Yours Truly

Chapter 21- Intermission II

Four months, twenty-seven days.

"You need to talk to her." That's how his day had begun. With Barsad standing over him as he laid in bed. It was the first night in months he had slept alone and he had found it achingly reminiscent and just as unwelcome. Today he didn't wake up with another body in his bed, there was no imagery or vision of a beautiful woman crossing the carpeted path before him to slip into the shower. No warmth against his back as he pretended to sleep to prolong the tender moment of fleeting touch. Just Barsad, staring down at him. He pulled the sheets over his head and closed his eyes. Perhaps this was all just a bad dream… just a nightmare seeping from his consciousness into the real world for a long moment before it receded. It happened… not as frequently as it once had before Zamirah, but it was a nostalgic occurrence. He felt tired and groggy… he hadn't slept well at all. "Come on, let's get a shower in and go see her."

"She doesn't want to see me, Barsad." Bane grumbled from under the sheets before Barsad pulled them off, "Barsad stop-"

"Get up and go talk to her." Barsad repeated firmly as Bane stared at him, "You know there's someone in her apartment right now?" The larger man shot up from the bed and dismounted the mattress before descending to the floor, towering over Barsad, "He looks Arabic."

"What!?" Bane demanded, then narrowed his eyes, "Arabic? No. No, not Zamirah she would never…" Then he took a moment to register Barsad's smirk, "You lied to me?"

"Yeah but now you can shower," Barsad replied casually before putting his hands in his pockets,

"Zamirah. Does. Not. Want. To. See. Me." Bane reiterated and Barsad shrugged,

"How do you know that for certain? Women need attention and time. Their feelings run deep like canyons in the ocean." Barsad said and Bane sighed as he put a hand to his face. He couldn't see her. He could but… he really couldn't face her right now. Still, Barsad persisted and pushed him towards the bathroom, letting him shower on his own but Barsad was in control of his outfit- "Wear these." Barsad dressed him in a pressed white-button down shirt, a charcoal vest, black slacks and a black, double-breasted fleece peacoat that went to his knees. "If you don't get her attention, I'm interested." Bane laughed and put his hands in the coat pockets as Barsad offered him a black surgical mask instead of his normal mask, "You need the air-out time and you'll look punk and hip."

"...I didn't take a shower and let you dress me so that I could look 'punk and hip', Barsad, I did it for Zamirah." Bane grumbled but took the mask from him and took his mask off before putting the temporary one on. "Barsad, I don't even know what to say."

"At the moment, on the spot, you say some pretty heartfelt things." Barsad said, "Can you imagine what she's feeling right now?" The gargantuan man glanced at his friend's eyes in the mirror he had moved to stand in front of. "She's in a new place, alone, scared in a city whose residents are clawing over one another to vandalize, demolish and worse." Bane tensed and stood a little straighter. She had proven herself to be quite the handful, quite capable of handling herself… for a time. "She's not well." Barsad's voice reached out and Bane turned to him, "You hurt her- that put her on shaky ground and that gunfire from the other night rattled her badly. She needs someone reliable to be there for her, but you need to win that spot back."

"I am reliable." Bane retorted and Barsard responded,

"Reliable enough to cheat on her and then 'dispose' of her by putting her in an apartment by herself without checking to see if she was alright." His right-hand man responded and Bane sighed as his 'friend' who was playing devil's advocate walked over to him, grabbing the lapels of his coat and straightening them out then proceeding to flick and pick off bits of lint from the new coat as he spoke, "Get in the elevator, get in the truck, we go down to the apartment complex, we get some food, you talk up to her- just offer to bring the food up, drop it off like a gentleman. No more, no less. If it leads to more, don't ask for less- let her take the lead and just follow it. If she tells you to go? You go." He said and stepped back when he was done, "Let's go." He voiced as he walked to the door and Bane didn't move with him, looking at his reflection in the mirror and turning towards it.

"I shouldn't have gone to see Talia…" Bane said quietly as his right-hand man looked at him, "None of this would have happened… but I wanted honesty. I needed to tell her it was done. I needed to make that clear that I'm not interested anymore in something that was just… physical. I want something… wholesome and filling, the way that Zamira makes me feel. I want the long conversations, I want to fall asleep listening to her laughing or her soft snoring, I don't… I do not desire Talia. I want Zamirah."

