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

"Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I'm gazing at a distant star. It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago. Maybe the star doesn't even exist anymore. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything."
― Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun

Chapter Eleven

Audrey lay with one leg draped over Barsad, absentmindedly running her fingers up and down his chest.

Over the last few days she and Barsad had taken painstakingly careful steps to ensure they were covering their tracks. When he dropped her off in the morning, they did not so much as make unusual eye contact nor did they speak to each other until they were locked in the apartment at the end of the day. But the thrill of sneaking around was wearing off and her brain, which had taken a backseat to her pressing physical needs, was now firing a million ideas a minute. So many questions formed with little to no answers or served only to lead to more questions.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She propped herself up on an elbow. "I'm having trouble trying to wrap my mind around something, I guess."

"What do you mean?" He languidly drew his hand out from under her body and used it to mimic her position. She ignored the shiver of pleasure the touch gave her and narrowed her eyes. He gave her a grin that was partly apologetic but mostly greedy. "Okay, I'll be good."

"I mean – we hardly know anything about each other and-" Even as it left her mouth she knew how ridiculous it sounded.

He erupted in laughter. "Bit late for that, don't you think?" She made a strangled sound, cheeks red, and buried her face in one of the pillows. "Ugh. Not what I meant," was her muffled reply.

A hand stroked her hair. "Give it another go," he encouraged. She lifted herself onto both elbows.

"It's just- I know people want to believe there's bad, or evil, or whatever you want to call it, in the world." Her hands plucked at stray threads on the maroon sheets as she spoke. "There is. I've seen it and it's easier to come to terms with that idea then it is to think most things fall into some morally ambiguous gray area. Except… most people think what they're doing is justified, don't they? Even Bane thinks he's doing something noble. As stupid as it is, knowing that you've probably done some… things that I don't think I'll ever be ready for or want to hear about." She looked up at him. "I can't help but be naïve enough to think there's a little of decency in you."

He frowned. "Sometimes people just enjoy destruction and chaos. Not everyone has a sob story, Audrey." This was the first time in recent history that his use of her name didn't elicit even a little shock of pleasure through her body.

"That's not what I was implying." It had been, but she would never admit it. "Come on, Barsad. You could have killed me or worse this entire time. I've given you plenty of reasons, but you haven't. I'm eternally indebted, by the way." Here she paused to flutter her eyelashes and smile coyly at him. He chuckled a little, in spite of himself, before sitting up and running his hands over his face. When he dragged them away, she could see how tired he was. "All I'm saying is you're clearly not the- the super insurgent you want people- me- to think you are. What your story is, why you've chosen this path… you don't have to share any of that with me." But I want you to, she silently pleaded.

"Christ but those eyes." He waited, watching her wearily. "You're not going to let this go are you?"

"I will if you don't want to talk about it."

At this, he rolled his eyes. "You're a terrible liar, love."

She winced at the term of endearment. Though it was not laced with the same arrogance, it reminded her too much of Jack. "Yeah, tell me something I don't know." She hadn't meant for it to come out sounding so irritable; it made her feel like a sulky baby.

"I promise you, you're not going to like this story."

"You don't get to decide that for me!" This outburst was met with silence. "Sorry," she relented. "That wasn't about you."

If he knew what she meant by that, he chose not to comment. "I've warned you." He sighed resignedly.

"Duly noted."

"My family was pretty skint when I was growing up, but my parents were good people. Hard workers. I got through A-Levels, married my sweetheart, and joined the Army." She bristled at the word married, but said nothing. "Everything seemed brilliant until I deployed. A sniper in Afghanistan. I actually enjoyed it and I was good at it. Things at home, when I was home, turned bad quickly. Rebecca started to feel abandoned. I felt guilty about it, but I loved work more than I loved her." His expression darkened. "It got to the point where being home felt like being trapped. We'd have a go at each the whole time and I'd be gone again. Then the gambling started. I got some calls crying about how she'd managed to put us in a fair bit of debt. Didn't learn how much until after the funeral. She was in too deep with the wrong people, you see, and when she couldn't pay them, she killed herself."

No, Audrey decided. I do not like this story at all.

"They wasted no time in trying to collect. I sent two of their men back to them after they tried to rough me up and they made me offer. I could work off what was owed. My Army contract was up. They'd done their research and they knew what I could do. So I agreed and didn't reenlist. I don't think you need me to spell out what kind of jobs they had me doing."

She shook her head.

"After a while, I started to enjoy that too. I was on a job when I was approached by one of Bane's men. I remember thinking it sounded like a load of bollocks- The League of Shadows. Then Bane bought out my contract." He turned away from her, his voice full of respect. "He never expected anything. Told me if I wanted to, I was free to go."

"But you stayed?"

"Not at first, no. I tried to go back to living a normal life, but I'm not cut out for all that."

"Do you think he knew that you would go back to it?"

She desperately wanted the answer to be yes. It would be so much simpler to continue thinking of Bane as the calculating monster she knew him to be. The idea of him as some sort of… What? Savior? Yeah, right. It was too much.

"No," said Barsad slowly. "And even if he did, does it matter? It was my choice."

