Bane brooded in the wake of overhearing Talia and Barsad's shared words, he retreated to the darkness where he was most at home, practically becoming part of the shadows as he continued to watch and listen.
He became like a dark prince who resided in staggeringly tall mountains, could take the form of mist as he kept his eyes on everything happening on the compound.
Bane needed to put physical distance between himself and Clara, his resolve faded when he was around her, threatened to completely dissipate.
He never stopped their chess game though, always waiting until Clara was locked into the arms of a drunken deep sleep before moving the carved chess piece, ornate in its simplicity.
After committing to the space he moved the piece, he would only then allow himself to occupy the same breathing space as Clara. Only after moving the Rook horizontally, would he walk softly into Clara's bedroom, his footfalls giving no sound despite his muscular bulk.
In the moments he'd kneel at Clara's bedside, the only sounds were light and mechanical from his breathing apparatus.
Bane would find nothing holding him back as he'd boldly trace the shapes and contours of Clara's face and visible skin, dragging his fingertips along her bare flesh, his touch as light as a butterfly's, never enough to coax her towards consciousness.
His tongue didn't hesitate to hold back words from spilling from between his lips.
Whispered admissions in the dark about wants he'd never utter to the conscious.
Bane told her how he craved a life away from Talia, her diminishing words had hurt him, he longed to know what Clara desired.
"Do you wish to be away from here?" Bane asked Clara as she slept deeply.
Bane's breath hitched as he rasped needs that he'd never given his voice, his longing for a partner, a place to call home.
He wanted every part of Clara Leroux, hungered for her body, mind and soul.
"Would you leave with me, eventually trust me…..love me?" Bane asked Clara's beautiful sleeping face.
He was always remiss to leave Clara's side, each passing second at her side, made his unshakeable fortitude crash to the ground like the Walls of Jericho.
Bane leaned close, breathing in Clara's exhales, his surging lust made his desires turn into demands, necessities.
His words hitched on a mechanical wheeze as he imagined his hands on her naked skin, memorizing the lines and curve of her body. He shuddered as he thought about removing his mask so he could taste her, fill her intimate center with his tongue before the pain of being without his serum threatened to render him unconscious. An involuntary shudder wracked his massive frame when he swept his eyes down Clara's sleeping form, picturing her underneath him, nothing to hide behind under his gaze before he slid himself inside her, incrementally, allowing her body to adjust, accept him.
"Any physical discomfort will be temporary," Bane growled before he left Clara to sleep until the sun rose and the sound of Leonora and the other pigs squealing in concert as they were being fed breakfast was enough to wake the dead.
Bane paid careful attention to Barsad's movement around the estate and was a witness from the other side of a wall to a conversation he shared with Talia while planning his trip to retrieve Clara's dollhouse.
Bane had pressed himself close to the wall and listened to Barsad and Talia discuss his trip to the east coast, eventually to the Leroux summer house in a quaint town known for their seafood chowder.
Barsad had brought Talia a rare bottle of wine, an expensive vintage that he presented and poured with a flourish.
Talia was pleased to accept the attention and listened as Barsad spoke earnestly.
"I'll bring back the dollhouse, hand it over to you in its entirety, I just want Clara," he stated succinctly.
Talia nodded, taking a long sip of the luxurious wine as she considered what Clara promised the dollhouse held.
If Clara was being truthful and had a windfall of criminal evidence, the value would be staggering.
The potential amount Talia could extort outnumbered the stars.
She drained her glass, nodding her thanks as Barsad refilled her glass, just short of reaching the crystal brim as her anger rose at the financial ruin she faced since the death of Ras al Ghul.
When Ras was alive, Talia was respected to a degree in public.
After Ras died, the real loyalty to Talia was made known, a lot of connections withered, and financial support ebbed to a slow trickle.
Talia may have been the daughter of Ras al Ghul, but she wasn't his son.
Talia al Ghul would never be a son.
Bane had clenched his hands into tight fists when Talia held up her glass towards Barsad, "bring me the house and she's all yours."
Barsad and Talia had shaken hands before they parted ways.
Talia continued drinking after Barsad closed the doors behind him, hurrying across the estate to Clara's quarters.
Bane was a hulking part of the shadows as he followed Barsad, his blood beginning to boil before he even heard the words Barsad would speak.
Barsad walked with a bounce in his step as he drew closer to Clara's room, knocking excitedly, his face falling when Maya opened the door, her solemn expression soured his excitement only for a few moments before Clara appeared in the doorway beside Maya.
"I have a few questions about your dollhouse, may I come in?" Barsad asked, keeping his voice steady, a façade of calm on the outside, while inside he struggled to keep meeting her eyes and keep his hands to himself.
For now.
"Please come in," Clara said, stepping aside to let Barsad walk past. "Would you like something to drink?" she added as he stood in the center of the room, wanting Maya to leave.
"Yes, whiskey," he murmured, his eyes trained on Clara as she walked to the glass bar in the corner and poured them each a healthy pour of amber alcohol.
"Please have a seat," Clara said as she passed him the squat glass.
Barsad nodded his thanks and settled across from Clara after she sat on the loveseat.
Maya busied herself nearby, close enough to intervene in a heartbeat.
Barsad couldn't find his words and just stared at Clara, making her nervous to the point that she nearly drained her glass before prompting him to speak. "What can I help you with?" she finally asked.
Bane shook with visceral magnitude from the other side of the wall as he watched Barsad begin to ask Clara questions about where her dollhouse was located in the summer house on the beach. He gritted his teeth as Barsad smiled, looking particularly dashing with a freshly starched handkerchief tied around his neck, the vivid fabric making his eyes glitter.
Bane watched helplessly as Barsad kept alcohol in Clara's glass, trying to lull her into an easy, trusting camaraderie with him, nodding in seemingly understanding of the stress, fear, and pressure she was feeling from Talia.
Bane watched as Barsad continued to prolong the conversation, asking the same questions in different ways to keep Clara talking.
Clara stopped sipping at her glass as Barsad continued to ask her about unnecessary details about her doll house, even the embellishments on the mahogany staircase.
Barsad's continued questions made her begin to feel like she was on display under a huge spotlight, his eyes were too wide as he stood up to refill her glass before sitting next to her on the loveseat.
Behind the wall, Bane raised his hands that were clenched into fists, struggling to fight his first impulse of punching his way through the wall before he disemboweled Barsad.
Maya echoed Bane's concerns, popping out from where she'd seemingly been out of earshot.
"Miss Clara, the tub is just about full for your evening bath."
Barsad was angered at the interruption and that Maya was not going to be leaving the room again.
Clara was relieved, smiled her gratitude towards Maya.
"I'll be leaving in the morning, I'll ensure the dollhouse is returned to you after Talia obtains the files," he murmured as he walked towards the door, feeling Maya's eyes upon him.
"Travel safe," Clara called as Maya locked the door after Barsad's long-winded exit.
It would be more than ten hours of flight time to the Leroux summer house, the time on the ground and another ten hours on the return flight.
"Travel safe brother," Bane echoed from the other side of the wall.