History is Made at Night

by batmanbane

"We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person."

- W. Somerset Maugham

Chapter 20 - Epilogue

Following her arrest, Talia al Ghul was evaluated by a team of medical professionals and in a controversial decision that shocked Gotham, was judged unfit to stand trial. Instead of prison, she was committed to a state of the art, high security hospital, where she was informed of the death of Bruce Wayne. Several months later, the child she no longer had use for was born by cesarean section. The infant was taken from her uncaring arms and collected from a government agency by Alfred Pennyworth and Selina Kyle. He would be yet another challenge to the relationship of Bruce and Selina, who were living quietly in Europe and struggling with issues of trust and old habits.

Only after giving up her son did the daughter of Ra's al Ghul begin to settle into her new home. The charming 'Miranda Tate' was very popular among most clinic staff. Although she started on equal footing with the clinic's other patients, she was soon allowed to wear her own clothing. An office-like environment was outfitted inside her expansive suite, and she was extended all the exercise time she needed to keep herself in top physical condition. Eventually a personal chef was employed for her benefit.

She was, in the words of the few staff who disapproved, "spoiled rotten".

Her day nurse, Rebecca, usually found her pacing first thing in the morning in her secured, plexiglass environment, dressed for a day at the office. The conversation between them was always along the same lines, discussing Miranda's latest projects and business objectives.

"Busy day ahead, Miranda?" The nurse would inquire as she delivered breakfast and medications.

"Yes! A board meeting to discuss the energy project. Mr. Fox of Wayne Enterprises is going to drive me. Will you show him to my office when he arrives?"

"I'll do that, Miranda!" Rebecca promised. "But first, swallow your meds."

Sometimes the charming Miranda awoke as the cold-hearted 'Talia al Ghul', and Rebecca was cautious around her.

On those days, Talia dressed in a conservative ensemble, bound her hair and issued quiet threats to the doctors and nurses.

"You know he's coming for me!" She would hiss ominously. "You saw how skillfully he took Dr. Pavel. How difficult do you think it will be for my protector to remove me from this place? When that happens, you will all die!"

The Provence estate, seized by Bane after its original owners defaulted on a League of Shadows loan, was looking forward to its third harvest under new management. The sprawling property grew a variety of local vine types necessary for the production of red and white wine under the label, Maximus Provençal - a name that reflected both the Roman and French origins of the region.

For the first year Bane kept his distance from the business, until the need for control finally got the best of him. He sat in on a conference call with the winery's board of directors, and after asking only two questions, he appointed himself CEO of operations. The board did not object.

Because Barsad had taken on the burden of learning the business from the ground up, he couldn't have been happier with the turn of events. The League operated several wineries around the world and had sent their own people to guide him, but Bane's second-in-command often felt very alone.

Abraham had little time to offer advice. As the estate's security chief, he and his staff were too busy adapting, uploading and testing the many toys they'd stolen from Wayne Enterprises. Top priority upon their arrival had been the successful installation of software that disabled cameras, and untraceable email.

Adding to the pressures of Barsad's new role, he and Natasha were now the parents of a 14 month-old daughter, with a second child on the way.

With Bane on board, Barsad no longer felt as though he was working without a net. Bane was a brilliant strategist, a financial wizard, and a man of impeccable taste—all transferable skills that would make life a lot easier for Barsad.

Weighing heavily on Bane was his responsibility to Talia. The two had been together for so long that they often knew what the other was thinking, and although she had disappointed and bewildered him in Gotham, he was outraged that the authorities had so dishonoured her by shipping her off to a hospital. Thus, he had held preliminary talks with Barsad and Abraham on the possibilities of mounting a rescue mission, much to the disapproving stares of the two other men.

Dr. Natasha Van Dyne counselled him frequently on the subject of moving on. "You already came away from Gotham within an inch of your life, and now you're considering risking it again for someone who left you behind? Look around you, Bane. We're in paradise, when so much of the world is suffering. It's time you developed normal relationships with men and women, if you hear what I'm saying. Don't squander your new life."

