Author: YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING. I really appreciated all of the supportive comments and messages. Honestly. It 100% helped me get through my 'rough patch.' I think I was in a funk :/ I want to especially thank mynameistoolong for your AMAZING questions/comments/messages that forced me to question and think more 'deeper' about certain aspects of the story. I'M SO THANKFUL YOU'RE AMAZZZZINNGG.
And, of course, I'd like to thank DOPAndrea, sunfloewr2527, KyloRen'sgirl213, KAIIII (x2), louisapallot, MaggYme, Siennax3, CrierDetonate, and sunny day for your *LOVELY LOVELY SUPER AMAZING REVIEWS*. I can't express how appreciative and thankful I am that you took the time to comment and review. I. CHERISH. EVERY. WORD. I'M. NOT. JOKING. It literally brightens my day to read a review. IMMEDIATE mood shift. IMMEDIATE writing fuel.
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.
Time until explosion: 8 days
Myra was at the kitchen table, idly paging through the baby magazine that had consumed a significant portion of her time recently when she saw Bane walk in. She lifted up the magazine to show him what she was looking at. She pointed to a singular item in the magazine.
"Look! A tactical baby carrier for men who want to maintain that 'military look'. This looks like something you'd wear!" she said with enthusiasm, using her finger to repeatedly prod and jab at the image while maintaining a huge grin on her face.
Bane seemed disinterested in the contents she was trying to show him as he steered towards the cupboards to prepare food, not even sparing a glance her way.
Myra's eyes lingered on him and his seeming disinterest, her smile faltering somewhat, but eventually she put the magazine back down on the table to continue paging through it. The magazine had already appeared to be worn and abused; she had taken notes, circled items she wanted, and crossed out things she thought were absurd and nonsense. She put stars over things she 'needed'. It became her bible, since she no longer had access to a computer to search through things on the internet and could no longer simply go outside to window shop due to her computer and outside access privileges being revoked following her Special Forces stint. Myra waited several minutes before she spoke up again, giving Bane some time to shuffle through the cupboards and gather whatever it was he was fishing for.
"You know what I'm excited about? Seeing you change a diaper," Myra confessed, a huge goofy grin spreading across her face as her eyes fleetingly looked up to observe him before she looked back down to focus on the magazine.
Bane continued to either ignore or dismiss her comments. He appeared to be distracted with the task of preparing food, but in actuality he was simmering inside.
He, of course, wasn't going to get a chance to change his child's diaper, or wear a militaristic baby tactical carrier to tote his child around in. To assume that these facts didn't affect him would be a gross misunderstanding of Bane's character. His eyebrows knitted together as he strained to divert his focus and attention on the steaming pot of food in front of him instead of these undesirable internal acknowledgements.
"Your big, strong sausage-finger hands trying to clean up baby poop and put on a diaper…that would be hysterical. Adorable," Myra continued to grin, her focus on the magazine in front of her, seemingly ignoring Bane as he continued to stare down at the food he was preparing.
He did pause during his task, his fists resting on the edge of the counter as he seemed to physically restrain himself from shaking as he took in several solid breaths, closing his eyes as he did so.
Did she not realize how cruel and tormenting she was being?
No. Of course she didn't.
"Do you mind if we change the subject?" Bane asked rather brusquely.
Myra went silent, her mouth falling open as if she were on the verge of replying but simply sucked it back in. Bane turned his head to observe her reaction to his words. He saw that her lips were pursed together with her eyes focused intently downwards on the magazine she was reading in an obvious attempt at appearing unaffected by his comment. She was doing a poor job; she looked like she had been severely scolded, with redness consuming her face. She had never been snapped at like that by Bane, particularly over something as seemingly inconsequential as talking; it certainly left her confused and speechless. It forced her to reflect on what it was she had been saying that perhaps made him appear so angry or what it was she said that was so undesirable to him. The look that consumed her features made him wish he had just kept his mouth shut. Bane eventually cleared his throat, grabbing the plates of food he had just finished preparing.
"Food's done," he said.
Myra wiped her face clear of emotion into one of forced excitement when she saw Bane turn around, hiding the hurt she had suddenly felt. Bane turned towards her and set a plate in front of her, which she immediately started digging into with her head bent down. Bane saw right through her facade, and noted her unusual silence during their meal.
Bane had noticed immediately that Myra was deeply affected by his request to 'change the topic' regarding babies. Aside from blatantly no longer bringing up the subject - any subject - that could directly tie back into discussion of 'babies', he also saw that Myra had simply stopped knitting baby-related items and other small craft items that had recently seemed to consume most of her time. At least, she minimized doing these activities in the open; when she sensed Bane approaching, she quickly shoved whatever it was she was reading or working on away to hide it if it was baby-related as if the mere sight of it would offend him.
While Myra was moderately confused and a little heartbroken about Bane's apparent and sudden disinterest, it didn't dampen her desire to want to follow through with the pregnancy. She had her mind set on it. She had existed in an unopinionated 'limbo' state prior to discussing the matter with Bane, but after discussing it with him and even perhaps being falsely led into thinking he didn't seem to mind the prospect itself, it allowed her to embrace the notion. It allowed her to explore the idea internally which led her into freely falling in love with the idea. She couldn't just willingly suck that love and desire back into herself and reverse her mentality just because she suddenly found out that perhaps she made false assumptions about his perspective on the matter. This led her into questioning and re-evaluating Bane's intentions, trying to decipher if she had it all wrong; he did mention that if she followed through with the pregnancy that she would be taken care of; but were there conditions to that? Did he imply that he would discard her and just throw a pile of cash at her and tell her "Good luck, there you go"? It was a little upsetting to think that this was perhaps a possibility and the caveat to his condition of her pregnancy; she didn't want to be 'dumped' anywhere; she wanted to stay with him.
Yet, it was hard for her to ignore the fact that an actual baby may annoy him more so than the lighthearted comments she had made about baby merchandise. Would he spend less time with her and the child, because he simply didn't like babies or care for children? It would make sense, considering his background and profession; he most certainly didn't seem like an expert on child rearing or even child tolerance, since she doubted very much he was exposed to many children aside from Talia. She didn't want him to dismiss her; she wanted to stay with him. She wanted to ask him directly, but she had an inkling that confronting him about it would only result in initiating the process of her removal, and she certainly didn't want that, either. So, she settled on silence and deflection.
Myra was passively meandering through the penthouse later that afternoon after detecting an unusual calm settle throughout the suite. This, to her, indicated Bane had left the penthouse. Which, she noted, was highly unusual considering lately it seemed that she was constantly in close proximity to either Bane or Barsad. So, the sudden privacy felt highly unusual and sudden. Almost deafening.
As she made her way into the living room, she realized Bane hadn't exited the penthouse; he was simply passed out on the couch. She stared at the spectacle, inching closer to stand over him. She worked her lips together as she scratched her mid-section idly, fidgeting her feet and curling her toes against the carpeted rug.
Bane's arm was draped over his eyes as if he were attempting to block out the light emanating down upon him from the ceiling light fixtures above. Considering the slow rise and fall of his chest, and the fact that he didn't seem to acknowledge her presence, she assumed he was just simply passed out from pure exhaustion. She had never seen him idly napping quite like this before. It was both amusing and enduring.
Myra turned to look around the living room for a blanket or something to drape over his body so he didn't look so exposed. She saw one hanging over the back of the armchair near the decorative gas fireplace. She strolled over, being careful to mask her feet against the carpet, and snatched up the throw blanket before making her way back over to him. She feathered the blanket out and slowly draped it over his body. Her eyes were large and she was tight-lipped as she waited for some sort of reaction from him while she draped the blanket, but she was pleased when he didn't stir. Her pleasure was short lived, however, for as soon as she removed her hand from the blanket, his hand darted out and snatched her arm by the wrist. She looked back at his face and saw him staring at her. She stared back, unsure of what she should do or how she should react. She just decided to be patient and let him make the first move.
"What time is it?" he asked tiredly.
Myra had no idea. She had no concept of space or time. In fact, she couldn't even identify which month it was, let alone what day.
"7:00 o'clock," she blurted out, having no idea what time it really was but just coming up with an arbitrary time.
Bane narrowed his eyes at her and then turned his attention to the windows. His eyes roamed over the shadows and the angle at which the sun appeared to be entering the penthouse before he turned back to her to give her a stern look.
"You have no concept of what time it is, do you?" he asked her as if she should feel deep shame for not being able to whip up the time of day immediately on the spot.
She glowered at him, smacking at the hold he had on her wrist.
"It doesn't matter what time it is. Why do you need to know? Are you late for a business meeting? A hot date?" Myra teased.
Bane ignored her remarks and simply stretched and angled his neck so that several audible cracks resonated through the air.
"No, but it would be desirable to know how long I was idle..." he said, tiredness seeping back into his voice. Tiredness did not seep into his grip, however, for he maintained a firm hold around her wrist.
