Weakness

Roslyne woke some time mid morning, confusion sweeping over her as she first eyed the room. Remembering the events from the day before, though, she realized whose room she was in and breathed out a sigh.

Bane. It's Bane's room. Bane's bed.

She let a very small smile grace her lips as she pressed herself deeper into the thin mattress, fingers gripping tighter at the material of the pillow.

"Awake yet, Roslyne?"

That oh-so strange but familiar voice rang out, heavy footfall accompanying it.

Roslyne groaned quietly into the pillow but nodded her head, mussing her hair further before she turned her face to look at Bane. "Yeah, just woke up, actually."

He was holding a tray of food, lifting it slightly to show it before he placed it on his desk. His other hand was also closed around something, what looked to be one of the girl's shirts and a pair of shorts, to be specific. Roslyne couldn't help but stare at the man fondly.

"Splendid. Tuck in and get dressed, then. I need to have a talk with my men, and I would like it if you were present."

The brunette nodded, then sat up, stretching her arms out and yawning before swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up. She scurried about the room, taking a large bite of the apple sitting on the tray, then changing into a red V-neck and black courduroy shorts. Roslyne had no qualms about dressing and redressing in front of Bane. He had seen most of it before, as she had trained with him in next to nothing. Sparring got dirty-- dirty, hot, and sweaty, and sometimes, shirts and pants just weren't necessary.

The girl ate a biscuit as well, then downed some milk before running a hand through her knotted hair in an attempt to smooth it down, smiling at Bane when she deemed herself at least halfway presentable.

He nodded in approval before ushering her out of the room and down the hallway. Roslyne realized just how isolated Bane's actual bedroom was from the other quarters, how quiet it was in the particular wing of the compound. The noise level grew, however, as they approached the recreational rooms-- voices rising above one another, soldiers straining to be heard.

All fell silent, however, as soon as Roslyne stepped foot in the room (the rec rooms being separated by sliding walls that could easily be pushed back to combine two or three. It was the only area big enough to fit all of the mercenaries indoors). She could feel Bane behind her, almost pressed against her back, and she hid a smirk as she made her way to the front and situated herself against a wall.

Bane stood tall as ever, arms folded over his chest as he eyed everybody in the room. Soldiers stayed still, hands in their pockets as they regarded the man with fearful gazes.

"So," he began, oddly high-pitched voice almost making everyone jump. "What is the state of Gotham?"

Nobody answered immediately, eyes looking anywhere but Bane save for the few brave souls. Barsad came to stand next to Roslyne, glancing at the others with glassy blue orbs.

Roslyne scanned the room, eyes landing on Henry who was among the few to actually hold his head high. He looked tired, though, eyes sunken in, light brown hair somewhat greasy, hanging in strands by his face. His gaze flicked to her momentarily before moving back to Bane, his jaw tensing being the only sign that he even saw his sister in the first place.

In the end, it was the blonde Spaniard that had been with Henry the night before who spoke up, this time in English, though his accent was thick. "Security remains but is minimal, sir. With the proper, er," he made a gesture with his hand as he searched for the right word. "... leaverage, we should be able to unhinge the city."

A very small grumble-like sound rumbled out of Bane's throat but he nodded his head before prompting, "And Arkham?"

Someone else spoke up this time, a clean cut man with a northern accent, "All of our favorite psychopaths still within its walls." He showed a toothy smile, then lowered his head again.

"How lovely." Bane then took a brief moment to summarize a large plan that had apparently been in the works for quite some time already, one that everybody save for Roslyne was familiar with. "In two weeks time, twenty of us, including myself, will travel back to Gotham to release Arkham's patients. We will let them have run of the city for as long as they can manage, and once Gotham is at its weakest..."

"We'll step in and liberate."

Bane turned his full body in the direction of the voice, eyebrows furrowed. "Don't interrupt, Gillen." The offender's face grew stony, but he gave a short nod. "Now, is everybody clear on the plan?"

There was a murmur of agreement, and the large group began to slowly disperse. Roslyne could feel eyes on her, Henry's no doubt, but she made no move toward him. Instead, she stayed still next to Barsad and watched as the soldiers filed out of the room.

"--... this is a good idea?" She heard from somewhere in the general viscinity. The voice was meant to be low, but the question was still asked a little too loudly-- enough to draw attention. "Have we even done anything this-- this big before? I mean, do we know what we're getting into?"

The man speaking looked skittish. He was large, both tall and fairly built, but his eyes flit back and forth in a paranoid manner, looking more and more agitated as the mercenary with which he was trying to talk with grew still and gaurded. Every right to be scared, Roslyne thought, and almost as an afterthought, she scanned the room for Bane.

It didn't take long to find his hulking figure, of course, voice carrying as he spoke with Mücher before it died off and his head cocked ever-so-slightly, obviously listening.

Any conversations in the room pittered out, growing quieter and quieter until they were completely gone, and all eyes seemed to turn to the offending soldier who, in turn, grew red at the ears and promptly shut up.

Bane sauntered over to him, bringing his hands up to the lapels of his jacket, the sound of his breathing rising above all else.

"Did you have some concerns you'd like to voice?" He finally asked, song-like inflection sounding more mocking than Roslyne had ever heard before.

The man bristled, hands balling into fists by his side as he puffed his chest up. He was still nothing compared to Bane, and when he opened his mouth again, any false bravado he had was extinguished, uttering only stutters. "I, uh, no, I just, um... Sorry, sir."

Bane regarded him for a moment before reaching out with one hand and touching the soldier's face once before letting it settle on the junction between his shoulder and neck.

Every single body in the room stiffened, Roslyne's blood suddenly running a bit colder. His touch looked gentle, almost a caress, but she could see the fury building behind his stony eyes.

