Weakness

It was a Wednesday when the front doors to the compound opened, and about twenty men filed in, all of them in civillian wear rather than the army pants and vests that most of the soldiers wore.

Roslyne stayed in the hidden workroom for most of the day, not really wanting to go out and brave the newly arrived crowd. She sat on the ground by Bane's table, halfway leaning against the man's legs as she read a book over criminal psychology that he had handed her just a few hours before. To some, it may have almost looked demeaning, her on the floor like some kind of dog, but she was perfectly content, the stone feeling familiar after all the years she spent against brick walls and concrete and the weight of Bane's body anchoring her to reality.

The morning had been spent sparring, Roslyne ending up out of breath and on the ground more times than she'd like to admit. She was getting better, though, all of the training paying off. She could move about undetected by anyone save for Bane (of course), and she was much better at dodging his attacks and giving out her own. Pride welled up inside of her every time she landed a punch or a kick on the muscled man, though it was usually short-lived.

After a nice shower, Roslyne returned to the workroom, leaving only once to grab a snack from the kitchens. Bane worked dilligently on his prototypes and occasionally studied blueprints. It was quiet and peaceful, and Roslyne was completely at ease.

She felt a hand settle on the top of her head before it trailed down to the back of her neck, Bane's calloused fingertips raising goosebumps on her skin, and she looked up at him expectantly, blinking once, twice, three times before he finally said, "You should eat something that consists of more than bread and carrots, Roslyne."

The girl lifted an eyebrow. "Is that your way of telling me you need to work on something alone?"

Amusement danced in his dark eyes before he stood up, shaking his head. "No, it's my way of telling you that proper nutrition is important, especially considering your training regime." Roslyne rolled her eyes but still dog-eared the page she was on and got to her feet. "Besides, I need to address my returning men."

"Ah, get the scoop on Gotham. Tell me, are you planning on taking over the city like the big, bad, villain you are?" She smirked in an almost condescending way and made her way to the exit, pulling the door hidden from the other side with tremendous effort.

Behind her, Bane chuckled, a sound that Roslyne would probably never get used to due to its odd pitch, and shrugged his broad shoulders. "Perhaps."

She shouldn't have joked about it-- Bane and his men taking over cities, killing civillians and what not, but she had never actually seen it take place. The gravity of it hadn't exactly caught up with the teenager, which made it that much easier to brush off.

Quite a few soldiers were roaming the compound, in the weight rooms, the kitchen, the bathrooms, everywhere. Usually they weren't so busy, but Roslyne figured that with all of the new additions, the building just seemed smaller, easier to fill. Heads turned as the two approached-- one enormous masked man with this dainty girl by his side-- and Roslyne found herself fighting a smile.

With Bane so close to her, she felt safe. More than that, she felt powerful, and after a lifetime of being completely helpless, it was a lovely sensation. If he planned on burning cities to rubble and hitting stock exchanges, so be it. Fuck, Roslyne would even help if he needed her to, so long as she could stay close to him.

Bane leaned against a counter as she dug through one of the refrigerators, muscled arms crossed over his chest and he peered at everybody who came and went. In the end, the girl retrieved some ham and bread that had been sitting around for a little too long to be entirely safe to eat. Still, she made a dry sandwich and poured a glass of water before situating herself against a counter opposite of the mercenary.

The brunette ate silently, eyes darting about the room as she attempted to ignore Bane's steady gaze on her. After swallowing a rather large bite, she muttered a short, "Stop doing that."

"I've no idea what you're referring to."

Roslyne narrowed her eyes. "You're watching me eat. It's weird."

He lifted an eyebrow before exhaling loudly and walking out of the kitchen. The girl would have felt bad had it not been for the fact that with him gone, it was much easier to finish her sandwich.

Just outside, she could hear a door open, one to somebody's personal quarters, and a noise of surprise left a man's throat, followed by a gleeful, "Eu estava me perguntando quando eu ia ver você! Ainda escondido na sala de vocês?"

Bane's recognizable voice was heard next: "Naturalmente. Espero que a viagem correu bem."

"Sim, a cidade vai estar em ruínas muito em breve."

