Lately I'm devastated with how brilliant other people are. Sorry for uncharacteristically late update. I'm a bit down lately, and this chapter is not what it could be if I felt better, but I've been sitting on it way too long as it is. 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 the sapling turns out to be something different than what was planted.
Part 2
The Weed
Bane sighed, releasing a thick cloud of vapour, feeling the tension escape him further along with air leaving his lungs.
Aware that the ritual was as important to him as the drug, he took care now to find half an hour both before and after sleep. Helena welcomed the brackets he imposed on their activities, easily swallowing his explanation. Meditation. Wasn't a lie, not technically, since he did that, too. Only, after a session he took out a small vaporizer and a vial of green oil he got from Dr Isley and imbibed. THC did work on him, to his quiet astonishment. Not wonders, even though the essence was from some novelty variety crossbred by the botanist; nothing could compare with the instant thunderous impact of Venom. Nevertheless it helped him chill and dulled some of his aches to a point he believed he behaved like a normal guy. Regular Frank, not looking over his shoulder at every louder sound, not jumping at unfamiliar shadows, not lashing out at strangers visiting his property uninvited.
He thought he could live without it, without the scheduled regularity, but then the episode with the knife happened. So he kept on taking two, sometimes three doses every day.
Helena's suggestion that he should start smoking marijuana delighted him. His prim and proper scribe ready to break the rules for him. Only for him. Always, for him.
With each passing day he was more and more besotted with her.
To his dismay, it didn't help settle him in his sleep. And she saw him that night when reality shifted, the fabric of time overlapping so that he was at the same time back in the condo in Gotham, with Talia sullenly complaining about Wayne, and yet aware that the body beside him was Helena's, so his mind made a connection telling him he must have been at the Armenian compound. She surprised him again that night, twice. First with how calm she reacted, letting him gently fall away from the mirage his mind conjured. And then later, when she took him out and away from fruitless and frustrating tossing and turning on the bed. Once again she was attuned to him, fitting in his cracks and crevices, filling out inadequacies, tempering sharp points and overeager tendencies. With a start he realized she led him and he followed gladly, a revelation at once baffling and oddly satisfying. Maybe leading wasn't the best word, he thought smirking and inhaling deep the vapour, guiding seemed much more suitable. Helena herself insisted on them walking side by side, even if she was the one who set the destination. He still had ample opportunity to discuss the path, chart the course together and pick the tempo; if he wanted. She was his compass and at the same time the azymuth he followed. Ultimately it boiled down to the fact he wanted to be wherever she was, whether on the move or rooted to the ground.
oOo
Much like back at the monastery they quickly developed a comfortable routine. Both slept in their respective beds, but the days were spent intermittently together, either on mornings or evenings. Sometimes Helena would sleep over at Bane's.
She still couldn't bring herself to call him by his real name.
Schedule cemented after a week, when the first signs of true comfort began seeping into their interactions. A tender kiss on the neck. Cuddling on the sofa. Soft palm running over shoulders in passing. Warm smiles from over a book, or a plate, or when Bane pummelled Helena's King on the chessboard, yet again winning the round in three moves.
All of this was very well. But the device she bought for him didn't do its job. Bane still had nightmares. Sometimes he'd tell her himself, sometimes she saw that in the way he rubbed his jaw or stretched his neck.
She worried.
Getting him to use Lully was more to see if he'd be receptive to her help, but there was hope at the back of her head that it would be enough. Silly thought. He needed therapy.
On top of all that he never mentioned if he had hallucinations again. Asking would be too much on Helena's nerves, so she settled on letting him deal with that on his own. For now. Until she'd be less scared of who he saw her as.
Now she was facing another gruesome task, namely preparing him for another type of trauma. Easter brunch loomed a bit over a week away. She knew some other people would attend and Bane agreed to go, much to her amazement. Gathering intel, he said. Didn't want to specify on what.
Again, she worried.
Exercise seemed to be the best medicine, so she decided it was high time to roll up her sleeves, literally, and get to work on a vegetable patch and herb garden she wanted to plant.
What she forgot to take into consideration was the fact that the soil she tried to turn was hardly moved in last fifty years. It was nearly as hard and dense as the rocks around. She worked up a nice sweat and her lungs burned with the exertion, and what she had to show for it? A tiny tiny square of ground, filled with rocks, sandy underneath and dry overall.
