The Bane of Our Existence [The Dark Knight Rises]

18: Some Things Are Better Left in the Dark

Bane returned not much longer, an unreadable expression upon his visible eyes, and he beckoned quickly for Bría to return to his side. She stepped away from the window and walked towards him, drawn in easily to everything about him, shameless in what she was doing. She felt the curious eyes of Daggett and Stryver, curious as to who she was, why she stood so confidently next to Bane; but she saw what they believed, she could see it in their eyes. They saw her as Bane's weakness, and potentially a target should they wish to double cross him.

"Well?" Daggett asked Bane, exasperated.

"She escaped, with the help of The Batman," Bane informed them. "It will not take long to find her, and dispose of her."

Daggett rolled his eyes, pushing his limits. It was Stryver who took the situation into his own hands, calming it down before someone ended up dead. Because Stryver knew who would win that battle, it would be Bane. They now knew his weakness, that was like gold, and so they had to abide to Bane's commands.

"She is a slippery one, it's no surprise she escaped," Stryver said. "I'm sure she will be out of our hair shortly. Besides, we have Mr. Wayne's prints, and we've used the opportunity you have given us to reclaim all of his stocks and money. Bruce Wayne is broke, thanks to you, Bane."

Bane knew they were trying to butter him up, so he simply turned his back on them and walked towards he elevator. Bría and Bane stepped into the opened doors, and stood in silence until they shut and they could feel the lift bringing them down to the basement. Bría looked at her feet, and that was when she noticed the blood dripping from Bane's hand. It was coming from his bullet wound on his arm, dribbling down the sleeve of his jacket and only now did it make itself known. Bría had completely forgotten about it.

"We need to get that sterilized and patched up as soon as possible," Bría told him.

He simply nodded, and the elevator doors opened.

When they arrived back at the underground base, it was well past midnight. The workers were asleep and so the whole place was silent except for the rush of water. Even though Bría had been staying there for some time now, she never got used to it without the other men and kids working above her head. They made their way to the back room where Bane slept, flicking on the lights.

"Jacket and shirt, off," Bría commanded, though she made sure to prevent her voice from slipping; if she stammered it would just further prove that she was unstable around him, attracted to him more each day, but withholding such follies.

Bane obeyed, hanging his jacket up and then sliding the grey shirt he wore over his head. There was blood covering his arm. Bría grabbed the first aide kit and removed the gloves first, sliding them on to make sure that there would be no blood bourne diseases. She made him sit down so that she could asses, for he was too tall when he stood upright for her to comfortably inspect the wound.

"Bullet just grazed you," she confirmed. "I'll just need to clean it and stitch it. Shouldn't be long."

She removed what she needed from the kit and doused the wound with hydrogen peroxide, and then threaded the needle with the thick, black thread. She went to work, her left hand pressed against his arm to hold him still -though it was hardly necessary, he sat like a rock- and with her right hand she deftly stitched up the small but significant wound. After she was done, she snipped the final thread and then wiped the remaining blood from his arm. Ensuring it was sterile, she covered it was a bandage and took a deep breath.

"Who were those men?" Bría asked Bane as she removed the gloves and threw everything in the trash. She packed up the first aide kit, and then sat down next to Bane, to his surprise.

Bane was leaned forward, while Bría had her back against the wall. She ached and was tired, but she was appreciating the time she was spending with Bane, quietly, and at peace.

"No one of importance; means to an end," Bane informed her.

"They thought I was with you."

"You are with me," he glanced behind his shoulder, looking at her.

"No, not like that," she mumbled. "I believe they saw me as collateral... Something they could take away from you swiftly and easily, to hurt you."

"Have I let anything happen to you so far?"

She shook her head, "I'm just letting you know, the vibe I got from them."

"They will be dealt with, in time." He turned his head back.

She believed him, and did feel confident in his promise of protection. Reminded then, of the bulletproof vest she wore, Bría slid off of the cot and pulled off her sweater, underneath it was the bullet proof vest. Unclasping it at the sides, she lifted it over her head; her shirt clung to the Velcro on the side and raised the fabric. When she managed to get the vest off, she readjusted so that her shirt was in place, then set the vest down.

"Your scars," Bane looked up as he spoke, his eyes meeting hers.

Bría didn't avert her gaze. "We've all suffered at the hands of others."

"Tell me," he half-commanded, half-begged.

She turned to face him head on, standing only a foot away from him. She lifted her shirt to show her stomach, where a large scar from her lower rib to her navel protruded from her flesh. Pointing at it, she told him, "First year of being a paramedic I was attacked by a junkie with a knife. I needed thirty-three stitches."

She turned to her side, where a smaller but thicker scar resided. "First week in Gotham I was shot accidentally at while giving CPR, gang-related, I was later told."

This time she turned her back on him, and then pulled off her shirt. Along her back was a jagged, ugly scar that discoloured her skin; she had once tried to get it covered with a tattoo, but no artist would come within ten feet of a scar like that. So she accepted that she would remain disfigured, proof of her survival.

"And this?" Bane asked, he had risen from his seated position and was standing just inches away from her now. She shivered when she felt his fingertips touch the scar.

Slowly, Bría faced Bane, watching as his eyes lingered; he had been looking at her middle back before, but now that she was facing him he was looking at her torso, half nude. There was an unexpected sexual tension between them, one that she knew would not be acted upon. She felt her heart hammering in her chest, her stomach twisting in delight and nervousness, all while knowing that nothing could happen.

"I have no idea," she was referring to the scar on her back. "Some things are better left in the dark."

So I have plotted out all of this story, it will be 40 chapters! Thanks for reading! Comment your thoughts and don't forget to vote!