Myra took this opportunity to attempt to pull him up and off of the couch by simply walking backwards and digging her heels into the rug, leaning her body backwards. He slid about a half an inch over the upholstered couch, but budged no further. He appeared as if he hadn't even noticed her attempts. Myra tried again, this time bringing her hand around to latch onto the wrist of the hand that was holding hers as she gave one giant tug backwards. Again, nothing.
"Grrrrauuuuuuh. Get up, lump. Let's go watch a movie," Myra begged.
Bane remained on the couch for several more seconds before his head slowly turned towards her to analyze her.
"Oh? You wish something of me? It was impossible for me to hear over all of that impulsive rudeness..." he quipped, giving her a furrowed-brow glare with his head lazily angled towards her.
Myra stubbornly stared back before she paused. She then took this moment to collect herself and re-evaluate her approach. She stood up straight, took a deep breath, brought her hand in front of her face like she was wiping clean a whiteboard, and approached the situation from a different angle. She let out her breath in a high-pitched 'whoooooooooo' sound before her eyes focused on his. Her lips slowly curled upward into a generous smile while she took her time inching forward before she knelt down right beside his reclined head that was rested on a couch cushion. She had to bend her elbow awkwardly since he still seemed to refuse to let go of her wrist, but she ignored that. Instead, she used her free hand to bring up and playfully stroke and pat the exposed skin over his face and scalp. She tilted her head to the side as if she were daydreaming and performing an activity like picking the petals off of a flower to determine if he loved her truly or truly not.
"May-chance we go watch a movie together, perchance dear darling woo? I do adore you holding my small petite hand in your strong, masculine, indestructible hand while we watch movies together. Pleaaaaaase?" she pleaded, bringing her head forward to invade his personal space so that she could properly assault his face with obnoxiously wet kisses over his cheek and brow.
Bane knew she was mocking him based in her tone and nonsensical choice of words and sentence structure. She particularly made jabs at the way he spoke by inflecting her words in unusual ways in an attempt to mirror his own accent. She was largely unsuccessful; she just ended up sounding mildly ridiculous. He also knew she was trying to stroke his ego by elaborating on how massive his hands were, which he thought was just outright nonsense. However, he did enjoy the affections she gave him when her lips made contact with his skin even if he did feel like she was intentionally making her kisses unnecessarily slobbery and wet as if she were challenging herself in a contest to coat his skin with a clear sheen of moisture.
Bane waited until she had properly succeeded in the task of blanketing his face with moisture which was indicated by her leaning her head back to stare at him with her nose several inches from the grill of his mask. His breathing wasn't labored; it was just slow and methodical and sounded wispy and mechanical. He lowered his lids over his eyes halfway so he could peer at her as if in laziness.
"We'll work on your delivery later. Do you have a film in mind?" he asked her.
Myra smoothed the palm of her hand over the exposed side of his scalp.
"No, I want to go look and see what movies there are to watch," she said in a whisper, as if she were telling him a deep dark secret.
Bane let out a sigh, raising his eyes to peer at the ceiling for just a brief moment before he finally released the hold he had on her wrist. He eased his body forward with a huge grunt of exertion before twisting his body at the waist to drop his legs on the floor. He finally stood up, stretching his body out by arching his body backwards. He started walking lazily towards the exit of the penthouse, but not before giving her a quick flick of his hand as an indicator for her to get up and follow.
Myra sprang up from her kneeled position, grabbed the throw blanket that had been discarded, and bounded after him. They both exited the penthouse to make their way down the hall to the indoor movie theater room.
Myra was remarkably indecisive about which movie to watch; after approximately five minutes, Bane became agitated.
"Just pick one or we're going back..." he started to say but was abruptly cut off by Myra rushing to stand in front of him, placing the tips of her fingers against the grill of his mask.
"Bane," she whispered quickly to silence him, squinting her eyes, looking to the left and to the right of her as if she were trying to spy for any eavesdroppers.
A concerned look overtook Bane's face as he leaned forward, straining his ears to give her his full attention based on the urgency and alarmed expression she had on full display.
"I want...," she started to say in a very quiet whisper, pausing just briefly to peer back over her shoulder as if making sure there was no one listening at her back, before turning back to look at him once more, "..some popcorn," she finished, staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes.
When Bane heard what it was she had to say, he gave out a very annoyed grunt. He arched his head back away from her in disgust to glare down over the structure of his mask. He huffed once in clear annoyance, using his arms to gently push her away from him. Before Bane could do anything else, however, she started rubbing her stomach like she was trying to summon a genie from a bottle. She continued to maintain eye contact with him, her bottom lip puckering out in a very obvious attempt at playing for his sympathies.
Bane let out one more huff through his mask, his eyes lingering on hers for one brief moment before looking away, and then one final huff blew through his mask that sounded like a growl before he abruptly stomped towards the exit of the movie room. Before he fully exited, he turned to give her a heated warning.
"If you haven't chosen a movie by the time of my return, then there will be no movie. No popcorn. I have no patience for your indecisiveness this afternoon," he warned, turning away before he could see the undeniable smirk that started forming on Myra's lips.
By the time Bane made it back, Myra was already folded up into a seat with her legs pretzeled together and the throw blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She was peering at him excitedly as he passed her to drop the bowl of popcorn he had brought with him into her lap. Myra gave him a glare as several of the popped kernels flew out of the bowl making a mess from the recklessness of his toss as the bowl teetered in her lap. She eventually resettled and immediately dove into the popcorn, waiting for him to sit down and settle in the leather theater recliner chair next to hers. The deep sigh he let out was her cue to start the movie. She pressed 'play' on the remote.
The fanfare and scrolling title work for "Star Wars: A New Hope" started playing, blasting the room with trumpets and drums.
"Dear God..." Bane mumbled out through his mask, sounding as if he was at his wit's end as he slumped deeper into his chair as if he were being terribly put-out.
Myra rounded on him, snarling.
"SHHH QUIET. DO YOU NOT WANT TO WATCH THIS MASTERPIECE?" Myra had to shout over the loudness of the movie audio.
Bane didn't raise his voice to be heard, but just rested his elbow on the arm rest, brought his hand up, and leaned his head to the side against his knuckles.
"...I'm assuming this is that star battle futuristic fantasy film? Regardless...I have no interest whatsoever in watching something so ridiculous and asinine," Bane mumbled, his eyes taking on a furrowed-brow look of disapproval and boredom.
Myra pressed the 'pause' button quickly. She then set her popcorn bowl down before rounding on him.
"You haven't seen ANY of them? NONE OF THEM? Oh. My. GAWWWWWWWD. DID YOU LIVE IN A PIT OR SOMETHING? Phew. Geesh. Hold on to your butt. And it's not set in the FUTURE. I assure you; this movie is quite entertaining. This whole experience just got even MORE exciting for me because there is ONE character in this movie that I'm POSITIVE you'll just LOVVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE," Myra said, her body twisting and writhing over the armrest that separated their leather recliners as she made faces at him.
Bane brought a hand up and pushed at her chest as if he were a lion tamer holding a chair out trying to keep a lion back away from his personal space. He was giving her a disgruntled look due to the amount of unnecessary energy and excitement she was spewing his way as well as the very obvious jab at the fact that yes, he did grow up in a pit. He didn't care for the lightheartedness she used in her tone to call attention to that fact simply to fit her narrative and throw a joke around. Myra eventually settled back into her seat, giving him a very pleased grin. She then continued the movie before Bane had a chance to voice his thoughts or displeasure again.
Bane, for the most part, let the movie 'happen to him.' He did cross his arms over his chest as if he were experiencing a mild tantrum, but eventually relaxed and simply let his eyes glaze over as he observed the spectacle of what was happening before him on the projected screen. It wasn't long, however, before Myra's excitement permeated the air again. After the scene in which Darth Vader boarded and entered Princess Leia's Corellian Corvette ship in an attempt to locate the Death Star plans, Myra paused the movie. She pointed at the screen, and then looked at Bane.
"YousoundjustlikeDarthVader," Myra blurted out so quickly Bane barely understood her.
He whipped his head to look at her, narrowing his brows over his eyes as he studied her expression and the meaning behind what it was she said. He then dismissed her comment before turning back to the screen, readjusting his arms over his chest. Myra felt like he was intentionally holding his breath so that she couldn't hear him making a wheezing sound through his mask so that she couldn't validate her remark. She waited 30 seconds, staring at him. Waiting. After 30 seconds and not hearing anything, she decided to press 'play' again and resume the movie.