It was true that life in the vineyard had been a positive change for the mercenary. Predictably, he had internalized the shame he felt over his failure in Gotham, including his separation from Talia. While change didn't exactly happen overnight, gradually he felt the coiled snake inside him begin to relax. Recent surgery arranged by Natasha at a Swiss clinic had been a success, and he now needed less of the of the vapor that managed his pain. He was even able to remove the mask for an hour or two a day. Two breakthrough tablets made it possible for him to enjoy the communal dinner Natasha insisted upon every night, and afterwards, an evening walk in the dying light of day. Without the mask, he thoroughly enjoyed the scents of the olive and fir trees that surrounded the property.

Dinner was difficult for him at first, because Bane wasn't accustomed to taking meals in the presence of others, nor of showing his face. What made it easier was the constant care and encouragement of Natasha. She was largely responsible for creating the warm atmosphere everyone enjoyed at the manor house, and he felt deeply indebted to her.

He had become increasingly regretful that the remnants of romance between he and Stella had apparently been left behind in Gotham. Shrewdly, he had offered her work in the communications office, a move designed to satisfy her need to earn her own keep, and his need to keep a close eye on her. He wasn't certain what they were to one another. He only knew that despite her making persistent noises about leaving, she had yet to actually make the effort.

The pony-tailed, career driven journalist he'd known in Gotham disappeared almost overnight. In her place was a more relaxed woman equally at home in the vineyard as she was in the office.

Once he'd acclimated to the ritual of the evening meal, Stella became the highlight of his day, if only because she always dressed for dinner in a wardrobe of sleeveless dresses, making it possible for him to admire her soft shoulders. She often lead the conversation as the group discussed the events of their day. On the cook's night off, she insisted on making dinner for everyone.

She was the animated Stella that Barsad and Abraham both remembered from the night they'd enjoyed a takeout dinner with her in Gotham, when they had all shared a bottle of wine.

She was the Stella that Bane had never known, the one who had existed before Gotham, and she was the Stella that Bane wanted to get to know...

He took to waiting for her at the end of her work day, when she would smile and wave from the path beneath his terrace as she returned to the manor house. Bane never replied with anything so innocuous as a wave. He merely nodded, enjoying his erection.

And just when he had begun to fear that his interest in her border-lined on an unhealthy obsession, he had a revelation. The smiles, the waves, the stolen glances, the naked shoulders, and even the appealing freckles sprinkled across her nose, were all subtle invitations.

And he was determined to take advantage of them. But first, there was someone he needed to remove from her life.

"Brother!" Bane bellowed, as he angrily scooped giggling toddler Mia Barsad from the concrete floor below his feet. "I understand that your daughter imagines herself in charge of this facility, but you cannot allow her to play in this building. She'll hit her head!"

"So?" Barsad called from the south east corner of the warehouse, where he was sampling a huge barrel of aging red wine. "Let her hit her head. It'll teach her a lesson. Next time she'll know not to run between the barrels!"

"Your parenting choices exasperate me." The mercenary wheezed, as he located his second-in-command. His enhanced voice projected even louder in the spacious confines of the warehouse.

"This child should be in her playroom, where she is safe." The mercenary argued.

"You can coddle your own kids all you want, if you ever have them." Barsad countered resentfully. "I want mine to have a head start in life."

Bane smirked broadly beneath the mask. "I assure you I have no plans to procreate, Barsad. You are doing an excellent job of expanding the population of our community without any assistance from me."

"I hope the next kid takes after me, because I can't keep up with this one. She's too much like her mother." Barsad complained as he reached over to take the dark-haired Mia, who was squirming sleepily in the small of Bane's muscular arm.

The sniper lowered his voice, grimly changing the subject. "I'm glad you stopped by, Bane. A bombshell just arrived from Intel."

Bane's brow wrinkled, and the mask sucked in a breath. Instinctively, he sensed the news was Gotham-related.

"Wayne is alive and living here in France." Barsad said lowly. "He's shacked up with Selina Kyle, and they're raising Talia's son."

Bane remained silent for a moment.

"Bruce and Selina." He rumbled thoughtfully. "A match made in heaven. How is it possible that we are neighbours?"

"Maybe because it was meant to be. Want to take another crack at him?" Barsad asked bluntly as his daughter slept soundly on his shoulder.

