Complete and utter pain.

That's all I could register when my eyes flashed open. A silent cry left my throat and my face twisted in suffering. I cringed after letting out a shaky breath as my dry lips cracked and bled. Slowly my eyes adjusted to the blinding light. A shadow moved to my left and I struggled to get away. My arms shook violently and I cried out, knives of pain running up and down my body.

"I was wondering if you decided to make your new home in that head of yours." Barsad's voice was light and he placed a hand on my shoulder to steady me as I sat up. I was on a bed, but this wasn't the room I had been kept in the last time. This one was much larger and had more sophistication in decoration. Glass vases and statues took up the majority of the vast room, trophies from travels I suspected. The walls were crimson and glittering shapes that were casted through the glass statues sauntered across the expanse. The modern styled bed took up the rest of the space and the silken bed sheets swallowed my form. This must be Daggett's room.

And he's dead.

I blanched and felt a potent bile storm rising from my stomach. I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten. My stomach was threatening to cannibalize itself and the pain was immobilizing. Barsad released my shoulder once I came to sit up against the headboard, my back aching every time I moved. I ran my eyes down my arms and they widened at the purples and blues that camouflaged my skin.

"You've been out for a couple of days." I turned to him. The mercenary frowned. "Understandable really." He held his arm out and in his hand was a plate of food.

I perked up just enough to ignore the pain. I took it from his hands, looking over everything to make sure it was real. The scent of smoking sausage sparked me into life and without a second thought, I started to eat. He sat down on the edge of the bed and watched me.

I tore at the food, my hands the claws of a ravenous and snarling creature. He snatched the plate away from me. The mercenary kept brandishing the food, tantalizing and taunting me as his smile grew each time I reached for it.

Cheeky fucker. I scowled.

"Ye eat too fast," He regarded me like a child before handing the plate back. "Eat it slow and ye'll get your strength back."

"Wait…did you just…" Only now my mind registered what he said earlier. "I've been out for two days?" I sunk my teeth into the sausage and reveled as the juices filled my mouth. Scrutinizing Barsad only resulted in his grin stretching and a twinkle taking to his eye.

"Yes, Bane should be back tomorrow."

FUCK! He was gone and I didn't wake up until fucking now? My luck.

My blood boiled at the mention of that creature's name. I drug my eyes away from Barsad and looked to the scarlet bed sheets, willing them to catch fire. Images of a bloody Batman…No, Bruce Goddamn Wayne…and Bane's terror-inducing mask resurged behind my eyes. The shining of iridescent blood and the snarled tubes of his mouth taunted me.

"No offense, Finley…" Barsad drawled and I snapped back to Daggett's room when he took the plate from my hands. "But ya smell like a dead animal."

"I feel like a dead animal." I sniffed down at myself and nearly vomited. "I need to scrub myself with acid."

I shifted and groaned, fighting to sit up. I pushed myself along the bed and Barsad only watched, amused at my position. Supine on my back, I slid myself along the silk sheets. I probably looked ridiculous, but my muscles screamed with misery. Barsad stood from the edge of the bed and brought me to standing by pulling me up by my arms. For a mercenary and a killer, he was incredibly gentle. I was grateful for that.

"Acid is a tidbit extreme, doctor." He chuckled and put my arm over his shoulder. "But I have heard rumors that water and soap works just as well."

He guided me while I hobbled to what had been Daggett's luxurious bathroom. The shower had obviously been built for two, along with the elaborate antique bathtub that hurt me to look at.

Arrogant prick.

I shook my arm off Barsad and leaned heavily on the counter. I paled at the sight of my clothes in the mirror. Without thinking, I reached down to lift the blood and sewer filth stained shirt from my lanky frame. My stiff arms protested, the torn fabric refusing to rise higher than my stomach. I whimpered and shut my eyes.

Unfamiliar hands started to lift my shirt. I screamed, gasping for air as my chest tensed up with fear. I slapped at the hands in reflex, spinning on my good heel to face the mercenary behind me.