However, as soon as the movie started, she heard him audibly sigh through his mask; the sigh that emanated was a perfect recreation of Darth Vader's inhalation noises. Myra gasped in excitement, quickly paused the movie, turned bodily towards him and then nearly jumped up out of her seat. She knew that he didn't naturally sound 'exactly' like Darth Vader; the only similarities were perhaps the slight mechanical hissing that periodically escaped through his mask. However, this sound she just heard was a perfect recreation; to her it meant he was intentionally doing it. And for what? Well, the look on Myra's face and the way she hurriedly crawled over the armrest that separated their chairs to settle into his lap like an unexpected cat was answer enough.
She settled to face him, leaning her head back excitedly to observe his face from a better angle. She grabbed his mask with her hands and stared straight up at him. Bane kept his eyes on the screen, not seeming to be bothered or perturbed by her intrusion or the awkwardness of her body crawling all over him like a drunken animal. He didn't even bother to move his hands from the arm rest, though they did get jostled somewhat by one of her knees ramming into his arm as she made the journey over. For the most part, he appeared to act as if she wasn't even there.
"Do it again," Myra pleaded excitedly, her eyes frantically searching his face.
Bane didn't pay her any mind, his attention still on the screen. He gave a very slow, seemingly bored and uninterested blink, before Myra heard him exhale through his mask again in a perfect imitation of Vader's mechanical breathing sounds.
Myra gasped, sitting up in his lap so that she was face-to-face to him, forcing his focus away from the screen and onto her. His eyes shifted lazily to her when his view became obstructed, leaning his head back slightly as he gazed at her. His eyes searched her overly-excited face. He must have found her expression to be both odd and amusing, because one of his eyebrows lifted up.
"...do it again," Myra hiss-whispered into his face, giving his head a soft jostle for emphasis with the grip she had on the hardware of his mask that covered his ears.
Bane stared at her for several long seconds, not immediately granting her request. Instead, he brought one of his hands up to curl up behind her to rest at the base of her spine and above her rump, his fingers gently feathering up and down a few inches at the curve of her back. He then sounded out a very clear snicker.
"Does this Darth Vader character arouse you?" Bane asked teasingly, his eyes taking on a playful glint.
Myra gasped and then scrunched her face up in clear disgust.
"NO. Of course he doesn't! You can't even see his face. He has to wear that stupid mask all the time and he has scars and deformities all over his body…" Myra said, but suddenly trailed off.
The look Bane was giving her was the most unimpressed look of the century.
Myra froze, searching his expression for several seconds before she eventually started cracking at the seams. She had to cover her mouth to stop herself from laughing, bursting, into his face. A few bursts of air did eventually escape through her mouth and out onto her hand, but for the most part she was able to contain herself. It took all her willpower to calm herself down enough to speak out hurriedly before she dug herself into a hole.
"I mean….I think your scars, deformities, and mask are sexy…." Myra said in an obvious attempt at backpedaling.
Bane just stared at her, unamused.
After several more moments of this, Myra couldn't help herself; she started laughing. She tried stopping herself by covering her mouth, but her laughter was simply uncontainable. She eventually tried muffling it by leaning forward and rubbing her face into the side of his while wrapping her arms around his neck. Bane, meanwhile, was actively trying to untangle and negate her actions as if he no longer wanted anything to do with her as if her novelty suddenly wore off. He was pushing at her, trying to unseat her from his lap.
"NOOOOOOOO I TAKE IT BACK. DARTH VADER IS SO SEXY," Myra pleaded as she hung on for dear life while he removed her arms from around his neck, stood up, and dropped her with a thump onto the floor.
As soon as she recovered and untangled her limbs from beneath her, she grabbed hold of one of his feet and looked up at him from the floor. She was still laughing, of course, her mouth wide open like a grinning toothy Cheshire cat that knew no better. Bane just stood where he was, tucking his chin in to look down at her on the floor. He observed her splayed out in a writhing frenzy while still attached to his foot with the use of both of her arms. He just gave her an exasperated sigh, making no immediate move at reclaiming his foot. He just stood there and watched as she exhausted herself from her laughing fit. It must have been a solid minute before she finally huffed out a sigh of exhaustion, steadying herself against his leg and peering up at him with a wide full smile.
"Let's keep watching the movie. I promise you'll like it. Darth Vader likes choking people too! And he's really really strong, like you are! I'm sure if he were real, you two would get along really well," Myra tried saying with all seriousness, but eventually started giggling again. She was clearly having quite an enjoyable and amusing time. Her face turned red from it all. The fact that Bane found it not even slightly amusing made it all the more amusing to her, of course.
Bane stared down at her, impressed that someone was able to conjure up so much entertainment and amusement for themselves. He waited again for her to laugh it out, which took several more minutes. When he saw that she had settled down, he bent down, disentangled her from his foot, and rolled her over onto her back effortlessly like he was about to roll out a rug. The effortlessness it took to perform the task due to the lack of resistance out of Myra indicated to Bane that she had simply transferred her mobility of actions and thought over to Bane, taking on a limp-doll like state as if she had simply surrendered to him. This wasn't just simple laziness out of Myra, though perhaps it was a facet of it. It was more than that. And Bane understood that.
She adopted this 'state' when she wanted him to take charge so that she didn't have to because she wanted to essentially lighten her mental load so that she could focus on other things; more pleasant things, like the way he made her feel as he wordlessly took control of her metaphorical physical and mental steering wheel. It was refreshing and exhilarating to have someone else worry about what to do, where to go, and what to worry about, even for a brief while, especially when it directly pertained to the placement and arrangement of her own body and limbs. Especially when that person was as competent, intelligent, gentle, strong, and willing as Bane was; he appeared to have no trouble navigating or accommodating the need of not only minding his own body but hers as well. It was almost as if he preferred these periodic transferals of responsibility. And to be honest, Myra always inhabited a slight 'state-shift' with part of her internal 'moral responsibility button' slightly pushed towards Bane's direction. It is what kept her from going insane at the moral dilemma of being with someone like him; and of being in a situation like this; in a penthouse suite once owned by one of Gotham's upper elite who was murdered by Bane, in a city under martial law by a warlord with a bomb about to go off. Myra didn't always keep that dial pushed towards Bane, of course; when she slid it back towards her own direction to essentially force herself to re-evaluate and adopt the mental load of it all. That was when stress and doubt occurred. When things like the Special Forces incident happened. When she began doubting herself. She hated that feeling.
Bane always seemed to instantaneously know when Myra's 'state-shifts' happened, even being able to decipher her periodic laziness from this display of willing mental and physical surrender. It made him critically aware of the dutiful importance of the situation, even if these bouts only occurred during playful occasions as if they were playing hot-potato and she passed a fragile egg suddenly into his hands. He consistently acted with more calm, seriousness, and gentleness during these 'state-shifts' of hers, taking care to exude that he certainly understood the enormity of the situation, particularly the blind trust she seemed to have in him.
Bane had been on the verge of giving her a very thorough tickling assault, but cancelled his intentions following 'the state-shift' and instead settled on a more soothing and tender approach. He also fully realized that she was perhaps fully aware of the impending assault and decided to 'play possum', so-to-speak, and quickly adopt this 'state-change' to avoid that assault. It worked.
He leaned down and grabbed both of her arms to bodily lift her up from the floor, her body taking on the consistency of saltwater taffy as she dangled in the air briefly. He turned her around to face the screen before he eased himself back into the leather recliner behind him, bringing Myra with him as he did so to settle comfortably in his lap. He let out a tired sigh as he did so, moving Myra's arms up to bring her hand back so that her palm was curled against the side of his neck against his bare skin. He moved his head to rest his chin against the top of her head for a brief moment, staring at the screen before he realized he needed the remote to resume the movie. With a loud exerted grunt, he leaned over into Myra's chair to grab the remote, and finally pressed 'play' to continue the film.
They both sat in silence for a considerable amount of time, Myra's fingers periodically fidgeting against his skin as she sat there, her head tilted lazily back and to the side against his chest, not seeming to mind the weight of his chin on the top of her head. Her legs dangled leisurely over his, one of her feet minimally bobbing up and down in a show of constrained contentedness. It wasn't long, however, before Myra started squirming as she very clearly reclaimed her metaphorical steering wheel.
"Why is your neck so freaking thick. It's 'CHONK'," she complained up at him, her fingers curling lightly around the circumference of his neck but unable to make much ground due to the size of his neck and the size of her hand.
Bane furrowed his brows together at her unsolicited observation.
"That is an incredibly impolite thing to say," he scolded.
Myra seemed to ignore his remark. She began squeezing and pulling at the skin around his neck, which reminded her of a thinner variant of the external thick blubbery layer of whale fat. After a few moments of this, Bane tilted his head away to shake his head from side to side and attempted to steer her hand away like a horse sweeping its head to clear its face of pesky flies.
"Can you even be choked? Or is your neck too thick?" Myra asked in all seriousness, bringing her other hand up behind her to grope blindly for the other side of his neck as she maneuvered her hands around and away from the grill of his brandishing mask gestures.
