Author's note: Thanks so much for the reviews, they are helpful and motivating. As always I don't own anything Dark Knight related, enjoy.
Lena had a greater appreciation for the effects of Stockholm Syndrome. It had been three days since she'd started her little project and they had passed with relative normalcy. Even though Lena hadn't seen Bane since his attempted interrogation he had sent Barsad to look after her.
"Classic good cop bad cop move" Lena muttered to herself as she pulled tightly on a section of braid.
She'd been busily turning the linen sheets into individual lengths of braided rope she would then weave together into a thicker rope which she hoped would be load bearing. Lena had determined that she would have to join three of these sections together to get the right length of rope she needed for her escape. While she worked Lena contemplated her rival sniper. She had interacted with him sporadically over the past few days concluding that Bane had sent him to gather more information about her.
Even though they didn't talk much and the conversations they did have was mostly ideal chit-chat Lena was realizing that if she wasn't careful she could really start to like the scruffy man. It amazed her that over the course of just a few days of isolation from the horrors of the city below she could find herself exchanging quips with a man who was responsible for the death and suffering of thousands of people.
"Further proof that I need to get out of here, I'm obviously going bat-shit crazy" Lena sighed despondently.
She decided it was time for a break so she got up from the tiled floor of the bathroom and hid her project back in the linen closet. She had moved her operation into the bathroom because it was the only door in her room with a lock and Lena seriously doubted she could play off her escape rope as just being really long friendship bracelets if Bane or Barsad walked in on her weaving. She ventured out of her room into the hallway and was still impressed by the lavishness of the penthouse. When Lena made it to the living room she was surprised to find it devoid of either of the two terrorists she'd become accustomed to seeing there.
Without a moment's hesitation Lena crept silently over to the front door and pushed her ear up against the hard surface listening carefully. She could hear the sound of breathing from the two sentries posted outside the door. Lena cursed inwardly as she stepped away from the door. For the first time Lena walked around the apartment and took note of the different decorations that filled the space. She noticed that for such a large area there were surprisingly few things in it. Lena also observed that there appeared to be blank spaces on the walls where she assumed artwork had hung at one point.
"Interesting, so if Bane removed pieces of art that would imply what he left behind was tolerable maybe even enjoyable to him." Lena was slightly taken aback by this deduction.
Bane having an appreciation for art and culture was just another facet of his personality she couldn't reconcile in her mind. One painting in particular caught Lena's eye and she paused to appreciate it further. She wasn't an expert on art in the least but Lena could tell the portrait was old. It was a beautiful landscape set with rolling grassy hills and sparse vegetation. In the center of the canvas stood a woman, back turned from the artist, facing the low lying sun. Her silhouette blocked out the glowing orb hanging just at the horizon but the sky was lit up with stunning yellows, oranges, and reds. Rays of sun light appeared to be radiating from the woman. Lena was instantly intrigued by the ambiguous nature of the landscape, pondering wither it was displayed a sun rise or a sun set and it made her contemplate if she was witnessing the beginning of something or the ending of something.
"I wonder if the sun is setting or rising on Gotham." Lena brooded inwardly as she kept observing the beautiful art piece.
This train of thought led her to question why Bane would choose to keep this particular painting but Lena was pulled out of her puzzlement from the sound of the front door opening. Lena turned to see Barsad walk in with a small tool box in one hand and her rifle slung over his shoulder. Her eyes widened at the sight of the firearm, Lena had been sure she'd never see it again.
Barsad made sure to observer the captive very carefully for her reaction at seeing her rifle again. Just as he and Bane had expected she wore an open look of surprise at seeing the firearm but it lasted only a moment until she regained her usual indifferent stare.
"Bane figured since you've been such a good little captive these past few days you deserved a treat." He stated cheerfully with a smirk.
The girl bristled at his comment and scowled but said nothing. Barsad chuckled inwardly at her irritation at being talked to like a child. Over the past three days he'd come to appreciate why Bane went to the trouble of keeping the girl around. His boss was as imposing intellectually as he was physically but that was the side of Bane very few comprehended.
