Disclaimer: I do not own and am not, in any way, affiliated with the Dark Knight franchise.

"You are strong, but there is a flaw in your strength, and unless you learn to control it the flaw will prove stronger than your strength and defeat you. The flaw? Explosive emotional reaction out of all proportion to the occasion."

― Truman Capote, In Cold Blood

Chapter Five

It was quiet when Audrey awoke, covered in sweat, mouth dry. Weak sunlight filtered through gauzy white curtains, illuminating the foreign bedroom.

Even in sleep, she had not been able to escape her situation. All night she had been plagued by terrible visions of Beth, her Dad, and others being dragged in front of Crane's court only to be executed in front of her. And Mark. Mark had been standing in front of her, staring accusingly as she tried to break free of her restraints to help. As if summoned by the dreams, yesterday's events tried to replay themselves, but she refused to let them.

She rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up, one of her feet brushing against something on the floor. It was a bottle of water. Weird. She didn't remember it being there but hadn't really bothered to look around the room either. She twisted the cap and was relieved when it resisted. The coolness was soothing to her throat and she felt a little more awake. I've got to get out of here. Unsure of whether she meant the room or the situation, she gathered a throw blanket and draped it around herself.

The door creaked as it opened and she winced. So much for the element of surprise. However, there was no one in the hallway. Or in the cavernous living room. Or in the kitchen. Or the bathrooms. Or in the office. There were more rooms in this apartment than her parents' house. She looked down the hall to the master bedroom, but the door was shut. Taking care not to make too much noise, she pressed her ear against it. Silence.

Her heart pounded, exhilaration bubbling in the pit of her stomach and radiating out to the rest of her body. No way. Too easy. But what if? She walked to the entry way with control. Her hand reached out, the knob cool and metallic under her sweaty palm. It turned easily.

"But there will always be someone."

It was as if he had whispered it in her ear. She jerked her hand away as though it had been burned. Of course the building would be crawling with mercenaries and who knew what other kinds of… villains. The word sounded cartoony and melodramatic in her head, but that was what they were. Better to stick to the evil she knew than one she did not. He might be daunting, but Barsad had not hurt her. Not yet, anyway. That was a line of thought she did not want to follow. Back to the drawing board.

To keep herself distracted, she decided to explore the living room. The décor was minimal but expensively so. The furniture, while comfortable, looked mostly unused. Two tall, cherry wood bookcases stood to the left of the couch. Audrey ran a finger along one shelf and lamented the amount of dust gathered there. Though they were filled, top to bottom, with books they had obviously been out of use for some time. There was an unsurprising amount of "classic" literature mixed with New York Times Bestsellers, history, and self-help books. She settled on Frankenstein, a book she hadn't read since high school, before curling up on the couch.

The opening of the front door jarred her back to the real world. It hadn't taken long to get lost in the story and she found herself wondering how long she had been there. She peeked over the couch to see Barsad clad in full garb. His eyebrows raised slightly. "Good morning."

She briefly entertained the idea of running back into the second bedroom, locking the door, and never coming out. You're not afraid, she told herself. She straightened up, completely ignoring his greeting. "Do I have time to take a shower before I'm supposed to go do my… duties?" His response was a curt nod. As she rounded the corner, she could have sworn she heard an aggravated exhalation. Maybe Mr. Composure wasn't so composed after all.

The warm shower was relaxing and helped her loosen up enough to start thinking. The best course of action was to just do what was asked. The better she performed, the more likely it was that someone would let their guard down. The better the chances of escape. It was doable provided the triggerman, or woman, didn't blow the city up first.

"Okay, Aud, you've got this," she told the mirror. Though never a particularly vain person, she was shocked by the image reflected back at her. It was like looking at a ghost; her face was pale and there were dark half-circles under her eyes. A bruise peeked out from her hairline, just above her ear, where her head had made contact with the ground. She touched the spot and winced. Sore, but no blood or scabbing. That was a good sign. Her palms and forearms were scraped to hell, but nothing a little antiseptic wouldn't fix.

She threw on her old outfit and braided her hair. Feeling more herself now that she was clean and had a plan, she walked back into the living room. Barsad was sitting on the couch, leafing through the book she'd been reading. When he looked up at her, he grimaced. "I'll try to get you some new clothes today."

"Thanks." She bit the inside of her cheek to prevent a more sarcastic response from leaving her mouth. Behave. "I'm ready." He handed her the book which she tucked into her jacket pocket.

Armed with the knowledge that there were people staked throughout the building, she looked around as they left. "They'll catch you long before you even see them coming," the mercenary warned. Goosebumps broke out along her arms and she wondered again whether or not he was somehow telepathic.

The clinic was set up in an abandoned federal building not far from the apartment. It seemed fairly quiet apart from two bored men sitting at a desk just beyond the entrance. They stood up immediately at the sight of the newcomers.

"Well, looky here," the taller of the two said, letting out a whistle. He had black hair that matched a neatly kept beard and intense, dark eyes. The type that was ruggedly handsome and knew it. She side-eyed her jailor who looked scruffy and tired in comparison. "Two visits in one day. I'm starting to feel mighty special. What can I do for ya, Sharpshooter?" This to Barsad, the man's voice all sarcasm and Southern drawl. She much preferred Barsad's eloquent English accent. This new guy, she decided, would have a good ol' boy name like Josh or Beau.

"Miss Campbell will be helping out the Doc, Jack." Nailed it. "She is to remain under surveillance at all times and not to leave the building unless accompanied by one of you or myself. Bane's orders."

When Jack's eyes fixed on Audrey he gave her a wolfish grin. "What did you do to get yourself into so much trouble, sweetheart?"

Irritated, she looked him dead in the eye and replied, "I killed a man."