The mercenary turned his back on Barsad, momentarily looking out the warehouse's huge doors to survey the rolling fields of vines. "You are a father, Barsad. Would you intentionally orphan a child?"

"Well... I guess that's my answer!" Barsad sighed, clearly disappointed. "What about Kyle? She took you down at City Hall, so the least you can do is let me take her out!"

"No, Brother." Bane cautioned. "The boy has a home and two parents. If the sanctimonious Mr. Wayne believes Selina Kyle is an appropriate mother figure, then she is good enough for me."

"It's Wayne's kid, not yours. Why should you feel responsible?" Barsad protested.

Bane sighed and faced the truth that remained no matter if Talia lived or died.

"Because I am Talia's protector. It follows that I must protect her son."

"Speaking of Talia, are you still planning a rescue? I would understand if she were committed to Arkham Asylum, but it sounds like Gatewood Clinic is a spa! If we pull her out of there, she'll want to come here instead of the monastery. And you know you can't say "no" to her. She'll have her pick of healthy young males here and that's just going to cause a lot of trouble. I don't have to tell you what Natasha thinks of her..." Barsad finished bluntly.

Bane shifted uncomfortably as guilt feelings rose to the surface. He wanted Talia to be cared for by League doctors, yet he'd received nothing but glowing reports from his spies inside the high security facility that housed her. Not only was she under excellent care, but the hospital approved of all the media attention its very special patient attracted, and rewarded her like a guest at a luxury hotel. She was reportedly very content, and donations to the hospital were at an all-time high thanks to the deep pockets of do-gooders committed to the rehabilitation of the notorious and beautiful Talia al Ghul. Both Talia and the clinic were thriving.

He had come to the conclusion that Talia might actually be enjoying her stay. He knew her well, and no doubt she had charmed her way to the superior treatment she enjoyed. Bane smiled proudly under the mask, until a troubling shadow darkened his view.

Apparently he didn't know her well enough, because he never could have anticipated her leaving him on that day in Gotham...

The mercenary frowned, shaking himself out of his reverie.

"This estate has been a lot to take on, Brother, and it has challenged us all. For the present time I believe the wisest thing for us is to concentrate on our cover and our brand."

"Is that a no?"

"For now." Bane said simply, regretting the words even as he spoke them.

Hi Stella!

Didn't I tell you? I'm the guy with nine lives. Life has been nothing but smooth sailing since I gave the cops Talia in exchange for immunity! I may not know where you are, but I can guess who you're with. I'm the last person to point fingers, but he's a fugitive from justice, and I feel a certain responsibility for you. I'm all moved in to the loft upstairs from the club I'm managing. Come visit me in New York City, and I'll give you a 30th birthday you won't forget. ;)

Later, Chance XOXO

Ha ha, Chance!

I like you better when you're scared and needy. :) If by him you mean who I think you mean, then I don't know what you're talking about. Fugitive from justice my ass! That's just a government conspiracy designed to shift controversy away from the Harvey Dent cover-up. You and I both know the cat burglar killed him. As for me telling you where I am, I'm as likely to do that as you are of becoming a schoolteacher! ;). Seriously, I'm touched by your concern. Love, SB

Hunched over her laptop, Stella was trying, and failing, to concentrate, when an unfamiliar knock jolted her out of her chair. Her visitor didn't wait for an answer and pushed his way into her room, locking the door behind him.

"Bane!" She cried, startled by the mercenary's sudden appearance. He stood before her, wearing the black shirt he'd worn at dinner - the one that both concealed and revealed his magnificent body. Although she was still wearing her dinner dress her feet were now bare, and she felt oddly naked.

Hastily, she began to clear the clutter from her desk, and gather her discarded shoes from the floor. Normally she wouldn't have been so flustered around him, but she had caught his lovely face staring her up and down at dinner, and she'd been half expecting a visit from him.

What did he want? The last time he closed and locked the door behind him, they'd ended up in each other's arms…but that was all ancient history.

She'd wrestled with the reality of her dormant relationship with him, but continued to live in hope. She'd thought long and hard about the consequences of having a relationship with a man who was a mercenary and a remourseless killer, and she always came to the same conclusion. As she had once told Chance Cooper, she didn't want to reform him. She just wanted to know how to live with him.