"Tell her all of that." Barsad said, "She will hear you out. Let's go." He said and Bane reluctantly left the room with hi and joined him in the elevator,

"How do you know she's willing to hear me out?" Bane asked and his friend laughed,

"You need to see the way she looks at you and the way you look at her. No questions." Barsad said and pulled out Bane's metal mask, offering it to him, "Just in case." Barsad assured and Bane took it, reluctantly putting it in a coat pocket before the elevator doors opened and the two of them walked out of the elevator and through the hotel. "Maybe you should try calling her first." Barsad asked and he looked at his friend nervously, "Make sure you get what she wants to eat." He produced his cellphone and tapped in his password to open it before pulling up her contact in his phone. 'My Zamirah' he had labeled her phone number. So when she called, or he called, he was reminded of the quiet moments they had shared. The intimacy of being next to her and holding her in his arms, the gentle, soft tenderness he felt when he listened to her softly breathing in her sleep. The relief that crashed over him when he saw her safe and in one piece. The myriad of emotions he felt when he heard her voice, heard her name or saw her contact appear on his cellphone screen. He was scared of calling her and maybe his right-hand man sensed it because he put a hand on Bane's sleeve, "You need to call her and show her that you still exist." He said and Bane nodded slowly, hesitating when his thumb hovered over the green icon of a phone pointing upward before he pressed it and initiated the call to her phone then raised the phone to his ear as he stood in the lobby of the hotel his men currently occupied.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Bane grew anxious. Four rings. Five rings. Then a pre-set voice advised him that the phone owner had not set up a voicemail and bid him a mechanical goodbye before ending the call itself. He grew worried and tried calling her again, only for the same thing to happen- and then repeat itself for the third time. "She's not answering." Bane said and stared at his phone, tapping the screen as many times as he needed to get to the text messages. Maybe she had figured out how to send a text? Maybe she had sent him something… but there was nothing from her and he put the phone in his pocket. "This is ridiculous." He grumbled and turned away from the hotel lobby doors that led to the waiting curb and it's resting cars- but Barsad rushed in front of him and cut off his escape route,

"What if she's hurt and she can't reach her phone?" Barsad said and Bane stopped in his tracks, stiffening, "Let's go to the apartment- just to check on her." The larger man nodded and turned back towards the cars, letting Barsad take control of one and ferry them to the apartment building. Its front doors were intact and it was in a slightly nicer neighborhood than he assumed. There was a machine next to the front doors that looked like an intercom as the two of them walked towards the building but Barsad stopped and stayed on the sidewalk. "So she's in apartment 8B," Barsad said from the sidewalk as Bane stood next to him and looked at the smooth, concrete steps leading up to the glass-and-gold polished door. There were five of them between him and the intercom on the wall to the left of the door. Inside the small lobby behind the door, was a short entryway before another glass-and-gold door. Past that? Polished stone floors that lead toward a dull silver elevator, and a wall with five rows by ten slots of mailboxes on the left-hand side. All marked for a single apartment a piece. Bane took a deep breath then slowly exhaled before he walked towards the stairs and up the first step then turned around to Barsad.

"She won't talk to me." Bane said and Barsad answered,

"If you never try, you'll never know," Barsad answered and Bane nodded, ascending another step. Three more to go and his blood drummed in his ears. Another step. Two more steps left as he took several deep breaths and looked at Barsad, "She'll have to let you in from her end for the door to let you in. You have to hold the button to talk, by the way." His nervousness about her safety almost completely evaporated at that statement and he climbed the remaining steps to stand in front of the intercom. It had one speakerphone and as many buttons as there were mailboxes but they were all labeled with the corresponding apartment number and a name. 8B. The name next to it read 'Doris Jenkins'. He took another deep breath and looked at Barsad unsurely. What was he supposed to say? To do? How was he to feel? Why did it feel like everything was wobbling like he was on a ship? What would he even fucking say? As if by the verbal response to his telepathy, Barsad said firmly "Ask her if she's hungry." Right. Food. Ok. He took another breath and remembered that her apartment did not have an intercom system like this… this was probably too technologically advanced for her so he would have to walk her through it but he pressed the button for 8B and began.