"How would you appreciate it if I started proclaiming aspects of your body that were 'too thick', hmm?" he said in slight tease as he brought a hand up to swat away her pesky gropings.
Myra gasped, appalled. She immediately twisted around in her seat to stare up at him, not caring that she was very close to causing him considerable discomfort based on her shift in weight over his lap.
"WHAT? You think there are aspects of my body that are 'TOO THICK'?" Myra gasped, staring up at him with a fierce wide-eyed look, daring him to elaborate.
Bane gave her an unamused look, apparently not appreciating the double standard.
"That is not what I said…" he reasoned to her.
"Right; that's the point. It's that it's left 'UNSAID'," Myra said, sounding disgusted. She began fidgeting and propelling her limbs in an attempt to lift herself up and off of him.
"Be still," Bane hissed at her as she narrowly avoided kneeing his groin, grabbing her body with his hands to settle her down.
Myra paused for a moment to simply stare at him. It was only a brief pause, for she started thrashing again with renewed vigor.
Bane let her thrash for a few moments, but eventually gathered her up in his arms and propelled himself forward out of the chair. He plopped himself over her on the ground like a wrestler in a wrestling match, squishing her face-first into the carpet like a spatula pressing a pancake down into a pan. He angled his head to stare down at the side of her face, knowing she was undoubtedly uncomfortable from the considerable weight being applied to her body.
She certainly put on a show; she began sputtering and easing into an overly-dramatized coughing fit, her nose squished into the carpet. She clutched at the carpet like she was trying to hang on for dear life.
"Are you quite finished?" he asked her.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO," she squealed out.
"Indeed," he replied simply, deciding to simply wait for her energy to eventually deplete.
She writhed a few more seconds but eventually relaxed, settled, and stilled fully on the floor, rolling her head so her cheek rested on the carpet instead of her nose. Her body went limp like a fish.
Bane was in no hurry, seeming to have no care in the world as he adjusted his weight over her to distribute most of it over her hips, thighs, and legs. He did so by raising his upper body up away from hers like he was riding a surf board, with Myra acting as the unfortunate surf board.
"Hmm, yes. This is quite agreeable," Bane said as he continued to adjust himself over her like he was trying to rub a foot over an uneven but comfortable topography; him being the foot, Myra's lower half being the uneven topography.
"What is agreeable?" Myra asked quickly and with curiosity based on the urgency and elation in her voice, her head straining to the side to try and peer at him behind her.
"Oh, just the thickness of your hips and thighs," Bane teased as he continued to drag himself over her as if he couldn't quite find the perfect spot to settle his weight. That was simply because, to him, every spot was perfect. Every spot was comfortable. It was impossible to decide, leaving him to be at a loss. Her lower half was the perfect 'positive' shape that accepted the 'negative' space of his. He enjoyed the feel of that puzzle-piece like fit on top of the considerable roundness and softness that was natural of Myra.
Myra, however, ground her teeth at his tease, her eyes flashing. She bucked her body like a dolphin jumping over waves, pushing at him to get off of her. He took his time easing himself up and away from her, making it painfully obvious that it wasn't her thrashing or feats of strength that were causing him to get up but instead it was simply his own volition and decision to humor her wishes.
"YOU ARE A MENACE," she screamed once she twisted her body around, quickly rising to her knees and standing up, pointing an accusing finger at him.
Bane stayed seated on the floor, looking up at the finger being pointed in his face. He grinned, easing himself back to sit with his bum firmly planted on the floor and his knees slightly bent and spread. He reached out and gently grabbed at her finger.
"So I've been told," he said with a hint of proud inflection in his voice.
Myra huffed angrily at him, her lips snarled back so he could see her teeth flashing at him. This, of course, only furthered his amusement. He drew her in towards him with the hold he had on her finger as if that hold he had was a rope that he had lassoed around her body. Myra tried resisting and jerking away, and almost got her hand free of his grip, but he reached out with his other hand and simply ensnared her wrist.
He leaned his head back to stare up at her, guiding her to stand in the space between his bent knees. Myra didn't have much choice since the firm grip he had on her wrist was unbreakable, but Bane didn't detect any resistance as she settled to stand before him to gaze down at him, finding the heightened perspective amusing.
He released the hold he had on her wrist and curled his hands fully behind her to settle at the back of her thighs, cupping and digging his fingers into the soft flesh just under her bum before he eventually slid his hands up to settle and grip her by each of her buttock's cheeks, gripping and kneading his fingers like he was trying to roll out some dough. Myra gave a loud sigh like she was being terribly inconvenienced, but brought her hands out and splayed her fingers against the side of his head, curling her fingers against the exposed skin at the side of his scalp. Bane breathed in a deep breath which permeated the air like a shrill ventilator before he leaned forward and buried his head against her abdomen, turning his head to the side so that his exposed eye and cheek had the most profound amount of contact against her stomach. He closed his eyes and let out a large exhale, which sounded like a sudden mechanical rush of waves.
Myra grinned, hugging his head and probing her fingers against his scalp. She traced her fingers along the scar that looked like a boomerang towards the side and back of his scalp, rubbing at it before her fingers moved on to the next scarred imperfection.
"You know, there's one more similarity between you and Darth Vader," Myra observed.
Bane kept his eyes closed, remaining silent and unresponsive for a few seconds as he juggled internally whether he wanted to pursue a response from her considering the subject matter, but eventually his curiosity won out.
"Do share," he mumbled softly.
"Darth Vader was in love with a QUEEN," Myra said proudly, gripping her fingers more firmly around his head.
"Hmm. You certainly are a queen. A queen of sass," Bane mumbled out as if he were being victimized.
"You love it. Quit acting like that," Myra goaded.
Bane gave her buttocks a firm squeeze with both of his hands before he released them to simply wrap his arms around her body to pull and hold her even closer.
"I regrettably do," he said again, the hint of sadness still etched in his tone.
"Oh please. You act like my sass is physically assaulting you," she blurted out.
"Have pity on me," he responded with theatrical sadness, his voice an airy whisper as he leaned his head dramatically back to gaze up at her. His eyes adopted a slight sheen as if he were on the verge of a crying fit.
While Myra most certainly knew he was teasing and putting on theatrics, it was hard for her not to feel moved and want to react to the sadness laced in his tone. She arched her body forward over his head and hugged his head firmly against her stomach like she was cradling a watermelon to her belly. She gave his head a thorough rub as if she was polishing an old but perfectly decent bowling ball.
"Can we watch the next Star Wars movie?" Myra eventually asked with timidness.
Bane was perfectly silent and unresponsive for several moments. Myra wondered whether he had even heard her. However, after several minutes of savoring the feel of her body against his, he eventually released his hold on her and eased himself back away from her to stand up with an exerted grunt.
"Fine," was all he said as he made his way back to his leather recliner chair.
Myra beamed.
Time until explosion: 6 days
Bane's eyes shot open. He experienced an inexplicably ingrained sense of danger that could only come from years of living in a prison as well as being trained by a highly skilled organization and mercenaries. His eyes searched the dark bedroom, waiting for them to adjust to the darkness. He clenched his hand gently, which was met by the feeling of soft featheriness. He bent his head down and realized one of his hands was tangled in Myra's hair, with her head planted softly but firmly against his chest while the rest of her body arched alongside his with one of her legs draped over both of his. When his eyes finally adjusted, he saw her mouth was agape in slumber with a very faint trail of drool leaking out of her mouth and directly onto his bare chest.
He began to gently disentangle her body from his, attempting to do so without waking her up. He grabbed the pillow that was rested behind his head and used it as a substitute for him. He pushed it firmly against her after he eased away, and saw her quickly grab onto it before eventually resting her cheek onto it too, making brief smacking noises with her lips before the trail of drool eventually resumed.
He stood up full out of the bed and simply stood there, turning his head very subtly at different angles to capture any unusual noises coming from within the penthouse.
There it was.
He turned his head towards the hallway, sensing more than hearing the undetectable sound of a foot easing over floor. The shift in the shadows coming from the hallway were more of an indicator to Bane that someone was in the hall more so than the noise, which was almost imperceptible.
Bane, despite being a massive fellow and generally incapable of being silent due to his mass, stealthed towards the door that led to the hallway without making any noise himself. One of the first things Bane learned while being inducted into the League of Shadows was stealth and invisibility of self and body; it was harder and more straining for him due to his mass. He had to mentally and physically mind all of his muscles, but it certainly wasn't impossible.
He waited just off the inside of the entrance to the bedroom for the intruder to make his way into the bedroom before he made his move. Just as the intruder was passing the threshold of the doorway, Bane snapped his hand out to immediately cover the intruder's mouth to prevent them from making any noise so as not to disturb and frighten Myra in bed. His other hand, of course, wrapped around the man's neck. It took all but two seconds to both silence and permanently disable him.