While most times it was very useful for one's enemies to become spluttering idiots when faced by his formidable presence Barsad knew that Bane became endlessly bored when a mission didn't consume his entire mental and physical prowess. The girl offered a welcome distraction to the monotonous annihilation of Gotham. Whether from bravery or stubbornness, Barsad suspected the latter, the girl seemed unperturbed by her situation. Bane had related to Barsad his attempts at interrogating the little captive and her ability to outmaneuver him verbally mixed with her uneasiness at his boss's mere presence made the young girl far more interesting than the average Gothamite.
"The Boss might as well have some fun, we all have such a short time left on this earth, if he can't spend his time with Talia what's the harm in toying with the girl." Barsad concluded inwardly as he laid the riffle down on the dining room table.
He set the tool box next to the gun and with a sweeping gesture offered it to the girl. She hesitated, her eyes narrowing in suspicion waiting for Barsad's next move. He offered her an easy smile walking to the opposite end of the table and sat down. The little captive slowly approached the weapon still eyeing Barsad contemptuously. Barsad watched as her focus shifted to the riffle, her fingers lightly running its length. He heard a barely audible sigh as she smoothly picked up the riffle holding it in a firm yet somehow gentle manner the way someone might embrace an old friend.
Her features and body language was all too familiar to Barsad, knowing he looked much the same when he held his own riffle. He felt a twinge of camaraderie towards the girl in that moment, she understood on some level what he understood, she had respect for the weapon and the skill it took to wheeled it. She looked years older with the riffle in her hands so much so that he was having a hard time thinking of her as a girl anymore. Barsad watched silently as the captive slid back the bolt looking and feeling inside the chamber to make sure there were no rounds.
Watching her graceful movements as she disassembled her firearm Barsad found himself enjoying the quiet scene, he found that most people couldn't appreciate the serenity of taciturn focus which was something he valued above most all things. As the young woman continued her task Barsad began to feel uncomfortable, he felt as if he were intruding on something intimate and private and before he could give it much thought Barsad quickly rose and left the penthouse. Barsad fidgeted as the elevator descended and when he reached the lobby he was ridiculing himself for his actions.
"Letting my emotions run me into disregarding orders, disgraceful and pathetic." Barsad mental yelled at himself.
He paced at the visitor's desk in the lobby trying to collect his thoughts when he felt a large hand clasp his shoulder.
"What are you doing down here my friend I thought I asked you to remain with our little captive until I returned?" Bane's tone was light but Barsad could sense the undertones of disapproval.
Barsad looked at Bane for a second then cast his eyes down in shame unable to explain the situation or his actions.
"Did the little bird get to you Barsad? Not to worry she seems expertly skilled at getting under the skin of men like us." Bane commented in an understanding way. Barsad gave a small nod of agreement to Bane's words his jaw clenching noticeably.
Bane had dismissed Barsad as well as the two men posted outside the penthouse for the night. He entered the apartment and found his captive completely focused on cleaning her riffle. She was bent over all the individual inner workings of the firearm scrubbing and oiling where needed. Her hands were blackened and she had dark smudges on her face where she'd hastily brushed away stray hairs. Bane seeing that his little captive was consumed by her work made his way to Daggett's study.
Bane sat at the desk trying to distract himself, he'd met with Talia that evening and it had not gone well. The rebellions that Bane had been trying to quell had only been gaining strength. Talia had been furious that the rebels seemed to be gaining momentum.
"They are supposed to be happily tearing the Gotham elite apart not undermining our authority." She had fumed sending him off with a look of disapproval and instructed him to do better.