He burst into laughter. The blonde guard with watery blue eyes also chuckled. They both looked to Barsad, who shrugged, and another wave of laughter followed. "Sure you did, honey. Alright, now, let's pat ya down and make sure you aren't carrying anything that could kill us."

Lips pursed, she held her arms out, looking to Barsad for help. His face was neutral, a quality that was quickly becoming irritating. Jack stood behind her, running his hands along her frame. When he paused a little too long at her chest, she asked in a voice full of syrupy sweetness, "What's the matter? Never touched a woman before?"

There was a brief pause as her well-intentioned plan exploded into a million pieces. Well, that was stupid. She had been cursed with a mouth that sometimes spoke before her brain could catch up. Now she tried her best to look repentant, but it was too late. The damage had already been done.

Jack spluttered, dropping the Good Ol' Boy façade. The blonde man laughed harder than he had before and even the ever stoic Barsad's lips quirked into a smirk. That was a problem. She had sensed the tension between the two and knew that she had just made things a lot worse for herself. A hand went into her pocket and snatched the book out of it.

"Little spitfire, huh?" he asked, throwing it on the table where it landed splayed out, spine up. His eyes were ablaze, face a little pink as he sat back down. She had indeed struck a nerve. "You won't be needing that, darlin'. We'll see to it that you're plenty busy." Her teeth clenched at the condescension that dripped from his voice. "Don't you worry, Barsad, I'll keep a real good eye on her. Andy, take her back to the Doc."

She followed the blonde man, Andy, down the hall. "Jack's a good guy, you know," he said, breaking the silence. Audrey was glad she was behind him so he couldn't see her roll her eyes. Okay, pal. "He just comes on a little strong at first. He's helping me with my knife work." The hero worship in his voice was almost vomit-worthy enough to make her forget the words "knife work". Almost.

Finally, they reached an expansive area where cots and cabinets were interspersed at random. There was slightly outdated, but serviceable machinery set up around some of the cots. Sitting at a computer desk was an older man, his jet black hair tinged with silver. He stood up when he saw them. He was the first person Audrey had come across who looked genuinely friendly. His brown eyes twinkled.

"Looks like you got a new assistant, Doc. Uh…"

Audrey extended her hand, smiling. "Campbell. Audrey Campbell."

"Miss Campbell, it's a pleasure. I am Arjun Mahindra." He took her hand in his, giving it a firm shake. She felt slightly more at ease. "Andy," he turned to the blonde man. "You may go." Without needing to be told twice, Andy turned on his heel and walked off.

"Please, just call me Audrey."

He grinned at her and she returned the gesture. "Only if you call me Arjun."

"Deal."

Because there were no patients, the day was spent learning the ropes and setting up shop. It was much easier with two people than one, Arjun explained as they moved the furniture into a more functional set up. Barsad had stopped by that morning to drop off the backpack. "He told me that you seemed to know what you were doing, but I was still pleasantly surprised when I saw what you'd managed to find." They sorted out medication pausing only for lunch, delivered by Andy, while they swapped travel stories.

She hadn't thought about her father once, she realized with a jolt of remorse.

By the time Barsad came to collect her, she was exhausted but felt she had accomplished something. "Thank you for your help today. I think you'll do well here," Arjun said and Audrey beamed at the praise.

Riding the high of what had turned out to be a good day, she followed behind Barsad, lost in thoughts of what else could be accomplished. "See you tomorrow, sweetheart," cooed Jack from behind the desk. He was leaning back in his chair, feet propped up. Underneath his dirty boots was her book.

Smug asshole. A smiled forced itself on her face. "Goodnight."

When they were back in the apartment, Barsad immediately turned on her. It came as no surprise as he had been exceptionally ominous on their walk. "You know, Audrey, men like Jack are not people you want to try and take the piss out of."

"What?" she scoffed, hoping to play the whole thing off like a joke. "Men who have never heard the word no before?"

It seemed that was not the appropriate response. She was really batting home runs in that department today. "Do you not take this seriously? You don't know what he's capable of so you open your mouth and immediately get on his bad side?"

She gave a very un-ladylike snort. "Meanwhile, I'm just supposed to stand there and let him paw at me? Jesus, it's not like I slapped him. I'd say I'm sorry I bruised his ego, but I'm not. I guess I'm sorry I got myself on his shit list, but he's a bully."

"I was going to take him aside and talk to him after you'd-"

Her eyes went wide, rage coursing through her body. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know I needed you to protect me. Except I wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for you, would I?" Not entirely true, she had played her own part, but she'd get the jab in where she could.

He slammed his fist against the wall behind him. "Damn it, Rebecca!"

Rebecca? Confusion momentarily muddled her anger so much so that her head tilted slightly to one side. "Who's Rebecca?"

He reeled back like he'd been hit, face flushed. "It doesn't matter. This is not a fucking game."

The rage returned full force, hands curling at her sides. "I'm not treating it like one! And I'm not sure why you're upset about this- it's not like it matters to you if I die, does it?"

Before he could say anything else, and it seemed like he still had plenty, she stalked off to her room. This time she gave the door a satisfying, albeit immature, slam. A pile of neatly folded clothes sat on the edge of the bed. She shoved them to the floor and buried her face in the pillow, resisting the urge to scream.

A knock at the door woke her up. She wasn't sure when she had fallen asleep, but it was dark outside. She remained silent.

"I made dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

"Fine," the word was practically a snarl. "Starve."

Her stomach rumbled in protest but she couldn't help feeling a little self-satisfied when she heard the sound of a pan being tossed into a kitchen sink.

A/N: You guys are amazing! I can't believe this story of mine has as many followers as it does! As always, I want to thank all of you so very much for continuing to read and for the reviews. You're the best and I couldn't do it without you.