Maybe she should just keep her plants in pots? That would give her cottage a Mediterranean look. Could be nice.
She stood by her terrace, hands propped up on the shovel, looking down miserably, contemplating her options.
That's how Bane saw her.
"Your turn to make dinner tonight," he said as a greeting.
Shit, she forgot.
"Shit, I forgot," she admitted. "I'm battling the elements in hope of cultivating this godforsaken land, but as you can see it's all a rather pitiful attempt at trying to tame nature."
He chuckled and took the shovel, exchanging it for a teacloth bundle he brought along.
"What's that?"
"Bread." He looked around. "How far you want to go with your renovation?"
"Up to that damson tree, and like this." She stepped through the grass to show him the shape she wanted to achieve and how far it stretched. "Just turn the soil over, I'll have to work in fertilizer anyway, so it doesn't have to be very deep."
"Aren't you supposed to do that before April?"
"I had other concerns in early spring."
"Right. Off you go," he shooed her away.
She pecked his cheek quickly before she went, humming even before she crossed the threshold.
They went grocery shopping the day before, so she decided what to cook as she trotted down the stairs. The bread Bane made was a luscious, crusty loaf, very rustic. She decided it would be best to offset it with a nice stew, creamy and warm. The perfect hearty meal after some honest work.
Fond smile crept up on her lips as she cut chicken thighs, then carrots, broccoli, potatoes and onions. From time to time she looked up, trying to catch a glimpse of Bane in the skylight. When she sautéed meat with onions in the crockpot in heaping helping of butter, he leaned his head down over the window.
"It smells delicious," he mouthed through the glass.
Helena giggled and beamed up at him.
Soon she was adding vegetables and some broth from her freezer. At the top she carefully placed some fresh bay leaves, snipped right off the plant that was standing on the counter. Just like Julia Child. The downtime she had before making roux was perfect opportunity to pick parsley leaves off the stalk and set the table.
Bane came down when she was stirring the stew, smell of nutmeg sharp in the air.
"Are your hands clean?" she asked, turning to look at him.
They weren't, and the rest of him was just as filthy. He took off his outer wear and must have worked only in jeans and long sleeve henley, perspiration clearly visible along with streaks of mud and some green stains.
"Still like me sweaty and dirty?" he teased.
Helena turned off the stove without looking.
"Oh I don't know, you're not covered in blood and gunpowder," she said, dared him further with a tantalizing sucking on her lower lip. "I guess we'll have to find out, won't we?"
Glued to the spot he nevertheless excluded an air of confidence. She couldn't resist him like this, chest puffed out, hands fisted at his sides, shoulders tightly pulled back. He watched her like a hawk when she neared him carefully, one step after another.
She stopped just outside his reach, marvelling at the way quickened breath escaped his nose in short angry puffs.
"Do it. Take the last step," he tempted, deep voice husky with need.
This was a bad idea.
Her eyes measured him one last time, from feet to the top of his head.
This was a very bad idea.
Her mouth touched his neck first. Barely a second after, he gripped her hips and her hands found his flanks. A hiss escaped Bane's mouth, pained and short, when he felt her tongue track a slick trail up to his ear. Reflexively his fingers dug into soft flesh beneath, thumbs hooking at hipbones, easy to find under thin skin. He rocked towards her, once then twice, and rubbed cheek scratchy with stubble on her delicate one. Blindly he found her lips, parted in welcome, eager to taste more of him.
Helena watched him keenly, finally able to see his face with a satisfied, blissful smile. He was beautiful. The scars marring his jaw were like a relief, an organic pattern designed to bring out perfect symmetry of subject underneath. Mutely telling stories of cruelty, bravery and survival.
Their lips met again in a gentle stroke, teasing the nerve endings with back and forth touch that was far from enough.
He threaded fingers through her hair, freeing them from the elastic, individual strands catching lightly on callouses of his hand.
"Tell me you want this," Bane whispered, stormy eyes insistent. He wouldn't trespass again, he'd wait just as she asked of him.
Helena smiled, stroking warm palms up his stomach, feeling the damage underneath. Her face shifted, happiness giving way to regret.
"I could have lost you." She pressed closer, slithering her arms around his broad back. "I never want to be parted with you again." And then she looked up once more, meeting his eyes with the same intensity he had, equally burning desire simmering under her skin. "I want you."
