A/N: Non-censored version of the story on AO3: archiveofourown(dot-org)/works/684270

John woke with sunlight in his eyes and a light heart. It felt as though his mind had been busy working through all of his conflicting emotions and anxieties while he slept, leaving him feeling weightless when he blinked his eyes open slowly. It was a wonderful, relieving sensation, and John sighed contently as he stretched under the sun-soaked blankets for a few minutes.

While last night he had gone to bed uncertain of just about everything he believed and stood for, today John felt assured in his decisions. Bane's past did not have to be his present or future. John did not care any less for his city and its people just because he also cared for Bane. Loving Bane didn't mean he had abandoned his morals, or honoured Bruce's sacrifice any less.

Feeling renewed, John got out of bed with a small smile on his lips. He changed into a fresh set of clothes and then dropped to his knees, slipping carefully under the bed to pry up a floorboard he had loosened upon moving in. John was relieved to find his little safe box still where it should be, the thief missing out on this opportunity.

John sat against the bed frame with the safe box in his lap, taking a few minutes to input the correct combination for the lock on the lid. Hearing the lock click welcomingly, John pulled back the lid and looked down at his emergency kit he had always thought was borne from too much paranoia. Now it was paying off.

Inside was a wallet with one thousand dollars in small bills, all of his personal documents, scanned images of the credit cards he had had in his wallet, another wireless radio, a prepaid mobile phone and a booklet with his emergency contacts. John took out the phone first and turned it on, inputting Gordon's number into the list and then calling his bank.

As he waited on hold John pulled out the wallet and two hundred dollars in cash and put the rest back into the box. He knew he was going to have to go grocery shopping and would probably use the two hundred dollars right away but John was uncomfortable carrying more money around in his pocket at one time. He could always come get more money if he needed to buy anything else immediately.

By then someone at the bank took his call and John focused on explaining his situation, hoping his credit and debit card hadn't been used for too many purchases since John lost his wallet. Luckily Gordon had reported John missing shortly after he had been captured by Bane's men and the bank had cancelled all of his cards and frozen his account. John would need to return to the bank with photo ID before they could issue a new card and open up his account again, but at least no one had gone on a spending spree using his money.

He made an appointment for later that day and then hung up, very aware of the number of minutes he had on his phone even though he had loaded it up long before this whole situation. After that he put the safe box back in place under the floorboard, keeping only the phone, two pieces of photo ID, the wallet and money with him. He shoved the wallet in one pocket and the phone in his other pocket and then headed out into the hallway.

John's heart gave a little leap of hope when he saw that the bathroom door was ajar rather than tightly closed as he had left it the evening before. He knocked against the doorframe and then slowly pushed the door open, peering in cautiously. John found Bane at the sink – cabinet door open to face the mirror away again. Bane was still clearly very sick, a hand clutching at the counter just to hold himself up, but just seeing Bane standing on his own free will was encouraging.

Bane glanced over at him, saying nothing as he continued to brush his teeth slowly. John swallowed nervously, remembering their conversation the night before. He hadn't exactly left the topic on a good note, saying he didn't want Bane to leave but little else. "How are you feeling?" he began hesitantly.

Bane remained silent for a moment and then turned to spit out the foamy toothpaste. John stood watching him as Bane grabbed his glass of water to rinse out his mouth. Seeing Bane perform such simple, domestic actions with his mask finally removed was a little jarring but not at all unpleasant.

His patience was rewarded when Bane finished with the water and leaned against the wall, looking at him. "Exhausted, but I haven't vomited in a few hours."

"That's really good," John said with relief, hoping the worst of the withdrawal was over with. His eyes trailed away for a moment, taking in the makeshift bed in the tub Bane had been using. More quietly, he asked, "Why didn't you come to bed when you were feeling better?"

"I did not think I was welcome," Bane said, eyes always on him.

John winced and weathered his bottom lip. He tried to figure out how to best voice all the thoughts that had been plaguing him the night before, and the revelations his subconscious had left for him when he woke up. It felt like so much had changed inside John and it was difficult to find the words to explain.