He dragged the body out into the hall, being careful not to make any noise. His eyes darted up just as he was exiting the bedroom to see if Myra woke up, but saw that she was undisturbed in bed. He dragged the body to the living room where he proceeded to turn on the lamp. He looked down at the intruder, not immediately recognizing the face, nor did he expect to. He bent down to rummage around in his pockets, finding the usual arsenal of tools indicating the intruder had every intention of disabling Bane through the use of a bull-size tranquilizer shot. He saw that he had enough ammunition to take down at least a dozen individuals; he suspected they were going to shoot Myra, as well, and hopefully steal her away before Bane woke up. Bane gave out a very disagreeable and annoyed sigh.
He stood back up before he dragged the body towards the entrance of the penthouse. He deposited the body just outside of the doors unceremoniously, not giving the man a second glance before he made his way back inside. He tested the entrance, noticing that the door perhaps was pick locked. He was more curious now as to how the individual actually got inside the building, considering his other security measures. He knew it wasn't impossible, but would most definitely take some level of effort that no casual riff-raff would bother with.
Bane made his way back to the bedroom, grabbing his phone from his bedside table to text Barsad to come and dispose of the body. As he was doing this, he felt a hand touch his elbow. It startled him just briefly, but looked down and realized it was a sleepy Myra reaching out for him.
"Where did you go? I woke up and you were gone….." she softly pouted, her eyes squinting and refusing to open fully.
Bane took the hand that was stretching out towards him gently into his before putting his phone down onto the bedside table.
"Shhh, I'm back. I went to make sure we had enough pancake mix," Bane whispered to her in a smooth nonsensical lie.
Myra seemed to find that explanation adequate, for she lowered her head back down into the pillow. However, the mention of food captured her interest and attention.
"You're making pancakes tomorrow?" she whispered out excitedly.
"Would you like me to?" he whispered back.
"Yes," she confessed.
"Then I will," he responded as if making an official statement to a grand audience that needed convincing through the use of assertiveness and a strong tone which Bane graciously delivered.
He eased back into bed, looking down at Myra as he did so. He moved the pillow that had served as his temporary body surrogate. Myra immediately clutched onto him like a Venus flytrap latching onto its prey. She relocated her leg to drape over his legs while repositioning her cheek directly over his chest, half rolling onto his body. Her fingers played and danced over his bare chest like a five-legged prancing pony for several moments before they eventually traveled up to blindly fumble and explore his face like a blind person searching in the dark. Bane closed his eyes passively to avoid getting her fingerprints on his eyeballs and she explored his face and mask in the dark. They eventually settled down by sliding back down over his chest to softly cup one of his muscular breasts.
Bane positioned a hand at the back of her head with his fingers intertwined in her hair and repositioned his mask so the outflow of air blew softly onto her forehead, giving her very gentle encouraging and soothing strokes as a wordless means of encouraging her to go back to sleep. Her thoughts were still filled with pancakes, however.
"Your boob feels like a nice warm pancake," Myra whispered out suddenly as she softly cupped it in her hand, moving her hand so that she gave equal attention to both of his chiseled breasts.
"Hmm, is that so?" Bane answered in almost a bored whisper.
"Yes. Can you make the pancakes extra fluffy and not hard and muscle-y like your boobs? Can you wake me up too? I want to be there when you make them," she whispered out.
"We'll see. Go to sleep," he whispered into her forehead, massaging his fingers over her scalp.
She obliged; she was passed out just a few minutes later, which Bane could detect from the very abrupt audible snort-sniff noise she made as she transitioned from the waking world to the dreaming sort.
Bane did not go back to sleep. He kept his eyes open passively, though he was anything but passive. He searched the ceiling for reasons, answers, and conclusions he knew he wasn't going to get; conclusions he wasn't going to like.
Bane also took in the way Myra felt as she lie there against his body. He took in the small nuances of it all, like the small feeling of added weight where her limbs draped over his, or the skin-to-skin contact of her cheek against his chest. For he knew, deep down, that this was going to be the last night they were going to be able to sleep comfortably and peacefully together like this.
He had to get her out of Gotham.
These attempts at spiriting Myra away were going to get increasingly more persistent, and perhaps more dangerous, as time went on. He couldn't risk losing her to his selfish need to keep her with him.
This realization made him angry. Stressed. Agitated. Infuriated.
And not just the fact that someone - undoubtedly Talia - was attempting to remove Myra from his presence. It was that combined with the fact that in a few days, he was going to be dead and he was never going to meet his own child; his own family. He didn't have family. The only family Bane had ever known was his mother, who died when he was very young. He had grown up wishing and hoping to see extensions of himself, 'family'; a concept that was almost a fleeting allusion he had from childhood, until he eventually realized he never would. When Talia had proposed her plan on producing a successor, it reinvigorated hope that he may still yet have a chance at seeing extensions of himself; meeting someone that was of his blood, of his body. However, when that didn't work out, he snuffed out all desire and hope at the prospect knowing perfectly well that his lifestyle didn't cater towards that ideal and it would lead to an unhealthy mindset.
And then Myra came along. An unexpected, sweet, tender, comforting surprise.
When he saw Myra, all he could think of was the fact that while yes, he was finally going to have an extension of himself - 'a family', of him, of his blood- he wasn't going to ever meet them; to fulfill the longing he felt as a child, of holding and absorbing someone that was rightfully considered 'his family'. He wasn't going to be able to interact with the individual that was undeniably half 'him'. Someone that perhaps would understand him on a level far better than anyone else in the world because they were genetically half 'him'; would they have his intellect? His values? His concerns? His passion? His personality? He wasn't going to ever be able to find out; and that out right crushed him.
The mystery of it all drove him angry and frustrated. Ornery. Angry at those involved; angry at Talia for blackmailing him into loyalty for fear of Myra's and the child's life. Angrier at Batman for being the cause of this whole revenge charade. Even angry at Myra for nourishing and encouraging the love that he felt for her which blossomed into this maddening and heart-wrenching dilemma. His anger wasn't containable; it started seeping out. No one was safe from the resentment he carried around on his shoulders that not even he, as strong as he was, could muster the strength to hold up. He simply could no longer control himself.
Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 5 days
When Myra woke up that morning, she could detect Bane was in a sour mood. A 'foul' mood would be a more apt description. Aside from the fact that he looked relatively drained and exhausted, he seemed tense and irritable. His replies to her were short and abrasive, and he seemed generally preoccupied internally as if he were distracted and focused on something else. When asked about his well-being, his reply was snappy and borderline aggressive. So, Myra simply chose not to continue poking the bear with a stick by pressing the matter and instead retreated to the living room to preoccupy her time with reading and lounging away from him while he sorted himself out. She knew Bane's workload had exponentially increased due to the impending detonation of the bomb; he was probably juggling with a slew of tasks and handling management of both people and resources, which would undoubtedly be both taxing and stressful. She did not begrudge him for his rare display of short temperedness.
After the morning had slowly transitioned into the afternoon hours with Myra successfully giving Bane a wide berth, Bane eventually marched into the living room where Myra was lounging in an armchair. She looked up from the book she was reading when she saw him stop in front of her with purpose.
"Get up. We're going on a trip," was all he said to her before turning around.
Bane was already dressed for outside; he had his large shearling coat on as if he were ready to face the bitter cold outside.
Myra's eyes lit up as she practically flew from the chair to stand up excitedly. It had been so long since she had been outside, let alone outside the penthouse. In her excitement she threw the book that she had been reading on the couch as she bounced lightly on the tips of her toes.
"Really? Where are we going? A trip? What kind of trip? A road trip or a 'real' trip?" she asked with unrestrained excitement, hovering around him like a gravitating fly trying to find the perfect spot to land.
Bane for the most part ignored her, not even bothering to look down at her; his focus was towards the doors. He did stop, however, and gave out an aggravated huff through his mask.
"Don't dawdle. Be quick and put some appropriate clothes on. I'll give you two minutes," he told her in slight irritation.
Without further encouragement, Myra ran to the bedroom to quickly change into some appropriate clothes, which was simply a pair of jeans, a bra (which she hadn't worn in a while), and a t-shirt. She had difficulty finding her coat since she hadn't been outside in such a long time. As she flew around the penthouse searching for it, she made a stressed high-pitched prolonged 'AHHHH" sound as if she foresaw impending doom if she was unable to find that coat before the arbitrary 2-minute mark that Bane gave here. She eventually settled on a coat that perhaps belonged to John Daggett, disregarding the fact that it was too big for her.
Bane made no indication as to whether she took longer than 2 minutes. He simply headed for the exit and opened the door for her to proceed outside. She followed and exited obligingly.
They made their way down the elevator and through the front entrance of the penthouse. Myra practically hopped with excitement, her step light with a huge massive grin plastered on her face. The cold air from outside, however, slapped her unexpectedly in the face causing her to take in a sharp constricted breath and restrict her physical display of excitedness. When they made it a handful of feet away from the entrance of the building, a car veered from an ally and stopped in front of the penthouse. Bane headed towards it with Myra followed closely at his heels.
