Ides of March today. Felt like a good time for an update.

Reticulum - a net, or crosshairs.
In which one learns to aim for the stars. And stars teach that sometimes they aim back.

Chapter 04
Anchoring

Pulsating pain woke Helena up, along with sharp rays of sunshine. She moaned, burying deeper under the covers. The memory of last night burned just like the acid bubbling at the top of her stomach. Had she listened to Bane and stopped drinking in time, her mouth wouldn't feel like a trashcan. Had she followed him to the big house, by now she'd probably had breakfast in bed.

With a grunt she blindly patted the mattress in futile search for her phone. What time was it anyway?

Oppressive light flooded her vision when she finally grasped cool metal in her hands. The screen lit up instantly when she pushed a button. It was nearing noon. No missed calls, no messages.

The next morning after heavy drinking was never an easy ordeal. But one when she remembered making a complete and utter fool of herself was even worse. The moral hangover loomed over Helena's head like a bucket of ice, sure to tip and drench her to the core. Her stomach ached not only with heartburn. Anxiety grasped her firmly, lodging itself comfortably at the pit of her belly along with her sister - shame.

With a heavy heart Helena descended to the kitchen.

Glass strewn across the floor along with sticky remnants of a puddle of gin were yet another unwelcome and rude reminder of her behaviour.

Cleaning up gave her ample time to think over everything she said and did the day before. There was still a healthy heap of resentment towards Bane and his actions, but now its edge dulled, thanks to her pitiful outburst.

What was he thinking about her now?

Breakfast looked less than enticing, but logically Helena knew she had to eat something to help process the leftover alcohol from her system. And all other nasty by-products of drinking in excess. With a resigned huff, she took out a small pan and filled it with water. Time to start the punishment, she thought as she rummaged the cabinet over the counter to get what she was looking for. Spelt groats. She'd add some butter and a pinch of salt and that would probably be all she'd eat for the rest of the day, if conversation with Bane turns bitter.

Not for the first time Helena sighed and shook her head, trying to get over her own stupidity. Usually she didn't have to care about the impression she made on men. But now, all of her hangups decided to bite her in the ass. An ironic twist, seeing how in the past decade she was never the one who cared most about keeping the relationship strong. Her boyfriends always tried just a little bit harder, gave her just a tad too much leeway. With Bane here, she didn't have a sympathetic ear of a friend to fall down to. She had to make it work with him, and for that - she needed to get a grip and start behaving like a grown-up.

Waiting for the water to boil, she stood by the stove, looking up into the skylight. By the looks of it, the day shaped out to be warm and lovely. Perfect for a stroll or a first al fresco meal of the year. If she wasn't such a bitch, she'd have her breakfast everyday with Bane. On a nice day like today probably at the terrace overlooking the sea; some freshly baked buns, or maybe a fry up, or a nice fruit salad…

Helena sighed, rubbing her eyes much like Bane did the night before. There was no point evading the problem, she'd just have to go to him and apologise.

She mulled over what to say all the time the food cooked away, and then with every spoonful she rebuked every unnecessary word until she distilled the perfect apology. Then she showered and put an extra effort into looking presentable. Heels didn't seem like the best idea after her little show of strutting down the gravel path, so she wore cute flats. A simple flowing dress with long sleeves and a deep v-cut neckline, her hair gathered in a loose fishbone braid she was looking like the very picture of innocence. She topped it off with some eyeliner and an extra brush of mascara over her lashes.

Now, if Bane didn't appreciate all that, she had her secret weapon under the dress. Just in case. He did have an especially soft spot for lacy lingerie.

The stroll over to the other cottage was surprisingly pleasant. April sun hid briefly behind rolling clouds and it was windy as ever, but even a surprisingly chilly breeze didn't manage to cool down Helena's zeal. The mission before her was clear and she was set on completing it, whatever the costs.

As always, she turned on the pathway to enter by the scenic seaside door. Neither Bane nor she ever used the main entrance to his house. Come to think of it, she barely even remembered it was there. Save for that one time when Grace called on them, and the other when an odd delivery dropped by with a package, that side of the building was blissfully calm and forgotten.