Then he decided that actions spoke louder than words and strode across the room. In a rush John wrapped his arms around Bane's shoulders and held tightly – desperately – and gave a shuddered groan of happiness when Bane slowly wound his own arms around John, dragging him closer. The embrace was almost painful – both of them holding too tightly and Bane still flushed with fever – but John didn't let go for a long, long time.

He only released his hold when he felt Bane waver and slump back against the wall. John remained close as Bane grunted and moved his hands to John's shoulders for support. John would never draw attention to it but knew Bane was suffering from a full day of throwing up, surviving only on water. Bane would be severely weakened from the lack of food and the toll the withdrawal was taking on his body, but John was now positive the worst had passed.

"Come to bed," John suggested, worried Bane might fall down and be unable to stand again.

Bane grunted his consent and allowed John to walk him out into the hallway and towards the bedroom. As they walked Bane kept half of his weight on John and the rest against the wall, sweater dragging along the wallpaper. It was impossible for John to support the full weight of Bane's muscled bulk but it felt good to help Bane as much as he could, aware of the trust it implied.

By the time they got to the edge of the bed Bane physically collapsed and it was all John could do to situate him near the middle of the mattress and pull the still-warm blankets up around his shoulders. He sat on the edge of the bed and brushed his fingers along the smooth dome of Bane's head, massaging every few moments when it caused Bane's eyes to drift closed.

When Bane seemed comfortable and relaxed John began to pull away, wanting to give Bane some peace and quiet to catch up on sleep and hopefully regain some of his leached strength. Bane's hand reached out and caught his wrist, much more careful of his hold this time as he lightly tugged John back, trying to drag him down to the mattress.

John detached himself easily with a sad smile, reassuring himself again and again silently that this was only temporary and that Bane's strength would return. Bane reached for him again and this time John laced their fingers together but remained sitting. After a moment of unsuccessful pulling, Bane's eyes opened to regard him. "Lie down."

John couldn't quite contain his chuckle, though it earned him a glare. "Bane," John sighed, holding Bane's hand a little tighter to remind him that he wasn't leaving. "I slept all night. I want to get up and do something. I'm not ready to sleep more."

"I did not say anything about sleeping," Bane pointed out gruffly, eyes dark.

Heat rushed through John but he refused to give in to his temptations. Bane's health was more important than sex. "Let's wait until you're feeling better. You can't even pull me down onto the bed right now," John pointed out. Bane growled and began to use a little more of his weight to lead John down. John fell forward but held himself over Bane, offering a warm but light kiss. "That wasn't a challenge," John said with fond exasperation.

Bane said nothing until he finally let go of John. "Do you have any plans for the day?"

Not wanting to make it look like he was too eager to leave – though John was looking forward to the chance to stretch his legs – John lay down on his side beside Bane. There was enough space between them that it wouldn't get too tempting to just crawl on top of Bane, but still close enough to share warmth. "I'm going to go to the bank to sort out my bank account and then I'm going to pick up groceries."

"Sometimes I forget what a normal person's day is like," Bane confessed, fingers trailing up and down John's forearm. "The life I've known has been filled with prison and planning and training."

John shuffled forward on the bed so that his knees brushed Bane's side. "Will you tell me more about your past someday?" he requested.

"You want to hear more?" Bane asked, a little dubious.

John smiled encouragingly. "I want to hear it all. When you're ready," he added.

Bane parted his lips as though to speak at the same time as his hand slid up John's arm and around his side to hold the arch of his back. John barely had time to take a breath before Bane's mouth was on his, a spark of greedy possessiveness in the way his lips consumed John's own. John moaned, his minimal restraint melting away as Bane pulled him closer, engulfing him in heat as their lips moved together.

John submitted willingly and opened his mouth, allowing Bane's tongue to dip into his mouth. At the same time John grabbed Bane's bicep, using his arm as an anchor to drag his body across the bed and slot them together as an intimate puzzle. John was just starting to think that some morning sex couldn't hurt when he heard Bane groan – pained – into his mouth and pull away.

John watched worriedly as Bane curled up slightly, arms abandoning John to hold his own stomach. Bane was flushed but John knew it had to be from more than the kiss when he saw the colour begin to drain from Bane's face. "Are you going to throw up again?" John asked, wondering if he should run and get a bucket.