Myra observed that Barsad sat in the driver's seat, and several of Bane's men hopped out of the back seat and passenger side to station themselves just outside of the vehicle holding heavy-looking automatic rifles. They appeared to be actively scanning their surroundings as if they were anticipating a disturbance at any moment.
"Where are we going?" Myra asked curiously as they approached the car. Her eyes roamed over the vehicle, then to Barsad and then to the men taking up post outside of the vehicle.
"You are being escorted out of the city," Bane said simply.
Myra halted in her steps immediately, unease rising in her chest. She turned her eyes to him in startlement and shock.
"What?" she asked sharply confused.
Bane had taken several more steps towards the vehicle before he eventually slowed down to stop, his focus unwavering from the awaiting vehicle in front of him as if he couldn't stomach the idea of turning around to look at the predictable look of heartbreak on her face. He let out a loud tired sigh escape through his mask, which materialized as a white puff of cloud that curled upward into the air before vanishing. He then eventually did muster the energy to turn to look at her. He did not look pleased.
"It's no longer safe for you here. I'm having you relocated elsewhere," he said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. He took care to enunciate every syllable in his delivery as if she were daft and incapable of understanding otherwise. Bane did not desire having to explain himself there outside, unprotected, since every second they stood outside meant one more second that Myra was unnecessarily exposed to the outside world. It was one more second that they could be unexpectedly met with aggression or assault. It was also one more second that Myra could get spirited away.
"Are you coming?" she asked skeptically, her eyes narrowing.
Bane gave out a loud aggravated sigh, the puff of smoke that emitted through his mask larger than the previous one.
"No, I'm staying here," he said simply, anger starting to rise in his voice. He reciprocated her stare by narrowing his own eyes at her.
Myra eyed him briefly and worked her lips together before she crossed her arms over her chest in display of stubbornness.
"Well, then I'm not going either," she replied earnestly. To emphasize her point, she took several steps backward as if she had every intention of simply re-entering the penthouse building by walking backwards, blindly.
Bane was not amused or entertained. He clenched his fists until his knuckles blossomed with white strained skin. He turned his head to the side idly to observe a few of his men looking away awkwardly at the uncomfortableness of the situation, appearing as if they were instead purely focusing on every visual angle except the angle in which Myra and Bane inhabited.
Barsad seemed to ease back into his seat in an almost lazy bored manner before he too looked away out of his side window of the car as if he were able to anticipate what was about to happen and didn't need the visual details.
Bane stood there trying to focus on the slow intake and outtake of breath through his mask in an attempt at self-calm. It wasn't working. He eventually turned his head slowly back towards Myra, anger rising in his chest. Like a dam bursting that was no longer able to hold back the force of water, Bane charged at her with intent in his eyes.
As soon as Myra saw Bane approaching her with that look in his eye, she started scuttling backwards hurriedly away from him. When he was on her and had a firm hold of her arm, she squatted her weight down to push herself backwards against the force of Bane's hold like an infant being dragged out of a candy store against their will.
"NO!" she screamed, using her free hand to push and pry at the vice grip he had on her forearm.
Bane ignored her protests and instead immediately started dragging her towards the awaiting vehicle. She tried to plant her feet firmly on the ground to prevent or deter him from physically pulling her, but simply ended up with her feet sliding on the ground like she was skiing on water, her weight and strength inconsequential to Bane's.
Her feet periodically caught on an uneven patch of cement, causing her to stumble to the side awkwardly, though she didn't fall because Bane was keeping a solid hold on her arm and a consistent pace. He appeared to ignore her save for the grip he maintained on her arm, his focus entirely on the vehicle, pointedly disregarding her writhing, shouting, and dramatic display.
"NOOO! NOOO!" she screamed as if she were being murdered, her struggle becoming more amplified and vigorous as they neared the vehicle.
Once next to the vehicle, Bane circled around her and ensnared her by the waist, picking her up effortlessly off her feet in an apparent attempt to bodily shove her into the vehicle. Myra responded by twisting her body furiously, bringing up her legs to plant the soles of her feet on either side of the entrance to the vehicle, locking her legs, and sticking her hands out to grab hold of the passenger door to block herself from being forced into the vehicle. She used all of the strength in her legs to prevent herself from being squeezed into the vehicle through the door like an unfortunate sardine into a tin can.
Myra's efforts were for the most part successful, for after attempting to shove her into the vehicle without causing her serious injury for several moments to no avail, Bane released the hold he had around her waist and dropped her to the ground. He released a very loud resonating grunt through his mask that clearly expressed his displeasure, agitation, and mild exhaustion from the ordeal. He was obviously not thrilled with her theatrical display.
Bane's men continued to keep their attention and eyes averted at the increasingly uncomfortable and awkward situation they were exposed to. They were caught in an uncomfortable limbo space of not being sure whether they should help or pretend they weren't seeing the troublesome and very personal spectacle. Considering the amount of touching and wrangling of Myra it would require on their part to assist Bane, they chose to ignore it, opting for the much safer option of feigning obliviousness. It wasn't the accidental blow or punch from Myra they feared; it was the fear of unintentionally hurting Myra, which Bane would predictably be unforgiving.
Barsad had a look of surprise plastered on his face as he angled his head just slightly to observe the interaction between Myra and Bane. He found Bane's decision to not inform Myra of his intentions of removing her from the city startling, remarkable, and wholly unexpected. It almost appeared as if Bane hadn't fully processed or anticipated this plan of his fully; which was very uncharacteristic of Bane who always acted with extreme proficiency as it pertained to tactics and planning. This led Barsad into the uncomfortable conclusion that this was more than just Bane making a poor judgement call; it indicated Bane was internally fumbling and cracking at the seams. That was an incredibly unsettling thought considering Bane's hierarchy and leadership position in a very dangerous scheme that was about to unfold in just a handful of days.
Perhaps Bane's stress levels piqued and became too much to bear to the point that it was clouding his judgement. It was incredibly disconcerting to witness, despite the fact that Bane still appeared to have himself physically under control. At least Barsad assumed he did. When Barsad's eyes shifted to look at Bane's fists, he realized how wrong his assumption was.
When Myra was settled back onto the ground, she straightened herself up and eased away from the vehicle. She let out an annoyed and exhausted sigh through her breath before her eyes eventually angled back to look at Bane coyly. What she saw both startled and upset her.
Myra could see Bane's fist shaking as if he were physically holding himself back. She stared for several seconds at his fists, observing that they looked as if they were attached to vibrating motors based on the intensity. Her eyebrows shot up her forehead in alarm, witnessing the effort he seemed to be undergoing at this task of perceived self-control; she realized he wanted nothing more than to reach out and smack her. She knew the medium he was most comfortable using to express himself was with violence. She was startled to realize that he, perhaps, wanted to express himself nonverbally to her with his signature and very violent alternative means, perhaps thinking he would aptly get his point across to her if he did so. He wants to hit me?
She stared at his shaking and clenched fists for several long moments. Shock, hurt, and confusion consumed her face before she slowly lifted her startled eyes to his, unable to speak despite the fact that her mouth hung slightly open as if she were on the verge of saying something but simply couldn't muster up the energy or courage to do so.
Bane was giving her an incredibly unpleasant glare. It gave her chills. She didn't back up or retreat, but simply watched him, waiting to see what he would do. She was frozen. Fixed to the ground. She knew if he wasn't able to control himself and if he did decide to hit her, that the dynamic of their relationship would change permanently. She knew if it was one smack here, then when was the next time he was going to do it again? And then when would it become more frequent? When would it become stronger? Lethal? She knew she couldn't live with that constant fear settling over her like a black cloud. Even for him.
Before she was confused, hurt, and perhaps slightly embarrassed after reflecting on her dramatic and childish performance. Now she started to get angry. Infuriated. Angry that he was contemplating the prospect of throwing what they had away just to physically punish her. Simply because she didn't want to leave him.
After all they have been through, suffered and sacrificed together, to get to this point, right now. Three officers died because of me…Contemplating it enough to the point of physical strain permeating his body, impossible to miss or ignore. He must know what it would imply if he did decide to lash out and hit her; he was no fool. Far from it. Yet here he was, barely able to restrain himself at his failed attempt to unceremoniously throw her into a vehicle without any clear explanation of whether this was a permanent re-homing on her part or when she was going to see him again, as if he were thoroughly done with her and she didn't warrant the energy for an explanation and he was simply discarding a bag of trash into a garbage can.
Then realization sunk in. This was it. He was kicking her out. He was abandoning her; disposing of her. Removing her from his life. Why? Because she was no longer useful? She bored him? No. Because she was pregnant. That would explain his sudden detached mood and obvious disinterest in any and all matters as it pertained to babies.
