Jonathan sat, tapping his nails against the chipped laminate tabletop. His stomach was one tight knot, and he'd failed to eat even half of what Basard had brought him for dinner. That made three meals he'd hardly nibbled today. He was beginning to feel lightheaded from hunger, but his stomach rebelled every time he tried to force something down.
They weren't mistreating him. Except for his accommodations, which left much to be desired, Jonathan had to admit that he was being treated very well. Basard had been very attentive to his needs the day before and that morning. While he'd been gone most of the day, a young man barely out of his teens had been left to attend Jonathan. Not as his guard; that distinction was left to a thug with a gun. The kid, Angel, accompanied Jonathan on short walks around the underground lair, played checkers with him, and brought him books and an old iPod when Jonathan had proclaimed himself to be bored.
Cute, but useless to him, Jonathan had finally concluded. And there was no way Jonathan could take out the thug with a gun. So, it looked like he was sitting tight until Bruce found him.
The door opened, and Basard entered carrying a box. He closed the door with his foot before crossing the room and setting the box on the bed. Then he turned to Jonathan with a smile that melted away when he saw the plate of food next to Jonathan. "You didn't eat."
Jonathan sat straight. "I'm not hungry."
Basard came to him and took his hand. Tsked down at the nails Jonathan had bitten bloody. "Is there nothing you can take to ease your anxiety?"
"Not in my collection of pills."
"What can I get you, then?"
Jonathan blew out a breath. He closed his eyes. "I guess …lorazepam might help. I've used it before."
Basard nodded. "I'll get some tonight. I wish you had told me sooner."
"Why?"
Regret on his face, Basard tugged Jonathan to his feet and pulled him to the cot. He placed his hand on Jonathan's back, then gestured to the box. "Open it."
A sense of foreboding crept over him. Jonathan did as he was told.
Inside the box lay a gorgeous dress. He picked it up and shook it out to see it better.
Blue jewel-necked satin with a delicately embroidered tulle overlay. Half length sleeves and a full skirt. Exactly his style: elegant, classy, and girlish.
He turned to Basard. "What is this?"
"The dress is a gift from me."
"I can't–"
"But Bane insists you look your best tonight."
Jonathan's heart stuttered in his chest. There were only two reasons he could think that Bane would want to dress Jonathan up like a doll. Either the masked man had designs on him, or…
"We have an important guest coming tonight."
His knees gave out. Jonathan missed the cot and landed on the floor. The shock of his ass hitting the concrete floor reverberated up his spine.
Basard was at Jonathan's feet immediately. He took Jonathan by the elbows and gently lifted him, placing him on the bed. "You must be strong." He pushed Jonathan's hair back from his face. Looked into Jonathan's eyes. "Just one night, and you will be free of him."
It took Jonathan a moment to realize that Basard meant that Jonathan would be free of Bruce, not Bane. That he thought…
Jonathan let out a bark of hysterical laughter before clamping his hand over his mouth. Not daring to speak, he nodded.
Basard smiled and kissed Jonathan on his forehead. "I'll come for you when it's time. Be ready." He squeezed Jonathan's shoulders, then stood and left.
Once he was gone, Jonathan gave himself one minute to hyperventilate. One minute of utter panic and terror. Then he closed his eyes. He took slow, deep breaths in and out until the tears were gone, and his heart had slowed to a reasonable level.
"God, I wish I had that lorazepam now." But he didn't.
So Jonathan stood and mechanically stripped off his clothes. He reapplied his deodorant and perfume, put on fresh undergarments and pantyhose. The dress fit him perfectly, and there were matching shoes in the box as well. Bane had neglected to give him a vanity, but Jonathan had a mirror in his travel make-up kit. It wasn't the best, but it would do.
With a practiced hand, Jonathan applied foundation and rouge. He lightly contoured his face and added false eyelashes. After pulling on his wig cap, he fit his wig over it and pinned it tightly to his head before finger fluffing it into place. Finally, he fastened the pearls Bruce had given him around his neck.
Looking at his reflection, Jonathan let out a slow breath. "Please, Bruce. Don't come. It's a trap. Don't fall for it."
There was a knock on the door. It opened.
"It's time," Basard said, stepping into the room.
Jonathan nodded. He stood.
Basard's face softened as he ran his gaze over Jonathan. "You look lovely."
He couldn't bring himself to reply, merely took Basard by the arm and allowed himself to be led out of the room and into the maze of the sewer.
Basard took him back to the large, circular room. Men stood on every level, armored and armed. A level below stood Bane. He tilted his head back, looking towards Jonathan and Basard before inclining his head.
With a nod, Basard led Jonathan around the room, stopping just behind a shaft of light. He took his arm from Jonathan's.
"Please." He leaned close to Jonathan, breath stirring the fine hairs he'd been unable to push under the cap. "Do not be afraid."
Jonathan snorted, staring down at the bridge where Bane stood. He didn't even flinch when Basard took him by the arm and pointed a gun at his head.
Bane nodded, then disappeared behind the waterfall.
He heard the fighting far down in the darkness before the Bat Man emerged from the shadows. He stepped through a gate and onto the bridge.
Jonathan saw the woman behind him grab the door to the cage. He took a breath to shout, but Basard tightened his grip and tugged.
The door slammed. Bruce whirled, cape flaring behind him.
"I had to find a way to stop them from killing me," the woman said.
"You've made a serious mistake."
"Not as serious as yours I fear," Bane said, emerging from his hiding place.
Bruce turned. "Bane."
"Let's not stand on ceremony here, Mr. Wayne."
Jonathan exhaled silently. So, Bane did know the Bat Man's identity. He'd wondered. Ever since they'd caught him, he'd wondered.
"Where's…" Bruce broke off, jaw tightening.
Bane laughed, a low rumble that echoed in the sewers. "Dr. Crane is alive and well." He gestured toward the place Jonathan stood.
Basard pushed Jonathan into the light. Jonathan clenched his jaw, fists balled tightly in the folds of his skirt.
"You okay?" Bruce called up to him.
He nodded jerkily. "They haven't hurt me." Yet.
"I'll get you out of here. Don't worry."
"No, Bruce, don't…" But Basard covered Jonathan's mouth with his hand, pulling Jonathan closer to his body, and, thus, bringing the gun closer as well.
Bruce moved first, throwing a punch that Bane caught. Jonathan wanted to close his eyes. He wanted to look away, but he didn't. He couldn't. He owed this to Bruce. There was nothing he could do to stop the fear flooding his body, nor the violent trembling that came with the strong emotion. But he could watch as Bane took the man Jonathan loved apart. He could stand by Bruce's side.
The lights went out abruptly. Jonathan sagged against Basard, who made a soothing noise and brushed his lips against Jonathan's temple. Jonathan could hear Bane talking below, something about the darkness and being born to it. He couldn't really understand anything that was going on until the ceiling exploded.
Basard dragged him back a few steps, keeping him safe from the debris that fell.
"No," he heard Bruce gasp out from below.
Jonathan looked up to see a large room filled with weapons. Not understanding, he didn't understand until he saw the Bat Man's tank rested among the rubble.
Fox's playroom, I presume.
Bruce climbed back to his feet. Stumbled to Bane.
"I wondered what would break first: your spirit…" He grabbed Bruce and swung him above his head. "Or your body."
The crack of Bruce's back echoed through the chamber. It tore through Jonathan like a scythe. His eyes went dry. The trembling stopped. His heart slowed, and his limbs went numb.
He felt nothing.