A/N: Wow...four years is a long time not to update a fanfic, huh? Please don't hate me. Anyway, short chapter ahead, but hey, it's something! I'm currently working out the quirks of this story. Still love these two so much and I didn't want to stop writing, I just got busy.

Enjoy!

The Cold and Heartless

Chapter 16

Written by the league-ofshadows

They had handed her a bowl, a cracked wooden cradle to hold what was inside: wet cornmeal mixed with pungent spices. The consistency was thick and lumpy and it felt like paste in her mouth; tasteless and bare. But this was ritual. She had fared well enough for this long, there was no point in complaining now.

She had given up on trying to enjoy it after she figured it would be the only thing she would taste in her future; she didn't know really how long to anticipate it, in fact. It was a process now. Shovel, chew, swallow. She decided not to raise complaints, she knew that they would be lost amongst these men.

She sat in a solitary tent and listened as the flaps wrestled against the dry wind. She had no need for escorts, yet someone always insisted on taking her around wherever she went. It was not because they admired her time, it was because they believed she would try to escape if she was not thoroughly observed at every moment. She very nearly rolled her eyes at the thought; And where would she go? Her only time alone was when she sat and ate. So she spent it wisely.

She was tracing a pattern in the ugly brown food in her bowl. Her neck bent over and her shoulders held high. She exhaled loudly when she heard his footsteps approaching.

The tent entrance flap parted as he entered and Talia did not look up because she would not give him the satisfaction of her acknowledgement. The light brightly entered the tent and burned Talia's skin. Africa blazed with the heat from the bright sun. The air was dry, but it constantly carried various stenches. It almost always smelled like feces. Well, the dodgy end did anyway.

"Meal hours are over, time to return to work." She tilted her head and glanced down at his large boots, both laced tightly.

His accent was thick, and he was tall and thin, and always seemed unhealthy, for his skin color was a gross pale hue. He was German, but she couldn't remember where in Germany he hailed, exactly. Heigel-Klaude they called him, though Talia heard somewhere his first name started with a K; Klaus perhaps. He was unbearably intolerable in every manner. A nuisance that never truly seemed to just go away.

Talia placed her spoon in her bowl with a clatter and stood up, sliding the chair from behind her as she rose. She walked around and past Heigel-Klaude and stepped beyond the tent flaps, squinting from the abrupt sunlight. There was a young man, his complexion dark and his frown deep, who was waiting for her outside. Talia clenched her jaw and continued to walk quickly and as if she didn't see him. They were like flies, the lot of them.

Heigel-Klaude followed closely behind her. The insects chirped around her in the tall grass. Talia walked carefully along the path she knew would take her through the village to meet with the doctor.

The very one who treated her mother in the Pit.

"He never spoke after you left."

The doctor was unraveling a blanket to lay over a man who could not outrun his sickness. His face was wrinkled but he looked younger than before, she didn't know how.

Talia gripped the table tightly, her eyes shutting slowly, trying to maintain her composure. She wanted only to assist him in silence, but he always talked. And always about him.

"He rarely spoke, even when I was imprisoned." Her answer was sharp. She walked over to pick up one of the wounded's arm which had fallen off of his cot. "Can we not talk about him?"

The doctor sighed. He gave Talia no real name to go by, even when she asked, so he was just "the doctor" to her. The less she knew the better he explained, much to Talia's annoyance. "You rarely speak either." His eyes never left his work, "I only wish to disturb the silence."

"I don't want conversation." She lifted her head so she could look at the tent's flaps. She wanted out of here. She wanted fire. And vengeance.

"I understand, I only—"

"Perhaps you don't understand, then…" Talia hissed, her fingers folding into her palms.

"You are a servant of this trade by assignment." The doctor's tone was stern, but not necessarily harsh. "And you will treat this with respect. That includes practicing cooperation and civility." The doctor showed no signs of irritation as he slowly turned. He grabbed the syringes lying on a table beside a cot and walked over to Talia. She clenched her jaw, but loosened her fists. She looked down and took the syringes from his hand. Forcing herself to exhale away all of her irritation, Talia stared at the syringes in her hand for a small moment before she turned to dispose of them.

"Forgive me." She turned back to face the doctor. She made a conscious effort to soften her scowl and give him a small nod of acceptance. "I just—I don't want to talk about Bane."