Her eyes slowly took on the familiar glint that Bane had assumed he would never see again in her eyes. Monster. Monster. MONSTER.
Bane immediately detected the shift in her. He also saw anger exuding from her body like a wave of heat. This did nothing but encourage even more anger in him.
"Oh? I can sense anger rising in you; pray tell, what justifies your anger?" Bane said threateningly, mockingly, raising a hand to point and jab towards her middle with his large finger.
Myra didn't respond to his mockery, instead letting her own fists clench and her teeth to grind. To 'brux'. She shouldn't be here. She had to get away. She needed to get away. She glared at him with bared teeth before slowly turning away from him and to focus on the entrance of the vehicle. She then made a move to climb into the car.
Bane snatched out and grabbed her upper arm aggressively to stop her, whipping her around to face him. Myra felt like her arm was nearly on the verge of being twisted off and out of her arm socket. She kept her eyes averted on the ground, not caring to look up at him.
"Oh no. I'm not done with you yet, I fear," Bane said with a sinister tone, his head leaning forward to get closer to hers.
Myra's eyebrows were furrowed as she eased her head back away from the intrusive presence of his face and mask in hers, feeling he had lost the privilege of invading her personal space.
"Well…. get ON with it then so I can just LEAVE," Myra screamed into his face in a brazen and passionate display. Monster. Monster. MONSTER.
Her eyes dropped down to his free hand with the balled-up fist, the vibration of his anger still apparent, ready to lash out at her any moment like a cobra ready to strike.
Bane eyed her coldly, following the path of her eyes to his clenched fist before bringing his gaze back up to hers slowly. He let his eyes roam over her face before the hand that held her upper arm squeezed tighter. Myra winced at the pressure, and pulled her lips back to bare her teeth wider at him. Bane knew the insinuation in her voice indicated she didn't mean to just leave this place or this city; she meant she wanted to leave him.
"And where do you plan on running off to, hmm? Your family is dead, you have no relatives. You have no job. You have no home. And, ah yes, no one who cares for you. Your city is in chaos. Enlighten me. I'm curious. Where do you intend on running off to?" Bane said with sarcasm and menace thick in his voice.
Myra looked up to stare at him in shock. She felt like she was slapped unceremoniously in the face. Her eyes had been hard and steely before, but her face quickly distorted. You weren't supposed to hurt me anymore. Didn't you promise that? Now, her eyes glazed over and transitioned into one of absolute sadness at being so eloquently presented with her current prospects in life. She suddenly felt extremely misled and foolish at her misguided appraisal of Bane as a man; as a partner. I thought you were my home. Don't you care for me? Myra immediately realized how ridiculous and naïve that notion was as she looked him over. All of the realities of her situation flooded her conscious, forcing her to face the truth of it all. He was a mercenary. A killer. A terrorist of Gotham. Monster. Monster. MONSTER.
No one had ever said anything so cruel and brutal to her in her life. Like she was garbage, undeserving of thought, respect, or consideration. Like her worth was solely determined on those attributes, which she very clearly lacked. She held his gaze until the moisture that coated her eyes made him look like he was an obscure mosaic glass window that she couldn't quite make out. She turned her head away sharply, letting her chin drop, unable to speak or respond. Unable to hold onto the anger she had been feeling and instead suddenly feeling very sad, hopeless and utterly abandoned.
Bane took Myra's sudden silence as a cue to continue down his path of malice, his emotions fueling him and making it impossible to restrain himself. He wanted nothing more than to drill into her his displeasure at the situation; the culmination of his anxiety and stressors making it impossible to filter himself. He went into autopilot. He unleashed himself to act in a manner that seemed to come so naturally that always seemed to pivot towards one goal; destruction and pain.
"No one - no one- not friends, not family, came forward to ask for your release when you were a hostage. Not. One. Person. Except your employer; the same employer who sold you out to us in the first place. The same employer who identified you for us to take as a hostage. He did so, even though he had no idea what we would actually do with you once we had you. He could have cared less whether we beat you. Abused you. Tortured you. Raped you. In fact, I'm sure he would have enjoyed an update regarding your wellbeing that involved something interesting of that nature," Bane said, sounding pleased with himself with insinuation thick in his voice
Even Barsad was shocked at the words Bane directed towards Myra, his face half turned towards the pair with eyes uncharacteristically large, focused, and concerned. Barsad knew Myra was no match to Bane when it came to both verbal and physical altercations. Bane was a master of the craft. He made it an art form. Myra, on the other hand, had no chance. She was a mouse confronted by a lion. She was horribly, painfully outmatched. It was a deeply disturbing spectacle to witness.
Barsad watched as Myra took several very slow steps back away from Bane before the grip he had on her arm impeded her movements any further. Her free hand grabbed at the shirt material covering her stomach and twisted it as if she were trying to prevent her insides from spilling out. Her eyes shifted from left to right as if she were trying to locate a safe space to retreat to but being woefully unsuccessful. Barsad then saw as she began emotionally retreating into herself like quicksand after she realized how cornered and pinned she was. Her eyes focused determinedly on the ground as she began making the internal mental journey to the safe space where no one could hurt her further.
Barsad quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the vehicle, hurrying around the car with the intent of helping navigate Myra into the vehicle and get her away from the situation before Bane brutally decimated her into the ground either verbally or physically. Barsad didn't ponder long about whether Bane would approve of his intentions; no one deserved the kind of abuse that Bane directed towards her. And for what? For wanting to stay with him? For caring for him? For loving him?
Barsad would have given anything to see and be with his wife these last few days before the neutron bomb went off. If he got to be with her these last few days, he couldn't possibly fathom getting upset or angry at her for any slight she may make against him. He would savor and cherish every last minute, every last second he shared with her, knowing his time was coming to an end and he wouldn't want to taint the last interactions he had with the woman he loved with anger and pettiness.
But here was Bane. With a woman that had by all accounts truly and completely loved him, who got to be with him and comfort him these last few days of his life on earth. Yet, despite that, here he was; treating her like this. Bane was blatantly reckless and selfish with that privilege. It infuriated Barsad more than he cared to acknowledge.
As Barsad rounded the vehicle and reached forward to grab hold of Myra's arm, Bane threw a hand up against Barsad's chest and bodily shoved him back against the vehicle with an audible snarl. Bane leaned his body forward towards Barsad, bending his arm so that it was the point of his elbow that dug directly into Barsad's sternum.
"DON'T," he barked directly into Barsad's face, his eyes wild and furious, not caring for the fact that Barsad was making attempts at intervening and challenging his motives by trying to take control of the situation away from him.
Myra was tugged and jostled abruptly like a rag doll from the hold Bane had on her arm as he briefly pushed and shoved at Barsad, refusing to let her go, forcing her to get tugged in that same direction too.
Barsad reached up and grabbed hold of Bane's arm that was pressed against his collarbone, feeling the fiberglass exterior of the vehicle behind him groan and flex inwards due to the force Bane was exerting on him. He then gave Bane an uncharacteristically angry glare. It was subtle; it was a simple downturn of his brows with his lip slightly upturned, but considering the usual emotional range that frequented Barsad's face, he was practically reeling in disgust.
Bane returned Barsad's glare for several very long and tense seconds before Barsad eventually broke eye contact and turned his attention off and away from Bane. Bane let out a satisfied grunt through his mask, easing his body back and away from Barsad's. Bane then finally stopped to take another deep breath as he internalized the situation he was in.
Bane knew where his anger and frustration was coming from. Anxiety. Stress. The inescapable and miserable situation he was in. Things he simply couldn't run away from or defeat with pure muscle.
He also found he was inexplicably upset at Myra; upset at her for not simply doing as she was told. For making such a scene out in the open, in public, in front of his men. However, he was most upset at her for putting him a very unique, unexpected, and entirely unplanned situation; the situation caring for someone so completely and unabashedly. He felt his heart twist at the reality of it, slowly turning to look at her.
She looked absolutely miserable. Like a dog with her tail between her legs cowering in a corner. Fool. Fool. FOOL.
All it took was a few moments of lapsed judgement on his part, and then suddenly those closest to him looked like they would prefer to be on a different planet than the one he occupied. He didn't blame them. He wanted to be on a different planet away from himself too.
Bane eased himself away from Barsad and turned towards Myra. Myra's eyebrows knitted together after she sensed he was perhaps done with his tirade, her focus unwavering from the ground. She then started gulping as if she were unable to catch her breath. Bane realized she was trying to speak but her nerves were simply preventing her from doing so. After several fumbling attempts and false starts at forming words, she eventually was able to whisper out what it was she wanted to say.
"I'm sorry. I want to go now…." Myra whispered softly, her attention slowly shifting to the entrance of the vehicle.
