As Bane and Jane continued to share whispered words in the privacy of the stolen van, far from the encampment, in the suburbs of Gotham City, a group of three men and one woman moved door-to-door looking for the men and women who were current and former guards at Black Gate Prison.

The ragtag group deputized by Bane, carried out the opening of The Fifth Seal.

The Fifth Seal represented the souls hurt by the gods they believed in, punished, perished. The corrupt Justice System under Harvey Dent imprisoned, tortured, and murdered many.

Bane could do nothing for the dead.

But he could embolden the living, impart his testimony that they carried with them from door-to-door, a kill squad, cloaking the former guard with the white robe as prophesized.

The Black Gate guard was told to bow their head, beg for absolution and absolvent. Once they'd begged forgiveness for their transgressions, their throats were slit, the white cotton fibers grew bloated as they absorbed the strong arterial flow, becoming a rich burgundy before complete cardiac death.

As bodies were left where they fell after complete exsanguination, Tom Sky was nearby, scoping out the rear entrance of the Gotham City Morgue.

He frowned at the dull, grey building, Jane's single, private request reverberating in the front of his skull.

Jane's whispered words had been warm against his ear when she'd asked him to bring her a simple gold band that had originally belonged to her great-grandmother. The ring was slightly misshapen and had more scratches than karats, but she treasured it.

Jane had habits that were reminiscent of medical examiner's that had worked for decades. She never wore the ring around her neck during the gross examination and open component of the autopsy, but she couldn't write a single report unless the ring was on the simple chain around her neck.

Jane had no idea if her locker had been searched by the police in an effort to find her.

It had.

She wasn't sure if every item had been removed, photographed, and cataloged.

They had been.

But after the items were inventoried and deemed not helpful, Arlene asked that everything be replaced exactly as it had been prior to GPD's search. Arlene was certain that Jane would return and be angry to see her locker out of order.

Jane would've been.

She'd provided Tom Sky with the combination to her locker that he had carved into the flesh of his forearm with a razor blade.

Tom Sky wouldn't dare disappoint the woman who stood beside the frightening and formidable man.

As Tom continued to scrutinize the comings and goings of the morgue's rear entrance, inside the stolen van on the fringes of the encampment, the bulk of Bane's weight kept Jane pinned to the pushed together gurneys.

She stared up at him, her body aching.

Jane raised her throbbing wrists, pressing her palms against his bare chest, feeling the steady pounding of Bane's beating heart.

"What's keeping us in this place any further?"

Bane wanted to pretend that he hadn't heard her question as he further dropped his weight, bringing their bodies closer together, pushing her thighs further apart.

He didn't want to talk further; his thoughts and actions were focused on further cementing their intimacy as he began to tug assertively on her pants.

"Why can't we up and leave tomorrow?" Jane pressed, dropping her hands to his wrists. "Why?" she asked, gripping his thick wrists as much as her bilateral sprains would allow.

"I am still needed here."

"Needed? You're not even considered alive," Jane rebutted with a scoff.

Bane's touch grew more aggressive than he would've consciously chosen, he didn't like to be challenged, was unfamiliar with having to defend himself in this manner.

"I will not leave while Gotham's liberation is yet incomplete."

Jane shook her head, "I will not simply sit here and wait for you to continue your bloodthirsty campaign against the city for a dead woman," she spit.

Bright, glittery bursts of caramel fire flashed in Bane's eyes at Jane's summary.

"This is for more than Talia," he started to say until Jane interrupted him, speaking as she tried to squirm out from under him.

"You're right, this is just feeding your ego at this point, everything you've said, was it just to buy you time to carry out your self-serving bullshit?"

Bane shook his head as he dropped his hands to her hips and yanked her back underneath him. "Please come here," he rasped, his voice threatening to break as he collapsed over Jane, wrapping her up in his heavy embrace.

Jane remained wordless as Bane buried his face in the warm curve of where her neck and shoulder met, breathing hard.

She reached up and closed her arms around him, the silence charged with everything unspoken.

Bane wanted to revel in the feeling of Jane's palms moving in slow circles against the taut flesh of his broad back.

She shifted to accommodate his body, his weight threatening to push her through the cheap padding of the morgue gurney.

The dead didn't complain about the accommodations.

Could he leave Gotham before bringing the city to its knees, disemboweling its law enforcement, and toppling the legislation onto itself.

The Sixth Seal heralded a great earthquake, Bane's disciples were helping to construct the plan to shake Gotham to its core.

Bane smoothed a hand low to cup the supple curve of her bottom, tugging her upwards, his surging list making his cock thicken with want.

When Bane spoke, his voice was strained and muffled against her flushed skin.

"I don't know if I can walk away," he admitted.

"What is keeping you here?" Jane began to ask, pausing as she thought of Talia's ashes. "You cannot disappoint the dead," she added on a whisper as she smoothed her hands to cup his jaw, tugging until he raised his eyes to meet hers.

Bane didn't know how to answer, didn't know how to navigate the conflicting feelings inside his body.

Despite his capacity for strength, ferocious drive, and military skills, he'd never felt the glimmers of softness around the edges of his vision as he did when he looked at Jane.

He'd never before detected such subtle nuances as he did from catching the delicate scents emanating from her skin, hair, and breath.

Bane had never before heard more in the silence than he did when he was around Jane.