Barsad held his hands up in defense, palms facing me. He lowered his head in respect, looking up at me from under his brow..

"I'm not going to touch you if that's what you're thinking."

I remained tense despite the kindness in his voice and backed further away, keeping my eyes fixed on him.

"He'd kill me if I did anything to you." He frowned, lowering his hands. "I was going to help you, but if you think you can do it, be my guest."

He had a point.

I lowered my hands from my shirt and slumped. I turned my back to him.

"If you do anything weird…"

"Wouldn't dream of it." His accented voice cut me off and he lifted my shirt, carefully pulling it over my raised and trembling arms. I hissed at the pain, closing my eyes. He lifted the shirt from my head and tossed it away. His fingers brushed my back as he unfastened my bra and I yelped. The flimsy piece of clothing fell from me, leaving me in nothing but my underwear and sweatpants. My arms wrapped over my chest, giving me some privacy to this foreign man. I opened my eyes and looked to the mirror where my reflection looked back at me.

"Holy shit." I let out a breath. Barsad's brow rose as he met my eyes in the mirror.

I turned this way and that, looking over myself. My back looked like an angry map of the world. Bruises trailed along my back and shoulders. Purple, grey, and yellow.

Pounding blows bludgeoned my back, jostling my teeth and disrupting my heart beat. Looking up, seeing the tempestuous fury that was Bane's eyes as he watched his men pummel me. He regarded my pain with apathy, pulling me up and to him. Wrapped in arms that felt like a coffin. Arms that should have struck the nail into my death sentence.

My ribs poked through my torso, but some meat managed to keep my hips from looking too skeletal. I wanted to cry at the sight of myself. I looked like walking death.

"For a tiny sprite like yourself, that beating should have killed you." Barsad spoke up, distracting me. "But you're still breathing."

That I could take an ungodly amount of beating? That wasn't something to be proud of. I shouldn't have been in that situation in the first place. Or this situation. My place was in my apartment, surrounded by dust and faded memories. I grimaced.

I turned my head away from the mirror. I reached one hand down and untied the string of my pants, letting them slide down my hips. I settled onto the toilet seat, mindful to cover my bare chest. Barsad knelt down and pulled the pants over my gnarled foot, throwing them aside with everything else. He stood and backed away. He was smart enough to know that my underwear was my territory and no one else's.

He closed his eyes as I hooked my thumbs into my underwear, sliding the flimsy fabric from me. I kept my eyes on him as I struggled to the shower.

"You'll have your privacy, but I'm on strict orders to not leave you alone." Barsad spoke up outside as I fumbled with the knobs. I threw on the hot water. A sharp hiss escaped me as the water pounded violently into my back. An all too familiar feeling. Blindly I grabbed for the shower seat, setting my bottom onto the cool glass.

Even his shower is glass. I bet he pissed gold and shit diamonds.

Hot tears leaked from my eyes at the pain, but I managed to stay under the aquatic assault. The heat numbed me and after a few moments, the torment was replaced with sweet pleasure.

"Why do you take orders from him? Why follow him?" I spoke loudly over the roar of the shower, weakly using my arms to rub myself down with a bar of flowery smelling soap. Bending at the waist, I ran my hands up and down my legs. Filth that had accumulated over the days washed down the drain, leaving my skin pink.

Fuck, I'm turning into a bear.

I needed a good shave. I reached up and swore as my hand knocked down a razor that had been resting on a tiled shelf in the shower.

"Because." He finally answered.

"Compared to the others, you have a mind of your own." I sincerely questioned as I groomed myself, enjoying the feel of being smooth again.

"That's why I follow him, Finley." His voice was filled with absolution and that startled me.

…What?

"What does that mean?" The water numbed me enough to where I could reach and scrub my hair with shampoo, fighting to detangle it. The fresh smells and steam of the shower filled the room. The glass of the shower was foggy, obscuring my view of Barsad's relaxed figure. I heard him shift and saw him turn to sit on the counter.