Bane scanned the room, assessing the decor carefully. Most of the french furniture had been removed in favour of a mid-century modern style. Where there once hung an ornate chandelier, a George Nelson pendant lamp glowed. The Herman Miller desk where she worked was paired with a Jacobsen Swan chair. Nearby, a Florence Knoll sofa was covered with pages of handwritten notes.

"How very like you this room is." Bane mused, groaning softly as he made himself comfortable on the edge of her desk.

"You wanted to see me about something?" She asked bluntly.

Bane frowned. "Yours is not a very warm welcome." He observed playfully.

"Maybe that's because you were staring at me at dinner. Why do I feel like I'm in trouble?"

"Perhaps because you are hiding something from me." He calmly suggested.

Stella blushed guiltily, as she continued to gather sheets of paper off the floor and sofa while Bane began his interrogation.

"Why do you disappear into this room each night...and what is this?" His curious, gravelly voice inquired as he indicated the litter of papers on the Knoll sofa. "You assured me that you would not write your story..."

"And I'm not writing my story, Bane." She said defensively. "I told you a long time ago that I wouldn't write it." Saying nothing further, Stella clutched the papers protectively against her chest.

Bane exhaled a loud, metallic sigh. "Very well, then. There is something that I am certain about. It has come to my attention that you are exchanging email messages with Chance Cooper."

"How do you know that?" she asked suspiciously.

"I am aware of most everything that goes on in this household." He replied shamelessly. "Do not try to conceal anything from me, because you will be discovered."

"I didn't try to conceal it!" She laughed. "You're the one who's being unethical."

"I understand that you are upset with me, Stella, but this is an important issue."

"I'm not upset with you." She insisted. "I think it's hilarious that you feel the need to hack into my email to find out what I'm up to. And what did you learn, Bane? That there's an understanding between Chance and myself? That we shared a traumatic experience in Gotham that binds us together as friends? What's wrong with that?"

"Your friendship is understandable." He conceded. "However, given the man's affair with Talia, and his immunity deal with Gotham police, I do not trust him, nor do I trust him with information you might inadvertently supply to him, such as our location."

Then his brow rose in judgement as he admitted to the thing that annoyed him most about Chance Cooper. "He is a treacherous cad who has been encouraging you to move to New York City. He has dishonourable intentions toward you, Stella. I should have killed him when I had the opportunity."

Since he had freely admitted to hacking into her email, Stella realized it was time for an admission of her own. Peering at him curiously, she said, "If Chance wants to get me into bed, then that's fine. At least someone wants to…"

"You will not communicate with him again." Bane ordered her gruffly. "The subject is closed."

"...because it's been two years, four months and 17 days since you touched me!"

The startled mercenary blinked, his brow wrinkling with amusement. He thought he had carefully planned the evening's encounter. He had intended to confront her about Chance Cooper, wear her down until she promised to give him up, and then, with his eye on the four poster bed in the room's alcove, he planned to beat Chance Cooper at his own game.

That was what he had planned, but now it seemed Stella had taken control of the situation, and he discovered that he liked the unpredictability of the moment.

Bane was the first to admit that he'd been somewhat of a lost soul, recovering from injury and keeping to himself as he endured the absence of Talia, and the disappointment of his failure in Gotham. But he'd eventually emerged from his fog, and he could have sworn it had only been six months since he and Stella were intimate. But he was wrong, and the proof was that Stella had been keeping track of their lost time...

"It appears I have ignored you." Beneath the mask he was smiling broadly. "Indeed, time has flown."

"It has, and I know you've had a lot on your mind since we arrived, and let's face it - Gotham was hardly the ideal setting for us, but this place is..." She countered before she could stop herself.

"It is idyllic, is it not?" Bane agreed, still smirking.

"Darn you, Bane." She whined. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"

"Say what, Stella?" His eyes smouldered in anticipation of her words as they swept her from head to toe. The dress she wore was his favourite, a red tank style that flared at the waist and was constructed with intricate crochet detailing. It was the garment he most imagined removing from her body. Mesmerized by her squirming, painted toes, he watched them knead the shag carpet beneath her feet.

