The cafeteria was empty, as it always was when it was time for Bane to eat. Two armed guards stood watch while two others led him to a stationary chair fixed in front of a table. There had been an attempt to shackle his ankles to the legs of his chair during his first meal in the hospital, but they had learned then that that was not a way to treat their guests. While a guard monotonously explained that he was to remain seated at all times, a small nurse quickly put a large cup of blended foods onto the table in front of him. He ignored the guard and watched her instead.

She avoided his eyes as much as possible; she always did.

Her hair was brown and stringy, and it fell in her face constantly; it was a nuisance to them both, but she had stopped fixing it weeks ago. She let it hang now, as if her curtain of unkempt hair were a shield against him. Bane wanted to grip it in his fist and slam her head through the table; he refrained and instead continued to watch her hands shake as she poured water- mostly onto the table- into a small plastic cup. She stood abruptly and backed away from the table, her eyes staring down at the floor.

The room fell silent but for the sound of his breathing, and it remained that way for several minutes.

"If you would be so kind," His voice rumbled through the silence like thunder. He heard the familiar sound of weapons being brandished and he heard their feet sliding about on the carpet as they took the correct posture; but it was the thump of the water bottle hitting the floor, and the sound of the nurses' quick gasp that had his attention. Her eyes, soft and full of doubt, found his instantly and widened with surprise as she realized he had yet to look away from her. "as to loosen my restraints."

The woman was blessed with the task of removing the locks from his jacket, but in her haste to get away from him, she had failed to do her duty. Her weakness made him furious. He pictured the look on her face when he finally wrapped his hands around her slender throat, and the feel of the bones of her neck giving way under his fingers- he could hear them snapping and he could see the pale skin of her throat turning a soft blue as a bruise welled up beneath the surface.

The woman was still in his eyesight when his jacket slackened about his shoulders. His arms lowered down to the table as the last of the clasps were opened. He stood up, the various weapons in his midst following him as he turned in his spot.

"Have a seat!" yelled one of the guards.

Bane, stretched his arms across his chest and stared down at the black haired, blue eyed man in front of him. Life had been unkind to him; it had sunken his dead eyes - no doubt a result of his own doing. He was pale in the face and small in size, but the grin he wore was all but docile. His clothing was highly priced and the shoes he wore bore no scuffs. "Mr. Donovan."

"I'm not gonna tell you again, asshole!"

The insult caught Bane's attention. His eyes shifted to the loudmouthed guard and remained there. This man was large and undisciplined; the leader of this group perhaps, but nothing more than a frightened boy with a gun to Bane. Even now he shrank back in his stance, his eyes shifting from Bane to the guards around him. He regained his footing as Bane reached behind him, gripping the metal chair and turning it around- the legs scraping against the floor in an angry protest.

"Please," spoke Donovan softly, raising his hand, palm up toward the guard. "Don't speak to the patients that way."

Bane sat down in his chair, his back to the food on the table, and leaned forward so that his forearms could rest comfortably on his knees; his back ached terribly. "Speak your peace, Dr." he said quietly, not bothering to look away from the guard that had so straightforwardly slighted him. He would be an example for his equivalents.

"I had a bit of an introduction speech prepared but it seems you know who I am already so I'll just skip that part." Donovan stood in front of Bane, forcing the massive mans' attention to move to him, and smiled; a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He was a business man; a man of lies. Another of Gotham's spawn to be incinerated. "Your transfer papers have gone through."

Bane sat up fully in his seat, his eyes now staring into the eyes of the man that was blatantly lying to him. "Now you're probably wondering why I came down here during your dinner to let you know what's going on-"

"Not particularly."

"Even so," continued Donovan as if he hadn't heard Bane speak. "I haven't had the chance to meet the great man in the mask," he slid his hands into his pants pockets. "I wanted to come down and see you for myself."

Bane turned his head slightly and cracked the bones in his neck. Was he a freak show to be witnessed? Was he so commonly spoken of that men like Donovan felt they needed to come and speak with him as if it were a privilege and not jeopardy to their small, inconsequential lives? He remained silent.

"You aren't as impressive as I'd hoped."

There it was; the inevitable confusion as to who was actually in charge. Bane rose from his chair, his hands balled into fists at his side, his eyes staring down at the irrelevance that was his captor. Donovan took a step back; maybe he wasn't confused after all.

"I request to be taken back to my quarters."

"You'll be taken back when I feel as though it's neccessary" Donovan spoke, unmoving.

Bane gripped the chair behind him and slid it to his front. The guards once again took aim, three of them calling at him to let go of the chair; one telling him to take a step away from it; one threatening to shoot him if he wasn't compliant.

"Do you feel as though it is necessary, Dr.?"

Tension built in the room; silence following quickly behind it. Donovan raised his head in defiance, but he was unsure of himself as was every man around him. He took another step back and then waved his hand. Bane released the chair as two guards rushed him. He didn't fight them as they strapped him back into his jacket. He wouldn't fight them at all. Not yet.

The room was dark as she slipped down through the vent. Her feet hit the floor without a sound, and she remained crouched for a time as she took in her surroundings. The room was the same as every other patient room; one small dresser, a standard picture of Gregory shaking some politicians hand, a run of the mill lamp. The room was spotless as if no one had been staying in it, for a moment Aurora wondered if she had come through the wrong vent flap, but she knew she hadn't. There were no telltale signs that he stayed there, but for the hard knot forming in her belly. She didn't know why she had come back or what she was looking for; she just needed to see. Finally she stood up and began to look around, never straying too far from the vent in the ceiling.