Roslyne wasn't entirely sure what language they were speaking. It wasn't Spanish, and didn't sound quite old enough to be Latin. Ruling those two out, she guessed that it was probably Portuguese and listened as they carried on the foreign conversation. She didn't bother poking her head out, perfectly content with eavesdropping (obviously in vain) alone in the kitchen.

The sound of heavy boots hitting the concrete floor could be heard, stopping in what Roslyne guessed to be the general area that Bane and the other soldier occupied.

"Borgin, é um prazer vê-lo novament," the leader spoke again, possibly to the new arrival.

"Você também, Bane."

If Roslyne had still been eating, she would have choked on her food. That last voice, foreign or not, had been long stored in her memory. She could recognize it no matter where she was, even if it had been years since she'd heard it.

Henry.

Her heart began beating wildly in her chest, eyes wide and watery. It couldn't be. There was no way. He had to have been dead. There was no way that he was still alive and hadn't come looking for her.

With a plethora of emotions running through her small body, Roslyne slowly walked to the entrance of the kitchen, still able to hear the conversation, most of which being carried on by Bane and the first soldier. They sounded jovial, or the man did; Bane always sounded somewhat happy due to the mask, which was ironic since he usually wasn't cheerful in the slightest.

Peeking around the corner, she could make out their three figures, Bane's hulking frame, one blonde man's muscled upper body and sunkissed skin, and the third's lanky build.

His brown hair was long but pushed out of his face, extending a couple of inches passed his chin. He was pale with pop-out veins snaking their way up his forearms, and his strong jaw was set, possibly because he was gritting his teeth.

Roslyne did her best to breathe out evenly, brow furrowing as she studied him. There was no mistaking it, not with that crooked nose (broken at age twelve when he was trying to defend Roslyne from a drunken bum) or those hardened cold green eyes. After seven years, she was finally seeing him again.

Henry. It's Henry. Henry. Why is he here? How is he here? Has he always been with Bane? Is that what happened, he enlisted?

Her mind was absolutely reeling with questions, none of which she could answer, and digging her teeth into her bottom lip, Roslyne made her way over to Bane, head down as she tried to fight off the stinging in her eyes.

She was happy and relieved but also confused and undeniably angry. He had just up and left her, with promises to return, if he could, and with no word from him, Roslyne had assumed the worst. Yet, here he was, standing strong like he hadn't just forgotten about his baby sister for close to a decade.

The girl could feel her heart hammering in her chest, battering her sternum. The air in her lungs felt ice cold, and her hands were twitching by her side. How could this even...

"Ainda tem mulheres bonitas andando, eu vejo." The blonde spoke, sounding amused. Roslyne had no idea what he had said, but it obviously had something to do with her as she could feel him staring at her.

In a protective way that would have made Roslyne smile had she not been standing in a hallway with her thought-to-be-dead brother, Bane took a step closer to her and put a large hand on her back.

"Não, não é por isso que ela está aqui."

"Good, she looks a bit young to me," he said in English.

Roslyne's body tensed visibly, muscles tightening as her stomach knotted up. Suddenly, that dry sandwich wasn't sitting very well.

Bane, towering over her, turned his head to peer down at the girl, and Roslyne easily guessed that one of his eyebrows was lifted in question.

Breathing our harshly through her nose, she grit out a shaky, "Sixteen, actually. And, I believe you're twenty, now, right?"

Roslyne's blood was coming to a steady boil, remembering the nights she had to sit all alone in the streets of New York City, sleeping on door steps and running away from handsy drunks on their way home from bars. Henry's motive had been pure, but that didn't matter anymore. He had left her all alone.

"Y- yeah, how'd you know?" His voice was a bit more refined than she remembered, losing his northern accent over the years as Roslyne had.

She balled her hands into fists and finally looked up, glaring daggers at her big brother. "Wonderful to see you again, Henry. Tell me, how was your trip?"

She realized she probably should have been running into his open arms, crying tears of joy, and telling Henry how much she had missed him and loved him, but she couldn't. That just wasn't an option at the moment.

Green eyes widened considerably, and the young man stumbled back. The blonde soldier and Bane were both lost to confusion, which was odd since Bane always knew everything.

"R- Ros--?"