Bane shook his head and curled up into a tighter ball, face scrunched up in pain. When John got a closer look he could see that Bane was clutching his belly, rather than his stomach. "It just hurts," Bane admitted, voice tight. John knew the pain must be excruciating if Bane was displaying and admitting it.

Wishing he could do something to free Bane from this agony, John rested his hand lightly on Bane's arm again and willed warmth into him. He felt his heart clench sadly as he watched Bane's face contort with pain. It was perhaps the first time John had seen Bane show pain in the long time since they had met; even at City Hall Bane had still been numb with morphine.

John blinked as a thought came to him, something he hadn't really considered before. In all the times Bane had been injured before he had never shown anything more than mild discomfort or annoyance, as though the injuries were bothersome more than painful. And when John had seen footage on television of Bane fighting it had looked like he was invincible, a wall of strength taking each hit without even flinching.

It was true that Bane was still handling the morphine withdrawal well, silent in his suffering without any complaining. But he was obviously still in pain and John wondered if this morphine withdrawal was even worse for Bane than it might have otherwise been since Bane had gone so many years of his life being slightly numbed from the world. Suddenly every physical touch and ache was magnified by Bane's lack of familiarity with it.

It left John nervous to touch Bane again, worried he would cause further pain. Would John's touches feel so novel that they hurt Bane, or would they feel even more pleasurable than before? John bit his lip but made the decision to slowly shuffle away, unwilling to make any mistakes right now.

Bane's eyes flashed open at John's retreat. For a brief second Bane's expression was heartbreaking – lost and desperate. Bane hid it after a moment but it had John rushing forward to kiss him again with all the love and passion he could express through just the touch of their lips. "I just don't want to hurt you," he whispered against Bane's mouth afterwards; an apology.

Bane slumped back against the mattress, looking worn out. "I thought that was my line."

"We can take care of each other," John reminded him, and to avoid any further temptation John sat up and got off the bed entirely. "Speaking of which, do you want some food before I leave?"

"Not really," Bane grumbled impatiently, face a little red as he continued to hold his belly.

"The pain might be worse since you haven't eaten," John said. He hated hovering over Bane being useless, so John made Bane's decision for him. "I need to make food for myself anyway so you can just try some of mine and see if that helps."

"Fine," Bane wheezed, saying nothing else.

John knew not to take the sharp tone to heart and pressed a light kiss to Bane's temple before leaving the room. He pulled out a few slices of frozen bread and popped them in the toaster, grabbing the package of frozen muffins behind the loaf and putting one in the microwave to thaw. With a new glass of water and a plate of plain and buttered toast alongside his small plate with the muffin, John returned to the bedroom.

Bane had sat up slightly against the pillows, arms holding him together as he breathed deeply. Those watchful eyes opened when John entered, considering the food John was balancing precariously in his arms. John set the glass of water on the bedside table beside the watchful Osito where Bane could reach and then put the plate of toast by Bane's elbow, placing his own muffin on the other bedside table.

He didn't sit down right away though. Instead he returned to the bathroom and pulled a heating pad from the bottom cupboard and took it to the kitchen to heat it up in the microwave. This time when John entered the room Bane looked at him with mild amusement. "Dreams of being a nurse?"

"You wish," John shot back, laughing off his embarrassment as he climbed onto the bed. He could see Bane's eyes look him over, that imagination no doubt kick-starting. John kissed Bane briefly for it and then refocused on his task. "You get a lot of injuries and tense muscles as a cop in a city like Gotham. The heat helps." John slowly lowered the heating pad on Bane's belly and then relinquished his hold to allow Bane to resituate it until a pleased sigh escaped.

Bane's eyes drifted closed, the quirk of a contented smile briefly twitching his lips. John smiled in happiness and relief at the sight and then looked down, finding half of a slice of plain toast bitten away. "How is the food settling?" he asked. Bane grunted, sounding relatively uninterested as the heating pad lulled him. "You should eat a bit more," John prodded.

