The Batman was back.
Perhaps the crippled billionaire was another front in the life of Bruce Wayne.
The hit on the stock exchange went as well as could be expected.
His fallen members in the hands of the GCPD wouldn't speak. They would die before they betrayed the League.
However, the delayed time caused by the programme was an unpleasant surprise.
That 8 minutes almost caused their plan to fail.
Did Fitzgerald plan this?
Was that another one of his schemes? Was he planning to sabotage them all this time?
He could still hear him now. The door rattled against the hinges.
According to Barsad, his entire body was bruised from constantly throwing himself at the door.
"You son of a bitch!" Thud. "I'll fucking kill you!" Thud. "I'll kill all of you!"
"He says that a lot." O'Brien appeared beside him. "You'd think a week being locked up would mellow him just a little."
Bane didn't want to engage the man. He detested small talk.
"Don't blame him though." At that Bane set his glare onto the man. "I don't blame you either. She's a sight for sore eyes down here." He had the gall to slap Bane on the shoulder before walking away, whistling a jovial tune.
He left the screaming man to his misery.
Grace kept up her end of the bargain and had been brought to his room several times. But he decided to abandon that location when he noticed several men crowding around the showers. They must have realised that sound could travel through the pipes.
Now, he was headed to her room and had Barsad keep the hall clear so they could have privacy.
He even brought down a slightly bigger army cot to accommodate his size. That also sent tongues wagging among the mercenaries.
He ignored all of it. Those in the inner circle knew his hatred of rape. O'Brien should have known. But the man's brazen winks and slaps on the back made Bane think that maybe he believed something else. Maybe he believed they were having consensual sex.
That thought had entered his mind whenever he saw Grace. She was beautiful, and his fingers itched to touch her again.
When he knocked and subsequently opened the door, he was again faced with a pacing Grace.
She looked angry.
"Let me out." She spoke with ferocity.
"Manners cost nothing, my dear."
"I've been in this room for five days. How do I know that, you might ask? Well, today is the fifth day Barsad has handed me a bowl of porridge and a sandwich and left without a word." He allowed her to vent. She was obviously in distress. "I'm not singing a single note until you let me out... And I need a shower." She added the last part quickly.
It was almost adorable how the little freckles on her nose darkened when she was angry.
"You are awfully demanding today."
"I don't care where you take me. I'll even go to the communal one. I'll wait in line with the others."
His eyes darkened at that.
"That is not an option."
"Then take me to your room." Her fury was palpable.
"And what do I get in return?"
She scoffed at him.
"Even if I was fucking you, you wouldn't want to fuck me in the state that I'm in."
Her blunt answer surprised him.
"My dear, you think so little of me."
"I don't think of you at all."
After a moment of tense silence, he agreed to her request. Perhaps once she was in a better mood she would sing for him.
She grabbed her stuff and grumbled "Prick" at him when they left.
He had her by the scalp before she took a step out.
"What the hell!"
"Impertinence is not a trait I accept from anyone. You have not been harmed in the way your brother believes you to be, but do not think I will not harm you in some other way."
The fire in her eyes finally died. It was replaced with abject sadness.
"I just feel like I'm going crazy." She whispered.
She looked so despondent. It was almost like looking at a reflection of his former self.
"I understand how you feel."
She searched his eyes.
"How could you possibly know what I'm going through?"
She waited until he released her hair to begin walking the route to his room.
He placed a hand on her back to guide her. She knew it was just for show, for the others they passed in the hall.
Once behind the locked door, she shrugged off his hand and stomped to the bathroom.
His fist clenched in anger. She doesn't know true suffering. This place wasn't hell on earth.
His first memories were of Peña Duro. Nothing from before. If there even was a before. He was raised in the armpit of the earth. Placed there for the crimes of a man he never met.
Grace had no idea what he had been through.
He wanted to put her in her place. Let her know that she couldn't possibly know what true hopelessness felt like.
But all that would accomplish would just trigger her sympathy.
He couldn't hear her usual singing through the door.
Grace didn't sing as much nowadays.
The change had been subtle.
She stopped playing her fiddle, saying that she was worried that the cold temperatures of the sewers were damaging it.
He accepted it. She was still upset about her brother.
But then she stopped singing with any feeling. Just spoke the words. Like she had been deflated at some point.
He tried to encourage her. When that didn't work, he asked how she had learned to speak Irish.