It was M'har's face that was bruised the worst. There had been fractures to his cheekbone, stitches to his brow, jaw, and along his nose, and bleeding behind his left eye. The swelling of his right eye had faded partially, but he spent three weeks in the infirmary. And yet he felt no anger. He felt no need for vengeance. He only yearned for news of Talia.

He was informed after he woke one week in his recovery that Talia had been exiled. He soon learned that he was not allowed to ask questions. And without Talia, he had absolutely no access to Bane.

His failure to protect and return Talia to the base was the cause of his injuries and his failure alone. And yet, he knew that, had he not failed, Talia would not have been told to leave. Her disappearance was sentenced as abandonment, and the league would not house traitors. And that knowledge clawed at him. Clawed at him because he didn't fully understand why Bane sent her away. He couldn't understand Bane's motive. Bane knew Talia, knew that she would never betray him.

The dining hall was quite nearly empty. It was combat hour for the newer recruits and most of the experienced ate alone. M'har walked with difficulty to a table and sat down where he would not be bothered.

Unfortunately, Cresta sat down across from him, not acknowledging his wish to be left alone. M'har grimaced at the sight of her. She knew that he didn't want to be bothered and yet she persisted. "Do you think you can just shut out the world now?" She said, her eyes narrowing.

M'har leaned back, his eyes on her. He turned his head and noted all of the other empty tables at which she could have sat down before he inhaled sharply and turned to look at her. "I have already told you what I wish from you." Indicating to the many times he demanded her to leave him be.

Cresta pushed her tongue to her bottom teeth as she looked away and scoffed. "She isn't dead, Barsad. She is too strong, and Bane would never sentence her to death. He is watching her, protecting her still. If he wanted to have her killed, he would have made the order already."

M'har stood up quickly, leaning over the table and dangerously close to her face. "You think I am unaware of that?" He hissed. The other recruits turned to look but he did not give them his attention.

"I think it scares you." Cresta mentioned, still seated. "I believe you would rather have her dead than believe that she is enduring the punishment of being exiled from the only family she has ever known. Especially since she will never live to fulfil her true potential and become the heir to her father's legacy."

"I would never wish her dead, not while I am alive to answer what would follow." M'har began walking away. His fury had been tempted enough for his patience to follow and he would have no more of it. His thigh raged with pain as he tried to exit as quickly as possible.

"Africa is a long way to travel on an injured leg." Cresta finally stood up before she turned her back to walk away.

M'har exhaled sharply and clenched his jaw before answering. "What makes you think I am going to Africa? You think I would defy Bane?" Cresta raised an eyebrow. "I know my position in this establishment and…I cannot bring her back." M'har finished while he created a fist. The knowledge angered him, as he believed it always would. "There are things bigger than her." The last bit left a sour taste in his mouth.

Cresta turned and smiled at M'har but his eyes studied the floor. There was a restlessness in her physique, in her eyes. "What makes you so sure?"

M'har turned to leave but hesitated, and just as Cresta had stealthily entered, her exit was equally without notice.

"He has secured the rights in my absence."

A young mercenary held out a cell phone, the volume on speaker so the whole room could hear. Bane was confirming John Daggett that his confidant would not fail him, and he would be presented with the diamonds mining rights in Africa like they had agreed. Daggett was difficult to convince.

"I hired you, not some Nazi, to do my negotiating." Daggett responded on the other side of the phone. "You are testing my patience, Bane, and I don't want to have to order my men to go through your thugs before I get my diamonds."

Bane stood from the chair he resided in and walked over to the railing of the west wing. The mercenary followed a few steps, but maintained his distance, seemingly intimidated by his commander.

"A needless distress. You will get what you want." Bane answered. "And so shall we, in return."

"Yeah, yeah." Daggett very nearly growled. He was such a small man for his potential to act through tantrums. "Wayne has been back for almost a year now, don't you dare let him get those rights before me." He muttered something else under his breath before he ended the call. The mercenary retracted his arm and turned the phone off. He looked cautiously at Bane who did not acknowledge him.

Blanchet gave the young recruit a slight turn of his head to dismiss him. The rest of the room cleared out while Blanchet remained.

"I don't want to restate the obvious, but the Kraut hasn't updated since Tuesday." Blanchet walked over to Bane with slight amusement, his arms tightly crossed. Bane remained silent.