The last step she had to take.
"You're never getting rid of me," Bane warned, crowding her back, pushing with slightly shaky hands in her hips. "You're mine and no one will touch you but me. Understand?"
"Yes," she moaned it out because he was already kissing her neck, wet and sloppy, at the same time raising her on the table.
"I always wanted to fuck you on a desk. A kitchen table will do, too," he hissed in her ear, pulling away to yank her jeans open.
Someone knocked on the skylight.
Their hands stilled and Bane growled, a primal, vibrating sound, the epitome of male displeasure.
"Do you expect anyone?"
"No," Helena said, jumping off the table, righting her clothes with knitted brows. "I'll see who that is."
An unfamiliar silhouette loomed beyond the door, slowing Helena's steps with uncertainty. Whoever the intruder was knew she would be getting out from the underground level, and pass the balcony door. Which was closest to the skylight. Which in turn, told her volumes about the fact that, intentional or not, they wanted her intimidated.
No such luck.
She opened the door and greeted the guest.
"Mr Brown."
"Ms Wolf," he said with a pleasant smile. "May I?" He gestured vaguely towards interior of the house.
"No."
The level answer surprised him.
"I said I will be back to discuss Bane," he reminded.
"You did. And I remember distinctly never agreeing on that. Instead I asked you to leave your contact info, so I could notice you if anything as unlikely as Bane calling me would happen."
"We can do it the hard way," he warned.
"Let's. I'm quite sure it we be greater difficulty for you. Stop harassing me."
The agent's jaw tensed visibly.
"Who are you protecting?"
"Myself. My peace of mind. Didn't you get all you wanted when I was interrogated back a few years ago? What would it help you now to make me relive all that had happened again?"
"I'm sure you omitted some vital information back then," he replied angrily.
Something in wording of that statement caught Helena's interest.
"Really? Tell me, what exactly you think I was unclear about?"
"I would like to conduct this conversation indoors." The evasion was blatant and insulting.
"You haven't seen it." She exclaimed gleefully. "You come here and pester me, because your little government agencies are too incompetent to work together. And you're grasping at straws." Her smile turned vicious. "Do you realize that what Bane did to me back then was not the end? Oh, he didn't contact me over the years, no. But last year, someone very close to me was in Gotham. Someone whom I care about very much. And you come here now, as your colleagues from CIA came before you, and accuse me of withholding vital information from the time I was kept imprisoned. And you had your bad guy trapped and did nothing," her voice shook with the pent up aggression, "nothing at all to stop him then. When you knew exactly where he was. And I almost lost everything dear to me again. So, Mr Brown, don't come here anymore. I'm quite certain if you'd try to tackle this issue in, as you described, 'the difficult way'," she air quoted, giving way to all the frustration she held at bay before, "the amount of paperwork required for you to interrogate me lawfully would make you sit back and realize how pathetic this attempt is. I'm well aware what you are doing now is illegal." She mocked him openly now, high on adrenaline. "Oh yes, I know you should be accompanied at least by Norwegian authority. And since I'm not a citizen? Boy howdy, how long does it take to get all papers through an embassy, yeah? You've fucked up. I never had anything to say to you, but now I will spite every other US agency that comes here as well, simply because you people never stopped to respect me enough to talk with me openly." She paused for just two seconds before sneering the final 'goodbye', closing the door.
Bane was waiting for her on the stairs to the kitchen, out of sight. She squished beside him on narrow steps, and he hauled her to his lap, hugged her close.
"You were fierce," he noted.
"The nerve of those people," she hissed, "Treating every other country as their backyard. And right after they had a crisis developing over months, on their own turf, and didn't do shit about it. Pisses me off."
"Indeed?" The usual mockery was toned down, a false note hidden beneath the usual amusement.
"I think I finally tapped into those feelings for Dorrance, the residue that was left after all the time I worried about him as much as I dreaded what would happen with Bane the Terrorist. Now I think about them both at the same time, and both sides mix and intertwine. It's so difficult to have the same person as both the victim and the oppressor."
She sighed and cuddled more comfortably into Bane's comfortable frame. She was warm, and content. Would it be wrong to stay like this until the end of days?
"We should leave," he murmured into her hair, rubbing his lips on soft tresses.
"I don't want to leave," she complained. "I have dinner on the stove."
