The temperature in the camp dropped the closer it drew to midnight.
The fire wasn't warm enough, forcing Bane and Jane to retreat to the van and layers of mismatched linen.
Downtown Gotham was busy, buzzing workers moving around like bees in preparation of the funeral for the fallen GCPD officers.
Bane had whispered words into one of his disciple's ear about removing Detective Blake's body from his slate-grey coffin and replacing it with C-4.
He was strict to reinforce to use the same amount of C-4 as Blake's dead body, not to be greedy and fill the coffin with more.
The disciple eagerly followed Bane's instructions, filling the coffin with the exact amount needed, not a gram more or less.
Bane left it open on what to do with the embalmed corpse of Detective Blake, plump and rosy cheeked from near bursting from noxious formaldehyde.
The disciple dumped Blake in an industrial dumpster, his body would be collected by the garbage truck on its usual trash day and his final resting place would be the landfill.
The detonations were due to commence their explosive announcement during the moment of silence for all of the fallen.
The planned explosions that would surely rock the city to its core would herald the opening of the Seventh Seal.
The Seventh Seal triumphed at bringing about the end of life, a great earthquake that would be represented by the very foundation of the city cracking and crumbling.
There would be silence from the heavens, the saved amongst the gods would be their mourners.
Jane stirred under the menagerie of linens, finding the other half of the gurney empty, cool to the touch.
She sat up and stretched her arms over her head, yawning deeply before catching the sound of a conversation outside the van.
On the other side of the closed, rear van doors, Tom Sky and Bane were discussing the final stage of his bringing Gotham City tumbling down like the fictional story of trumpeting trumpets bringing down the sinning walls of Jericho from the collection of fictional short stories.
Jane strained her ears, trying to discern what she was hearing with the little snippets she gathered.
"All … funeral ….. bombs …. placed…..," Tom murmured.
Jane narrowed her eyes and pressed her ear to the closed doors as Bane replied.
"Gotham's … liberation ….. no survivors."
From inside the van, Jane could not believe what she was overhearing, the terror she was eavesdropping upon, she practically gnashed her teeth as her anger grew.
She continued to listen to Tom Sky and Bane discuss the veritable end of Gotham City, a razing of all life.
Only microorganisms would remain.
Her body ached remembering his deep, intimate touch, the remembrance as potent and in diametric opposition to the fury of his betrayal, lies he spilled as he possessed her, shared their ragged breath.
Involuntary, hot tears stung the corners of Jane's eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She roughly wiped her face dry before retreating to the makeshift bed for two as Bane and Tom Sky wrapped up their hushed conversation.
Jane rolled towards the side of the van, adjusting the covers minutes before Bane quietly pulled open one of the rear doors, the hinges gently squeaking before he settled on the other side of their bed.
He was overly invigorated by how close he was to destroying Gotham, that he didn't detect that Jane was awake and had heard his duplicitous words.
Bane rolled to his side and slid closer to Jane, pulling her into his arms, molding himself around her.
Jane forced herself to conceal her rage at Bane's lies, how he'd touched her while venom dripped from between his lips.
She squeezed her eyes shut when Bane's easy caresses grew in their urgency, she bit her lip when he began to tug at her clothes.
Bane's head was full of the sound of neurons firing, so much electrical activity moving throughout his broad body kept him from registering the intensity of Jane's anger emanating from her as he methodically stripped them both of their clothing, his hands eager for her naked flesh.
He didn't notice that Jane hesitated to relax her thighs, slow to open them and allow him closer to her bare intimacy.
It never rose to Bane's awareness that Jane's mind and body were disconnected, that the sounds and reaction he created within her were simply due to biology.
After he'd spilled his seed and untangled himself from Jane's naked body, he flopped onto his back, easily finding sleep.
Jane laid awake for the next few hours, staring at the ceiling until Bane began to stir.
As soon as she heard his breathing change, she started to dress warmly.
"Jane?" he asked her back.
She spoke without looking at him.
"I'm going to go check on Deborah," she murmured as she stared down at her silver toned zipper.
Bane reached out, closing a hand around her upper arm before Jane could leave the bed.
She turned towards him, compelled to lean close to him as he pulled on her arm.
Bane held her eyes for a few seconds, unbroken by words before pressing his lips to hers.
Jane blinked when Bane broke the kiss, "don't be long," he rasped before releasing her arm.
She nodded as she left the van, forcing herself to move casually, nothing rushed about her movements.
Jane took a deep inhale of the brisk morning air when her feet were firmly on the ground before making a beeline towards Deborah's living space.
Inside the van, Bane laid back down on the shoved together gurneys, the corners of his lips twitched in the satisfaction he felt about besting Jane, collecting all the game pieces, finding her formidable from the start.
His ego told him he'd finally broken her down with how alive and wetly delicious he made her body feel.
