It was one hell of a ride. As I've mentioned in the beginning this story was a personal challenge. I conceived in the first days of July 2016, while bored at work, and it grew on me through the months. All the while I was aware this exact day will be the day it would end. Ides of March, 2017. My initial goal of writing 90k words was met perfectly, with exactly 91901 words. Thats a whole damn book!

My love and gratefulness to ThreeDamnDots, a catalyst to many fantastic ideas, tireless researcher, eager proofreader and above all a friend. Busy Bee, you are truly awesome.

Thanks once again to everyone who reviewed, favourited or just took the time to read what we have here. My heart soars with every change in viewcount, every single notification. It matters, to see how you react, and you did so beautifully. It was much more than I ever imagined I'll get.

Thank you.

Now, on with the show.

Cold water kissed foam-ridden sand, as the sea charged rhythmically to the coastline and back. Gaining a little with every minute over dry land. Helena buried her toes deeper into the damp, chilly ground, rubbing arms around her middle. Soon it will be time to go back, but not just yet. The icy breeze and magnificent view soothed her nerves, helped to calm the tempest she couldn't reign over for almost a decade.

It became worse at the end of last year when Bane surfaced in Gotham, seizing the city, holding it hostage. Shaky footage from the stadium shocked her, throwing her mind right back to the time she spent in the Armenian monastery. He looked almost the same, his eyes still young. But perhaps more fervent and haunted than before, if shadows underneath were any indication. Along him she found some familiar faces.

Every day after initial attack, then few hours every evening during the siege, she feasted her eyes on him. Invariably her heart fluttered while she tried to convince herself that now more than ever she should be glad to have escaped his clutches. Glad to be alive and well far, very far away from him.

She wasn't happy.

Her life was comfortable. She was content with her work. Liked living at the cottage, tucked away between rocks and sea, simple and isolated. She enjoyed her neighbours, coincidentally close enough to allow her sound sleep, but well separated so they didn't bother each other unnecessarily. She was cozy, ate healthy, had plans for next weeks and months. Few friends visited from time to time.

Everything felt hollow.

Her work, photographed and carefully edited, brought her flurry of commissions, so much she had to decline most of them.

Still, she found herself wanting.

Epiphany came soon after she moved to the cottage. Lying awake at night, watching the stars with a very nice guy holding her close she realized tomorrow she would want him gone. Because his shoulders weren't broad enough, his eyes didn't crinkle in the corners the right way when amused, his words didn't pierce her to the core dissecting her beliefs until only true essence was left behind.

She missed Bane.

It wasn't difficult to bury that information, much more complicated to forget once it surfaced. Helena prided herself on staying realistic both to what happened and how she felt about it. But facing hope resurfacing month after month, year after year… Maybe he would leave his life, why not? Maybe he would just come by once, just to talk? Maybe one e-mail, one letter, one call…

Facing her own irrational wants was exhausting. She knew the only emotion he should have left for her was hate. If he came it would be to grab her by the neck and not let go until her body went limp.

And yet, she longed to see him. Even on a screen.

When she got her wish it was in the most twisted way, one she could never predict. Gotham. Ever since the very first days of occupation in September she felt mounting sense of dread. Her chest was constantly crushed with fear. Irrational, since there was absolutely nothing she could do. But it was there, her concern for Bane visible in very expression she made while watching the same footage over and over, and over again. Observing the situation she reaffirmed herself in her initial conclusion - no matter what befallen Gotham Bane would be dead.

Then the realization that Dorrance was probably there too added to her misery fear over his safety. Uncertainty gnawed away at her sleep, compelling her to keep watching the same scenes, keep refreshing inbox in hopes of a message that never came.

Thinking not even an ounce of hope left in her heart she was crushed when news agencies reported Gotham saved. The bomb exploded over the bay. The internet blew up with it, rejoicing the end of terror, commemorating fallen hero of the people, viciously making fun of slaughtered mercenaries.

As the news of Bane's death hit, Helena was numb. He died in battle, how fitting, was all she could think of over ringing in her ears.

It was then she took to going to the beach every day, regardless of weather. She wept through first few days, but now she mostly stared at the sea, reminiscing on what was and what never came to be.

Dorrance stayed silent, so she assumed he was dead too.

Newscasts mourned the dead for a week and then promptly turned to newest problems. Incapacitated USA, unreliable ONZ, crumbling NATO, turmoil in the Netherlands and Turkey. No one cared about Gotham or people that died in it, no more than those from Iraq, Afghanistan, Fukushima, Syria, Ukraine… Life went on. Relentlessly.

She shuddered, realizing it was nearly half an hour since she plopped down on the cool sand. Even in direct sunlight it was chilly, Spring started showing only recently. Less than a week until the equinox, she realized.

Sluggishly getting up, she looked at the ground as her feet carried her automatically. Step by step, back to the cottage. There was some soup on the stove, she could pour herself a cup and sit by the fireplace. Maybe her hands would finally settle today enough so that she could go back to writing. She was chilled to the bone.

Sandy trail from the beach turned into tarmac. Helena crossed the road, found her way along winding wooden and stone pathway to the cottage. Neck stiff with cold she kept bent, no longer bothering looking up.

Unfamiliar sound caught her attention.

There was a note stuck to the door. Soft breeze played with corners of the sheet, but it was tightly secured on four sides with duct tape.

'If convenient, come visit at the big house. Moving in today.
A. Dorrance'

Helena stared at the paper for a solid minute.

The hand was familiar, concise and elegant, but she expected as much from a scholar. Note was written on some kind of printout, seemingly random letters littering cells of a chart highlighted in different colours were visible on the back.

Gingerly, she reached her palm to take it down, but stilled her hand midair.