"Begin!" He ordered, pulling his fascinated eyes away from her toes, and nodding sharply.

Stella sighed nervously, fearing rejection more than anything else.

"I...I don't want to be your one-night stand any more, if you get what I'm saying. I feel cheap and tossed aside, and I don't like it."

The mercenary had acquired many skills during his career, however, negotiating the politics of romance with the female of the species wasn't one that was high on the top of the list. It was a skill he'd rarely if ever needed. Stella's words pulled him into an unfamiliar realm, one where he knew he had to sink or swim.

"It was never my intention that you should feel this way." He said thoughtfully as his pupils dilated and his eyebrow rose. "To be fair, our evening together was more the completion of a business arrangement rather than romance."

"But I'm not that kind of girl. If I could take back that deal, I would." She fretted.

"I for one do not regret our intercourse." Bane said craftily, feigning offence as he rose from the desk and approached her with deliberate steps. "Nor do I consider you a one-night stand. Unlike your "friend", Chance Cooper, I am a gentleman."

"Don't misunderstand me!" Stella insisted. "I don't regret it either. It's just that I..."

"You wish for more." He guessed, as both his ego and his manhood swelled. His escalating arousal made him feel invincible, something he had not experienced since Gotham.

Feeling the heat of his body as he hovered, she sighed wistfully. "Do you think we could start again?"

Holding his hand up to silence her, Bane paused to enjoy the moment.

Misunderstanding his gesture, the weight of disappointment crushed her, and she rolled her eyes in frustration. The man simply had no concept of romance.

"Before we continue this discussion, I want your assurances that you will cease communications with Chance Cooper." He cautioned. "I absolutely forbid you any further contact with him!"

Then he lowered his tone, his eyes throbbing with disapproval in the disappearing light of the day. "He wants to give you a 30th birthday you won't forget." He snarled. "I am a man, Stella, and I know what he really wants."

The journalist shook her head in disbelief, hardly able to believe his words, as a blush flooded her face.

"You're jealous!" She beamed, astounded by his declaration. "You are, aren't you?"

Bane immediately waved her off. "I am familiar with the word, not the emotion." He claimed, denying her accusation, even as he knew in his heart that her accusation was true. He couldn't bear the idea that Stella and the handsome young womanizer were bound by a shared experience.

Armed with the blissful knowledge that Bane suffered from a serious case of the green-eyed monster, the blonde journalist decided to take a risk.

"Then we're just talking in circles here. I'm not giving up my friendship with Chance just because you demand it!" She said firmly as she crossed the room, and threw open the bedroom door in an invitation for him to leave. "You let me know when and if you want to finish this conversation, but I'm betting it won't be any time soon!"

"Damn you, woman." Bane rumbled. His fingers twitched irritably as he charged toward her. "What must I do to command your obedience?"

She was silent for a moment as she considered Bane's words, until her brown eyes widened with a revelation. He had just handed her a golden opportunity. He wanted obedience from her in a situation where he was clearly at a disadvantage. The ball was in her court, and it was simply a case of now, or never.

With a slow-motion show of closing the bedroom door, she leaned back against it and broke into a calculating smile. She no longer felt naked before him, and she didn't care that the left shoulder strap of her dress slipped over her shoulder.

"Why don't you come a little closer?" She whispered. "And we'll discuss it."

The mercenary's abdominals flexed and his sleeping giant awoke. "You once told me that you would never wait for me again." He growled softly. "And yet here you are..."

Stella trembled in anticipation, as Bane's shadow enveloped her.

"I lied."

Author's Note: And there you have it. I left a ton of balls in the air: Bane's on-again, off-again plans to rescue Talia, Stella's secret project, Bruce and Selina's relationship, Bane's protection of Talia's son, Stella's 30th birthday...etc. All of which point to a sequel to which I have not yet fully committed. :O :O :O Shout-outs to Baniac, who reminds me to write every day, and Fragile Dream, who prompted me to re-think Bane's role in the raising of Talia's son. Thanks to all of my followers and reviewers for sticking by me and this story for two and a half years. I'm off to work on Wake up and Live, and hope you'll follow me there. XOXO