I'm really not happy with this chapter. There's just something about it that I don't like. Maybe I'm still not content with how Bane and Natalie interact with each other, even though I am still trying my damndest to get them sorted out together. Maybe I'll come back in when I have more free time and when I'm more certain of Nane's (Batalie?) relationship (Opposed to Nlake and Narsad), but I'm not sure. I always say I'll do that but then end up not :/

Thank you all who reviewed! I would have responded to you all individually and I DID but then my computer acted up when I tried saving this in Edit Document the first time and I lost everything and . . . UGH! Now I can't track down your reviews in my hotmail inbox and . . . well, I'm sorry guys. Just wanted to thank you all for your lovely reviews - they were amazing!

Love you all bunches!

- Nagiana

Sitting in Bane's company, was infinitely more nerve-wracking than sitting in Barsad's. Barsad was easy – he was stable. He wasn't likely to snap at you or your neck at any given moment. Bane, on the other hand . . . he was hulking and stoic and even though he largely remained silent, she got the feeling that he noticed everything and could comment on everything if he wanted to. He claimed his own couch, knowing that she was still largely uncomfortable with his presence compared to how her and Barsad now comfortably shared one every morning.

She constantly found herself comparing the two men, even though they were like night and day to the other. How they had managed to become friends despite their obvious differences, were beyond her.

"I need to talk to you."

His eyes flickered onto hers. "Then talk." She nodded, slowly as she moved to tuck her feet up underneath and to cross her arms across her chest.

"I met with Kai this morning."

He nodded, his eyes still on the TV. The sight made the knot of uneasiness in her stomach, disappear somewhat. At least he was like every man in that regard – would rather sit and watch TV than listen to what his significant other had to say to him.

Significant other. The term made her give an inwardly bitter laugh. It seemed so apt for them. They weren't dating - they weren't together by any sense of the word. But yet, at that moment in each other's lives, they were each other's significant other.

"Well, she told me . . . of her living conditions."

Those words finally seemed to earn her his full and undivided attention. She licked her lips and tried to continue on with what she had rehearsed but only managed to get out: "I don't approve." instead. Through his eyes, she could see he was smirking or smiling – she couldn't tell quite yet.

"Oh?"

She nodded. "She described it as a 'cell'. Want to explain that?"

Bane gave a chuckle, as if he was amused she would dare to try and hold him accountable for anything. "Your loyalty towards her is admirable, little one. But it is also misplaced."

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"

Bane glanced at her, brow arched. "It's as it sounds. Do you know what she's been saying about you since being placed in that cell?"

Natalie gave a sharp laugh and a careless shrug, although, deep down, she couldn't help but feel uneasy at his words. "She's been put through hell since we got here, and I haven't seen her since this morning because I didn't think I could see her. I won't take it personally. They were probably spoken out of anger and hurt," He nodded again, as if he knew she would say such a thing. She continued on: "If you refuse to put her in a more comfortable room, though, then at least consider letting her go. What has she done to you?"

"Absolutely nothing. But letting her go would be stupidity at its finest, little one. Who's to say she wouldn't go running to your precious little Blake as soon as she was outside these doors?" He turned his gaze onto her and shook his head. "I will have her moved to more comfortable accommodations, but letting her go is out of the question."

Natalie nodded, her jaw hardening in anger. She turned an angry gaze onto the TV to avoid looking at him any longer, and she could only imagine the amusement shining in his eyes. "You could blindfold her and drop her off somewhere other than outside these front doors. Wouldn't that be a viable plan of action?" She told him, and Bane gave a chuckle as he returned his eyes onto the TV.

"She's staying, little one."

"I'm not your little one!"

Bane gave another chuckle – this one sharper, more dangerous. "It intrigues me on how you refuse to allow me to call you 'little one', yet you freely allow Barsad to refer to you as 'pretty one'. Is vanity truly your sin, little one, or is there something I'm missing?" His words caused her eyes to widen as they shot onto him, and her mouth to fall open in shock. She wordlessly shook her head and he took this moment of temporary speechlessness to turn his eyes onto hers again. They were hard and no longer filled with amusement. "She stays or one of my men puts a bullet through her head – that's your choice, little one. She's too big a risk to let go."

A roil of vibrant hatred for this man - dagger sharp and fiery red - appeared in her gut then, and she averted her eyes away from him as she felt the sharp burn of angry, frustrated tears brim in her eyes. She hated him. She hated him with every fiber of her being, and she wished he would die. Whatever came afterwards, she would deal with, but right now . . . oh Lord above, she wished only the worst for him!

"Maybe it's because Barsad has a heart," She eventually spoke, her voice as hard as his had been. His gaze was one of confusion as he turned it on her and fearlessly, she met it this time. He felt a wave of respect rise inside him at this look. Perhaps his little one was stronger than he had taken her for. "You asked why I allow Barsad's nickname while I refuse to acknowledge yours. Maybe it's because I look at him and I know he has a heart. I know that he likes me for me and not because having me around him is like he possesses some . . . fucking trophy!"

