"This isn't that different from the school cafeteria." Grace remarked, looking around the makeshift food area.
"How so?" Barsad asked.
"All the little cliques."
"Cliques?"
"Well, you have the jocks," She pointed at the group of large men at the biggest table. "and you have the cheerleaders fawning over them." Sure enough, the newer recruits were laughing a little too hard at the jokes for them to be genuine. Barsad couldn't disagree.
"You have the loners that just come in for the food and leave just as quick." The quiet members didn't socialise, just got on with their work and ate to live.
"And then you have the losers." She pointed at Barsad and Patrick.
"Ha ha. Very funny, sis." He deadpanned and continued to eat his food.
"You seem to be in a better mood." Barsad observed.
"A shower can do wonders for your state of mind." She did look happier. The dullness that had been creeping into her eyes was now replaced with a sparkle. He never noticed that they had a tint of green in the blue of the iris.
"I'm just glad no one's bothering you here." Patrick looked around them. And sure enough, the other men's eyes drifted over Grace as she ate, but no one attempted to speak with her.
"Most of our members know better than to bother your sister. Others have yet to learn that lesson." He slightly mumbled the last part thinking of Joey and Bartov.
"What do you mean by that?" She asked Barsad.
"Nothing, it's just our organisation has little to no female members." Barsad explained. Hopefully that would be enough to dissuade any further questions.
"Why is that?" Her curiosity was piqued. Damn, she was persistent.
"Just... the way it's always been." He shrugged.
"Best to stop before you ask anything else, Grace. They don't like outsiders." Patrick warned.
Barsad gave him a subtle look not to push it. He was already on thin ice as it is.
She scoffed. "Do you really think I'll be any less impressed if I find out what you're actually doing in Gotham? You've already kidnapped my brother and you're holding me hostage."
"The less you know, the better." Barsad advised.
"But-"
"Enough!" He almost shouted.
His outburst garnered the attention of almost everyone in the cafeteria. They all knew not to comment and just as quickly, they went back to their conversations and meals.
She sighed in dejection and sat in silence for the rest of the meal.
He knew he had been harsh, but she can't know what they're doing. It would ruin the plan and put her in a huge amount of danger.
Barsad felt eyes on him and turned to see Patrick staring.
Patrick looked like he was going to say something, but he just took a deep breath and looked away.
Barsad frowned slightly. For a moment, there was a glimmer of... something in his eye. He couldn't tell what it was though.
Barsad looked at his watch. They had been here long enough.
"Time to go." He announced.
As they were about to leave, Grace stayed sitting.
"Are you coming?"
She hesitated.
"Do I have to go back to that room?" She whispered.
"You do, I don't see any way-"
"There's tons of space in that work area. She can sit in a corner and keep out of the way." Patrick interrupted him.
"That's not your call to make." Barsad warned.
"I'll work a lot faster if I can see that she's safe."
Barsad weighed his options.
However, if the previous speed Patrick worked at was while he was anxious about his sister, then it could only benefit them in the long term.
"We'll check with Bane."
As they exited the food hall, Barsad heard Grace ponder the new information.
"So that's his name."
Xxx
Bane had agreed to let Grace sit in the main area on the condition that she not interrupt their work. Barsad also had to practically stand over her the entire time. He was none too pleased to be tasked with babysitting.
She was given a chair and initially, she was glad to be out in the open. But after watching the same men working in the same position for an hour, she grew bored. Most of the men didn't even speak in English while working, so she couldn't understand what they were saying.
Even a book to help pass the time would be appreciated.
She almost asked to be brought back, at least there she could work on her solitaire game. But every now and then, Patrick would look over and smile, and the thought would go away.
He looked very serious. It must have been important whatever they were doing. There were three others near him, all on computers and tablets.
She was curious, but knew better than to ask.
She tapped a tune on the table and began to hum an old song her father taught her when she was young.
Occasionally, some of the lyrics would slip out.
"…And I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen
When you joined the great fallen in 1916
Well, I hope you died quick, and I hope you died clean
Oh Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?
She stopped and continued the beat on the table.
"Did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined?
And though you died back in 1916
To that loyal heart you're forever nineteen." Her brother's voice echoed around her.
They caught each others eyes and smiled.
She joined in with her brother.
"Or are you a stranger without even a name?
Forever enshrined behind some old glass pane
In an old photograph torn, tattered, and stained
And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame.
Did they beat the drums slowly?
Did they play the fife lowly?
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?
Did the band play the last post and chorus?
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest?"
They smiled at the memories of their father singing in the pubs they used to frequent as they grew up.
"How touching." They both jumped when they spotted Bane and Barsad watching them.
The pair blushed at being overheard.
"I've never heard that song before." Barsad commented.
"It's really popular in Ireland. Our Da' taught it to us when we were young." Patrick explained bashfully.
"What's it about?" Barsad asked.
"I think it's about a fallen Irish soldier who died in World War One. It was written to tackle Irish prejudice in Britain." Grace supplied.
"Is that so?" Bane contemplated the information.
"There was a lot of anti-Irish sentiment when the song was written. Failed rebellions and threats of terrorism were always at the forefront of people's minds.
"Failed rebellions?"
"The Irish are rubbish at fighting. The 1916 Easter Rising was a complete disaster."
"But the Irish won their freedom eventually, right?" Barsad asked.