Slow chuckle rumbled beneath her ear pressed to Bane's neck.
oOo
Over the years living in the coast Helena grew to like silence. It was never the ringing in her ears from the absolute muteness around, but instead the calming white noise of nature. Rustle of leaves as branches moved under strong gusts of wind. Creaking of wood. Murmur of grass blades rubbing together, moving as if stroked with an invisible giant hand. Always there were some man-made noises adding to the experience, grounding her in the present. Blips of email notifications. Rustle of sheets, as her current envoy turned unhurriedly every other minute. Clacking of laptop keys. Whisper of paper, as pages of a book were turned almost silently. Or, as it was now, low murmur of a one-sided conversation, as Bane sat with laptop on his thighs and a headpiece on, engrossed in a discussion with one of his colleagues.
The chuckle was uncharacteristic, goofy and puffing in short bursts. Helena looked up from her novel surprised. She smiled, astonished with Bane's carefree reaction. It was nothing out of the ordinary really, a man enjoying talk with a friend, but it didn't suit the image of this particular man. The fearsome killer snickering over some nerdy joke?
She sobered, catching the thought like an annoying fat fly, bringing it closer for detailed inspection, an analysis of its roots.
That had to be the heart of her inability to fully accept his return. She still thought of Bane the mercenary whenever she saw him. Tony the scientist was there if she read emails or talked over the phone. When in fact he was neither. Or rather both. Or someone in between the two, in the middle of the spectrum.
Her golden mean. Happy medium. Meden agan.
Tiredly she rubbed her cheeks with both hands, shifting on the sofa. Back at the monastery Bane was just himself to her. Both her ruthless kidnapper and avid listener. She knew some of his terrorist profile and saw only part of his scientific research. And still she was able to maintain a relationship, to want it, at least to some point.
Now she finally had the whole picture.
He wasn't any different to how she remembered him to be. If anything, now he was more inclined to stay and live with her, a fact she knew but didn't stop to wonder about until now. Regardless of the failure that was Gotham, he sacrificed a lot to come to her. What was to gain? For her a companion, and a friend that's for sure. Another chance at seeing if she could build a lasting relationship, without the excuse of the partner being inadequate. Bane was her ideal, both thanks to his nature and merit, and not in small amount thanks to her own idealization of him.
But what made him decide, and prepare for, spending his days out in Norwegian province, away from everything his life up to this point has been? Was it the calm stability? The sleepy quality of every day being free to do everything or nothing at all?
He turned to her, broad smile stretching his lips and shrinking some of the scars.
Did it really matter why he was here?
Helena put away her book and slid her palm on his shoulders as she went past to the kitchen, taking the opportunity to leave a small kiss on his temple. She'd make some tea and then when he would be done they'd eat dinner and discuss what herbs to plant and what to bring to Grace and Graham's Easter brunch.
After dinner Bane lounged in a chair, pensive, tapping slightly the forefinger of left hand on his lips. Steaming cup of tea sat forgotten on the table and his left foot dangled perilously close to it, balanced on his knee. It amused Helena for the first minute or so, watching him so engrossed in his own musings. He murmured something vaguely scientific at her soft inquiry, quantity of dark matter in young galaxies, which told her nothing but the fact that he was theorizing and wouldn't pay her any attention in the foreseeable future. Unless she were to become a young galaxy herself.
Smiling slightly at the prospect of becoming an example of a Greek myth, like Europa abducted by powerful and jealous being enamoured with her beauty, she settled back to read. It wasn't that far off from what actually happened but she wasn't young anymore. Neither of them were.
Rows of letters filled her vision like bars. They formed words, but she couldn't focus on the text, aware that her prolonged observation resulted in usual and predictable side effect.
Even older, battered and scarred, Bane still was an alluring and enticing specimen. Forearms were thick with muscles cording under tanned skin even in their current relaxed state. T-shirt hugged his chest softly, hanging loosely over taut, strong stomach. He was formidable, the raw power visible even at a glance. Yet his biggest asset was his brain, the immense vastness of information he stored, calculations and possibilities thought over in a blink of an eye, the inexplicable creative surge that made him this much more unexpected and therefore - dangerous. Helena realized he was most threatening when he was like this, folded comfortably in quiet contemplation. Passive. All his ruinous intentions held at bay, unknown and malignant in the way that built dread if only one realized what might be coming.