"Zamirah?" He let go and waited for a response but when none came he exhaled and pressed the button again, "Zamirah… it's Bane. I tried to call and text but you did not answer." He let go of the button, taking a few breaths and waiting for a response. When there was nothing he pressed the button again, "There should be a button on the intercom in your apartment- one that says 'answer' and one that says something like 'door'... if you press and hold the answer button you can respond to me but I do have things I would like to say first." He let the button go and looked to Barsad who gave him an encouraging, lop-sided grin, "I didn't mean to hurt you, Zamirah. I should not have left to see Talia, but she needed to know it was over, face-to-face. I am wrong to keep putting you in harm's way, I was wrong to have not been honest with you about your uncle. Perhaps I am wrong to even pursue you, Zamirah, but I want you." He let the button go and took a few breaths before pressing it again, "I want you, Zamirah. All of you. I want your scars, your fears, your flaws, and your insecurities; I want all of you. I am not sure where we began to falter… but it was me. Everything I can think of, any and every possibility I can conjure in my mind as to why we are so far apart now? I can only think of my actions and myself as the problem. Maybe you do not want me in the same way but… our time is short. Talia's plan is finite but I want to spend it with you, listening to you sleep and laugh because if I cease to exist when that plan comes to it's destined day? I want these memories you have given me to stay and these things I have felt for you, to stay." Bane said and paused to put his mask on and take several deep, dense inhales of the aesthetic within the mechanics as pain shot through him but he pressed the button to continue, "Gotham and the world? They have felt… cold and distant to me, indifferent but when you are next to me, when you look at me or when we speak on the phone… I feel the warmth. My mind and my soul… feel like a summer day. When you leave, you take your warmth with you and when it fades back to indifference, I am left with a blinding, stinging self-awareness of how desperate I am to warm myself in a way that no fire could provide for me." He paused to take a few breaths of anesthetic again before pressing the button and continuing, "I have a lot to apologize for, yes, but if this is truly where our story ends… I want to see you one last time and leave no secrets between us… maybe share a milkshake." With that, he removed his finger and looked at Barsad, "Too much?"

"Yes." Barsad answered and Bane shoved his hands into his pockets, "But you spoke well." As Bane waited for some type of response a few long moments, he turned away from the intercom and the doors.

An electronic buzzing sound filled the air and he looked back at the doors then pulled a hand out of his pocket and grabbed the door handle, pulling it away from the frame and it swung open. Bane slipped into the small entryway and tested the other door which opened as well and he gained entry to the lobby but looked to the elevator. He let the door shut behind him and looked back at Barsad on the sidewalk, who held up eight fingers. Bane moved forward to the elevator and pressed the 'up' arrow button to find the doors open almost immediately and he slipped inside before hitting the button for the eighth floor. He waited patiently until the doors reopened to the destined floor and he stepped out into a hallway of hardwood and looked around the apartment doors until he found the door marked 8B and went over to it. He waited outside of it a few moments before he raised a fist and knocked at the door. The sound of locks turning and clicking sends relief down his frame. One, two, three locks and then the door handle turned and the door opened to Zamirah. She stood there in the ratty, old t-shirt she had in her small suitcase that she had worn a few times around him, her hair was sleep-tossed and wild and her eyes were red and puffy but she was there. "Why… did you not answer me?" Bane asked and she sniffed,

"I think I broke the phone… and the button on the intercom doesn't work." She said and sniffled, wiping her nose, "I didn't think you would come."

Bane stepped forward and put his hands on either side of her face as she took a shaky breath, "You lead, I will follow." She nodded and put her hands on top of his, "Are you hungry?" she nodded again as she tried to keep from crying by taking several short, shaky breaths,

"My phone stopped working when I got here- and then there was gunfire in the streets and someone was knocking at the door… then they were banging and trying to get in… I hid in the bathroom until I heard you." She stammered as tears rolled how her face. Ones not of joy but fear and Bane swiped them away with his thumb, "Don't leave." She whispered and Bane nodded,

"I won't."

He stayed that night, dear reader.

It was the first time she had slept in two days. Not because she did not want to sleep but because she had come to live in his world; a world of gunfire, crime, and chaos. It was not something she was unaccustomed to, necessarily but it had become something she had no protection against without a security blanket. Something to keep her safe.

Kalim had kept her safe from her world until that changed. Rafiki had, in a way, also kept her safe until it stopped suiting him. Bane had kept her safe without those restraints. He had done so because he wanted to and he had done so in the times she asked for it.

I'm sorry, I am getting ahead of myself. The story does not end here, reader, not even close.

These last two chapters have been difficult for me but where you might have felt them lacking and unimportant… I felt them necessary. I felt they were the water to a flower garden because not every relationship is perfect. They are roller coasters; they have twists, turns, sharp drops, and slow climbs. I, personally, like roller coasters very much because even if you ride your favorite one a hundred times? If you close your eyes one time, it feels like a different ride, or if you focus on the sound of the tracks instead of the feeling of the air rushing past you- these little things make the ride different. Such as these moments of tension, emotionally and loosely written instead of well-thought-out. They mean a great deal to me, as does this story, so I want to include all the messy little details I can.