Maybe she should make an exception? With a shake of her head she dismissed the idea. There were many advantages to coming straight into the living room, and she needed all leverage she could get.

When she turned around the corner she could see Bane sitting on the sofa looking straight at her with not even a hint of surprise.

Of course he knew she was coming, the control freak that he was, Helena thought, trepidation once again coiling in her gut.

The door opened nearly noiselessly, letting in some of the crisp air with a howl of rolling gale. Helena's dress danced briefly in the draft, but soon settled into a curtain of soft, flowing folds.

"Hi," she said simply, keeping her palms still at the door handle, arms folded behind her back. It pushed her chest out nicely, and accentuated the delicate hollow at the base of her neck. She knew Bane appreciated it, when he cocked his head to the side, his gaze calculating.

He probably saw right through her anyway.

Helena's eyes set at the coffee table, her brows knitted in a frown. Dark wood hosted a plethora of things; simple silver handcuffs, some rope, duct tape, zip ties, hairpins, paper clips, pieces of wire, pens, Helena's gym shoes and a tan keffiyeh that looked surprisingly familiar.

"What's all this for?" The question was asked only after a quick gulp, her throat suddenly drier than it was in a while. She swallowed nervously and licked her lips.

"Exercise," Bane said, unfolding his arms and hooking them comfortably at the backrest on each side of him.

Helena gulped saliva down her parched throat again, but now for an entirely different reason than before. He sounded dark, and menacing, and his position put her right back into one afternoon back in the monastery. But this time it was apparently Bane's turn to call the shots.

"I came to apologise," she started, but he silenced her with a sparse movement of his right hand, cutting her speech short.

"Let's not stand on ceremony here."

The sentence, oddly formal in contradiction to its message, elicited a suspicious narrowing of Helena's eyes. Briefly, she wondered what could be his angle in this conversation.

But simple chatting wasn't what she came here to do. She was supposed to ask for forgiveness, whether he wanted to hear it, or not.

"I'm sorry for the way I behaved yesterday."

Curt nod was the only acknowledgement Bane extended before leaning even more comfortably on the couch and smirking at her.

"Come closer," he beckoned hoarsely, seductively.

Biting her lip she moved on autopilot down towards the sitting area. Her eyes darted towards Bane, then to the items on the table, and back to the man. Eyebrows knitted tightly together she stopped just outside of his reach.

"What is all this supposed to achieve?"

"It's an exercise," Bane repeated his explanation with an air of nonchalance defying seriousness in his eyes. "I will bind your hands, and reward you if you can get out."

Against herself, Helena scoffed and smiled. If that didn't sound enticing she wasn't sure what was. But then, this was definitely not something she had been expecting or indeed entertaining in her fantasies. Not for this day, or any other.

A memory flashed behind her eyelids.

"And what will be my prize?"

He smiled, a minute twitch of his lips upwards, slight deepening of crow's feet around his eyes the giveaways of recollection he shared with her. However, his gaze stayed steely and keenly focused on Helena, calculating and clinical.

"I could fuck you."

Now, wasn't that a good idea, Helena thought bitterly. Only twelve hours too late, and delivered in a tone of voice that left a lot of room in speculation of Bane's willingness.

"I'd rather you accept my apology and understand how remorseful I feel about my behaviour yesterday," she found herself saying. "Even though someone once told me apology is politeness too late, I still think it's good to be polite even after the damage was done."

"A woman with her own mind," he commented.

Helena didn't know how to interpret his words, or his behaviour as a matter of fact, so she did what she always did in times like these. She charged into the situation head on. Two measured steps brought her to the couch, where she daintily sat beside Bane.

"Am I to understand my apology is accepted then?"

He angled his body towards her and with his left hand picked up a stray lock of Helena's hair. For a little while he contemplated the intricate coiling of curls before him, loose enough to let one strand escape.

"There is no need for gestures like that between us. We're beyond that level of acquaintance."