Jane had no intention of checking on Deborah, she knew she should but also knew the grieving woman would want to talk and she simply didn't have the time.
She had only started off in the direction of Deborah's plot of land in case Bane was watching.
As soon as she knew she was out of sight of the stolen morgue van, Jane made a sharp left, looking for Tom Sky and the small spot he'd carved out for himself amongst a lush bedding of stark white verbena bushes.
Bane had no idea as he basked in the afterglow of fucking Jane, as he reached down and rubbed the length of his still tingling cock, wet from being inside her, that Jane found Tom Sky as he was washing his hair in a shallow creek.
Tom jumped up and whipped around to look at Jane as she called out his name.
The suds from the rose scented shampoo stung his eyes as she closed the distance between them.
"Tell me everything that B…Vanek has planned for the city," Jane demanded as she marched right up to Tom, stopping just short enough that he could smell her breath.
"I, uh, I don't know, what?" Tom stammered as he took a couple steps back from Jane, his feet just about splashing in the water as Jane's eyes flashed with indignation.
"Tell me," Jane repeated, her tone falling to a single note as she met Tom's eyes.
He swallowed hard as he fell into her pulsing, unblinking orbs, the fringe of dark lashes disarming, concealing her medical acumen.
Tom dropped to his knees, clasping his hands in the middle of his chest as he saw what Jane didn't say aloud.
Tom saw himself being disarticulated by Jane, how she'd squeeze his bones until they were empty of their fatty, unctuous marrow.
He knew in an instant that she could isolate the spot at the base of his skull that would irretrievably turn him off or nick him in just the right artery that he was slow to bleed out before she trussed him up, looking for answers in his tanned and stretched hide.
Tom began to tell her everything as Jane widened her stance slightly, her hands curling in and out of fists.
He opened his belly and let his guts spill into the clearing, finding himself more in fear of Jane, a different fear than Bane.
There was a primitive terror that she could take him apart with a bone saw, scalpel and set of forceps, reduce him into formalin filled containers, some vats, and others just big enough to hold the tiny cochlea bone from inside his ears.
Tom never took his eyes away from Jane's as he reached into his pants pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper.
He passed it to her, his fingers trembling, yelping when Jane ripped it from.
Jane unfolded the paper to find a map of Gotham City.
Tom explained what the dark slashes from a black ink pen and notations in the margins meant, not daring to rise from his knees.
Tom told Jane every single minute detail of Bane's plans, where the C-4 was located and his detonation plans from the cemetery during the ceremony for the fallen Gotham officers, to the bulk of corners, shelves, and potholes throughout the city.
Jane shook her head, shocked by how much Bane had constructed while he'd burned his list and made her body quake with his deep touch.
Jane carefully refolded the map before slipping in into her back pocket, dropping her eyes to meet Tom's.
"Thank you Thomas," Jane said, the sincerity was sharp and hurt his ears as she turned and walked away.
"Where are you going?" he called to her retreating back.
"To church," Jane answered without slowing her pace or looking back.
Bane was rebuilding the campfire, looking around, expecting to see Jane return at any moment.
He abandoned lighting the fire, stomping towards Deborah's when it had been too long without her returning.
Bane found Deborah and the Bull locked in a hug, Deborah sobbing against the man's strong chest.
She looked up, wiping her eyes as she spoke. "Oh, Vanek, good morning."
"Are you well Deborah?" Bane forced himself to ask and patiently wait for the grieving woman to reply.
"Yes, thank you, it's been a lot to deal with, is Jane with you?" Deborah asked as she looked past the large man.
Bane felt a twist in his gut, "she isn't here?"
Deborah shook her head as she sniffed hard, "no, I haven't seen her since last night."
Bane kept his expression neutral as Deborah prattled on.
Once he got away from Deborah and the Bull, Bane made his way around the encampment, searching for Jane.
Deborah and the Bull watched Bane stalk away, they would end up leaving the encampment together, the guilt was gone after her father's passing, nothing more was keeping her tethered.
In the time that Bane desperately searched for Jane amongst the colorful tents, sleeping bags and under fallen logs, Jane had found a few women from the encampment that were heading into Gotham City to the free health clinic.
Jane hitched a ride to the church that had recently hosted the double murder of Mayor Pascal and his wife Eleanor. The revered cathedral that had been standing for more than a hundred years remained resolute and defiant by continuing to host services even in the midst of the carnage.
Gotham's walls might have been tumbling but the zealous kept watch.
While Jane traveled to the heart of Gotham City, chatting amiably with the trio of women, Bane found Tom Sky as he was chatting up a family of ground squirrels, enticing them closer with the edges of his bread.
He didn't like eating the crusts.
The squirrels scattered as Bane stomped into the clearing, blades of grass bowing in penitence before they were crushed under his heavy heel.