Or, she corrected herself, since he wasn't a menace anymore this was the most promising sign. Bane developing ideas, straightening and widening path of science.
Forcing herself to look back again at her magazine she sighed slightly. He could talk to her and even if she wouldn't understand a word, his voice alone would be enough to make her cream. Who was she kidding. He was just sitting there, lost in thought, and it was all she needed to tingle with anticipation. But she closed that door herself. She refused him and then he stopped pursuing… And now she wanted to jump him.
"I'll take a nap," she said, standing up abruptly.
Bane hummed but didn't otherwise react; it might as well be an acknowledgement of some thought that passed his mind at that moment.
She was silent when she scaled the corridor, but her head was bursting with complaints. Why didn't she sit by him? Why didn't she just tell him she wanted him, right now? Why didn't she make that final step, the one she insisted he'd let her take?
On a whim she turned just before the guest room.
Did he hear her intrude on the intimacy of his bedroom? She smirked, disrobing carefully and methodically, down to her panties. He always had a soft spot for those. Although today regretfully she had only some regular cotton ones, an outrageously coloured pair with broad strip of lace out front as a sole ornament.
Immersing herself in Bane's bed she sighed happily. That smell. She remembered it, and the way the sheets were after few of her visits, his fragrance mixed with hers and dirty smell of sex and sweat. She burrowed deeper, stretching comfortably on her stomach, pressing her head to the only pillow. The bed itself was broad, but as a practical man Bane wouldn't see a point in having more than the necessary on top of it. Even in the mattress was supple, the textiles luxurious…
"I hope you understand, there is no escape for you now."
Helena smiled into soft cotton, angling her head a bit to the side.
"You think?"
"I'm positive," he growled sending her a warning glance, pausing for just a second in his stride. She let herself be swept away with curent of anticipation, aware of his movements but not entirely sure what his intentions bed dipped when he reached it, kneeled over Helena and with gentle hand smoothed her hair to the side.
"I won't let you run from me ever again. And my way of securing that," he mouthed over her delicate ear. She craned her neck, giving him easier access, huffing an unsteady breath out. "my way of securing that would be very simple and very effective. One that I know you'd like." His fingers danced on top of her skin, tracing a throbbing line down her neck. She felt her abdomen contract in the ageless sensation, a sweet ache brought forward by mere proximity of the man she wanted.
"And what is that?" She smiled when he dipped his hand under her, grunting and cupping her breast, and pressing to her back more fully even through the sheet.
"All I need to do is keep you exhausted. In my bed." He taunted. "Wouldn't even need to tie you to it, I'm sure."
"Oh, but I might like that," she murmured, savouring his greediness when he impatiently clawed the sheet off and leaned back. She watched him in her peripheral, knowing the exact way his eyes were glistening as he appreciated flowing line of her exposed back, and the way bold shade of her lingerie cut striking lines accentuating her buttocks.
Hot mouth at the base of her neck was a surprise. A welcome one, but break in their pattern, one she still remembered after ten years apart. But he was free to use his mouth now, and Helena scoffed, mad at herself for submerging into the sensation deep enough to forget about that detail. Where was her obsession with his face, that need to touch and see it? Once she would be unrelenting until he'd let her kiss him, especially in the light of day.
It was so long ago...
"Do you remember that first night?" she asked, rising hips to allow him better hold, relishing strong palms circling slightly protruding bones.
"Yes," he confirmed, voice sharp and strained.
Her back was engulfed in heat when he bore down, put his weight on top of her. One palm slid down in a stealthy movement while he distracted her with licks and nips and kisses around her shoulders and neck.
Helena dug her knees into the mattress, pressing up, rolling her hips to encourage his hand to hit its mark.
"I loved everything you did then," she panted. Bane's fingers caressed hem of her panties, tickling taut skin on her abdomen. "But I always wanted to have it all finished with an addition of your mouth on my pussy at the end."
He growled. Helena shivered at the sound and gripped the pillow, pressed her forehead down under weight of his hand tangled in her hair.
"Just like back then?" he asked, humid breath moving fine fuzz at the back of her neck, the one he obsessed over and over again, an eternity ago.
"Please." The moan was so much more than a plea to continue.
An absolution. A promise. An admission.
Bane didn't waste time to check how ready she was, the evidence was clear to see when he gently slid her underwear off, glimmer of slick moisture sticking to the fabric, like a hair extending until it broke under the tension. The material was down to her mid-thigh, restricting her movement slightly, and his options along with it.
