Can I have some reviews, sir? Can I have some more . . .?
Yeah, I just copied Charles Dickens - what of it? Reviews WOULD be largely appreciated. I have all these subscribers and no reviews. Correlation does not match up ladies and gents! Come on . . . I promise I won't bite!
CLTex and Guest, however, thank you guys muchly for your reviews! You both get virtual cookies! Or potatos if you a 9gagger :)
Only four hours since Bane left flanked by Barsad and his unnamed lieutenant, and already, Natalie was bored out of her mind, almost to the point of deliriousness. She had made up her bed and taken a quick shower before choking down a breakfast of nothing more but toast and a glass of orange juice. After that, she had gone through her cabinets with an overly critical eye. Her fridge and cabinets were surprisingly well stocked, as well as her bathroom cabinets and medicine cabinet. The bookshelves were chock full of her favorite titles, as well as a few new editions that she had never read but which seemed interesting to her. There was also a record player in the living room situated beside the TV and fireplace, of which all the records were her favorites. The mahogany cabinet on the other side of the TV and fireplace, was full to bursting with DVDs and videogames along with an Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3. She wasn't a big gaming nut – that was Blake – but occasionally she liked to play when there was nothing else to do. The DVDs were her favorites, as well, and like the bookcase, also included a few editions she thought looked interesting, but had never seen.
Barsad had done his job well, she had to give him that.
She wandered aimlessly around the apartment after rifling through all her cabinets to see just what was in each of them. All the blinds were up on the windows in the living room and when she peered out through them, she could see the empty streets below. They looked unfamiliar but that didn't surprise her. Of course Bane would have the brains and the common sense to take her and whisk her off to a part of the city she was completely unfamiliar with. She could also see a few men wandering aimlessly along the sidewalks, cigarettes and cellphones in hand, and knew – almost intuitively – that they were some of Bane's men dressed casually - to better blend in with the surrounding scenery. They were also probably there to make sure she didn't escape or rescued.
She stayed in front of the windows for a moment, allowing the sun's rays to wash over and warm her, before she hesitantly placed the heels of her hands on the upper frame of the window. Pushing upwards, she wasn't surprised when the window didn't budge in the slightest. Of course it would be locked or nailed shut. That would have been way too easy and she knew Bane would not want to risk her jumping out of desperation. Damn.
Pushing herself off of the sill, she clasped her hands behind her back and after canting her head slightly to side, wandered over to the one door still closed. The double doors to her bedroom were open, as well as the one leading to the kitchen, which was always open. Reaching it, she pressed a hand to its surface before grasping the knob and turning it. It came to a stop after a slight rotation and she furrowed her brow in confusion. Locked? Why would it be locked? The front door and the windows, she could understand, but this one? Why was this one locked?
Was it Bane's room, is that why it was locked?
She pressed her ear to it briefly but withdrew when there was nothing beyond that would be particularly alarming (she didn't know why there would be). Her curiosity longed from sated but knowing there was nothing else she could do, she moved away from the door and wandered off back over to the couches. She took a seat on the one Barsad had occupied, tucking her feet up under her, and allowed her eyes to wander around the room from her new vantage point. The coffee table was cleared of the map and papers that had been on it earlier; its glass surface gleaming that clear, Windex shine. In fact, everything was spotless, and she found herself wondering who cleaned up around here. Was it Bane and his obvious military training that kept everything so neat and orderly, or did he order one of his men to do it? Or was that expected to fall to her now that she was here? She couldn't imagine his paranoid self hiring a maid.
She sat there for a moment, thinking and daydreaming, until the unlocking and opening of the front door caused her to jump to her feet, heart pounding in her chest. Eyes widening, she darted to see who had entered the apartment, only to recoil when she saw it was just a woman.
A stunningly beautiful woman.
The woman smiled upon catching sight of Natalie, her hazel eyes lighting up with a friendly gleam. Her shoulder length, chestnut colored hair fell loose and free around her shoulders and she juggled two paper grocery bags in her arms as she struggled to re-lock the door behind her. Who was this woman, and more importantly, why did she possess a key to this apartment? Was she the apartment's previous owner that was allowing Bane to rent it or use it?