"Don't you fucking say my name!" She spat, taking a step forward.

She had never been a particularly bold and angry person. However, in this case, Roslyne just couldn't keep the venemous words to herself.

"Seven years! Seven god damned years, Henry! Where the fuck were you?"

"I- I--..." His face was turning red, wide, almost frightened, stare on her as he backed up slowly. "Ros, when I left, I found these guys. I--..."

"And, you just fucking left with them? No thought of me whatsoever?"

"I was thirteen years old, Rosie! I wandered into the sewers, and once I'd seen everyone and everything down there, they weren't just gonna let me back up to see you!"

She was fuming, seeing that as no excuse to be gone for seven years. Hell, she still wouldn't be seeing him like she was if she hadn't been taken to the compound, too.

"So, you just stayed with the mercenaries and didn't think that maybe, one day when you were a little older, you could possibly come looking for your baby fucking sister?"

"No! I mean, yes, I thought about it, but it was impossible! We left just a couple weeks after I found them! We left for Portugal, and we were there for a few years!"

That had not been the right thing to say.

"You went to fucking Portugal, another country, another fucking continent while I was stuck in New York City all by myself? Henry, I was nine!"

She was screaming, no care for who could hear. Hot tears were streaming down her face as her throat burned from overexertion. Roslyne wanted to yell. She wanted to yell at Henry and run at him, and hit him, and hurt him as much as he had hurt her.

A few more people were rounding corners to watch the show, some soldiers, some of the girls. Roslyne didn't pay attention to any of them, though. She only cared about Henry.

"I know how old you were, Ros! Not a day went by that I didn't think about you. You're my little sister." His eyebrows knit together, eyes growing glassy like they did their first night away from home so long ago.

"I fucking know I'm your little sister!" She shrieked, voice echoing off of the walls and through the hallway. She breathed heavily, flexing her fingers by her sides before finally letting her bravado drop. Roslyne looked at Henry with wide, watery gray eyes and mumbled hoarsly, "You were supposed to protect me."

She let her head drop and raised a hand to wipe her nose, vaguely aware of him walking closer to her now that she had stopped screaming. "Rosie," he reached out to her.

"Don't touch me!" She jumped backward, sending another glare his way.

"Rosie, please!" He begged. Henry's voice sounded strained, but before he could advance on her any more, a monstrous body was in between the siblings, Bane looking down at Henry as he pushed Roslyne behind him.

"Enough," he stated. "Tell the other men that we will discuss Gotham tomorrow. For now, busy yourselves."

With that, Bane turned and ushered Roslyne back to the workroom, steadying hands gripping her shaking shoulders as they walked.

If she hadn't been been so upset, she would have been embarrassed about Bane witnessing her coming undone. As it was, she just let him lead her, wiping her face as she tried her hardest to hold back sobs.

The day had started off like any other, and then, her world was completely uprooted. Again.

"I would ask you to explain, but I believe I've already gathered everything myself," Bane uttered in the room, crossing his arms over his chest.

He knew of Roslyne's brother, of their entire history, actually, but he didn't seem particularly fazed by it.

"He told me his name was Borgin when he first came to me-- Henry Borgin." Roslyne shook her head, sniffing loudly. "If I had known of his relation to you, I would have told you--..."

"Told me what?" She snapped. "That he was alive? That instead of him dying in an attempt to help me, he actually just-- just betrayed me? I don't think that would have helped anyone."

"You would have known of his arrival today. It wouldn't have come as quite a shock."

Roslyne shrugged her shoulders. "I guess. I just... I can't fucking believe it. He didn't-- He didn't even ask how I got here! He didn't ask about anything! The bastard was gone for seven fucking years, and he couldn't even pretend to care!"

Bane's eyebrows lifted, and he held his hands out. "To be fair, you didn't exactly give him the chance to."

She glared at him, and he chuckled.

"Fine, if you're so hellbent on being angry about it," he took his shirt off, something that Roslyne was extremely used to, and looked her dead in the eyes, "Take it out."

The girl scoffed. "You want to train right now, of all times?"

"No, this isn't training," Bane shook his head. "This is an outlet."

"You're gonna be my personal punching bag?" She was almost amused by it. Almost.