"If he can't get Daggett what he wants, we don't get what we want, remember?" Blanchet urged. Bane shifted, his body growing as he straightened. He looked straight ahead, nodding slightly, as if he had decided something or as if he were affirming a fact.

"She will complete her part." Bane answered hollowly, his voice rasped as he continued to nod. Blanchet flicked his eyes to the side to glance at him. Bane stepped aside, his body leading him to continue his work.

Talia would do whatever was necessary, Bane was sure of it.

The German dropped a packet of parchment in front of her the next day at breakfast. "Daggett wants his diamonds today, Talia."

Talia frowned, her hand stilled from pushing her food around, she looked up. "Excuse me?"

"Boss not tell you? You have one more job." Heigel-Klaude did not honor her by sitting, he looked ready to leave. "The mining rights—you are needed in order to get the approval from Bahnden Ezumi."

Talia stared up at him, shocked mostly. Boss? She no longer had a boss nor did she really ever have one. She knew who he was talking about, who wanted her help, and she clenched her jaw while she let her spoon rest along the side of the bowl. How dare he require her help? After what he did. "Exiled, in case you have forgotten, Klaude," She hissed, "means I do not belong to the League any more. I will not complete another task for—"

"You have the choice…" Heigel-Klaude paused, his eyes shutting slightly with annoyance, "…to concede and earn your way back in…" The German tapped the parchment, indicating for her to read it. "Or turn down the opportunity, and therefore never claim your vengeance."

Talia looked up at him, her eyes searching his. He finally looked at her, as if he would say "don't fuck this up, child." or "I've already put money in on your return." But he didn't. He muttered, "Clock is ticking.' and exited silently. Talia looked away, down to the parchment, and lightly squeezed the packet, her fingers stiff. A long moment paused, as she was deciding whether she should even open it.

Deciding almost, as if she really even wanted to return to the place that shunned her for miniscule reasons. Their rejection was not miniscule. So why should she gain a macro sense of forgiveness? Why should she display forgiveness for him to claim when he had twisted her reasoning and completely misunderstood everything she had done that night?

Time had given her a sense of enlightenment, and she was in no mood to find peace with Bane. Or the League.

Thinking long and hard if she wanted back in, she landed on the conclusion that she really just wanted one thing.

If she returned to the League, she would be able to kill Bruce Wayne. And she would have to swallow her pride for the greater good.

Bruce was physically smaller when she had last seen him, from watching the stories of him in the news years prior. Her father's training added mass to the billionaire. Now, as she watched pictures of him dance across the television under headlines along several variations of "BACK FROM THE DEAD" or "BRUCE WAYNE: RETURNED TO GOTHAM", Talia noticed how much he had grown. The League changed him, as it changed her. She wondered if it changed him mentally as much as it did physically. She wondered what her father taught him. What secrets she knew that he did not; and vice versa.

There was no body, there were no bones to recover after the train fell. The fire licked away any and all evidence that there was ever a man named Henri Ducard.

She had dealt with her grief. There was no one to comfort her, but her initial reaction was shock, so the soothing of her sadness wasn't necessary at the time. Talia didn't really acknowledge it until one morning when she couldn't find the medicine the doctor had asked her to retrieve and the stress triggered something else within her. She left the practice early, claiming to feel ill. She was composed until she was alone. It was poetic.

But she was past that now. She knew what needed to be done and who was responsible and she aimed her anger in that direction.

So when Heigel-Klaude passed her the papers that would lead her to her vengeance, she only hesitated momentarily. She didn't immediately respond because she knew that to complete the task they assigned, she would be brought back to Bane. And she feared that upon her return, she would stop hating him. And she couldn't allow that. Not now when she needed to rid herself of distractions and feelings. Things were easier when she hated him. The purpose was better cemented within her being with no distractions.

She needed to focus on the mission ahead and use her femininity to her advantage. After all, she was the only applicant for the job, because as Talia would come to understand, Bahnden Ezumi had seen her before, and he wished to buy her. Buy her as his wife. Buy her like an animal.

Talia had come to understand that there were fifteen men that needed to be persuaded for John Daggett to completely control the merge of targeted West African diamond mining rights within his company, Daggett Industries. The company Bahnden Ezumi owned had four of the fifteen working for him. The remaining had already been persuaded to join Daggett's cause.