"Oh good, you're up! I did not wish to disturb you by coming in uninvited, but I wanted to drop off a few things that you might need. After all, I doubt they were thought of when they were stocking and renovating this place . . ." She spoke, trailing off, and Natalie gave a slow nod of her head.
"Uh, who are you? And why are you here delivering my groceries and-and whatever else I presume is on that list your holding?"
The woman smiled and held up the scrap of paper in her hand before quickly shoving it down into the back pocket of her jeans. "I'm sorry, how rude of me! I know practically everything about you, and here you are, not even knowing my name! Oh, I feel so embarrassed!" She blushed lightly and Natalie felt her teeth grit slightly. "My name's Miranda – Miranda Tate. And no reason in particular. Maybe I simply wanted to meet the woman who has ensnared Bane to the point to where he is allowing her to live with him!"
Natalie recoiled, her eyes widening. "I . . . you make it out like I'm his . . . his girlfriend, or something."
Miranda gave a gentle laugh that immediately made a flare of jealously rise up in Natalie's stomach. She moved into the living room, where she deposited the paper bags onto the coffetable. That laugh . . . it sounded like the tinkling of church bells on Sunday. No earthly woman's laugh should sound that beautiful. "No, Bane does believe in such titles as those. But he does care for you, make no mistake about it. I also see you have tried to escape?"
She nodded towards the scratches around the doorknob of the front door from the previous day, one of her delicately plucked eyebrows raised in interest. Natalie swallowed hard and anxiously pulled down the sleeve of her shirt, trying to hide the nasty purple-black bruise that was just now forming on her upper arm. Miranda shook her head, a soft look appearing in her eyes. "I wouldn't try it anymore, dear one, but no doubt you already know that. Bane will not take kindly to such impudence for long."
"So says the man locking me up like I'm some kind of animal!" She snapped before she could stop herself. Instead of reacting badly, though, Miranda simply continued to smile, almost serenely and with infinite patience.
"You should also work on your attitude, as well. I'm surprised Bane hasn't killed you yet for your sharp tongue. Normally, he does not like people talking to him in such a way."
Natalie gave a scoff. "How do you know I talk to him this way? Do I have 'stupid' written across my forehead?"
These words finally made Miranda pause and after a moment, she turned an expressionless gaze onto her. She slowly shook her head. "No. No, I do not think you are stupid in the least. Quite the contrary, I think you are a very intelligent woman. But I do think you are rash and sometimes speak before you think. And that can be a very bad thing with Bane if you are not careful. It is not wise to tempt him."
Natalie gave a stiff nod. "Thanks for the advice." She spoke, her tone more scathing than she had intended, and Miranda gave her another one of those serene smiles of hers in return. She nodded.
"Advice that you no doubt are already aware of, I'm sorry. Still . . . sometimes, it helps to hear it from another person."
Natalie's jaw hardened again. Something about this woman and her serene smiles full of infuriatingly infinite patience, made every red flag possible, pop up in her head. Something about her rubbed her the wrong way and wouldn't stop however-so-long she was in her presence. In other words, there was something wrong with this woman. Unfortunately, Natalie couldn't exactly put her finger on exactly what it was, yet.
All she knew was that she wanted her gone. Bane was one thing to have around her since she was miraculously starting to get used to him and his hulking presences and his stoic silences. She also knew Bane wouldn't hurt her unless it came with his own twisted yet strangely logical reason. This woman, despite the serene, friendly smile she was giving her, held a note of hardness in her eyes that was unmistakable. This woman would not be like Bane. She would hurt her just because she could. Just because she was expendable.
Eventually, Natalie moved to cross her arms in front of her chest, where she gave her a tight smile. "Well, thanks for stopping by, I guess. You should probably leave now, though, I'm . . . I think I might go lay down. I'm very tired, you see . . ."
Her words trailed off, and Miranda gazed at her for a moment, face expressionless, before she smiled and stepped forward, where she stretched her hand out to her. "Oh, well then, allow me to get out of your hair. It was very nice meeting you, Natalie." She spoke, and Natalie gave another tight smile and a nod.