A snore answered him and John rolled his eyes. He wished Bane had eaten more food before he fell asleep but at least he had gotten something in his stomach. John moved the plate of toast beside the glass of water and then threw a blanket over Bane's lower half, not wanting to cause Bane to overheat and wake up. Bane needed as much rest as he could get.

Knowing he would just lie in bed with Bane if he didn't get up, John grabbed his muffin and one slice of toast before exiting the bedroom. He wrote a short note for Bane to remind him that he was heading out and would be back later. At the same time John ate his muffin unceremoniously, gulping down some water before setting his plates in the sink for later. Once John confirmed that he had everything he needed, he grabbed his keys to lock his door on the way out and exited into the streets for the first time since the final battle for Gotham.

It was an odd experience being back out on the streets. John had received a little acknowledgement as a cop on his patrols before Bane and Talia's destruction tore through the city. But now strangers would look up and stare at him, some of them no doubt remembering his face from the news. John could see everything from curiosity and relief to distrust and suspicion on people's faces as they remembered the picture of him standing beside Bane.

One person in the grocery store actually leaned closer to him and hissed in his ear. "Your master loosened your leash?"

John ground his teeth together but kept his eyes on the unorganized shelf of food. As much as he wanted to spin on his heel and relieve the nameless man of a few of his teeth with a fist, John wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being proven right. John had to prove that there was more to the story than that unexplained photo, and that could only be done by displaying his actions to the people of Gotham. So John clutched his little basket of food tighter, praying that the man wouldn't do something stupid like attack him – because John didn't think he could hold himself back then – and briskly walked away down the aisle.

It was the only outright negative experience John had his first day back, but it left him edgy and unsettled. It seemed like no matter what he did, he never belonged. Lost parents with no home, too much of a hothead for the police, and too empathetic of others' – Bane's – experiences to properly act as an 'upstanding citizen'. It was frustrating and disheartening but there was nothing John could do other than cling to his old routines.

Almost immediately after the war had ended the government had brought huge masses of food and medical supplies using available helicopters. They were doing their best to restock Gotham after months of surviving on pitiful rations. Everyone was still in the mindset of war though, and grabbed everything they could to hoard away in case darkness fell over the city again. No one yet trusted the idea of freedom again, scared of believing and then having it ripped away a second time.

John grabbed what he could off the shelves and paid at the counter. What he managed to collect in his bags would last them a while, even if the selection wasn't very plentiful. He had managed to get some vegetables and a small bag of bruised apples, as well as some milk, bread and cheese, but everything else was non-perishable foods that they could rely on until stores were properly restocked.

He stopped back at the apartment briefly and put all the necessary items in the fridge and freezer, not wanting any of the precious food to go bad. When he glanced into the bedroom he found Bane where he had left him, half covered and asleep, so John left again before he could disturb Bane. John spent his time before his bank appointment at the library since his computer had been stolen. He printed off a map and wrote down a few addresses he would need for later – the cemetery where Talia was buried, Wayne Manor, and a few stores John wanted to stop at.

After that, with a little more time to spare, John researched morphine withdrawal. He read about the common symptoms and a few suggested remedies to alleviate the pain and suffering. John was relieved to read that morphine withdrawal was not fatal, but he had seen with his own eyes how much suffering could still occur even without the threat of death. The websites he looked at recommended lots of water and plain foods, rest and even a little exercise when possible to help with the muscle pain and cramping.

John wrote it all down and then looked up at the clock, realizing he had to be on his way. It wouldn't have taken him too long to get to the bank normally, but just like many of his other personal belongings his bike had been stolen months ago. The sidewalks were packed with people walking around, few people with gasoline left for their cars or money to buy more while gasoline was so rare and expensive.

He made it to the bank early and was thankful he had thought to book an appointment ahead when he saw how crowded the main lobby of the bank was. John waited in the haphazard line to get to the front where a frazzled-looking man was directing people to different lines depending on their issues. John explained he had an appointment booked and was led to a line near the back of the bank where a row of offices with fogged-glass doors stood.

Luckily, once he was finally seen the matter of getting his accounts back in order was relatively simple. He handed over his ID and answered a few questions about his activities over the last few months. It helped that the news and Gordon posting a 'missing person' report when John was kidnapped backed up his story.