With a start he straightened, realizing only now he was still fully clothed.
"Do you want me instruct you again?" she asked, turning to him with a laugh.
He was just throwing his t-shirt away, set already on unzipping his pants, his expression fierce and unforgiving.
Helena gulped.
"On your knees," he ordered.
Oh, she remembered what was to come now. The gentle and sensual part was apparently over. Helena hissed slightly, nerves zapped with sensation of Bane's cock hot at her entrance.
He cursed under his breath and moved away, shuffling frantically in cupboard of the bedside table. In record time he fished out a silvery packet, opened it and rolled the condom out, stilling again right before making the last step.
"Bane…" Helena moaned.
He looked at her, from the top of round cheeks hid under his splayed palms, through enticing plane of her back, arched and twisted slightly to let her look at him from under fringe of tousled hair. Thin arms circled his pillow, fingers digging into soft fabric, one over and the other under her head.
She smiled and he pushed.
Home.
The pleasure punched him in the gut, bowing him down with the amount of relief it brought. Even despite near violent tremor that ran up his back he fought to keep his eyes open, filing the moment, committing it to the memory. His brows knitted with concentration and he had to bite his lip to suppress the surge of profanity threatening to spill. Nothing compared.
Underneath him, Helena was immersed in her own little world of sensation, moving in tandem with his thrusts, moaning and sighing in time with his tempo. Or maybe her tempo, Bane wasn't sure anymore. His hands gripped her hips, but did he pull her to him, or did he brace for stability, he didn't know himself. He was dizzy, light headed like after a good few glasses of whisky, spiralling further and further into that mindless feral place where nothing but pleasure mattered.
Vaguely he noticed she was further from the peak than him. And also, that little detail of not having his mask nagged on his mind. Of course. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Wasting such an opportunity, he was an imbecile. With pained whine he reached to his pelvis and pulled out, mindful of the contraption on his cock.
"Turn around," he ordered.
Helena giggled and sat straight, reaching out to touch Bane's chest. He was having none of it. Two quick moves and she was flat on her back, a quick squeak the only reaction she managed before he was back on her, pushing to the hilt and swallowing her groan with his mouth. She gripped his face, fingers playing with ridges of his scars, stroking ears and scratching back of his neck just under his hair. Her tongue drew a slick insistent path over his lips, and he let her mouth some inconsequential nonsense over his cheeks and under his jaw, enjoying the delicate caress.
Too soon he was degraded to a grunting, grinding mess, desperately trying to reach oblivion, focused solely on his own pleasure. He latched onto Helena's mouth, greedy, insistent and demanding, pumping with fast rhythm, faltering into a stutter. Helena scratched down his back, disentangling forcefully to draw a much needed breath and moan her hoarse cries off into the quiet of the afternoon. Bane was fast on her track, gripping her hair to bring her lips back to his, mouth hot and tight with growls.
Feeling the impending release he slowed, determined to savour the finish, just as he savoured sweat he licked off her skin, as he relished the breathy way she gulped air and violence of nails rising swollen welts on his skin.
"Look at me," Helena whispered, cutting through his movement, forcing him to snap his head up. "Now."
Just like that she undid him, all careful calculations and planning, every shred of control he thought he had, stripped off to leave him gulping air almost panicked, snuggling his face to the racing pulse at her neck. His hips moved strongly one more time and then he could only grind up in tight little circles, unable to stop the contact of overheated skin, addicted to moisture sticking them together everywhere. Sweat, saliva and her very own nectar. He regretted putting the condom on; wouldn't mind adding in his semen to the mixing then tasting it all in her, off her.
He remembered her comment then, the one she made while he still was mostly in the possession of his mind.
Wolfish grin spread slowly on his lips.
"I'm not done with you yet," he warned.
Helena laughed, panting through last tremors of her high.
"I hope you never will be," she admitted.
oOo
She knew falling asleep was a mistake.
Boastful part of her wanted to believe her presence would be enough to placate his demons, to soothe the pain tensing his muscles and disrupting his rest. Foolish. Neither of them had a shred of control over the situation. She knew the awakening would be rude.
Just how rude though, she never would have guessed.