The man held his hands out, "If that's what you wish to call it, then yes. I can take it."

"I don't doubt that." Roslyne toed off her shoes, briefly thinking about running to get her handwraps before shaking it from her head. No, she wanted this without padding-- raw and wild and angry. She wanted the pain and the fatigue and the split knuckles. "Fine."

The tell-tale crinkles formed at the corners of Bane's eyes before he walked to the middle of the room and crouched down a bit, bringing his hands up to his covered face. Roslyne followed in suit, and soon he was nodding, and she was punching and kicking and jumping and yelling.

Bane wasn't throwing many punches, but he wasn't hesitating to put her into body locks or bring her to the ground.

It was violent and sweaty and everything that Roslyne had wanted, even if she was breathless and bordering on unconsciousness. She was vaguely aware of the tears that were still leaking from her eyes, focusing all of her energy and negative thoughts toward Henry on Bane, throwing and landing as many blows as she could as he moved about easily.

And, it continued until finally, she was on the concrete floor wheezing under him, shaking her head and tapping his back. "No more. I can't... I can't anymore."

Bane quickly got to his knees, beads of sweat rolling down his neck and chest as he nodded, "Very well."

That evening, after taking a quick shower to rinse the sweat from her body, Bane led Roslyne to a room not unlike her own, save for the bed being bigger and a tad more comfortable. There was an old desk pushed up against one wall, papers scattered all over it, some pinned to the surface above it. There were a couple of glasses of water sitting by the bed which had a thin quilt thrown over it, and a crate full of tiny canisters sitting in one corner.

"This is your room," Roslyne stated, still in awe despite the overall normalcy of it. She had yet to be brought back to it, and frankly wasn't quite sure why she was standing in it then, but it brought a small smile to her lips. Another indiciation that Bane trusted her.

"Yes."

She walked over to the crates, peering into them before retrieving one of the canisters.

They were all unmarked, but she still had a pretty good idea of what was inside. "Venom?"

Bane nodded.

"It fits into the back of your mask?"

Another nod, and he added, "Two of them."

Roslyne made a small noise in the back of her throat before putting the can back. "How lovely."

She took a seat on the unmade bed, keeping her head down as she continued to wrap her mind around the events that had taken place that day. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and the only thing she truly wished for was sleep.

"You should rest," Bane said, causing for Roslyne to look up.

"How do you do that?" He cocked his head in question. "You always know exactly what I'm thinking."

Eyes taking on a shine, the man shook his head. "Not always, and the times I do, it's only because I am studying your facial expressions and posture."

"I wasn't aware that you could deduce so much from those."

"Somebody with a trained eye can." Roslyne could hear the smirk in his melodic voice and rolled her eyes.

"You and your modesty. Is that why I'm here, then? To sleep?"

Bane didn't say anything for a few seconds, staring at the girl as she stretched out on the mattress. "I thought you might be more comfortable here, for tonight, at least." She lifted an eyebrow to urge him to elaborate. "It's isolated from the other quarters, closer to my workroom, so the noise level will be minimal. Also, the bed is bigger." He raised a hand to gesture at it, and Roslyne nodded without looking at him.

She couldn't argue with it and slipped under the covers before thinking to ask, "Will you be, um, sleeping in here as well?"

The mercenary held another long gaze before shaking his head and tapping his mask. "I don't sleep often."

"The drug makes it so that you don't have to sleep?" Already, Roslyne could hear how groggy her voice sounded. She was moments away from drifting off.

Noticing, Bane smiled fondly at the girl, not that she could see it, and replied, "Not quite. Every four or five days I need to sleep for at least five hours, but other than that, my body has no need for it."

Breathing deeply, Roslyne let her eyes shut and turned on her side, one arm sliding underneath the flat pillow and pulling it closer to her. "Alright, Mr. Superhuman. I'll be fine. You just... you just do whatever it is... you need... to do..."

And, like that, she was asleep.

Bane took two long strides to the bed side and reached out tentatively to stroke her mousy-brown locks. There was a slight ache in his chest that he wasn't entirely used to yet but could be easily placed as care, rooted deeply enough within his oversized body to induce physical effects.