"Yes . . . you too." She spoke as she shook her hand. They shared tight smiles before dropping the other's hand like they both had leprosy. Natalie stood there, arms still crossed in front of her chest and watched as she left the apartment. She heard the lock turn and darted forward, where she quickly jiggled the doorknob. It was indeed locked and while she released a breath of relief, she nonetheless felt a little uneasy about being trapped in an apartment with no way out while some woman she didn't know held a key to both the door and the elevator.
Again, Bane was one thing. She was starting to understand Bane and his quirks. This strange woman, on the other hand . . . the entire air surrounding her, unnerved her.
After a moment of collecting herself, she moved slowly back over to the coffetable, where she took another seat on the couch she had vacated earlier. She gazed apprehensively at the two paper sacks and for a moment, contemplated on having Bane go through them first when he got home. However, she eventually decided against it and after a few heavy seconds passed, grasped the two bags in-between her thumbs and forefingers, and pulled them towards her. She peeked inside and upon becoming satisfied that there were no ticking time bombs or carefully hidden needles placed inside, she began unloading everything onto the glass face of the coffetable.
There were sanitary pads, fashion magazines, nail polish, files and remover, as well as other girly things inside, that were otherwise overlooked when Barsad had done his run-down of her and Blake's apartment and they were stocking and renovating this one. She found herself smiling when she picked up the bottle of scarlet red nail polish and then took a look at her nails already coated with their own chipped navy blue paint. They were looking a little ragged . . .
A ding from the elevators, echoed throughout the apartment, and Natalie moved to yank up the two paper sacks and crumple them before getting to her feet. Moving into the kitchen, she threw them into the trash before turning around. The door opened and closed and Barsad stalked past her, a box in his arms. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as she darted out of the tiled space.
"What's that?"
"None of your business." He spoke, his tone clipped, as he made his way to the locked door she had investigated previously. Continuing to stand there, she watched as he set the box down and quickly fished a key out of the front pocket of his jeans. Unlocking the door, he picked up the box and opened it just enough for him to dart inside. Crossing her arms again, she waited until he was done and had reappeared before she spoke.
"What's in there?"
Barsad glanced at her as he quickly re-locked the door. Jiggling the doorknob for a moment to make sure it was locked, he replaced the key in his pocket when he was satisfied, and turned to gaze at her. "What's in where?"
Natalie rolled her eyes. "Oh don't play dumb – you know where! There!" She replied with a nod towards the door. He glanced behind him at the door before giving a shrug. A look of amusement crossed his eyes.
"None of your business," He spoke, and Natalie glared at him for a moment before turning and moving back to the couches, where she plopped down. Barsad stood there for a moment before hesitantly following her. "What's all this?" He asked, and she glanced at him before picking up the bottle of polish remover. She glanced at him before propping her foot up on the edge of the table.
"Some woman named Miranda brought them by earlier. Said they were a few things you guys missed when you were putting the apartment together."
Barsad gave a slow nod as he moved to take a seat on the couch beside hers. He took a moment to gaze at the small pile of fashion magazines before moving over everything else sitting there. He gave an almost uneasy look when he was done. "How did you . . . how did you like Miranda?"
Natalie gave a shrug as she focused on wiping away the leftover nail polish from her toenails with an alcohol soaked cotton ball. "She was . . . nice. A little bit too nice, I thought, but . . . whatever," She gave another shrug. "I'm just glad she eventually left. She made me feel uneasy the longer I was around her."
Barsad nodded and looked away as he ran his fingers over his lips. "I'll have to tell Bane she stopped by . . ." He murmured, and she shot a confused look his way.
"Why? He didn't know she was stopping by?" Barsad shook his head.
"Not that I know of. And he's . . . he's been very particular on who knows you're staying here. For your own safety, you know?" He glanced at her, then. "And I don't want to worry you, pretty one, but . . . Bane never gave her a key. As far as I know, he and I are the only ones who have them and again, for security reasons. It's a lot easier to keep track of two than . . ." He trailed off and heaved a sigh. "I don't . . . I don't know how she could have managed to get her hands on a copy and if that worries me, then think how that'll effect Bane!"