Bane despised failure, it was the outcome of weakness, whether in one's plans or in one's character. He wanted to destroy Daggett's office in a blind rage but he knew it would serve no purpose and would more than likely attracted the curiosity of his little bird. Thinking of the young girl seemed to nullify his anger and for the first time he was truly grateful for the distraction she provided him. Bane contemplated the situation again even chuckled at how put-off Barsad had been in the lobby. He found it endlessly fascinating that such an unsubstantial girl could have such an effect on him. A thought flickered in his mind briefly,
"The interest I have for this girl feels almost like when I first meet Talia in that hell." Just as soon as it had passed through his mind he'd angrily dismissed the comparison.
Bane sat at the large desk trying to push off the realization that the young girl reminded him not of the woman Talia had become, the woman that had brought Gotham to its knees, but the innocent creature he had protected in the pit. He sighed heavily, pulling out a bit of twine from his pocket, and began to tie it into different knots over and over again thinking about the many roads he had traveled down in his life and the last one he was walking now.
Lena looked up from her now immaculate riffle and for the first time noticed the silence that had settled over the penthouse. Looking around the space she realized her only company was the long shadows of late evening. Not being one to waste an opportunity Lena jumped quickly to her feet making her way to the front door again. She plastered her ear to the door listening for the tell tale sound of breathing. To her surprise Lena could hear nothing on the other side of the door and after a moment of confused hesitation she undid the locks and gently opened the door.
Like a turtle from its shell Lena tentatively poked her head into the hallway looking around finding it abandoned. She made her way out of the penthouse her bare feet thankful for the plush carpet that ran the length of the corridor. Lena scanned the small area checking for security cameras but finding none.
"Of course that doesn't mean they aren't there." Lena reminded herself as she started walking down the hall trying to fight off the feeling that Bane was going to pop out at any moment and ring her neck.
She had turned and headed in the opposite direction than the elevator seeing as it was her only other option since the elevator required a key. Lena made it to the end of the hallway and found a steel security door which lead to the service stairwell. As much as she would have liked to continue her exploration Lena was hindered by the fact that the door had a double-keyed deadbolt. Lena sighed lightly tapping her forehead against the metal door in frustration as she contemplated her next move. She stepped back as an idea popped into her mind, examining the hinges of the door. After a few short minutes Lena smiled to herself and ambled back to the apartment before anyone had the chance to miss her.
As she stood at the stove turning a long wooden spoon through a fragrant pot of soup her mind wandered. She thought about all the unspeakable acts of violence and destruction that had happened in Gotham over the years. It was getting harder each day to keep hope alive, harder to find goodness in the dark madness that had claimed the city since the masked terrorist had seized power. Her hands trembled as she added ingredients to the pot, the routine action being the only thing that kept her from breaking down. She felt strong arms loop around her waist and a gentle kiss on her cheek that seemed to calm her heart and steady her nerves in an instant.
"You know Winston Churchill used to say, when you're going through Hell, keep going." He whispered to her in an understanding tone.
"You always seem to know just what is on my mind." She stated, turning to the familiar sight of deep brown eyes crinkled at the edges.
"Well I do have over fifty years of experience." Henry chuckled to his wife.
Eleanor's smile widened at that comment until she remembered what her husband had gone out to do.
" Any sign of our girl?" she inquired, concern clouding her features.
"No my dear not a one. She isn't answering her door and her motorcycle isn't in its usual place." He replied.
Eleanor gave her husband a reproachful look but before she could comment he stated, "As much as we love her sweetheart, she's not ours to parent. Lena is a grown woman and she'll live her life as she sees fit, all we can offer is friendship and support."
"I know that Henry but the poor thing is all on her own in this world." She countered, her words etched with sadness.
"We just have to have faith that she'll be ok, my love, I know it's not much but it's the best a couple of old geezers like us can manage." Eleanor swatted playfully at her husband and turned back to her task hoping against hope that by the time it was done she'd be setting an extra place at their small kitchen table.
I thought it'd be nice to see what the Scottsdales were up to, both seem reasonably concerned about Lena's disappearance. The next chapter should have a good deal of action which tends to be easier for me to write so hopefully it won't take so long to get it posted as this one did. Thanks for reading.