"Eventually. Revolutions always have consequences. The leaders of the rebellion destroyed Dublin City and were executed for their part in the fighting. A small militia, no matter the perseverance, is no match for the firepower of an army." As she spoke, those around her exchanged a look she couldn't read. It was like she said something she shouldn't have.
"Well, I hope you enjoyed your free time, my dear. Barsad will escort you back to your room." Bane gestured for her to get up.
She nodded. It was fun while it lasted.
She hugged her brother goodbye.
"I will find a way to get you out." Patrick whispered in Irish.
"Hey! Don't do that!" Barsad warned.
"He was just telling me to stay strong." Grace stepped in.
"Be that as it may, I stand by what I said. Don't speak Irish in front of us."
"Aye aye captain." Patrick mock saluted.
"You have work to do." Bane reminded Patrick as he made to leave.
Before Bane left, she touched his arm to stop him.
"Thank you for letting me out."
He looked from her small hand to her eyes.
With a single nod, he watched her leave.
Patrick's brow furrowed as he watched the two.
"Get back to work." Bane commanded as he retreated to his area.
Xxx
When Barsad returned, after escorting Grace to her room, the two sat to watch the surveillance footage of the CIA headquarters.
Soon they would make their move to collect Dr Pavel.
"She has a nice voice." Barsad commented out of nowhere.
Bane didn't respond. Only continued to watch the screen.
"I wonder if that's why she teaches music?"
"I hope you aren't becoming distracted, Barsad?"
"Not at all. I just haven't heard music in so long that I almost forgot what it felt like."
"Music often brings out inner peace." Bane supplied.
"Did you notice that all the men stopped working to listen when they sang?"
"I did." They were quick enough to get back to work when he stood to engage the siblings.
"Are you going to let her out again?" Barsad asked, his eyes watching his leader carefully.
"What are your thoughts on the matter?" Bane asked instead of answering.
"I think she did well enough. She didn't move from her spot, and didn't get in the way. I think the singing was unintentional on her part."
"I agree. Perhaps you can find her a book to occupy her time."
"I think I can find something for her to read." Barsad nodded. "Any idea what Patrick said to her in Irish?"
"He told her he would get her out. Make sure he does not succeed with his promise."
Xxx
The next morning Grace was almost ecstatic when Barsad arrived to bring her to breakfast.
She had never been a fan of porridge, but greedily filled up her bowl from the communal batch.
"Wow. Slow down, princess." Barsad warned. "Eat gradually."
"Sorry, I've just gotten so sick of the granola." She ate the rest at a moderate pace.
"Soon, you'll be sick of porridge."
She began to slowly push the rest of the food around her bowl.
"So I take it that I'm going to be here for a while?"
Barsad didn't confirm her query. But he didn't deny the possibility either.
"Where's Patrick?"
"He and the other tech team are on a tight schedule. He has food brought to him so he doesn't waste time in here."
"It would be nice to see him?" She made the statement sound like a question.
"Don't push your luck. Bane was generous yesterday, he's rarely generous two days in a row."
"Alright." She sighed.
They finished their porridge .
"Right, let's get you back to your room."
"Actually, can I have a shower?"
"You just had one yesterday."
"I won't wash my hair. I'll be quick."
"Fine, but let's go now before the others head there."
She nodded and dumped her bowl in the wash basin.
Barsad followed and they collected her items from her room and made their way down.
Thankfully, the showers were empty when they arrived.
Barsad did as Bane had done and stood just outside the curtain.
Grace undressed and quickly began to wash herself.
Out of habit, she began to hum. And of course, the humming turned into a song.
Her father taught her Sean Nós singing when she was young. It made him feel like he was back home in Galway.
She sang Eleanór na Rún.
It was a frequent choice as the songs rarely needed instruments to sing. Just the voice.
She began softly, but once she got immersed into the music, she sang with all her heart.
"…Ach chúns a mhairfeadsa beo,
Beid gean a'mort,
Mar is deas mar a sheolfainn
Na gamhna leat,
'Eleanóir, a rún."
She finished her shower and quickly dressed.
Once outside, her usually stoic companion was wearing a contemplative expression.
He obviously heard her singing in the shower.
She cleared her throat in embarrassment and turned to walk towards her room.
Barsad followed slightly behind her.
Neither mentioned her singing.
And for the first time, the pair had nothing snarky to say to one another as they said goodbye.
Xxx
Bane was adjusting his back brace to help reduce the strain he felt when he woke up.
His supply needed to be changed.
Quick as he could, he unlatched the mask and replaced the cartridge with a full one.
As the mask was back in its rightful place, he was at last able to breathe easily.
The pain, while ingrained in his body, was constant. He hid it well enough. It just was another sign of his strength.
His body, a weapon of great power, paled in comparison to the strength of the mind. Mind over matter was an instilled belief.
Some of his brother's knew of his need for the mask, others simply believed it was a choice.
They would never openly question it. But he saw the curiosity behind their eyes.
He saw it in her eyes too.
The woman with the beautiful voice.
He could almost hear her now.
His eyes closed as he listened to her sing. She wasn't speaking English though. The soft melody melted away his thoughts until it was only her voice in his head.
Then it echoed, as if it had been real.
He opened his eyes only to have them drawn to the leaking pipe in his room.
He walked closer to it and there it was; an echo.
She was singing. It had been real.
His dark past, while full of trauma and pain, occasionally contained a bright spot. There was a memory of a woman singing.
It had kept him sane in the pit. Even years after she had passed on.
His mother used to sing to him.
And it made him sleep better at night.