Natalie felt an icy finger of dread run and down her spine at his words. Her movements stilled entirely, and slowly, she turned her eyes up onto his. They were wide with shock and fear and after a moment, she shook her head. "She was . . . and she was in here? With me? Alone?"
Barsad gave a wry smile as he uneasily ran his fingers over his lips again. "Bane isn't going to like this. He wanted to keep you a secret from her for as long as possible -"
For some reason, that struck her like a slap. Jaw hardening again, she straightened up slightly and didn't hesitate to interrupt him. "Why would he want to hide me from her? Why does it matter to her if I'm here?" Barsad glanced at her.
"Bane and Miranda, they have . . . they have a past together. And Miranda, she can get . . . well, she has a tendency to get a little jealous sometimes," He shook his head and leaned forward slightly, where he held a hand out to her. "Please, understand, pretty one, that he was trying to keep you from everyone, only for your own safety!"
Natalie let out a scoff of a laugh. "So, she's just a jealous ex of his, is that it?"
Barsad frowned slightly as he averted his gaze away from her, then. "I don't know if I would go that far . . ."
"'Cause that's certainly what it sounds like to me!" She spoke with a laugh as she threw the cotton ball away from her and onto the table. Barsad pursed his lips. He opened his mouth to speak, but the dinging of the elevator diverted their attentions. Natalie's heart immediately picked up its beat, only to skyrocket when Bane stepped into the living room, but not like it normally did. Barsad's eyes widened, as well, at the sight of his leader covered in blood. Natalie blanched as Barsad shot to his feet.
"Bane, are you -?"
"Calm down, Barsad, I'm fine!" Bane interrupted him, a tone of slight irritation lacing his voice. He glanced at the white Natalie before flickering his eyes back onto his second. His voice lowered to an almost confidential tone. "I've been shot. It's in my arm - I'm fine - but nevertheless . . . it's annoying. And I didn't want to say anything in front of the men . . ."
Barsad nodded before darting into the bathroom beyond the bedroom, where he began rummaging around for something. Bane gazed at her for a moment before moving to take a seat on one of the couches. Immediately, Natalie jumped to her feet and darted over to him, where her hands ghosted over his chest. "Oh no you don't, mister! Do you know how hard it is to clean blood out of fabric, especially sofa fabric?"
A look of amusement entered Bane's eyes then, and he watched as she pursed her lips before heading straight for the dirty clothes basket sitting beside the washing machine in the kitchen. Reaching inside, she plucked out two dirty towels before returning to him and the couches. "You're covered in blood and smell like a slaughterhouse, so I'm sure you won't object to these towels being dirty?" She asked, her tone clipped and brooking no argument. Bane gave a shrug.
"I've smelled worse and I've been on worse." He spoke, and she nodded and spread them out before gesturing for him to sit.
"I've figured, but you never know." She sighed as he took a seat, lowering himself down much more gracefully than she could ever have imagined a man his size could. And really, while his movements were often bold and sweeping - powerful - there was also a grace and fluidity to them that reminded her best of a big cat – a lion or a tiger on the prowl. The ferocity of his personality matched the two cats, as well, and for only a moment, she found himself wondering what he would look like when he was fighting. Would he retain that same grace and fluidity? Or would he mirror Goro's big, bludgeoning movements (once again, thanks Blake for the gaming reference), as he pulverized his enemies into submission?
After a moment, she wrinkled her nose. "You're covered in blood! Where were you shot again?"
Bane flexed his right bicep, causing Natalie to flinch. She wondered at how he could possibly bear to flex a muscle that had a bullet in it but then realized the analgesic in his mask probably kept him from feeling such pain. She shook her head as the wrinkle in her nose fell down into a grimace. "Barsad shouldn't take out that bullet with you looking like this. Wait one moment."
Turning on her heels, she disappeared into the kitchen, where she immediately began rattling through the cupboards. Finding a good sized bowl, she filled it with hot water and snatched up a few folded dishrags before moving back into the living room. Placing the bowl and the rags on the nearby coffetable, she took a seat on her knees in-between his parted legs. Turning around and soaking one of the rags in the water, she had to focus to keep her hands from shaking. Her heart continued to pound in her chest like an African drum at the close proximity between them, and tried not to freak out at being around him in such close proximity. She wasn't sure just why she was doing this – wouldn't it be in her best interest if she didn't help him and he died of gangrene or infection beccause Barsad hadn't had a clean area to work with? However, something inside her compelled her to help him. Call it compassion, call it human nature, call it that she liked Barsad and simply wanted to make his job easier – whatever! – she just knew she had to help.
