to writing the follow-up. And here it is!
Did you get around to reading the last part of "Scutum"? Did you like it? Do you want me to write anything more for you? I have this other piece from "November batch", when they were in Armenia, it's on the back burner for now. Say a word and I'll get right to it. :D

Esperanza, thanks for dropping by. Delighted you enjoyed the dialogue, I was actually anxious about it.
Homeland Sec. will make a comeback. Friends will appear. I'm so, so very glad you liked it despite the wait. :)

Lantern3, Why you're most certainly welcome. I write to please. Who here haven't obsessed over a fic (or ten)? You have nothing to feel embarrassed about. Unless you'll imagine the way I blush and smile reading about it.
The almond scent is mostly a reference to characters I tend to use in my writings, to familiarize myself better with them, to build them in my imagination. The OC from "Taboo" fic smells of irises (fashionable during early XIX century, and pleasant natural fragrance); the one from "Thief" have aroma of peaches (that will play a role in second part, if I ever get to write that); and Helena has almonds, because believe it or not, I do know someone who kind of smells like almond and cherry pastry. Weird, but true.
Even though bitter and sweet almonds are nearly identical, I never meant for Helena to have this profound shadow looming after her, in the idea that it was all a metaphor for bringing life; it's too big. If anything, she's a killer, so she should smell of cyanide not sweet almonds...

Splendiferous7, how nice to see you again! Helena is more stubborn than smart in my mind. Which is why I'm still debating how she will call him. "Babe" was an idea of my phone. It kept correcting me, when I wrote "The Scientist", and it is kind of interesting to have this great, big, brutish looking, grunting and snarling beast of a man... and call him Babe. Like in Iliza Schlesinger piece ("Freezing Hot", do watch!).
Great news about Tom Hardy. Although, Bane doesn't necessarily have to look like him. Just sayin'. ;)