Only a brief flaring of her nostrils signalled Helena's difference of opinion. She decided it was a battle she probably should fight later. Right now she had a more interesting problem to detangle, like the reason why Bane was caressing her neck while reaching for a piece of equipment from the coffee table.

"So what about that exercise?" she asked absentmindedly.

"I feel like we need to make provisions for the future," was Bane's cryptic answer.

Pads of his fingers slid up towards Helena's ear, then softly buried in the hair at her nape. She let her head fall back.

"Why won't you make anything easy for me?" The complaint was half-hearted, the delivery warped by the smile audible in her voice.

Bane shifted and gently circled her waist with his other hand, angling her head back up. His lips, warm and dry, caressed the skin on her temple.

"Let's make a deal. I'll accept your apology as your reward, if you complete the exercise I had in mind for you, shall we?"

"What?" The surprise made Helena sit up straight, leaving the deceptive comfort of Bane's embrace.

His hands didn't fall from her body. Instead, with an amazing alacrity, Bane gathered both Helena's wrists in his palms.

"What are you doing?" She asked mildly, irritation lacing her words more than worry when he changed the grip, clutching her wrists in one hand and reached towards the table with the other.

Five seconds later she had her answer. Her eyes darted between Bane's eyes and the handcuffs he slid towards their joined palms.

"You wouldn't!"

A sudden yank unbalanced her, and brought her almost to his lap. With a chatter of metal the lock snapped first on one wrist…

"Bane what the fuck are you…" she yelled, as he pulled her.

...and then on the other.

"...Doing?" Helena finished weakly looking incredulously at her bound hands.

Bane helped her straighten up and for the first time that day he smiled at her earnestly.

"I told you. I handcuffed you. If you manage to free yourself I'll accept your apology. Don't worry, since it's your first time, I'll talk you through it."

"Oh, and how do you know I've never done it before?" Helena spat out reflexively.

"Very well. Figure it out yourself," Bane taunted.

Sprawling on the sofa like a satisfied tiger once more, he watched her with a smirk.

With a scoff Helena gave the cuffs an experimental yank.

"This is ridiculous," she complained.

Cold metal chafed delicate skin on her wrists, the rings unyielding and seemingly immovable.

"I know there's a trick to it, I just don't remember what it was," she murmured under her breath.

"Do you want me to tell you?" asked Bane.

"No, thank you," Helena said spitefully.

He just sighed, never taking his eyes off her.

The clouds shifted and suddenly almost all light disappeared. Helena struggled with the cuffs, to no avail.

"How is this preparing me for anything?" Her voice was completely stripped of any warmth or amusement. "This is pointless."

"It's important you know how to behave if someone takes you."

"You can't be serious."

Bane didn't react to her laugh.

"Come on, who is going to 'take me', huh?"

"There are several possibilities. Agent Brown. League of Shadows. A plethora of people whom friends and loved ones I killed. Take your pick."

She was surprised at his menacing list.

"You're not joking."

"Indeed, I'm not."

With all of her force of will Helena stopped a derisive snort. Instead she drew in a calming breath.

"You can't just decide it's time for me to learn this shit. I understand your fears, but you have to make accommodations for me…"

Before she could begin her lecture for good, Bane shifted in his seat, folding his arms on his chest and nearly sneering a question back at her.

"What are your accommodations towards me? What will you allow?"

Helena's mind didn't supply any satisfactory answers, so she decided to play dumb.

"I don't understand."

"You have had many demands since I came here. You wish to stay in Norway, even though it's not safe. So we both stay. You wish to have your own space, a place only for yourself and your work. So you have your own cottage, separate from my home. You wished to pretend we weren't together, even though both you and I fail at this at every conjuncture. You wish to control the situation at all times - and here you deny me the freedom you so nonchalantly give to yourself. Have you ever notified me of your excursions, were I not a part of them?"

"No, but that's only because I don't go anywhere but to the nearest town."

"But on that principle you deny me going anywhere else."

"That's not what I meant yesterday!" Helena's voice rose, the strain to contain her frustration too much to bear. "I don't resent you going, I just want to know what's happening. I'm no longer your captive, but you still treat me as such. I deserve better."