He'd found himself craving the nights when he could pull her sleeping form into his arms and cradle her exquisite beauty as the moon was high overhead.

Bane had never questioned Talia.

She had ordered him to never form an attachment to a woman, to care or find any respite in affection.

He never had allowed himself to feel anything for any woman. Always just a biological act for an eventual physical release. He never saw their faces entirely, just a temporary reprieve from the fighting, bloodshed, and life-taking.

An involuntary shudder wracked his musculature as he stared down at Jane's face, her features expectant for an answer.

Bane felt if he walked away with Gotham still standing, he'd forever have to fear looking over his shoulder and being turned into a pillar of salt by Talia.

"I've never left something unfinished Jane," he growled as he rhythmically squeezed her hips, his fingers curling into the fabric.

"Hasn't there been enough suffering?" she asked softly, moving one of her hands from cupping his jaw to trail down the front of his body, her fingertips grazing his naked flesh, pausing to tease her fingertips in the waistband of his boxer briefs.

Bane knew she was also including her own pain in the question, her own need to grieve.

"Nothing will be learned if the city remains standing," he rebutted.

Jane smiled sadly, "you've made your point," she whispered, her eyes stinging with unshed tears as she met his searching gaze, adding, "everyone fears you."

"Do you?" he rasped.

Bane was instantly hypnotized as he watched the tip of Jane's pink tongue moisten her lips before she slipped her hand down the front of his briefs, finding his cock growing rigid as she closed her hand around his length.

Jane didn't answer him, remaining wordless as she began stroking his hardening thickness, feeling a charge at the sound of his changing breathing rate, his chest hitching.

Bane's hands scrabbled at her cotton lounge pants, their positioning making it difficult to pull the fabric free.

"Rip them," she panted, he didn't need to be told twice, the grunt Bane gave as he tore the fabric made her intimate center clench and tingle.

"Are you afraid of me Jane?" he growled as he moved her hand away from his cock, closing his hand around his length as he teased the rounded, sensitive head up and down her wet folds, the silken flesh growing slicker with each passing moment of intimate contact.

"I'm afraid of how much I want you," she gasped.

Bane heard her admission; he knew there was more that she wanted to add but couldn't maintain his control any further. He slowly sank his length into her, smoothing a hand to the curve of her lower back to keep her pressed close to him.

Jane hadn't been able to tell him that she also feared what she'd tolerate, what she'd stand by and witness.

Any fears or trepidations were smothered with his complete possession of her body, the breath leaving her lungs as he sank his cock as deep as he could, the wet sound of their bodies meeting grew from his rapidly frenzied thrusting.

Across Gotham, a different reunion was brewing, the pot beginning to boil over.

Selina Kyle had quietly returned to Gotham City, making a beeline to Wayne Manor, finding it blanketed in darkness from the electricity being off.

It was cold and vacant, an opulent tomb.

Alfred had passed of a massive heart attack, dying instantly, interred in a dark-wood coffin.

The water hadn't been cut to Wayne Manor for the preservation of the trees on the property, the foliage shouldn't suffer because of the egomaniacal batboy.

Selina had taken a briskly cold shower and built a fire, making cocoa from imported French chocolate and eating caviar right from the jar, using her fingers instead of a pearl spoon.

Bruce Wayne returned to Gotham even quieter than Selina had, picking the lock on one of the rear doors of the Manor in his own name, never really having actual keys on his person.

Bruce frowned when he flicked the light switches and the dimness remained, he clicked on his phone's flashlight as he moved throughout the house, making mental notes of the damaged windows from a recent storm.

He pivoted on his rear heel when he heard a floorboard creak behind him, spinning with a raised forearm to block an incoming fist.

Bruce and his would-be attacker froze when they each caught a good look at each other's faces.

"Bruce."

"Selina."

Their voices rang out in unison at the sight of each other.

Upright.

Alive.

They were each at a loss for words.

"Those really do look good on you?" Bruce finally said, his eyes only moving from Selina's long enough to look at the strand of pearls around her slim neck.

Selina smiled as she reached up and touched the necklace, biting her lower lip as she slowly began to unbutton her blouse, continuing to unfasten, unzip and slip out of every stitch of clothing.

Bruce echoed slipping out of his clothes until they both stood naked in the Great Room of Wayne Manor, Selina choosing to remain wearing only the pearls.

"When did you get back?" Bruce whispered before he crushed his lips to Selina's, his hands moving everywhere on her taut nudity.

"Last night," she managed when Bruce lifted his lips, pulling her to the ground with him, adding as his lips began to move in a hot path down the front of her body.

"You?" Selina gasped as Bruce licked a wet line in the crease of her inner thigh, pushing her thighs apart, whispering his answer before he flicked his tongue against her clit, making it pulse with excitement.

"This morning," he rasped as he bobbed the tip of his tongue in and out of her wet opening.

"You've been watching the news?" Selina cried out as Bruce pushed her thighs further apart, exposing more of her wetness, flicking his tongue against her clit until she bucked against his face.

Bruce grunted an acknowledgement as he shifted, grabbing her hips before plunging his hardness to the hilt inside her. He ignored her question in favor of thrusting into her deeply, feeling her body pulse around his cock as he pushed her to the brink of climax.

There'd be plenty of time for strategy and detective-work after fucking on the Great Room's tiled floor.