Without preamble she opened her eyes, staring at the sloping ceiling over her head. Her dreams stopped immediately when a hand constricted around her neck. It wasn't threatening in the beginning, the pressure noticeable but more than bearable. But she didn't dare move. Gently she drew in breath a bit deeper, involuntarily shifting on his outstretched arm and that was enough.
His fingers closed, slowly, deliberately, building the tension of impending doom with practiced ease. Helena knew fighting was no use, and she tried calling to him. Softly, enticingly.
It was no use too.
Her pulse quickened when she had first trouble with swallowing, and out of sheer reflex her hand flew to his, and she dug her nails in, a feeble attempt at prying his paw off of her.
No use at all.
Ugly thoughts creeped into her mind. What if he won't let go? What if he uses the other hand too? What if he's not asleep? She felt dread like a physical sensation, washing like a cold and damp tendril slithering down her spine.
High pitched whine escaped her lips and she trashed, panicked now, trying to free herself at any cost, scratching, hitting, kicking, shouting.
In a second it was over and she was sat upright, halfway off the bed with her effort to get away. Strong arms held her close, pinned, restrained, braced to an overheated body.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" Like a mantra behind her ear, in an uncharacteristic broken whisper, something she didn't suspect Bane capable of.
Her throat was raw, but nonetheless she greedily gulped big gusts of air, trying to remember all and any techniques to calm herself down.
She started inhaling in time with Bane's slowing words, gradually coming down, tired with the rush of emotions she lived through just now. When she started trembling, he finally let her go.
"Do you want water?" He asked.
She nodded, thankful for the opportunity to sit still alone for a little while.
When he came from the kitchen she was almost back to herself. Bane didn't apologize anymore, but the guilt was clearly visible in his eyes.
"I'll relocate to my room," she said plainly. They both winced at how her vocal cords squealed.
Helena knew hiding from the issue would be the worst course to take. They should talk about it. Discuss the reasons, possibilities, paths to follow.
She was so tired with all that meticulous dismantling of every action, each thought, and all reasons behind them. All she wanted was a good night's sleep at Bane's side, and maybe a repeat performance of their afternoon activity, followed by a carefree morning in the kitchen.
Fat chance.
"Stay for a while," he said. It wasn't a plea. Neither an order. It sounded like both.
"What for?" she croaked out.
"If you go now you will associate me with what happened. I want to blur that memory," he explained.
Helena huffed angrily, unsure what she wanted. It did make sense, of course it did. Then again, getting as far away as she could was quite logical too. After all he was the reason her neck was bruised; he could just as easily have her windpipe crushed. Why would she let him try his manipulative tricks now?
"Please," he whispered. "Don't leave me."
It was the knife all over again. He knew it was his doing, but had hardly any recollection of the fact. Helena was aware. She suspected there was dissociation, one he was trying to bridge with having her close now. As a reminder to him of what he had done. At the same time he would probably try to caress her to erase painful memory, overlapping it with a pleasurable one.
Reluctantly she shuffled to the bed, sitting on the edge.
He was miserable. Looked actually kind of afraid of her reaction.
"At least you didn't have any weapons close this time," she smirked tiredly at him.
He gathered her close, easily pulling her to his lap. Rested his chin on the crown of her head. His body was dangerous to her as it was, without augmentation of steel in any shape or form. A terrible realization.
"I don't know what I would do if I'd hurt you more severely," he whispered. "I'm sorry."
"Will you agree to get some professional help?"
He didn't answer and she tensed again, not bothering to hide the trepidation twisting her heart.
"Bane, please. I won't be able to continue like that."
"I'll inquire into my options."
"Thank you."
She settled down for a while. It was good enough for now.
Bane absent-mindedly stroked her arms, fingers playing with downy hair, lips pressing to the crown of her head in gentle kisses. Neither of them could stay long like that, so eventually Helena stirred and slithered out.
"I should be going now," she said with a smile.
"You should stay."
Bane wa tense still. Plagued by what happened most likely.
"I promise I won't drink any poison while you won't be looking." The poor attempt at a joke escaped Helena's lips before she thought better.
"Stop joking about it."
It wasn't a shout. Yet the palpable anger behind Bane's words stilled Helena on her way out. With stiff back she slowly turned.
"Why not?"
It was stupid impulse to nudge him closer to the edge and she knew it. But she had her defense mechanisms as well, her inadequacies and misgivings. Her nerves were bristling still from what transpired just minutes ago.