His eyebrows remained furrowed in confusion. "Is that what you think you are to me? A trophy? Something to be lost and gained in equal measure?"

She gave a laugh. "What else am I? Why else would I be here, Bane?"

Bane didn't deign to answer her, and try as she might, she could not read him. It was like he had completely closed himself off to her as he descended back into his own deep, impenetrable thoughts. After a moment, she rolled her eyes and got to her feet. She then moved around her couch and towards the kitchen. "You want anything while I'm up?"

"No."

She nodded at his gruff words, knowing he would say that. She had been staying with him for weeks now and she had yet to see him do anything that did not actively require The Mask (as she was now prone to calling it). She had never seen him eat, drink . . . for all intents and purposes, he appeared almost like this immortal, omnipotent mythological figure she just happened to be sharing an apartment with.

And who was so finicky neat and organized, he would have put Mr. Clean himself to shame.

Entering the kitchen, she reached into the fridge and after withdrawing the pitcher of amber colored tea held within, filled herself a glass. Moving back into the living room, she found Bane with a particularly rapt gaze on the TV in front of him. Taking a sip, she turned her attention onto the screen and immediately, her face went slack. Vaguely, she realized her glass had slipped from her hand and had crashed to a million splinters on the hardwood floor.

"Blake . . ."

The word fell from her mouth in a surprised gasp and blindly, she felt herself moving towards the TV. Standing in front of one of the couches, she felt tears come to her eyes as she gazed upon the face of the man she loved, coming at her through the HD screen of the TV. He looked horrible – gaunt, black-bagged eyes . . . he looked like he wasn't getting a wink of sleep at night and as horrible as she felt about it, she also couldn't help but feel . . . relieved? Kai's words about him possibly giving up on her, had gotten to her no matter how much she wanted to deny that they had not. Now, at the sight of him, she knew he hadn't. She knew the only reason he looked as bad as he did, was because he was too busy fighting to find her. He hadn't given up on her and the knowledge brought forth the most violent tsunami of love for him that she had ever felt before.

He hadn't given up on her.

Blake would never give up on her.

"You're bleeding . . ."

"Why is Blake on the news?"

"Little one, you're bleeding . . .!"

"Bane! Why is Blake on the TV?"

Bane glared at her for a moment in the wake of her snapped words, before heaving a sigh and getting to his feet. He marched around the couch to her and immediately, her eyes snapped onto him. She opened her mouth to restate her question but instead, her heart plummeted when he bent down and lifted her up into his arms. "Bane, what are you -?"

"You are bleeding rather profusely from your foot, little one. I assume from when you stepped across that broken glass on your foolish way to the TV," He glanced behind him at the bloody footprints she had left on her trek to the couch and let out an irritated grumble as he continued to carry her to the bathroom beyond the double doors of her bedroom. "I'll clean it all up when I'm done with you."

She was starting to feel a dull throb in her arch of her foot now – a dull, cutting throb. Looking downwards, she could see the blood as it steadily trickled down from her foot and her heart began its own painful throb as she continued to lay in his arms. "Is it . . . is it bad?" She found herself asking, her voice coming out more as a squeak than her normal tone, and Bane released a grunt.

"I've seen worse."

"Well, that's comforting." She muttered, rather bitterly, and he heaved another irritated sigh.

"It's not pretty. If it needs stitches, we'll have to call in Barsad," He glanced at her before grumbling: "It's probably going to need stitches." She nodded while trying to swallow past the lump now growing in her throat. She had never gotten stitches before. She had broken her leg when she was younger but never, in her entire life, had she done anything that required getting stitches. She had, however, heard from various friends who had gotten them, that the anesthetic shot beforehand, was painful. As she reflected on those memories then, she had to admit . . . the thought made her nervous.

After entering the bathroom, he placed her down on the marble countertop before stepping away and picking up her foot. Observing it with a meticulous eye, she swallowed hard again before he heaved his third sigh and turned around. Moving back into the bedroom, he gave a bark of someone's name. That someone entered and he barked at him to bring in Barsad, before moving back over to her. He seemed more on edge now – a little more irritated, almost as if he loathed Barsad being around him. And once she thought about it – once she remembered how he had reacted upon bringing up the acceptance of their retrospective nicknames for her, she could understand why.

Bane's second appeared moments later and paused to speak with Bane standing in the bedroom. His eyes flickered onto her and they stayed for a moment before he nodded and crossed the space between them. He walked with a tense posture the entire time and didn't smile at her as he approached her. In fact, his grip was gentle but mechanical as he picked up her foot and observed it. He was anxious being in Bane's presence, that much was certain. Or was he anxious being in both of their presences at the same time? That seemed far more likely.

"You have . . . Christ, you have a pretty decent sized shard of glass in your foot!" He spoke, the both of them extremely conscious of Bane hovering over them like a looming statue. He shook his head. "It's gonna need stitches and getting it out is gonna . . ." He sighed. "It's going to be painful." He glanced up at her and watched as she swallowed hard.

"Can I get, like, a . . . Tylenol or something?" She asked, and Barsad exhaled a breath.