"We were sent to the Gaeltacht every summer from ages 13 to 17. My father's family only spoke Irish, though later we found out they could speak English." She smiled lightly. "We had to immerse ourselves in the culture. It's how I came to love trad music."
She became melancholic after that.
Grace was losing herself down here.
The shower continued to run. He removed his shirt. He had grown hot while he waited.
His back ached and he could feel the pain creeping up his spine.
The canisters needed to be changed.
He heard the shower stop. He would need to be quick.
With a deep breath he unlatched the clasps and removed the mask.
While he popped out the empty cartridge, he took the time to chug down a protein drink and eat some of the rations.
"So, you can take it off." He didn't even hear the door open.
"Of course, did you think I was born like this?" He rumbled out.
"...No." He could feel her eyes burning into his back. "Why did you take it off?"
"I took it off to eat." He set about getting the straps ready.
"Even without the mask I would recognise your voice."
"Is that a compliment?"
"An observation." She took a step behind him.
"Stay where you are!"
"Okay." She squealed in fright. Even without his enhanced voice, he still managed to alarm her.
He replaced the mask with the new cartridge and sighed as the vapours seeped into his lungs, relieving his agony.
"Is that also why you wear it? You don't want people to see your face?"
"You are awfully curious all of a sudden. Why is that?"
"Some part of me always just assumed you were a cyborg or something. At the back of my mind, I didn't think you were a man."
"I am all man, my dear." His voice took on a husky quality at that.
He turned and saw her dressed in her pyjamas.
She looked away from his gaze.
"I'm going to run out of clothes soon." She shivered slightly. He could see the goosebumps decorating her bare arms.
He couldn't stop his eyes from roamed down her figure.
She noticed and crossed her arms around herself.
"So... Do you want me to sing?"
She didn't look happy. Usually after a shower her mood improved. But not today.
"Do you wish to sing?"
He watched her mull over the idea in her head.
"Not really." She sighed sadly.
"Then we will talk instead." He decided that this melancholy had to stop.
"Talk? About what?"
"Tell me about your work?"
She gave a singular chuckle at the question.
"Something the matter?" He asked.
"I almost forgot I was a teacher." Tears gathered in her eyes. "They've probably replaced me by now."
"It is summer now. There is no school."
"That doesn't make me feel any better."
"Why did you become a teacher?" He asked instead of focusing on her musings.
"Those who can't, teach." She laughed lightly. "I had silly aspirations of singing professionally. Playing professionally. Anything to do with music."
He could imagine her on stage. Having everyone in the palm of her hand as she sang. Just like the other day in the hub.
"What happened?"
"The economy went to shit and my silly dream was pushed to the side." She sniffed. "My parents suggested that I pursue a career that would ensure employment and come with benefits. So, what other options does a music undergrad have but to pursue teaching?"
He nodded for her to continue.
"I do love my job. It's different every day. New challenges, new students. Even though I say the same things in class year after year, deal with the same behavioural issues over and over, I wouldn't imagine life any other way. Even the snotty parents become easier to deal with over time."
He decided to try and get some answers about her past.
"And was one of those parents Jack Ryder?"
She looked sharply over at him.
"What?"
"Jack Ryder. His son was one of your students and he attacked you after a parent's conference."
Grace's eyes widened.
"How do you know about that?"
"So, it's true?"
"How do you know about that?" She repeated with venom.
"You filed a police report after an incident during a parent's evening."
"That file was sealed. How on earth could you-" She looked at him accusingly. "You can understand Irish?" Remembering the conversation she had with her brother in Bane's earshot.
"Enough to get by." He admitted.
"You tricked us into believing we could speak freely, but you were always listening."
"I was."
"How on earth did you learn to understand Irish?"
"I am a man who knows many languages."
"And now you want me to talk about Ryder?"
"Yes."
She stomped over to the door. The handle didn't budge.
"Take me back. I can't be near you right now."
"No need for hysterics, Grace. We are simply talking."
"You violated my privacy and betrayed my trust. If I thought you could sink any lower you would already be burning in hell!"
He saw red and pushed her against the door.
"Ignorance is bliss indeed, but do not think that we would have allowed your little chat with your brother in the first place if I was not satisfied by your brother's compliance."
"Get your hands off me!" She screamed and tried to move away.
"You are in no position to fight me, my dear."
Already sensing her intentions, he had her wrists secured in his grip as she went to strike him.
"You have a fire in you. If you learned to harness it, you could make something of yourself."