"You still treat me as if I had a debt to pay."

"Oh," was all Helena could say. The realization of her own misgivings hit her suddenly. No wonder Bane couldn't find his footing - she kept on making demands on him, fighting him every step of the way. Even now, when she came to apologise, she wanted to do it on her own terms, regardless of Bane's plans and feelings.

"You will learn how to escape every type of restraint. For your safety." The anger on his face dissipated, showing the vulnerability underneath. Concern. Anxiety.

How stupid was fighting, when all both of them wanted was to protect each other?

"Okay," she meekly agreed.

Her reward was a warm smile and a quick kiss on her hair, which made her curled up nerves untangle by a fraction.

"Let me show you how to start on the handcuffs," offered Bane.

Helena nodded, and in seconds her position changed. Bane turned her around, plastering her back to his chest, surrounding her with his arms. When he spoke, his breath warmed the skin behind her ear.

"You should wear hairpins, they would make this much easier."

His produced a pin, seemingly out of thin air.

"Now, you have to prepare it, before you can try to use it. I'll do it for you."

Helena watched as he unfolded the thin strip of metal easily between two fingers.

"It won't be of any use yet, we need to bend just the tip to create a makeshift key," he murmured straight into her ear. The vibrations sent a shiver down Helena's back. Bane was solid as a rock, cocooning her in the heat of his body.

As if mesmerized, she observed the pin being manipulated before here.

"It should look like this. Now you try."

He gave her another pin and rubbed his cheek on her neck. His skin was smooth. Fleeting disappointment tinged Helena's absentminded smile. The caress was short and unsatisfying. She wished Bane didn't shave that morning. Or that he still had his mask on.

Before she could mull over the last thought, she focused on the task at hand. Bending the pin looked like childsplay when Bane did it, but when the push came to shove, it turned out harder than Helena expected.

"Good, use the opening of the lock to apply pressure, right there," Banes' steady voice couched her through the process. "Very well, it looks just like mine, look."

The encouragement made Helena all kinds of satisfied.

She spent the rest of the afternoon practicing.

oOo

The days after the funeral passed slowly in a well-established routine.

One of the evenings Bane found himself on his couch, Helena's sleeping form draped partially across him, remnants of dinner at the coffee table, fire crackling to his right.

There was something oddly comforting about Helena. Mostly because she wasn't made for killing like Bane and his closest allies; in fact the opposite was true. Where he was battle-hardened and brutal, she had to be careful and gentle.

But still she didn't shy away from violence when the need arose.

Bane contemplated the sunset, stroking slowly Helena's hair. The rays struck crystal-bright on the water, just as the memory of his comrades struck hot and sharp in his chest. The life he lived before was eating him from the inside. Had he endured another decade Bane was sure he would be left with only ashes inside, void of any trace of humanity he still had left. In a way, Gotham was a lifeline. Talia, the only reason he worked for years towards the siege, was gone. There was no revenge to be had - her madness killed her, as surely as a bullet. The only thing he regretted was not being able to help her, to see the rot in her soul sooner. But then, he had his own mind to save now.

And perhaps, with Helena's help, he would be able to do it.

For the longest time he felt weary. Now, he needed a moment's respite.

The woman in his lap stirred, sighing deeply as she woke up. Her nose brushed on the tender skin at the side of his neck, her warm breath caressed the fine hair at his nape. Everything she did to him was pleasant.

Well, almost everything, Bane thought with amusement.

"Why are you still awake?" she asked accusingly. "I don't think you slept at all yesterday."

"I'm rested enough," he argued. The truth was, her presence calmed him like nothing else.

"Are you afraid to fall asleep, Bane? Afraid of the nightmares?"

"They come even when I'm not sleeping."

"So why deprive yourself of rest?"

"I'm not. I don't need it at the moment," he insisted.

Helena sighed and straightened fully, stretching her arms way above her head.

"One of these days we're going to have to tackle that issue," she warned, "But luckily for you, tonight I'm going to let it go. Come with me to bed?"