The packet was simple; easy to understand. Talia would be turned over to Ezumi's care where she would live out the duties as his wife. For however long it took. The others, the four men, desired money and connections to America, but Ezumi wanted Talia.

He had first seen her when he was summoned to the camp to be persuaded and to discuss possible distribution procedures. Talia was growing her hair out and had it pulled back enough so that none but the small whisps, too short to be caught in the band, would be away from her face. She was angry that day, her mouth in a constant frown. She had failed to display proper medical examination procedure and she had also found a dead butterfly's wing caught in a brush just outside of her tent, reminding her of Bane. She was wrapped in a shawl made of black material and was walking to the front tent for her meal. She did not see him glance at her, fully taking in her anger as well as her beauty.

So when the time came to negotiate price, Ezumi mentioned he wanted the woman from the camp. It didn't take long for Heigel-Klaude to figure out who exactly who he was referring to.

Bane was informed of the negotiations set. He was sure that Talia would do whatever necessary to ensure her place in the League once more, which caused his teeth to grit.

He hoped he was wrong about her determination.

"Talia…"

Her eyes flickered to Ezumi's. She didn't say a word. She already knew what he was going to say. What he was going to tell her to do. What she needed to take off.

The ceremony was hardly that. Her marriage to Ezumi was private and discreet. Traditional to his culture, but rushed. His old wife need not know. Talia found it despicable that he would wed her while he was already wed, but she understood the business deal. And her views on polygamy were not a matter of discussion as of late.

Besides, his previous wife noticed less and less with her disease. That was the blessing of the situation, her Alzheimer's.

"Lie down, now." He ordered once her dress slipped off of her shoulders and fell to the ground. His words were not harsh, but they were not gentle. They were hungry. Talia gripped the edge of the mattress and slowly lowered her body, and closing her eyes.

It hurt. She had to grit her teeth and keep the sounds of discomfort at bay. He took her and kept taking until there was nothing left for him to claim.

When he finished, she silently prayed that what the doctor had given her to take would keep her pure and rid Ezumi of an heir. She wondered how long it would take before he would notice. She wondered if he would begin to resent her, when she wouldn't give him a child. And then what would happen to her? She wondered if he would marry again, or perhaps find a way to rid himself of his lovely barren bride.

Ezumi was asleep at her side, making soft noises and shifting every couple of minutes. He was not cruel to her, but he could not wait for her to enjoy any part of it. It was only painful for her. She straightened her fingers and placed both hands below her cheek as she lay, staring at the maroon wall of the bedroom. His bedroom. Her bedroom, now, it would seem.

She exhaled softly and closed her eyes. She knew she couldn't fight it, not this time. So when thoughts of Bane came creeping into her mind, she didn't find something to distract her, or thought of what he did to make her angry. She just let him in.

Phantom memories of his fingers on her skin burned in her mind, and her face crumpled with distain, coming to terms with her sorrow and the knowledge that her memories were all that was left of him then, as she laid in the room that felt solemn like a tomb. She had no choice but to let the tears fall from her eyes and onto the pillow beneath her head.

She imagined him, strong and whole as he was, encasing her in his arms and hiding her from the misery and fear. In her memory, he touched lightly at her cheeks, his rough fingers were the most comfortable touch. He brimmed her small heart with warmth and love and gave her all that she had been left without her entire life.

She closed her eyes, as the warm tears fell again, and eventually fell into slumber, imagining Bane lying beside her, all the while holding her small hand in his.

"It's done." The steely voice of the older man echoed in the hallway. "Our young one is all grown up now."

The dimly-lit hallway got narrower as they went further, and the loud sound of feet shuffling and Blanchet's keys filled the silence.

Bane turned his head slightly, and replied. "Set it up."

Blanchet nodded quickly and altered his direction, now moving back down the hallway where they had once come. Bane continued to move forward; his face still as stone, his blood raging in his veins.

A/N: I know I've left you hanging for a good long time, but I want you to know I have never stopped thinking about this story, and I'm trying to revive it.

And over the years, I have noticed how I have kind of changed the tone of my writing, and I am finding it harder to recognize these characters from chapter 1 until now.

Once again, please don't throw rocks at me for taking my sweet time. I hope I have somewhat made you forgive me by giving you another chapter.

Until next time!