"Where is she?" Bane asked, his tone devoid of life, each simple word was infused with danger that frightened Tom's DNA strand, threatened to make it unravel.
Tom dropped the crusts of bread he was holding, his eyes darting to either side of Bane, trying to gauge how many steps he was from the large man.
"She's not here my liege," Tom heard himself say.
Bane rose to his full height, filling his lungs with the brisk air before he spoke.
"Where is she?"
"She needed to do something," Tom murmured as he took a step backwards.
Bane's hands shot out, making Tom scream like he was on stage, the unknown Soprano before Bane's large hands were smoothing down Tom's wrinkled lapels. He left his scarred hands resting against Tom's scrawny chest as he spoke, feeling the fluttering beat of his heart under his palm.
"Tell me where Jane went, and I will allow you to live."
Tom swallowed hard; his vocal cords afflicted with temporary paralysis before a deluge of words began to spill from between his quivering lips, he confessed everything.
Bane tightened his grip on Tom's lapels, slowly bring the terrified man closer while simultaneously lifting him in the air.
The threads began to snap as Bane held Tom aloft.
"But you said, you said you'd let me live," Tom shrieked as Bane lowered him to the ground before shifting his grip and dragging Tom with him at a hurried pace back towards the stolen morgue van.
"You shall accompany me to find Jane, she is fond of you and will not want to see you hurt," Bane grumbled as the trip back to the van seemed to take longer than it should've.
Bane's fury had him nearly bursting at the seams by the time he reached the van and threw Tom in the rear of it before retrieving the keys from the glove compartment box, the van protesting to be restarted after so much time languishing in the weeds.
As Bane pushed the accelerator to the floor, the tires devouring the miles to downtown Gotham City and the cathedral that Tom stated Jane was going to, based upon its significance on the map she kept, federal agents Double DC and McKay finished showering and dressed in their uniforms designated for ceremonies that required a solemn note.
Gordon was due to pick them up at the foot of the hotel they were staying at, their checkout time was still up in the air.
Outside the cathedral, Bane's disciples had cleared out everyone attempting to light a candle for a dead person, bend the knee or spill their guts to a man with a stiff, white collar.
Bane parked the van at an angle and stomped up the stairs of the glorious building, stained glass windows allowed the filtered light to glow.
Tom skipped ahead of Bane and pulled open of the heavy wooden doors, ready to make his exit after the large man had crossed the threshold and made the holy water evaporate as he passed.
"Proceed," Bane stated to Tom in a tone that made his heart grow still for just a few seconds.
Tom lowered his eyes as he skittered past Bane and into the grand vestibule of the magnificent cathedral.
Bane wordlessly held out a hand towards one of his disciples, the man handed over his semi-automatic rile without a shred of hesitation.
Tom's eyes needed a moment to adjust to the change in lighting.
Bane did not.
His eyes immediately found Jane, drawn to her, uncontrollable, like shipwrecked men turning to seawater.
"What are you doing here Jane?"
Bane's voice reverberated along the wooden beams of the ceiling, his words muted as they washed over row upon row of pews, polished deeply until they glowed.
Jane stood at the pulpit, Bane her only congregation.
Tom had crouched behind a statue of a saint that protected the weak.
Jane stood up straighter, remaining mute as Bane continued to walk down the center aisle.
The stained-glass eyes of saints and apostles watched everything.
"Come down from there Jane, we need to leave the city," Bane said in the face of Jane's silence.
"You lied to me," Jane spit, staring down at him from her elevated position.
Bane remained silent as Jane's eyes caught sight of the firearm.
"Are you going to shoot me?" she scoffed.
"You need to stop this foolishness and come with me at once," Bane rasped, ignoring her question.
"So you can kill everyone in the city?"
"Yes."
Jane shook her head as Bane only drew closer, his anger growing at her defiance.
Bane whipped sharply to the right and fired upon one of the glorious stained-glass windows, a depiction of an untouched woman who'd birthed the son of someone's god, holding him after he'd had nine-inch nails shoved through his wrists.
"I will not live with you after you cast this city into darkness, after you kill my mother," Jane said once Bane brought his eyes back to her.
"You're my wife, you'll go where I go," he rebutted.
"I am not," Jane shouted as she yanked off her precious metal band and threw it at him.
Bane watched in what seemed like slow-motion as the plain band landed soundlessly at his feet.
Bane squatted down and retrieved the ring, his eyes never leaving hers.
He rose, his rage could've taken the form of a horned, winged beast until he saw what Jane was standing on as he drew close enough to the pulpit.
Bane kept his expression frightfully neutral but inside his broad chest, his heart leapfrogged several beats before it began to thunder as his eyes found the box that supported all of Jane's weight.
The square crate she'd dragged inside the cathedral had been in the most holy person on campus's private quarters.