"Is this . . . someone else's blood on you?" She asked, knowing it was stupid question but felt compelled to ask it, all the same. She could practically see the smirk he was wearing behind his mask as she brought up the rag to gingerly wash away the blood forming around the bullet hole torn into his biceps. Christ, he could have just wrapped it instead of letting it bleed like he did!
"It is a mixture of mine and others. Why? Does it bother you, little one?"
Natalie chuckled as she wrung out her rag before re-soaking it again. When she was done, she carefully began cleaning the blood out from within the intricate little spaces of his mask. "Hun, don't be silly! Blood's never bothered me. Its shit and vomit I can't handle without wanting to throw my guts up."
"Is that why you have no children?"
Natalie felt herself come to a grinding halt at his quite rude and quite out-of-the-blue question. After a moment of allowing it to sink in, she resumed her movements, albeit at a stiffer pace. "That's very complicated." She murmured, her tone telling him to drop it, and thankfully, he did. He nodded almost sagely as his eyes wandered her face - almost as if he was committing every little dip and curve of her features to memory. He stayed silent then and allowed her to clean him with a patience and stillness that reminded her most immediately of a monk during meditation. His hands remained on his knees the entire time and not one inch of him moved throughout the entire process. His eyes did remain on her face, though, and she found herself avoiding them, scared of what she would find echoing within the beautiful depths as he gazed at her.
Barsad returned moments later, juggling quite a few things in his hands. Placing it all down on the coffetable beside her bowl of now lukewarm water and red tinged rags, he quickly flipped on the nearby lamp before taking a seat beside Bane on the couch he was occupying. Observing the wound with a critical, almost surgical eye, he spoke after a moment, his voice quiet and even.
"It appears as if all the muscle in your arm has kept the bullet from making a clean route out, my friend," He spoke before shaking his head. "I'm going to have to dig it out before I can dress it."
Bane glanced at him before nodding. "Fine. Do it."
Barsad nodded before picking up the utensils he would need and holding them out to Natalie still kneeling in-between Bane's legs. "Would you please go and boil these? They need to be disinfected before I can do anything with them." He asked her and a stricken look appeared on her face.
"Are you serious? You're really about to dig a bullet out of his fucking arm? Isn't that excruciating?"
A look of amusement flickered through Bane's eyes as Barsad pinned her with a firm look. "Before I joined Bane, I was an emergency field medic. I know what I'm doing." She knew by the look in his eyes when he gazed at her, that he had silently added 'pretty one' onto that sentence, but not daring to say it out loud. He knew it unwise to say such things in front of Bane. However, the gentle touch of Bane's fingers on her arm, was what caused her to reluctantly agree to do what he said.
"I won't feel a thing, little one, I promise." He told her and she gazed at him for a moment, wondering why she felt so nervous about the entire thing, before nodding. She carefully took all of the utensils from Barsad before padding into the kitchen. After finding a pot and filling it with hot water again, she placed it on the stove and turned on the eye. After placing the lid on and waiting for the water to begin a rolling boil, she picked up the utensils and placed them into the water. She was unsure of how long to boil them and figured five to ten minutes was her best bet. That, or until Barsad called for her to bring them back.
Which is what happened. After roughly five minutes of standing there watching water boil, she heard Barsad calling for her to bring them back. Quickly washing her hands, she took out a colander and after placing it in the sink, turned off the stove before removing the lid of the pot. Recoiling away from the steam, she carried the pot over to the colander and poured the water inside. There was the sharp rattling of metal on metal as the utensils fell into the colander and after placing the pot to the side, reached up to turn on the cold water tap. The hot metal hissed as it met the cold of the water and when she was sure they had sufficiently cooled, she picked up the colander and hefted it into the living room. Barsad gave her a nod of approval.
"Good job. Now, you can stay or leave, Bane's decision."