Her legs began to try and kick at him. He stopped a knee striking his groin.
"You will not like what happens, should that part of me become injured."
"I don't think you'll miss it. You're enough of a dick already."
He snapped, slamming his body against hers. Because he was holding onto her knee, it was now slightly wrapped around his hips.
"Say that again, and you will regret it."
"If I was anyone else, I'd already be dead by now. So why am I still alive?" Her blue eyes showed no fear.
He tried to steady his breathing. This woman was driving him insane.
His blood boiled.
"Do not test me." He spoke lowly.
"You are so ruthless. You've had my neck in a noose from the moment my brother decided to fuck up his life, and mine. At any moment you could have opened the trapdoor and let me swing." He let go of her hands when he noticed she stopped struggling.
She lightly rested them on his bare shoulders.
"But you stayed your hand." Her eyes sparkled with fire. "You want me to talk about what Jack Ryder did to me?" He nodded, but at the back of his mind he almost didn't want to know.
"Too bad. You don't have the right to know anything about me. You have to earn it, because I didn't go through hell with that man only for it to happen again."
"Ryder assaulted you?" He pressed.
"He wanted to fuck me, I said no and he tried to anyway. What happened that night is not something that I like to relive, but it's also not something that defines me."
She didn't look broken. She looked angry as she remembered.
"You had no right to look into my past. Don't think that being my captor gives you any jurisdiction over me." Her freckles grew darker. "I survived and I didn't need Patrick back then to put me back together. He likes to think that if he hadn't been in jail that it might have ended differently. He would want Jack dead. But that's not who I am. I would rather destroy his career and force him to clear out his bank account to pay for what he did, than for him to die and not suffer like he deserves to."
"Putting that piece of filth in the ground is not unreasonable."
"That is not justice, that is revenge."
Her words reverberated around his skull.
It was like an earworm. Echoing over and over.
After her speech, he set her down.
Her small hands trailed down his chest.
They stood staring at each other.
His eyes drifted over her lips. Over the weeks she'd been in their care, he often found his eyes drifting over forbidden territory.
She noticed.
"You think that I'm weak." She pushed herself against him. Standing on her toes to look into his eyes. "Maybe you're the one that's weak." A pair of lips pecked his exposed cheek. "You shouldn't be afraid to ask for what you want."
"Fear has no place in my life."
"The lies we tell others are often the ones we have trouble believing ourselves."
"And what are you afraid of, Grace?"
"We are all born with the fear of falling and the fear of loud sounds." Falling. The abyss. The unreachable sun. "You may act like a machine, but you are just as human as the rest of us."
"You didn't answer my question."
"There is one thing I used to fear. But constant exposure to your face has cured me."
"And what fear is that?"
Her fingers moved up to her lips.
"Spiders. Your mask looks like a giant spider. And people always told me spiders were more afraid of me than I am of them. I might finally believe them. It's not like my life could get any worse."
"What happened to you? You are fading away, dear Grace. You are wilting in the darkness."
"I haven't seen the sun in weeks. You're holding me hostage in a sewer. My brother's life hangs in the balance because he's an idiot. You bring up long buried memories that I've tried to forget so they don't have power over me. And you wonder why I'm like this?"
"You are surviving in the darkness."
"Surviving is not equal to living."
"Grace-"
"I'm tired. I can't do this anymore. If you won't let me leave, then move out of my way."
She pushed past him and laid down on his cot.
He didn't even question her as she settled for sleep.
He wasn't sure how long he stayed standing. Just watching her lie down.
Not too long ago, she was uncomfortable at the idea of watching him sleep. She had said she wouldn't want to be watched as she slept. Does this mean that she has gotten over her reservations?
She twisted, trying to get comfortable.
The audacity of this woman was infuriating. But he didn't feel the urge to lash out and punish her.
He wanted her to sleep.
He took the time to look over her face. The bruised under eyes gave away the lack of sleep. It amazed him that she felt comfortable sleeping in his bed with him in the room.
Or maybe she was right.
Maybe he was afraid of what he wanted.
Taking a step forward he allowed a hand to glide away the blonde hair that had fallen out of place.
Manoeuvring her closer against the wall, he laid down and allowed exhaustion to overcome him.
She groaned in protest as he moved against her.
"What are you doing?"
"You are not the only one that is tired."
She sighed dejectedly.
"If I feel anything against my back, I'm going to kick you."
"Duly noted."
His eyes closed and the unlikely pair fell asleep.