John was issued a temporary debit card he could cut up when he was contacted to return to the bank to pick up his replacement debit and credit cards. John thanked them for their time, understanding their hesitance about using the mail system for his cards while everything was unorganized, gave them his new cell phone number and headed out.

With more access to money, John stopped at an electronics store on his way home. He bought an inexpensive netbook, wanting access to the internet more than he cared about replacing his television or getting a more advanced phone. He couldn't afford to splurge at the moment; he was only buying the computer out of necessity. Once his purchase was made John headed home quickly, unwilling to linger or spend any more time away from Bane.

When he returned to the apartment he found Bane awake and in the living room, pacing back and forth across the row of windows. Bane's steps were pained and halted, his entire looming body stiff as the late sun cast shadows across the carpet. But this was a vast improvement over the man who had been sleeping in John's tub, unable to eat let alone stand up and carry his own weight.

Bane glanced back at him as John stepped further into the apartment, setting down his bag and toeing off his boots before hanging up his coat. Once Bane saw that it was only him, Bane relaxed and let himself pause as he leaned against the window. "Are you alright?" John wondered, knowing Bane to normally be contained in the movements he made. At the same time, it was good to see him moving on his own again, however slow and unsteady.

"Better," Bane said. "It feels good to move."

John nodded and set his bag on the desk. "I got groceries. Is there anything you feel like?"

Bane thought about it. "More toast."

"I can do that." John noticed the word 'more' and hoped that implied Bane had finished the previous plate of toast John had left for him.

"I could help," Bane offered, pushing away from the window to stand straight again.

"Let yourself rest for once," John ordered. "Just because you can stand doesn't mean you need to cook."

"I refuse to be a burden," Bane said.

John sighed and crossed the living room, not allowing Bane to look away. "You're not a burden." Bane looked unconvinced and John pressed on. "Was I a burden when you took care of me after your guards nearly—?"

He still couldn't say the word, refused to vocalize it. But he knew Bane understood what he was referencing because his eyes narrowed. "That was different."

"You nearly died, and now you're immediately going through withdrawal," John reminded him in exasperation. "If the situations are different, then yours is worse." Bane looked like he was going to argue but John noticed his knees beginning to buckle. "Just sit down, would you? If you want the complete truth, it's nice knowing I can actually do something for you in return for once."

Perhaps he had struck a chord because Bane's eyes widened slightly. "I trust you," Bane said carefully.

All at once John felt self-conscious. "I know. But you're smarter and stronger and you can do everything yourself," he rubbed the back of his neck. "You don't need me."

"John," Bane said in a way that made John look up from the carpet. With utmost seriousness, Bane continued. "I need you."

"What, to make you toast and let you sleep in my tub?" John laughed past his grimace.

"No." Bane stepped towards him. Each step was thought out and slow and John could have moved away easily if he chose. Instead he remained rooted in place. "I need you to believe in me, and to see the potential of a bright future, because I do not remember how to do that." John dropped his hands to his sides but began to fidget with the cuff of his shirt. Bane stepped right up to him and lifted his chin with a finger. "I need you because before you I thought I was unlovable and good as nothing but a weapon."

"You can be so much more," John whispered as he stared into Bane's eyes, swallowing hard.

"I know," Bane said. "And you are the reason I have the motivation to try. Never forget that."

Bane grunted when John threw his arms around his neck, but held him close as they shared an embrace in the middle of John's living room. There were a million things John wanted to say, touched by Bane's words, but nothing needed to be said. Silence reigned as they continued to hold each other, and John's memory of Bane's weakened state was the only thing that could pry his arms away.

"I'll make dinner," John said, smiling warmly when Bane acknowledged him and made his way over to the couch. Now that a war was not being waged right beyond their window, both John and Bane were beginning to tread towards a possible domestic situation. And while John had always been scared of searching for this, worried he would lose it the same way his parents and home life had been torn away as a child, he had to admit that he was beginning to enjoy it.

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"Beyond the Shadow" on AO3: archiveofourown(dot-org)/works/684270