"The first time I met Bane was when I tried to kill him."

Holy shit. I paused my movements, the torrential downpour the solitary sound that permeated through the room.

He went on with slight reluctance tugging at his voice. "Work was hard to find, so I figured that…" He paused, searching for his words. "Making my talents available was my best bet. Some people are good at healing other people, like you, but me…" He stopped at the sound of me stepping from the shower, shiny and new. His eyes were shut tight, which I liked to think they were like that the entirety of my shower. I gimped past his seated figure and grabbed a towel from the rack, quickly drying my tender skin and hair before wrapping myself in it and gimping out of the bathroom. I sat on the edge of the gigantic bed and the tips of my toes grazed the fluffy carpet. Barsad had followed me, keeping a decent space in the instance that I had collapsed.

How did a man who seemed decent enough find himself in Bane's company? Willingly? I looked to him with confusion as he settled himself into the plush armchair across the foot of the bed. Glass statues surrounded the armchair. With his ragtag armor and all around scruffy appearance, the glamour of this place didn't seem to suit him.

"I was good at killing. Particularly from a distance." He laced his fingers together and leaned back, propping his foot upon his knee. "Never miss a shot either."

I was starting to become used to how casual men spoke about killing each other, I realized bitterly.

"Yeah?" I broke the silence awkwardly.

"So, naturally, word got around and soon enough, I was getting jobs. A job was a job and money was money. After a few months of assassinating farmers who were making too much profit and rival businessmen, a peculiar job showed up at my door." He looked down at his hands as he twiddled his thumbs.

"There was a man in Africa, trying to start an uprising of workers in some construction company." He waved his hand dismissively. "I didn't find out later that it was a staged coup, Daggett's idea, but the man starting it went by the name of Bane. My contractor wanted me to kill him before it got out of hand. But not outright, he wanted it to be inconspicuous to prevent public outrage. Bane had built up quite a following by that time. I had to…"He drawled off, looking away from me. "For lack of a better term, get close to him."

"I hate to interrupt, but why are you telling me this?" I rubbed at my neck. A nervous habit.

He looked to me with a thoughtful gaze. "It might be best if you knew of Bane's other facets."

"The first time I asked, he shot that plane down fast." I was skeptical of Barsad's actions. "And your loyal to him, so why tell an outsider?"

He wasn't affected by my scrutiny.

"You said it yourself; I have a mind of my own." His lips upturned.

Barsad isn't all too bad, but be careful Finn. Nothing is ever what it seems.

I veered off from that course and back to our previous one.

"Bane…was a construction worker?" I tried to wrap my head around the idea. I couldn't picture the impervious Bane hammering away at stone like a commoner. "Why didn't you kill him?"

"Reasons." His eyes cut into me. "He was for a short time, however long Daggett needed him to stay there. I eased myself in with no difficulty." He furrowed his brow, trying to reel in the memory from the back of his head. "But Bane…he knew."

"Knew what? That you were there to kill him?" I piped up, wrapping myself tightly in my arms.

"Yes. He came to me at night, when all the others had gone off to sleep, and simply asked me why. Interesting question: Why?" He peered over at me, sky blue eyes seeing into me. "Makes you think over every second of your life. I tried to find reasons to piece together to give validation to why I should kill this man. I told him for the money. And he only laughed."

"He holds no belief in the power of money or the power of politicians." He shook his head and waved his hands. "He told me how disappointed he was to find out that I was using my skillset for corrupt and twisted men." Blue eyes cast downward and his hands stopped moving, resting on his thighs. "He had an idea. To tear apart the established order from the inside and to burn the men who sat atop their thrones, to give the people what they deserved and rightfully earned." His head picked back up, eyes blazing, and cleared his throat. "My family had been killed by men of established order who sat atop golden thrones…So when Bane offered me a place by his side, saying no wasn't an option."