She opened her mouth to ask something else, but Barsad leaned over and kissed her before she could get it out. A nauseous feeling washed over her. She pushed him away and sat up, turning so that she was looking at the floor.

"Sorry- I just-" Her voice was far away. This was not at all lining up with what she had envisioned and she cursed herself for being a stupid idealist. The fact that he actually enjoyed killing people made her feel nauseous again. Dummy. What did you think he was going to say? That he was forced into this life? You knew better. He warned you and you decided to dig around anyway.

The weight on the other side of the bed shifted as Barsad rolled off of it. She heard the rustle of clothing and watched him walk out onto the balcony standing with his back to her as he leaned against the parapet. With a distressed groan she fell back on the bed, pulling a pillow over her face.

She was on her own; he wouldn't walk her through this. If she were being honest with herself, she hadn't expected him to.

There was so much new information to process that her brain wanted to shut down. It felt like being back in college, trying to slog through muscle memorization in Anatomy. Except it's your mercenary sexpot admitting that he's been a murderer most of life. Totally similar, Audrey. She pressed the pillow harder against her face hoping that temporary suffocation would bring sweet relief.

The first thing she had to admit to herself was that there was more to this than strictly physical attraction. She wouldn't have pressed him so hard if that was the case. Underneath that rough and tough exterior was a person that she had grown to know fairly well in their time together. He was hard, yes, but he was also attentive, clever, and, on occasion, kind.

The problem, however, was the same one she faced when starting this whole business: he was the opposite of everything she had ever worked for and believed in. Could she deal with that? There were a lot of things to be open-minded about, but did people ever really deserve to be murdered? She thought there might be some, extreme cases, sure, but that was supposed to be taken care of by the justice system. A justice system that could be incompetent, cruel, or bought. Hell, Gotham had been a hot bed of that before the Dent Act had been enacted and even that had been revealed to be based on lies.

Are there any truly good people in the world?

The mob guys had had leverage over him, but Barsad admitted that he liked being a sniper even before they'd forced him to make that decision. Couldn't he have gone to the police? No. If they had felt any threat of interference, they would likely have killed him. People were capable of that or so much worse under threat or out of fear, she'd seen enough of that in the world.

If that was the only life I'd ever led and the only thing I'd ever thought I'd was good at, would I be in the same position? I would. I'd have to.

Empathy, she decided, was a bitch.

He'd definitely had no qualms killing the man he'd been with when she'd come across him. But then, he'd been ordered to, hadn't he? Did he ever question his orders? Not likely given the amount of responsibility and autonomy he had; an infantry man never questioned an order, after all. Power given to him by Bane. He'd presented Barsad with his freedom, had offered him a livelihood, after all, and at no cost. Something about that still didn't sit well with her- was she trying too hard to paint him as just a villain? She felt a twinge of resentment as her own words came back to her: Even Bane thinks he's doing something noble. She chucked the pillow, welcoming the cool air on her face. I don't have to like it just because I recognize it, she told herself.

She thought back further, to her half-assed rescue mission, and how he hadn't even been afraid of her. She certainly hadn't been as fearless when it had been her own life at the wrong end of a barrel. The alley… What about the boy? What would he have done?

The questions gnawed at her until she couldn't take it anymore.

She snatched one of the scattered shirts from the floor, throwing it over her head. Too big. Of course it would be one of his.

Determined, she stood in the doorway. "Barsad?" She tested her voice and found that it was firmer than she thought it would be. Good.

"Yes?" His tone was guarded, back still facing her.

"Would you have killed him if I hadn't been there?"

He didn't even have to ask what she meant. "No, I wouldn't have. Didn't kill that woman either. I don't work outside of a job and I don't kill children." She moved closer, standing next to him so that their elbows touched on the cold concrete. He gave her a quick sideways glance. "I've got my limits."

They stood like that for a few minutes, barely touching, and both with their thoughts somewhere else.

It was snowing again. Audrey watched as the flakes picked up traction but were always just shy of touching them. A subzero breeze blew in through the spaces between the balustrade columns and she shivered, rubbing her bare arms to try to keep from freezing.

"I'm sorry that this isn't easy for me or on you. I'm sorry I freaked out- it's just-"

"Stop apologizing, you daft cow." He was all affection as he snaked an arm around her waist and enveloped her in a surprisingly warm embrace. She buried her face in his chest. "I wish things could be different- that we could have met before all of this," he said reflectively, lips brushing against her forehead.

Her heart thumped a little faster, breath catching in her throat. Given the circumstances, it was the sweetest thing anybody had ever said to her. With a raised eyebrow, she peered up at him. "Why, sir! I do believe we'll make a romantic out of you yet."

A hand snuck under her shirt, pinching her bottom. She jumped then laughed, playfully slapping at his chest. "Not a gentleman, though," he said, all traces of exhaustion seeming to have disappeared.

"Nope, no chance of that. You're just a ne'er-do-well who happens to be a sap." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, dragging his lower lip lightly between her teeth when she pulled back.

"Get back in there," he challenged in a husky voice. "And I'll show you how much of a sap I am."

A/N: Hi, everyone! Thank you so much for your reviews, follows, and favorites and for sticking with us. 12 should be coming at you soon, so hang tight!