Her eyes fell onto Bane's and he leveled her with a look. "You wish to stay?"
She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, even though deep down she really wanted to. So, after a moment, she gave a nod. "Y-yeah. Yeah, I would like to stay." Bane gave a nod.
"Then she can stay." He spoke and Barsad nodded as she moved over to kneel in-between his legs again. She didn't know why she had chosen to take this close of a position to what Barsad would be doing. Deep down, it fascinated her. She had never seen someone dig out a bullet out of someone and then dress the wound afterwards. Bane watched her with an interested gleam to his eye, but said nothing further as Barsad began to work.
It was fascinating! Bane sat there, completely heedless of the excruciating pain that other, normal people would be feeling at that moment. Like always, he simply observed her throughout the process, and watched with a flicker of amusement as emotions of disgust and awe moved interchangeably across her pretty features depending on what was happening. And Barsad – Barsad moved with a quick, surgical precision that was beautiful in its own macabre way. When he finally withdrew the bullet from within his leader's arm, it gleamed black and red in the bright light shining over his shoulder onto the wound. With a 'ping', it landed on the glass surface of the coffetable and was soon joined by the bloody scissors and scalpel that he had been using. He then moved to pick up gauze and alcohol sitting there.
"Hard part's over." He spoke, and Bane gave a small nod as Barsad quickly dressed the wound while telling him what to do. He would have to redress it every other hour and to make sure to send for him at any sign of infection. It was imperative they not sow shut the wound, lest he become septic. Bane nodded throughout all of this and eventually sent him a look when his instructions began to irritate him.
"I know, my friend. You act like I've never sustained a bullet wound before!" He spoke, and Barsad gave a shrug. It was casual – nonchalant. It wasn't the type of motion that one would make unless they were completely comfortable around Bane. Quite obviously the friendship (indeed, if one could even call it that) between these two men, ran deep.
"Force of habit, Bane. Forgive me."
Bane nodded before returning his eyes onto Natalie still kneeling there in front of him, watching what Barsad was doing with a rapt eye. He watched as the late afternoon rays streaming in through the windows behind them, fell onto her over his shoulder, casting her in a beautiful flaming halo. It shone off of the blue in her black hair and for a moment – one brief, all-encompassing moment – he felt the intense urge to bury his hands within those dark locks and feel the heft and weight of them in his hands. He wondered if it was heavy for her to wear. It looked heavy. And beautiful.
Didn't his mother have black hair, too? Like a lot of things, he couldn't remember.
Bane snapped himself back into reality when he heard Barsad's voice in his ear. This time, there was a clipped edge to it that had not been there previously. He found his interest peaked. "Miranda showed up today."
Immediately, Bane stiffened, his eyes adopting a gleam that Natalie couldn't rightly place for a moment. "She came here?"
Natalie nodded and immediately, his eyes snapped onto her. "She . . . she had a key." She spoke with a tremor to her voice, and Bane continued to gaze at her while Barsad spoke.
"You and I are the only ones who have keys to this apartment, Bane. The mere fact that she has one . . . unsettles me."
Bane gave a slow nod of agreement. "I know. And I agree," He spoke, his eyes not once leaving Natalie's. When he spoke, his words were directed towards her this time. They were soft and damn near soothing. "Did she hurt you, little one?"
Natalie shook her head. "No. She just delivered some things that she thought I needed."
"What things?"
Natalie looked over her shoulder at the alarmed tone he had suddenly taken, and nodded to the things still sitting on the coffetable. Quickly, his eyes scanned them before they glanced at Barsad. "You had no idea this happened?" He asked, and Barsad silently shook his head.
"Not until I came by to drop off that box for you and she told me."
"You inspected everything?"
Barsad shook his head. "No, I didn't get the chance. You walked in not mere minutes after I did. I do it in a minute."
Bane nodded again, this time slower, as if he was ruminating deeply on something. After a moment, he glanced at his friend and something unspoken seemed to pass between them, for Barsad nodded. "What time?"
"Eight every morning, I want you here with her. You're the only one I can trust, my friend." He told him and Barsad nodded as Natalie's eyes widened. What the . . . did she just get herself a bodyguard?