So Bane is a Robin Hood to these men…but he's been diluted by Miranda?

"Where does Miranda play into this?"

His lips pulled tight, hiding behind the scruff of his facial hair.

"That's a weighted question."

His voice held warning, but I pressed on.

"She holds something over him, but what?"

He sat up abruptly, taking the few steps it took to get to me. He knelt down to my eye level and I looked away, zoning in on a marble sculpture of a panther. Why was he so close? My face burned and I almost regretted that I tried to squeeze it out of him.

"I have a place. Bane wouldn't be happy if I were to tell you that." His voice was lowered as he inspected the bruises on my skin. The hair on my arms rose from nervousness.

"After everything I've been through with you people…" Some strength returned to my voice. "I deserve to be told one damn thing."

His lips pursed.

"Think of the strongest emotion that you can humanly feel. That's what she holds over him."

His answer was cryptic and I ached to understand it. I sorted through every feeling in my head and my face constricted in painful thought.

Until I managed to pull one word out from the chasm that was my head.

"Hate?"

Barsad gave a soft chuckle. "Maybe in yer case, but not his. Love was what I was looking for."

This mercenary, Bane's lieutenant, confirmed the suspicions I had been holding. Bane did love her, that wretched black queen whose poisoned words oozed from perfectly red lips.

Hold up. He can feel love?

At some point in time, Bane's heart had been filled not with the inferno of hate, but the burning embers of passion? No, that couldn't be possible. Bane wasn't the type to feel any pleasant emotion. But what did I know?

Barsad observed my face as it went through its changes from outright horror to unadulterated confusion. Knees popped as Barsad stood, a deep groan rising from his chest. My gray eyes followed him. His heavy boots scuffed the floor as he moved away from me.

"Barsad…Does she…" I waited for him to turn to me. "Does she love him back?"

His hand hovered over the door knob as he turned to look at me.

"I wouldn't want to be the one to tell him otherwise, love. Your belongings are in the drawers by the tiger statue."

With that, he left me to my own solitude, but kept the door slightly ajar. I exhaled slowly and closed my eyes.

My hand drifted to my throat and my fingernails brushed along the skin. I clasped my throat gently, fitting my hand onto the bruise that was no doubt there. I imagined the feel of his rough hand, enclosing my neck in a life-threatening vice.

He would spill blood for her. Wage a meaningless war for her. He would kill innocents, all for the blind hope she'd return his affection. He would die for her if she commanded it. I dropped my hand from my throat and looked at my hands. The bruises I had were nothing compared to the internal scars and old wounds that Bane kept hidden, up high on the golden pedestal he held that abhorring woman on.

Hers would be the face upon the banner he waved when the ships sailed and war began.

That thought startled me from my reverie and I stood from the bed, hobbling to where Barsad told me my things would be. The drawers were tucked into the farthest corner from the bed, along the wall where the door hung ajar. A glass desk was tucked tightly beside it.

Well, I won't have to move very far.

I dropped the towel and dug through the drawers, pulling out an old sports bra and a pair of panties, along with another pair of oversized sweatpants from my endless supply. I struggled to put them on, not without a few sharp yelps and hisses. My eyes watered in frustration. I dug through the drawer, my fingers brushing against rough yarn. I pulled the garment out and held it stretched out before me.

This…No.

It was her favorite sweater. Jen's. A faded dolphin smiled back at me from the sweater, the garment old and musky. An image, a memory, of ten year Jen going to school for the first time and wearing this sweater. I stumbled to the seat that waited in front of the desk, burrowing my face into the dolphin. It smelled like Selina's apartment. Egyptian musk and lavender that brought me to tears.