Who are you? She thought to herself, dragging her hand against the left wall of the room, her eyes searching the darkness for anything that would clue her in to him. There was no mistaking who he was, but what the hell was his angle. She had witnessed his strength down in the tunnels when she lived there. She'd seen him break a mans skull with a single blow, and she'd watched him a long time after to make sure that wherever he planned to go, she would be absent. He was choosing to stay here. But why? Why be confined to his room when he could take the entire city…again?

His drawers held nothing but a pair of clean scrubs, and a pack of white boxer briefs someone had gone through hell to get to him; the corner of the plastic was casually ripped open, and a pair or two were missing. She'd almost had to sell her soul to get her own underwear back after laundry was done, let alone getting an untouched pack. She wondered if he had towered over someone and demanded Fruit of the Loom under garments specifically, or if someone had just done him a kindness.

As the thought crossed her mind, the handle of the door moved. She closed the drawer and backed away. She pressed herself into the darkest corner of the room just below the vent she'd entered from. If she went to leave now, she would be seen; she'd have to wait until the guards left.

The door pushed open and in walked Bane, his head raised as always. Two guards entered behind him, their guns trained on his back. He stood in front of his bed and then turned in his spot. Surely, if his hands had been free they would've been raised. He sat down and one guard circled around him to unloosen his jacket. As the last clasp fell, Bane's arms jerked down and the guard's gun was aimed faster than Aurora thought possible. She could see the fear in them.

He circled back around, and as he met up with the other guard, they took turns backing out of the room. "Always a pleasure." Spoke Bane, a small chuckle escaping his mask.

A third guard closed and locked the door.

"All clear," rang a voice from beyond the door. There were handshakes. "Alright gentlemen, see you tomorrow."

Bane pulled his arms free from his jacket and stood. He stretched his arms and his back, and hung the jacket neatly on the door handle. He turned around and stared Aurora directly in her eyes.

He had seen the open vent immediately as he stepped into the room and had heard her breathing as he sat on the bed. She wasn't afraid, no, the fear came from his armed guards. There was electricity in the air as he had walked in. Though she hid, the heat from her anticipation told him exactly where she stood.

He saw her clearly in the dark shroud of the room. She no longer had bandages to hide behind and he marveled in the fact that they both knew this. Her raven hair sat atop her head in the same chaotic bun she'd donned since their first meeting. Her dark eyes stared at him, unsure, panicked, and searching for answers to questions she hadn't yet asked. Her face was slender and apart from the scars embellished into her pale skin, smooth. Her lips were full and pink, and like venom invading his body, he pictured her lips curled up into a smile. She had been tragically beautiful once; she was lucky to be standing before him; Beautiful women died painfully by the hands of men in this world. She had died long ago; her sunken eyes, unfortunately so resembling of her fathers, revealed that.

Neither of them moved. His stature overpowered the room, but Aurora ignored the urge to reach for the vent; she kept her head raised to look at him.

"How did you know I was here?" Aurora glanced toward the door; there was no escape there. She'd have to run into him to even get close to it.

"Never take your eyes from your enemy." He spoke immediately, as he took a step forward.

His voice, though low, boomed through her and her heart dropped in her chest. She had been a fool to come into this room without a plan. She had been a fool for coming at all. What the fuck had she been thinking?

"You aren't my enemy." She said quietly.

Yes, he knew very well who her enemies were. He knew them thoroughly.

"How long until you allow them victory over you?"

"Allow-?"

"How long?" His voice rose, demanding an answer that Aurora knew she couldn't give. Her heart skipped a beat as she watched him take another step toward her. It wouldn't be long before he closed the gap between them and she knew if she wanted to get out alive, she'd need to get out now. Her hands pulled away from the wall as he spoke again.

"Will you not fight them?"

She paused in her motion, his question sinking into her belly. She watched him take two steps, and mentally cursed herself as the gap between them shrunk into nothing. He loomed over her, the hum of his breathing through his mask hanging between them like a curtain. His chest gently rose and fell, she only needed to reach up and she'd be able to touch it, but she didn't dare pull her eyes from his in order to try.

"Your fear has made you weak."

"I am not weak." her voice came out strong and angry as her fists balled up at her sides.

"How long until they kill you here?" he questioned, unconcerned with her tiny fists.

Aurora's eyes shifted back and forth over his. He watched her struggle within her own mind, watched the way she struggled with what she already knew to be true. He could sense the fury and adrenaline surging through her. Her enemies had beaten her here, they both knew it, and they would continue to do so until she was dead and gone.

"Fight them."

Her eyes stilled. She had been fighting all her life. He knew that. He could smell it on her. They were the same; there was no need for it to be spoken

She saw him as clear as he saw her then in the dark of the room; he was a warrior, a soldier; an excecutioner. She remembered the sound of his voice resounding down under the city, she remembered his fists, she remembered the sounds of guns firing and of bones splintering beneath his hands

Fight them.

She remembered her mother, living and beautiful, and in peace. She remembered her auburn hair and her gentle brown eyes. She remembered her smile and the way she would laugh. And then she remembered her frail, flimsy body as she lay in the same spot on her bed for days at a time. She remembered the sound of the raking cough, the blood, the smell of death.

She remembered Gregory.

Fight them.

The handle of the door shook. Aurora looked quickly around Bane as he turned away from her. She squatted down to the floor and pushed up with her legs, sending her easily up to the vent where she grabbed hold, and hoisted herself smoothly into the ceiling.

"I will come for you." He spoke, his back facing her as the door to his room opened and two guards, strangely unarmed, stepped in.

She slid away from the opening of the vent and quickly made her way down the shaft, the beat of her heart and the sound of his words banging in her ears