The lead shepherd had administered the last rites to Talia.
Bane's blood ran cold at the sight of the crate, the same kind that littered the city, basement, hallways, and private residences. The crates were filled with C-4, all synchronized to detonate in concert with the moment of silence for the fallen Gotham officers.
"Jane, come down from there," Bane practically pleaded as he held up his hand.
She narrowed her eyes down at him. "I will not," she seethed, adding as her eyes turned to ice. "You are loyal to a dead woman, and I will take no part in it."
"Come down here and put this ring back on your finger," Bane roared, his voice trumpeting.
"You shouldn't have burned that woman, she could wear your goddamn ring on her dead, fucking finger," Jane shouted, her voice rising shrilly to the heavens.
Bane's broad chest heaved as he pocketed the plain ring, picking up a heavy, stiff-spined holy book, throwing it towards the crucified savior of a vast population.
The gold-edged pages fluttered as the book flew through the air, thumping against the hollow belly of the carved deity.
The divinity spun on its long-ago installed hardware, ending up inverted, tearing the purple curtains in half as it moved.
The head of the worshipped idol knocked over the chalice of blessed wine, soaking the wafers before the rich burgundy splashed on the carpet and Jane's shoes.
That was his blood.
"What do you want Jane?" Bane finally asked, his question delivered on a strained rasp.
"There's nothing you can give me," Jane spit, "you're devoted to the dead."
Bane curled his hands into fists, clenching his fingers until his knuckles popped.
"I am not … devoted to Talia," he growled, his tone held a warning.
"You are," Jane pressed, "you're loyal to a woman I helped you burn."
"I know Talia is dead," Bane rasped as he stared up at Jane.
He wanted nothing more in that moment then for Jane to look at him with love, warmth, and kindness.
"You're still staunchly dedicated to her memory, resolute to her plan of vengeance."
"I am not," Bane denied, "I am not loyal to Talia," he denied twice. Somewhere a rooster crowed when he denied her for the third time. "I am not devoted to her."
"Who are you loyal to?" Jane asked, her voice dropping to a husky octave.
Bane blinked slowly, licking his lips slowly before he answered. "You."
"Who are you devoted to?" she murmured.
"You," Bane growled.
"Where's the detonator?" Jane asked, armed with every single detail that Tom Sky had laid at her feet.
Crouched behind the carved saint, next to the birdbath full of sanctified room temperature water, Tom Sky couldn't stop watching, he wanted to run but was too afraid to move.
Bane never blinked as his pupils flashed with onyx fire, butterscotch flames swirled within his dark orbs as he held her eyes, reaching down to fish the black plastic detonator from his heavy, laced boot.
"Without this offensive device, what is your devotion to me?" Bane asked, moving the detonator like a drugged conductor, lazily drawing the device that could induce a genocide in circles in the cathedral's chilly air.
"Absolute," Jane replied without hesitation or the slightest pause.
"What do you want Jane?"
"Destroy that, choose to let Talia's plan die, choose life in the light with me," she said as her breathing rate picked up, lowering just one foot to the floor.
Bane broke the device in half as though it was a strand of dried pasta, the plastic cracked, splintered, exposed the red and white wires of the detonator's intestines.
The pieces clattered to the stone floor as Jane stepped completely away from the crate, ascending the narrow stairs until she was standing in front of Bane.
"What else do you want Jane?" he asked, his voice hitching as her hands settled on his chest.
"I want you to fuck me in front of that fallen god," Jane murmured as she pointed to the nearly inverted crucified son of the sky god.
The weaponry and clothing fell away from Bane's body, like fallen leaves from a deciduous tree.
Tom Sky tore his eyes away from the front of church, he snuck out through a creaky side door, continuing to flit around Gotham, making frequent visits to Jenifer whenever he could.
Across the city, the moment of silence at the cemetery came and went, Blake's coffin filled with C-4 was buried.
Gordon thoroughly thanked the special agents for making the trip up from DC, took them to an obscenely priced dinner by some chef who had a few tires behind their last name before they headed back to their home office.
The agents would both eventually retire after a lifetime career, retiring up at Cape Maybelle, McKay's family vacationed there every summer.
Gordon would continue working, always planning on retiring but always just one more case to solve or report to write.
He would die at his desk of a widow-making heart attack, the medical examiner didn't think he'd suffered.
The day Gotham City began to heal, at the cathedral, Bane and Jane left the church, unnoticed with the bulk of law enforcement at the cemetery.
As the strains of Amazing Grace was played on bagpipes, Bane and Jane exited down the center of the church.
Bane ripped an already decorated Christmas tree from a holiday display outside the cathedral.
Milk and cookies are fairly bipartisan and heretics spend money.
"Stealing from a church? Jane teased.
"Christmas is less than a week away, we might not have time to pick one up before we get home."