I finally brought myself to look at the desktop. The components of my criminal behavior were assorted on the clear desk, neatly displayed. My criminal behavior that got me into this mess and put me in the spotlight. My drug took me away from my sister. Even before this. She didn't like that I made it the first time. She said my job made enough money to where I didn't need to make the venom. But it didn't. I never told her that I was still paying off the financial aid that got me through college. Our family was poor and it got worse after our parents were arrested. They were appalling parents to begin with, but the alcohol made them worse. I had to raise Jen and protect her from them, take the blows I knew she couldn't handle.

She didn't even know they were dead. Sentenced to Arkham and the last I heard of them, they were victims in some kind of experimental drug scandal. Only thing I had left of them was the letter from a doctor at the Asylum, full of false apologies regarding my parents death.

I pushed Jen away early from me once the drugs started, to keep her safe. But I was wrong. I was wrong the whole time. I should have stayed with her and Selina. We could have been together at this moment, just like old times. What would be different if I had never made the venom? Would Selina, Jen, and I be off somewhere only we knew, living for ourselves?

The silence in this unfamiliar room was forcing me to cut myself open and inspect myself. I hated what I saw. I loathed it. Scalding anger roiled in my chest and a cold depression encased me, keeping each locked and pent up together. I looked at the glinting end of a clean, unused syringe that rested on the desk. Only an arm's length away.

I was alone here. Barsad was friendly enough, but he was the right hand of Bane, who was being strung up by Miranda. I was a pawn, another plastic and expendable piece in this game.

Bane has this belief that he can bend me to his will. Mold me to fit precisely how he wants me to. Make be submit to his insatiable dominance.

You're wrong, Bane.

I wanted Jen to be here. I wanted to see her face, to tell her everything is okay. Lie to her again.

"Jen…" I moaned out and my lips quivered. My hands drifted along the cool glass of the desk, taking the clean syringe in hand. I went through the routine of filling it with morphine and the clear substance bubbled in the vial. I lazily eyed the bubbles, watching them as they stilled. I raised the syringe to the crook of my arm, inhaling the cold air sharply. I tapped the syringe, going through all of the steps an addict took. I had seen enough to know.

I was no longer Finley Robinson the highly acclaimed anesthesiologist—I didn't want to be her.

"You're just another patient, Finley. Here to take your own pain away." I pressed the needle to my skin. "They can't hurt me anymore. I won't let them."

The needle tore into the skin and I fed falsities into my veins until nothing was left. Like the first and only time I had done this, the morphine felt just as cold and unforgiving. The syringe fell from my grasp, suspended in motion. My weightless body floated, drifted from the seat and onto the carpet that cradled my skin like soft hands. Accepting hands that guided my agony away. My eyes fell shut and I spiraled into a black and white kaleidoscope of oblivion.

-line will be inserted here-

"It was his." A woman. Familiar.

"Wayne's?" A man. Also familiar.

Hushed voices. Harsh whispers. Words filtered into my dreamscape. I was pulled from my quiet void. My eyes barely opened, the stars from the windows waving at me. My hands groped at the carpet that tickled my palms. I kicked my legs as I tried to swim across the expanse of the floor, a low moan rising from my chest at my futile attempts. These voices were familiar and they were the only things I could grasp onto. My fingers pulled at the carpet.

"Yes…" The woman sounded ashamed, but her voice was that of a low hiss.

"Talia…will he be told?"

"T-Talia?" I didn't recognize the voice that left my lips. Speaking hurt and I laid my head back onto the ground, the fibers tickling and exciting the nerves in my face. My body felt numb and light. It was a lovely feeling.

Like a cloud. Cloud, cloud floating before it fades.

Fades forever.

Whose Talia?

"He doesn't need to know," She snapped. "And I will know if you tell him, Barsad."

"I have my own doctors to take care of this…" The woman paused. "Mistake."

I clung onto his name: Barsad. I knew that name. I let out a breathless giggle, remembering the blue eyed mercenary as I rolled onto my back. Shadows gathered in front of my eyes and stood overhead. Curious and murky creatures.

Not huge and mighty forms.

