Chapter Twelve: The Female of the Species

Bane leaned back against the side of the van, his skull aching from his rapidly dilated blood vessels. He'd long exceeded the recommended clinical use of epi-pens.

Jane remained still, she'd kept her breathing even as Bane had fallen into an abyss of memories, grieving through his physically taxed and mentally drained body. She'd been careful to hold as still as a corpse on her table as small sounds had escaped from between Bane's scarred lips, sounds an enemy could forge into a life-ending dagger, a slow knife to penetrate a fatty lobe of a heavy liver.

Jane was never able to find any respite in sleep but closing her eyes was a small measure of comfort, Bane never spoke to her once, even when he was sure at times that she was very much awake and listening.

Bane was making notes on a fresh sheet of paper when Jane began moving around, eventually rolling onto her back, and covering a yawn.

She continued to shift until she slowly sat upright, bringing her eyes to watch his hand move across the page in his eloquent script.

Bane looked up and caught Jane staring.

"Jane?"

She chuckled, shaking her head, looking for the bag from Deborah that she'd set aside before she'd attempted to take a nap.

Bane tilted his chin at Jane before setting his papers aside and giving her the full weight of his consideration and attention.

He didn't get the chance to question Jane before someone knocked at the rear of the van, a light series of knocks.

Jane turned her face towards Bane, nearly flinching at finding his eyes already on her.

She slid across the gurney, never taking her eyes off Bane as she pushed open one of the rear doors to find Deborah's tired but smiling face.

Deborah flicked her eyes over to Bane as she spoke, trying desperately not to appear ruffled by the large, fearsome man's hulking form.

"I don't know how long it has been since you've been able to clean up, but we have an excellent shower set-up," Deborah began to ramble. Earlier, she'd seen Jane's dirty fingernails and tangled hair, seeing more but not recognizing what she was seeing spill from Jane.

Jane froze when Bane's voice sounded from behind her.

"Go, enjoy your time," Bane murmured as he pushed open the other rear door, his gaze landing on Deborah, his expression neutral, fire roiling just under the surface, embers flashing in his unblinking eyes.

Jane was acutely aware of Deborah's eyes moving over both of them, still trying to figure out the dynamic between the two new arrivals.

Bane watched Jane as she climbed from the van, snaking his hand out with reptilian speed to capture her hand as she reached out to close the door.

Jane paused and looked back at Bane and then down to where he had a hold of her hand, squeezing lightly, the entire show all for Deborah's benefit.

Theatricality and deception.

"See you soon," Bane rasped before he gave Jane's hand a final squeeze, reluctantly releasing her.

Jane's sharp cheekbones took on the kiss from a flattering blush as she allowed Deborah to lead her back to the space she had carved out and shared with her father.

Bane waited until Jane and Deborah had walked a good distance from the van, far enough that they wouldn't hear the rear door hinges squeak as he climbed out of the van and followed the women.

A muscle-bound Alan Quartermaine scorching the earth with his heavy footsteps as he shadowed the two women who were chatting soft to each other.

Bane followed at a close distance, despite his hulking forms, his foot falls made barely a sound on the uneven terrain. He was able to skirt dried leaves, avoiding sticks, twigs, and branches that would snap like brittle backbones and alert the women to his presence.

Bane was an apex predator hiding in the tall red oat grass of the Serengeti, the pinkish-red colored grass hid his predatory farm. He saw Deborah as a skittish gazelle, safer when she was amongst the fold of the flock. He narrowed his eyes at Jane's back, still unsure of what kind of hooved, antlered, or rival beast she was.

Ahead of him, Jane, and Deborah's conversation went from the periphery of casual back-and-forth about the weather and the price of gas from when they both had cars that were insured and they were equally licensed and able to drive, as well as afford the gas to fill said vehicles.

Part of Jane felt bad for the pretense of being without, the blatant lies, but she also understood that she should first do no harm.