"Because I lost that child too. Before I even knew it existed. You took the decision away without so much as a courtesy acknowledgement in my direction."
"That I did. I don't think it is a discussion you want to have right now."
"How can you be so fucking calm?" he shouted, "I love you but you're so… detached. Is there any shred of humanity left in you to at least admit to yourself what you did?"
"You ask me about humanity? You! How many children you killed with hunger, rapes and violence during Gotham siege? Before that, with raids on civilians, or manipulation of local warlords, or whatever it was that you did as a mercenary?"
Her voice shook, tremors wracking her body like some great beast trying to get out.
"I never wanted to take part in any of that, let alone to be pregnant with you. With anyone! You want to know why I panicked like that? I was afraid you'd make me keep it. I loathed the thought of giving birth to it and then staying at the monastery, looking after it until you'd deem it grown enough to immerse into your little fucked up operation." Tears welled and overflowed in an instant, hot and stinging. "I had nightmares where I was happy with just sitting there, caring for it and waiting for you," she sobbed.
Bane was horrified, standing before her with fisted hands.
"I didn't want to like that idea. I didn't want to like you. I didn't want to give you any more power over me than what you already had," she choked out, overwhelmed with strain of keeping the torrent of memories at bay, impossible once the dam she put up cracked. "What you took and what I so foolishly gave you." Tears glistened in faint glow from the window, her palms impatiently smoothing over cheeks to get rid of them.
"I got it all regardless."
His argument, although at face value cruel and impassive, calmed her down. She chuckled and settled visibly. Even her shoulders relaxed a bit.
"You did. You always get what you want."
"The price is always too high."
His fists remained closed, gripping nothing but his rage. Or maybe sadness. Clearly there was tempestuous brew of emotions raging in his head as well, even though he tried to maintain a steady, calm facade.
"Come to bed. I won't fall asleep. Just want to hold you."
Helena kept staring at him, hesitant over her own desires and his true intentions. It was still hard to believe this terrorist, this merciless killer, was in some way dependant on her. Required her presence, her compliance, to feel well.
"Your schedule is already disrupted enough," she argued. "We both should get rested as much as possible before tomorrow."
That glimpse, the one she was inadvertently drawn to, was back in his gaze.
"To bed," he commanded mildly. "Now."
She scoffed, but the retort died in her throat when he reached out and tugged her close. Still he was gentle with her body, stroking her lightly to placate and relax. The mercenary was holding the reins, since the scientist failed at securing their objective.
"Don't fight me anymore. Not tonight." Not ever, he added in his head.
To his visible relief she followed him between the sheets, settling a tad uneasily but silently beside him.
They both needed time to unwind, muscles still jumping occasionally with adrenaline leftover from the argument. Bane absentmindedly kissed Helena's hair, taking the opportunity as he usually did to bask in the faint fragrance. This is what home smelled like. He had one now. Briefly his mind jumped to the memory of a night a short week past, when he emerged from his hallucination. He meant it when he said he was home. No other place shared that title, only the spot by Helena's side. Whether it was at this cottage or anywhere else in the world.
It was his job now to protect it.
Even from himself.
Do let me know what you think! I'm dying to know.
Review responses:
Chey, thanks for sticking with Helena still. Damn, I could use some of her snark right about now. And as I've said before you're absolutely right on the origins of Banes nom de guerre. Sharp as ever!
Lia, English is not my first language either; look how marvellous it is, we're sharing stories over cables and monitors, and exchange words as if there were no barriers between us. Your kind comment did help a lot - picked me up when I was struggling to go further. Hope this extra long chapter will convey at least some of my gratefulness. :)
Sxevlbtch, love your nickname. Enjoy the 'more' Parr you requested. Brewing Banes backstory and a little drabble about the escape from Gotham, but that's for later.
Adarya, would you believe I like to reread your comments? :) the smut is here, although this installment is a bit timid. I have planned to work on a special drabble for you, but life got me held up a bit. Will get too it next, I think. You're right, Bane in Armenia was rather vigorous. I should revisit him, as an inspiration for current chapters ofc.:D anyway, always a pleasure to see a word from you, so don't ever hesitate to write to me.
Bluebell, here's your update. And congratulations, your kind words kicked me in the butt, and I actually decided to merge two chapters into the one we have now. Felt a bit pressured with the praise, but in a good way, I swear!