"But he deserves to know aft-"

"Do not raise your voice to me." Her ill-lighted voice silenced the man.

"I apologize." His voice lowered, but he didn't seem happy.

Happy like I was.

"Bane will never know and everything will go on as though it never happened." She continued on, clearly the one in charge of this obscure conversation.

The dark wisps reached for my face and I pawed at the air, batting the shadows away as I tried to grasp something solid to hold onto. My fingers brushed against something heavy, my hands feebly holding onto the arm of the chair. My body swayed and I fell back once more. My head spun violently and the chair crashed into the desk, the sound rocketing my nerves into a fritz.

"She's awake." The woman spoke with authority and the room became silent.

A beam of light fell over head and my eyes blinked furiously. I groaned and slapped my hands to my eyes. The light caused my head to throb and spots to obscure my vision. A heavy presence over the weightless shadows peeked my curiousity and I peeled my hands from my eyes. A figure loomed over me, smelling of incense and roses.

And blood.

"Gods, you're a pathetic sight." The accented voice of this looming figure startled me.

"Wha…?" I tried to speak. My lungs were lethargic, rising slowly and steadily to their own rhythm.

"A sad creature you are, Finley Robinson. No sadder than your sister, I suppose." She taunted me. I willed my hand to claw at the foot by my head, but they were sluggish. She was a giant standing over a measly rat. A heeled boot dug into my upturned palm. I felt the pressure, but the pain was nonexistent.

I choked out a laugh, forcing my vocal chords to work. "Your words can't hurt me anymore."

She gave a disgusted grunt, kicking my hand away. I pulled them to my sides. I started to hazily make out the details of her face. She was a beautiful, yet disgusting evil. She's what I imagine Lilith to look like. Or maybe she looked like Lilith. I couldn't tell.

"She's drugged, Talia. She can't do anything." Another figure stepped next to the woman. Colors started to bleed in from the edges of my view. I could make out the color of his eyes. An electric blue.

"She heard us." Her head turned to him as she spoke, the ringlets of her hair reminiscent of snakes.

"Heard something about a Wayne and you…" I garbled out.

Barsad. A quiet moan left my lips as reached for the man. Mind giving your pal Finley a hand? My body contorted on its own, unaware of its surroundings.

"The doctor will forget in the morning. Let's leave her be." He had a solemn urgency in his voice.

"For her sister's sake, I hope she does."

"Where are…?" I reached out for their retreating figures, my fingers hooking into the strap of a small boot. A woman's. The boot pulled back and came back to me sharply, striking me in the head, and for a moment, I believed that I could see the universe before stars burst behind my eyes like fireworks that signaled me to a place of rest.

The child-like hands of the carpet tickled my face as I awoke. They caressed me as I slid my eyes open, seeing the room through rose-tinted glasses.

"And she awakes." A deep voice grumbled, sending hot vibrations through my system.

He's back...

My head swayed. Heavy foot falls shook the room before hardened hands pulled me up from the floor, not caring to be gentle. My struggles did nothing against him. His body heat was overwhelming and intoxicating all at once. He lifted me over his shoulder and my hands gripped at his coat.

"Can I go back to where I was?" I mumbled, stretching out my hands to reach the carpet that seemed miles away. "I like that place better than being with you."

A loud crunch startled me and my eyes lazily rolled over to the ground underneath his feet. He lifted his foot and two broken syringes littered the carpet with sharp glass.

That's two…One more than I thought…No wonder the ground was so fluffy.

"The lengths you go to in my absence, doctor."

A/N: My word, I apologize for the wait my lovelies! School, work and all that shenanigans. I'll be putting chapters out when I can. And credit needs to go to my good friend Loretta Lolita for helping me big time on all these chapters. Some of the best moments wouldn't have happened if not for her. Best person ever. Anyway, I do hope you all know that I am using comic influences along with movie, so if anything sideswipes you, it's probably influenced by the comic. Haha. As always, let me know what you think!