The idea was tempting, but Bane only smiled, a hint of sadness hidden in the corners of his mouth.

"Perhaps later."

"Yeah, right…"

He watched her stroll towards the corridor in the blurry reflection on the window. Beyond the glass the sea, couloured red with the setting sun, lapped at the rocks on the shore beneath the house in an unending dance. The tint of sunlight, an odd mixture of red, purple and orange was unique, but oddly familiar.

Something moved in his peripheral vision. Muscles around his spine tensed, even though Bane made no change in his posture.

There was no sound, even the faint roar of wind got muffled. Out of nowhere, he heard an echo of helicopter blades cutting the air. The roar of an engine mixed with a steady metallic thump of recoil, spent shells tinkling like windchimes. The smell of gunpowder filled his nostrils, as if he was inside the machine, overpowering even the ever present acrid stench of Venom.

Bane turned his head to the dark silhouette on his left.

The shadow in his peripheral crystallized into Barsad, smirking confidently over his arm, then turning back to his rifle to shoot selected sites. Even at high speed he could do tremendous damage, provided the target was big enough. Behind him, the unreal glow of the sunset painted buildings in a fantastic shade of purple.

The mission was over, and they just had to return to base.

Bane grinned back and gripped harder the reassuring heft of the gun.

His fingers closed over the soft fabric of a blanket.

The memory vanished in a fraction of a second, leaving Bane motionless as a statue. He still felt the pride and warm sense of camaraderie, mixed with an adrenaline rush of excitement. Barsad by his side, all the power he ever wanted at his fingertips. - that felt right. It was something he was built to do.

Fading light blurred lines around him, ironically accentuating the coziness of his home. It felt wrong. Even the lack of mask on his face was suddenly aberrant. The sense recollection of its weight was lodged so deeply in his mind by the years of habit, that the current freedom for a brief flicker felt dangerous like a freefall. As if the pain would creep up in a great, crippling wave, once again.

It didn't, Bane realized while forcefully slowing his suddenly quickened breath. But the peace he felt in his daily life, at once familiar and unfamiliar, was marred by a strong current of apprehension. Fear was not a feeling Bane was ever comfortable with.

A tired sigh escaped his lips, his chest heaving under the weight of realization.

The time has come to listen to what his stubborn Scribe was telling him all along.

"It is the nature of everything. Consequences must be paid," Bane said to himself sententiously.

oOo

The wind caressed thin muslin curtains, sending blotches of light and shadow through the window to the opposite wall. The mosaic of bright and dark spots was mesmerising, ever shifting like flowing water. Birds chirped incessantly, hidden in thick mass of naked branches of the trees in the courtyard. One was almost able to taste the sweetness of spring air.

Bane counted the seconds since he entered the psychiatrist office. After a minute he catalogued absolutely everything there was in the room, assessed the doctor as a threat and devised five scenarios of retreat.

Time passed, and still both men were sitting wordlessly, letting the clock measure with a steady cadence how the seconds trickled by them.

"Any minute now you'll run out of things you can think about without me providing you additional data," Bane said eventually.

He stared at the doctor idly, an unreadable expression firmly in place.

"Is that so?"

"I don't need much context to get to some conclusions, however I gather you expect me to provide you with information."

"My work is impossible without it."

"Indeed."

Bane didn't volunteer any more insights, but it didn't deter the therapist in the least.

"We should discuss the type of therapy I'd like to try with you. For that I need an introduction of your particular challenges."

"I've filled out the questionnaire."

"So you have. Are you willing to try pharmaceuticals, should the need arise?"

"Perhaps."

"Are you doing this for yourself, or for someone else?"

The knowing smile on the doctors face infuriated Bane. Was he that typical? Impossible. There was hardly anyone in the world with his history, abilities and mind. The doctor committed a common mistake of assuming too much on too little information. Prideful. Foolish.

Stretching silence didn't go unnoticed.

"I saw the woman who came here with you. Who is she?" The therapist asked.

"She's my… companion. Bane said with minimal hesitation.