Bane settled in a cluster of thick bushes, the branches boasting wickedly sharp thorns that he was able to settle seamlessly within, a predator surrounded by that which could bleed you dry, yet even the thorns themselves, seemed to cower in his presence, even in his diminishment.

Bane sat further upright despite the strain it put on his affected side, the primitive chest tube incision healing slowly. Despite the enhancement the Venom gave Bane in terms of strength, his system was left compromised in perpetuity, healing time would be longer without the aerosolized assistance.

Deborah led Jane to a curtained area with a bunch of metal rods, twisted and duct taped together. The area offered a modicum of privacy in the encampment. Deborah, with the help of some of her friends within the encampment, had put together a shower of sorts.

Bane stared at the curtained area after Deborah emerged from behind the multiple layers of mismatched plastic tarps. He strained his ears and heard water start to spill from somewhere, a casual glance at the shower set-up was confusing, it looked like a child had gotten a hold of PVC pipes and just gone crazy with them, but somehow it all came together.

Under the weak stream of the gravity fed stream of water, Jane took a few deep breaths as the tepid water splashed over her body. She allowed herself to luxuriate in the gratefulness of being able to rub the floral scented bar of soap over her filthy skin and dirt encrusted fingernails.

The basin she sat on became filled with dirty water, she dumped it to the side with a grimace. She felt a cramp tear across her lower belly as a wave of nausea filled her. She stifled a groan as she wiped the pale blue washcloth across the apex at the center of her thighs, blowing out a sharp breath when she saw the redness on the towel's fibers.

The frayed edges of the washrag became engorged with her blood. She was partially glad that she had caught her flow at the beginning and didn't have to worry about messy clothes. Bane felt tension shoot through his body when he heard Jane call for Deborah.

He narrowed his eyes as Deborah scuttled over to the curtains and poked her head inside.

What Bane didn't hear was Jane ask about maxi pads or anything to absorb the flow since she left the welcome bag from Deborah back at the van.

Bane tightened his hands in and out of loose fists as he watched Deborah scurry back to her sleeping area and carry back a square object to Jane, passing the item to her through the wet tarps.

Jane stopped the flow of the gravity fed water and dried off with a couple coarse towels in varying sizes.

Jane lost herself in the juxtaposition between all that she knew about herself, where she fit into the world and her new reality, the minute-by-minute changing face of her existence. She slowly loosened her braid until all of the luxurious strands were free.

Outside the pseudo-shower, Bane felt that Jane had been quiet for too long, especially since the water had long since ceased to flow. He snuck closer to the curtained area as she was dragging a wide-toothed comb through the long, glossy strands.

Bane peeled back one edge of the rippling tarp that was nailed to a gnarled tree branch. His heart stopped in its opaque pericardial sac, deep within his broad chest as his eyes found Jane naked, except for her pair of panties. Jane's hair spilled down to cover her nudity, the barest peek of a nipple was visible through the silken strands as she dragged the comb through them.

Jane turned and looked over her shoulder at that exact moment, catching Bane staring.

Bane was rendered as still as Lot's wife when she'd looked back to watch the sinning sinners burn. Jane was as enigmatic as Eve and Venus fucking on the back of Lady Godiva's stallion.

The silence was deafening, the calm before the storm.

Jane felt like she was directly in the storm's path as she held Bane's unblinking eyes.

She never stopped running the wooden, wide-toothed comb through her silken fall of hair. "Do you need something?" she asked.

Inside his skull, both hemispheres of Bane's brain was electric, hellfire shot through his corpus callosum as he remained a still, unbroken surface of a pond on the outside, his expression neutral.

"Not right now," he finally said before letting the edge of the tarp fall back into place, instantly cutting off the visual connection between them. Free to gasp for air, his chest aching as his heart was left racing.

Bane tightened his hands into fist, fighting the desire to tear the tarps to shreds, desperate to find out who Jane Amelia Bell was.