Bane knew her apology wasn't meant for him; she was apologizing to herself, regretting very much for putting herself in this situation with him, seeing him right here - being with him right here, right now, and that she would very much like to be anywhere else on earth. Away from him.
He immediately eased and softened the hold he had on her upper arm after realizing he made a brutal mistake in causing her such obvious distress. He realized how absurdly and unforgivably reckless he was by allowing his words and actions to get away from him.
As Myra felt the hold on her arm loosen, she yanked it from his grip suddenly, shocking Bane by the swiftness in which she did so. With her arm reclaimed, she took another step away from Bane to reclaim her personal space, keeping her chin pointed down, her eyes averted, and her hands clenched together at the front of her chest like a wounded animal trying to conceal an injury. Her expression slowly started taking on an emotionless state as she continued to make that unique journey back to the pit of her mind.
Bane was quick; he knew he had to be. He reached out towards Myra, seeing her retreat and curl into her mind like a shriveled, burning leaf. He grabbed hold of her head firmly with slightly more aggression than he intended, giving her a solid shake to get her attention and focus. She was too stunned or frightened by his actions to react.
"Don't you do it," he warned her, bending his head down to stare into her eyes.
He forcibly angled her head to try and get her wandering eyes to return his fierce gaze. He was desperate for her not to hide away inside her mind. He wasn't sure when she would re-emerge. He didn't want to think about the fact that it would very likely be well after he was dead.
Myra let out a quiet yet shrill long-winded wail, bringing her hands up to try and pry his hands away from her head. She started clenching and grinding her teeth at the uncomfortableness of the situation.
"Please don't…" he whispered to her in a lower, calmer voice. A vulnerable voice. A voice full of shame and regret. A voice full of love and heartache.
Bane was beyond furious with himself, internally raging, despite the calm he forced himself to exude. He knew he had little control over his actions when he reached a certain threshold in anxiety, anger, and stress. Unfortunately he had been experiencing all three; it was a perfect storm. A hurricane disaster that arguably left a wake of irreparable damage and destruction.
While he had managed to keep himself at bay in terms of lashing out on Myra physically with his fists this instance, that same energy and anger that was fueling the vibration in his fists was inadvertently funneled into saying cruel and nasty things to her instead. Things that his mind subconsciously knew would create grief and pain that rivaled being punished physically since it had been inexplicably denied that which it would have preferred to do based on his established nature. It was like he was at war with his own body; he was simply a passenger along for the ride, having to make allowances and sacrifices in order to prevent the beast from simply taking control of the whole system. He was a steaming kettle; the hot air had to come out somewhere, else he simply explode.
Bane took several deep breaths to calm himself down further and to still his body from shaking, forcing himself to think and respond rationally. While he knew that he should simply let her leave, for her own safety since that had been the original intent, he couldn't bring himself to let this be one of the last interactions he had with Myra Bell before his plans with Gotham came to fruition. He knew it was selfish to feel this way, but he didn't give a damn.
He inched closer towards Myra who reacted by arching her body away, clearly not wanting to be touched or approached further by him. He stopped his advances for one moment while he stared at her.
He waited several solid moments before he proceeded forward again with one giant determined stride to close the gap between them. He ensnared an extremely dismayed and agitated Myra into his arms, who immediately began struggling, thrashing, and pushing at his chest. She began screaming, clearly upset. Clearly distraught. She had transitioned from the emotionless state into one fueled by the anger and frustration she must be feeling. She couldn't hold onto that anger for long for it was apparent her anger quickly transitioned into sadness and pain, her eyes glazing over and sobs taking control of her body in loud angry spasms that shook her whole core.
Bane moved his body over her to eclipse her like the sun, arching forward to wrap both of his massive arms around her in a very secure and tight hold. Myra continued to fight and squirm against him, but his strength and positioning of his arms made it impossible to do anything other than pathetically wiggle. She eventually stopped twisting and fighting against his hold, her loud and exhausted breathing an indicator that she was simply sapped of energy.
After feeling that her body had calmed, he leaned his head down so that the grill of his mask rested right against her cheek. The mechanical breathing of his mask was amplified against her ear ten-fold as he did this, causing her to try and recoil away. She was no match for Bane's strength, however, who continued to hold her in his arms as he kept his mask firmly planted against her skin while one of his hands came up to rest behind her head, forcing her head still so she didn't injure herself. Bane knew he agitated a deep emotional nerve within Myra from his cruel words. He regretted them dearly. He waited a solid minute before he spoke.
"My RaRa Bean," he eased out softly into her ear, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of himself.
Myra's body suddenly stilled at the unexpected sound of that moniker. His voice was so quiet that if she were any further away, she knew she would have missed it. While Bane certainly didn't sound or look anything like her father, it still affected her deeply to hear someone whisper that name into her ear in an attempt at cajoling her like her father used to do before he died. She had been conditioned to simply relax when she heard that name being whispered to her. It was impossible to fight against that sort of natural conditioning that happened during childhood. Her body was already easing up and relaxing before she even had a moment to fully process what was happening. She blinked slowly, nostalgia threatening to weaken her knees.
Bane took notice of the shift in her body. He readjusted her to pull her in closer in a more comfortable embrace as he wrapped one of his arms firmly around her shoulder while the other one eased back so that he could place his hand against the back of her head. He gently threaded his fingers into her hair as he raised his head up and peered around. His expression shifted into a severe look as he pointedly looked towards his men, challenging and daring them to judge the spectacle. No one was looking their way; his men very pointedly had their focus aimed in the opposite direction.
Blinking several times, Bane brought his attention back to Myra.
"Know that I didn't make this decision lightly and would certainly prefer you with me. However, it's no longer safe here...," Bane soft softly, almost inaudibly.
"If anything were to happen to you…." he continued, his voice so soft and quiet, with small hitches catching certain syllables in his words. He didn't finish his sentence. He quickly clenched his fingers into her hair as if he were internalizing the outcome of that sentence.
Myra's eyes softened at the implications of his confession. Bane stroked her head gently. He started swaying his body slowly, lulling her with the amplified sounds of his breathing mixed with the slow and rhythmic sway he was performing while he held her.
He continued to sway for several minutes, and he allowed his body to fully relax when he felt her arms slowly entwine and wrap around his waist, her hands resting at an upwards angle to clutch at the fabric of the jacket over his back. She moved her head forward to bury her nose into his chest before turning her head to the side to rest her cheek against the same spot. She closed her eyes, her eyelids acting like wipers as they squeezed the liquid that had settled over her eyes downward to gather on her lower eye lashes before making the final plunge over her cheeks, making her skin salty. She let out a tired and strangled emotional sigh, remaining silent but feeling herself being calmed by his words.
"You must be hungry," Bane said after they swayed for what felt like an hour with little regard to those who may be watching their interaction. The sound of Myra's stomach growling highlighted his words.
Myra remained quiet, still very clearly mute from the distress she had just endured. Bane knew he had his work cut out for him when he saw her eyes make several last fleeting looks towards the entrance of the vehicle as if knowing all she needed to do was hop in it to escape this kind of emotional turmoil from happening again in the future. Very clearly questioning whether this continued situation was worth the distress; whether he was worth it.
"Come. Let's go locate some food. Whatever you desire," Bane said earnestly.
Myra nodded slowly, pacified for the immediate present, her cheek rubbing against his chest. She remained silent as Bane eased his arms from around her, leaning his body back as if to inspect her. He brought one of his hands to cup the side of her cheek, his large calloused thumb rubbing away the salty tear streaks that had marred her skin. The other hand cupped her ear gently, his fingertips fondly brushing against the sensitive skin behind her ear. He waited until Myra looked up at him bashfully, her nose red from her emotional upheaval.
She held his gaze, her hands settled and clutching at his sides over his leather back brace. Once he established a strong visual lock on her, he leaned his head forward and rested his forehead against hers affectionately, closing his eyes. Myra returned the gesture by closing her eyes too, sniffling once to prevent nasal liquid from dripping down to her lip as she leaned into the comforting pressure of his forehead against hers.
Bane finally eased his head back after several moments, bringing one of his arms down to his side and his other hand to rest on her upper back, leading her away from the vehicle back towards the entrance to the penthouse. He turned his head towards his men, giving them a brief nod of dismissal as he led Myra away. A look of sadness and indignation settled over Barsad's face at having to witness Myra's needless and avoidable emotional distress. Bane pointedly ignored Barad's judgmental stare that very clearly insinuated that Bane most certainly could have handled that situation far better.
Author: How angry do you think Myra's gonna be after she has time to fully process how mean those things Bane said to her were? Is she gonna stay? IS SHE GONNA GO? HE WAS SO MEAN YOU GUYS. HE CAN BE RUTHLESSSSSSS. GUHHHH AAAANGGGSSTT. Also, don't forget to review. You guys were AMAZING last chapter; I really really appreciate all of the supportive words and comments. I've very fortunate to have such an amazingly supportive bunch :D