Regardless, the minute pause was there, and a rapid scribble of the doctors told Bane that the man noticed. And again, drew his own conclusions.

"Do you two live together?"

"No."

"Did she take time off work to come here with you?"

"She doesn't have a nine-to-five job."

"What does she do?"

"She's a calligrapher. An artist."

"How did you two know each other?"

"I'm not here to talk about her."

"What are you here to talk about?"

Bane clammed up again, his face morphing into an impenetrable mask.

"From the form you filled out I can see that you suffer from various ailments. Insomnia. Hallucinations. Anxiety."

"You make me sound like a child."

"Do you think only children suffer from those things?"

"I didn't know them when i was a child."

"And now you don't have tools to deal with them."

The stark realization was clearly visible in bane's eyes, despite his icy exterior.

"It's not that simple, of course. Even if you dealt with some problems or trauma as a child, there's a high probability you still would struggle to cope now. I read that you had distressing experiences in the past year."

"The siege…" Bane whispered.

"Yes, Gotham."

"I won't talk about it."

"We don't have to."

"At all?" The mockery in Bane's voice didn't leave any room for doubt on his stance on the matter.

"At this point," the therapist clarified. "If that experience is what causes your difficulties, at some point you'll have to revisit that period of your life, whether with my help or without it."

"And what if there's something else?"

"Then we'll talk about that."

"How are you archiving patient notes?"

Even if the question surprised the doctor, he had the fortitude not to show it. His face wasn't mostly immobile like Bane's, but he had a serene half-smile, like a slightly disinterested saint.

"Every patient is assigned a number. I keep the files in a locked strongbox, and the notes are not bound. I make no recordings."

"Did you have any break-ins here?"

"No, we haven't yet."

"Yet. Who would want to access your patients files?"

"You tell me."

This time the silence that followed was short. The doctor grinned.

"Did I pass?"

"Perhaps."

But Bane's smile was similarly amused as the doctors. He let the man lead the rest of the conversation, nodding from time to time. They discussed the basics with the same rapid-fire pace.

"Now that the preliminaries are behind us, and I still have…" the doctor looked at the clock, "About ten minutes of your time, I'd like to ask you something. I have a thing I like to do with my patients. If you're willing to try, of course."

"What is it?"

The therapist got up, grinning even wider than before.

"Are you okay with a little violence?" he asked.

Bane arched up one of his eyebrows in response.

"I need a verbal affirmation."

"I'm fine, as long as we keep a safe distance and the violence won't be physically harmful."

"Good."

oOo

There was a loud bang. Then another, and a rapid series of softer tapping. Next, a muffled shriek came from inside the office, clearly strangled towards the end.

Helena's head snapped abruptly up from the magazine she was reading, worried eyes immediately fixed on the mahogany wood barring the entrance to the psychologist's office.

All noise ceased.

She frowned and moved to get up, her reading material all but forgotten, the magazine sliding down her thighs with a soft rustle of rapidly moving sheets of paper.

"It should be fine," the receptionist noted from behind her fortress-like, high countered desk. "That happens sometimes, especially in the beginning." Her voice was reassuringly dull. As if something violent was indeed just an everyday occurrence. Easy and predictable.

She spent an excruciating five minutes listening intently to the faint noises coming from behind the closed door.

Abruptly the mahogany plane shifted, and Bane came out with a satisfied grin plastered all across his face.

"Are you okay?" Helena mouthed, taking advantage of the fact that his broad shoulders briefly shielded her from the receptionist's gaze.

A quick curt nod was enough to put her at ease.

Behind Bane, a short man peeked out of the office. His blonde hair was liberally dusted with grey, and the deep wrinkles around his eyes were clearly visible even from the distance.

"Marit, could you bring a dustpan please?"

Bane said his goodbyes and they left, strolling leisurely to the car.

Helena forced herself to stay silent as long as she could. No sooner than the door closed, she twisted in her seat and asked Bane excitedly, "So, how was it?"

He smiled and leaned in to give her a small peck on the lips.

"You won, I have a therapist now."

Helena was so happy, the question about the mysterious noise evaporated from her mind.