"Doubt it's gonna do any good." He muttered and she nodded, her heart giving a pang at the slightly caustic tone of his voice, even though she fully understood just why he had that tone. She felt better now that he was here, but still, the looming presence of Bane behind him, arms crossed across that barrel chest of his, kept them from completely becoming as relaxed in each other's company as they normally would.

"Why was Blake on TV?" She asked Bane, trying to distract herself, as Barsad picked up her foot and firmly grasped the piece of glass in-between his thumb and forefinger. Bane's eyes fell onto her and he gazed at her for a moment before speaking.

"Commissioner Gordon is in the hospital, little one. I assume that is why."

"Why? What happened to him – OW! Fuck! Mind giving me a little warning before you do that again?"

Her sharp words curbed off when Barsad gave a swift yank downwards, withdrawing the piece of glass from her in one smooth but burning motion. She sent a glare his way but he returned it with a warning look of his own. Abruptly, her glare disappeared. Was that motion meant to shut her up?

Jesus, he could have just sent her a look, instead!

Bane chuckled and turned his gaze down to the white tiled floor beneath them. "Cast your thoughts aside and out of your head, little one. Up here, what is happening below, shouldn't concern you. Let us be concerned with them." He was referring to him and Barsad, who pointedly avoided her gaze as he readied the needle and thread he brought with him. She swallowed hard again.

"Sure I can't have a Tylenol?" She asked, and Barsad sent her another glare.

"It really won't do anything."

She sent him a sarcastic look. "Ever heard of the placebo effect?"

He returned her look. "Ever heard of just rubbing dirt in it and moving on?" Bane's chuckling interrupted them and Barsad immediately returned his eyes onto her foot at the look of surprise that appeared on Natalie's face at his words. "I'll try to be quick." He eventually muttered, an apologetic tone to his voice, and Natalie gave a slow nod. Bracing herself on the countertop, she flinched and cried out when she felt the first prick and drawing of the needle and thread through the tender flesh of her foot. Closing her eyes and gritting her teeth, she sat there and bore through the pain, all the while intensely aware of Bane's eyes on her face - studying her reactions, she felt. For a man who wore a back brace and a mask to continuously breathe in analgesic, she wondered what he thought at her flinching and crying out at her foot being stitched up.

When he was done, he snipped the thread and tied a knot before getting to his feet. Inclining his head to the both of them, he then turned and moved out of the room without a word to either of them. Natalie's brows furrowed in slight confusion and alarm, but threw it from her mind when Bane bent down and lifted up her foot. Eyes critically running over every inch of it, she felt a sudden wave of defensiveness wash over her.

"He did a good job." She spoke, her tone brooking no argument, and Bane gave a hum of agreement.

"Of course he did. If he didn't, he wouldn't be my medic, now would he?" He released her foot then and got to his feet in front of her. Natalie gave a hard swallow as she gazed up at him. Christ, even when she sat on a countertop that damn near came up to his hips, he was still taller than her. "You won't be able to walk for a while. Or put pressure on it, at least. Knowing you, though, you can hop on one foot from room to room."

She didn't know if his words were meant to be teasing, but that's what she took them as. "Are you teasing me?" She asked, a look of surprise flickering across her face upon her words. He didn't answer her, though. Instead, he picked her up in his arms again and turned around.

"Where do you want me to put you?"

"Living room, I suppose." She told him and he nodded as they moved from the bathroom, through the master bedroom, and into the living room. The broken glass and the bloody footprints had been cleaned away and she found herself wondering if that was Barsad's doing before he left.

Upon entering the living room, Bane deposited her on one couch before moving around and taking a seat on it beside her. Immediately, she tensed and moved as far back against the arm of the couch as she possibly could. He noticed and his brow furrowed gently in an emotion she couldn't rightly place. "You really don't trust me?"

His words came and she thought for a moment before answering. "It's not that I don't trust you, I don't . . . you intimidate me."

A look of amusement speared through his eyes then. "You fear me?"

She shook her head. "No. You intimidate me. There's a difference."

"Is there?"

The two words were spoken on a voice filled to the brim with amusement and for some reason, the words angered her. "Yes. There is. And for that matter, how dare you presume to tell me how I feel?"

Bane chuckled and shook his head. "Little one, I know you better than even you do!"

The words floored her, and she was unable to keep the shock she was feeling, from materializing on her face. She continued to sit there for a moment before hefting herself to her feet, careful to keep her stitched one elevated off of the floor. She stood there and teetered uncertainly for a moment before quickly gaining her balance. Bane continued to sit there beside her, a look of amusement still echoing on his masked face.

"Where are you going?" She sent him a defiant look, one that she knew had him smiling.

"Hopping into the bedroom, where else? Or for that matter, anywhere away from you!"

He watched as she hopped carefully around the couches and towards the double doors of the bedroom, leaning on the walls and the furniture as she moved. When she was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, both hands on opposite doors and taking the time to balance herself further, Bane finally spoke.

"You do realize that you will not be able to avoid me forever?"

Natalie hopped into the bedroom before turning around to face him. One delicately groomed eyebrow rose in challenge. "Just watch me."