Should she change? Maybe put some makeup on?

Fuck it.

Hurrying back the path she jogged up the little hill, panting slightly when she reached larger cabin. It was turned towards the sea, the exterior on three sides built up like a wooden fortress, so she couldn't peek inside. To compensate, the entire front was covered floor to ceiling with windows, shielded from too much sun and rain by extended roof leaning on thick wooden beams.

The door was left open so she let herself in, stilling expectantly just inside. The layout of the cabin was familiar to her like her own home, but he didn't have to approve of her intruding too boldly.

"Hello?" she tentatively called out.

No answer.

She was in the living room, massive fireplace to her left, twin sofas and a coffee table in front. Opposite wall was covered in rows of books. Crates and boxes littered most of the space on the floor, leaving narrow paths to move through the debris. She saw her own manuscripts put aside in a neat stack, and made to inspect them closer.

"Tony, it's me, Helena. I'm going to look up the books! Come out when you're ready."

She couldn't stop grinning.

Maybe he was nervous, and bid his time out of her view, unsure of what she thought of him? Possibly antsy about the way he looked, since she never caught the slightest glimpse of him in the pictures he sent. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the fact that he was finally - here.

Her hands shook with anticipation, as she smoothed them over familiar planes of leather. The colours were as vibrant as the moment they left her nib, lines crisp and clear. It was an odd pleasure, seeing her work again after years. Like meeting an old friend. Humble, but elegant, timeless in the way all sophisticated things are. No grandeur, no unnecessary opulence. Still, the wisdom immortalized on the pages was adorned with careful consideration of the contents. She always loved the work Dorrance gave her.

Tome at the very bottom caught her eye.

The manuscript she made back in Armenia.

Hands fisted at her sides to manage violent tremors that shook her body, and she took a long calming breath. How was it even here?

It wasn't impossible for Dorrance to have it, she reasoned. He must have bought that book from someone… Which meant Bane sold the one thing he told her was his most prized possession. Lying wouldn't be his worst action towards her, but she felt very sharp and very real pain in her chest at the thought. The connection she felt towards the mercenary still held strong after all those years. Betrayal spilled in her gut along with hot wave of nausea. To think she kept waiting, for years no less, for the impossible.

"Good afternoon, Helena."

Breath caught in her throat, when she extended weakened hand to reflexively cover her mouth.

That sound.

Even if she couldn't see him, even without the metallic filter, she would recognize this voice anywhere. Unmistakable lilt, perfect elocution, always slightly taunting finish…

Bane's voice.

She turned, back stiff with shock.

There he was, standing with hands nonchalantly put in pockets, leaning with one arm on the fireplace. Slimmer, maskless, graying thatch of dirty blonde hair on his head, dressed in goddamn suit pants and white shirt with rolled up sleeves. Scars visible on nearly every centimetre of his exposed skin. Fresh ones on his forearms. Burns peeking from behind unbuttoned collar. Myriad of lines on his face; those she saw only once and nearly forgot how they flowed crisscrossed with wrinkles she never had a chance to see develop.

Entranced, she grinned and hurried to him on wobbly legs, first reaction a reflection of her most honest desire. But she hesitated at the last moment.

He waited for her move, observing with a slight smirk on marred lips and warm gleam in his eyes.

Despite her better judgement, and the voice of reason feebly trying to break through haze of surprise, Helena cradled his face in her palms, as he took the step she hesitated to make, to bring them closer.

"You're alive." The euphoria of the discovery seeped out of her every pore, added breathless tremor to her whisper.

He bowed down, touched his forehead to hers. Like a man dizzy with first gulp of fresh air after drowning, he inhaled a long, steadying breath.

"How are you alive?" she murmured, gingerly caressing every part of him she could reach. Her eyes never left his face, staring in wonder, still not really believing he was here.

Then, that little stubborn voice finally increased enough to bring another question to her mind.

"Where is Dorrance?" she asked, worried with the memory of a man, her friend, she came here hoping to see.

Bane held her close, not letting her shift away even when anxiety twisted her happy smile into an apprehensive thin line.

"Helena," he started, a placating tone doing nothing to calm her.

"Bane, what did you do to him?" she pressed on, insistent palms pressing on his shoulders. He was ruthless in Gotham. Her overworked imagination instantly supplied a picture of Bane effortlessly wringing neck of one scientist. Shirt under her palms wrinkled into ugly creases with the force of her nervous grip.

"Forgive me Helena, but we haven't got a chance at proper introduction," Bane smiled down at her unperturbed. Surprisingly boyish, honest grin, one that made corners of his eyes crinkle in the way she loved and missed so much.

"My name is Anthony Dorrance."

Well, that one was pretty obvious, wasn't it? ;)

So, how did you like the ending? I'm a helpless romantic, so you got HEA as requested, but with a little twist.

Again, thank you for tagging along for the ride that was this story. I enjoyed it immensely. It was so much fun to write Bane and shape Helena! For two weeks now I still try to process it's over, and can't really believe it. (Well, I do have some drabbles to post, sometime later. Maybe. Some smut. Some fluff. Some ass kicking. But don't tell anyone.)

Comment below what would you like to see/have explained.

Really, do comment/review. Even if you didn't like it. Especially if you didn't. Even if you don't know what to write, and leave only " 3". Feedback gives every writer rush to work and create. I will write for my own amusement anyway, but since I discovered I'm an attention whore, come on. Make my day. Review. ;) Even a week, month, year after today. Every little bit counts.

Oh and since I won't post anything more here, I'll try to break my rule and respond in reviews, if you'll have any questions /complaints.

If you want to discuss anything, I'm on Twitter at ilovehighhats.

Thank you!