"Do not apologize," he breathed. "Faith cannot be forced upon any individual." The man was beginning to tremble, looking at Bane's covered face with wide eyes. "Unfortunately, in this case, your lack of it will cost you."

"Wha--..." Bane moved before he could even get the full syllable out-- the hand on his shoulder sliding further to the back of his head while his right gripped his face, and with a sickening twist, the soldier crumpled, making a few indistinct grunts before his body slackened further--completely.

Roslyne stared at the mass on the floor with raised eyebrows.

I should be terrified, she thought to herself. I should be screaming or crying or running away. I should not be staring like this. I should not feel this sense of satisfaction, like he got what he deserved.

But, she did. That was exactly how she felt, as if his lack of faith in Bane was the same as a lack of loyalty, as if he deserved to die if he didn't trust the mercenary. It was completely ridiculous, and irrational, and nonsensical, but it was how she felt, and frankly, that terrified her more than Bane did, standing over the body.

Her expression remained nothing more than thoughtful as she stared ahead, catching eyes with Henry once and ignoring the way he quirked an eyebrow, as if wondering why she was unfazed, but before he could move or say anything, Bane was speaking again, addressing the remaining soldiers with a broad gesture of hands.

"Now, does anyone else have questions?" The mocking lilt remained in his voice, and it didn't surprise Roslyne in the least that nobody answered him. He eyed his followers, then nodded respectively, stepping on the dead man's chest to emphasize whatever frightening point he was making and walked to the door, pointing back at the corpse and ordering, "Clean that up." Then, in a demanding voice, he called, "Roslyne, come."

She should have been irritated at the way he just beckoned her like a dog but couldn't find it in her. Instead, she followed obediently, making a point of not looking to her brother.

Catching up to Bane, she breathed out heavily and rolled her shoulders, hoping to get rid of some of the tension that had built up over the course of the meeting. It didn't help at all, of course. What did was the feeling of Bane's hand as it settled on the nape of her neck, not threatening at all despite the fact that he had just used said hand to break another man's neck, and Roslyne blinked slowly, letting the stress roll off of her in waves.

It was unsettling the effects he had on her.

"Are you alright?" He questioned, voice as quiet as he could manage with the mask.

She looked at him, craning her neck a bit, but nodded. "Yeah, 'm fine. It was just a little... intense."

"I apolo-..."

"No, don't. He was being uncooperative. Could've ended up being some sort of liability."

And, Roslyne had to stop, had to wonder when she had made this transformation into a cold young woman, the sight of death not really affecting her in the least, and as if trying to convince herself, she said again, "I'm fine."

Bane's fingertips brushed lightly against the skin of her neck, and she had to fight off a shudder, letting herself be led back to the bedroom.



It was around six in the evening when the two emerged again, Roslyne in search of food, and Bane following for whatever reason.

Henry had to have been waiting in the kitchen. There was no other explanation. He was leaning against the counter, looking pensive, and stiffened moreso when the two arrived.

He nodded to Bane in a respectul manner, then looked to Roslyne and asked, "Can we talk? Please?"

She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "What makes you think I have anything to say to you?"

"Oh, I'm sure you do. I'm sure you have loads you want to get off your chest, Ros." And, he was right, because for as long as he'd been away, Henry knew her better than anyone else. He knew that she'd built up a resentment for him, and that if they were ever going to get along again, she needed to take it out. He knew that she needed to scream and cry before they could actually hold a conversation. He just knew her.

The girl sighed, then cast Bane a look. He shrugged his massive shoulders, uttering only, "Please don't kill him."

Henry snorted at that, and Ros raised an eyebrow before walking out of the kitchen, Henry behind her.

"I guess I'll just go back to the room when we're finished...?" She tried, looking to Bane for confirmation. He only nodded and watched the two leave.

Upon entering the quarters, Henry kicked his counterpart out, the blond from the day before who spoke mostly Portuguese. He only held his hands up in surrender and made his way out, leaving Henry to close the door behind him.

"Okay, get it all out. Scream at me. Do whatever."

Roslyne didn't scream, though. She stood silent, arms still crossed, staring at him with a lifted eyebrow, waiting.

"Alright then," Henry cleared his throat. "Um, how are you?"

"Fine."

"Even after--..."

"I'm fine, Henry."

He breathed out, pinching the bridge of his nose, and took a seat on the cot nearest to him. "How long have you been here?"

"I could ask you the same question."

She could see his jaw set, a sure sign of irritation, and he told her matter-of-factly, "I've been with them since the night I left."

Roslyne twitched involuntarily and shook her head, muttering, "Fucking ridiculous," and adding, "I've been here for a little over a year, I think, probably closer to a year and a half."

Henry nodded his head. "And, um, are you okay here? I mean, you feel comfortable?"

"Better than the streets," she shrugged.

He didn't respond to that for a while, just sat still until he sighed and let his head sink into his hands. "Ros, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to just leave like that, and I tried to come back to you. I tried to find ways, but we were always so busy, and there were threats, you know? Once you get in, you can't get out. I'm sure you've figured that out by now."

Roslyne held a hand up, feeling some of her anger ebb away at the mention of him putting forth some sort of effort to find her, even if it didn't even come close to working.

"What happened is going to stick with me forever, Ry. I'll probably always feel a bit of betrayel, but yeah, I understand. I doubt I'd be able to get out if I tried, and I'm pretty stealthy now, if I do say so myself."

Henry snorted, relaxing a tad. "Not like you want to go. Looks like you've set up quite a nice little niche for yourself, master's little pet." The corner of his mouth pulled down into a grimace, and Roslyne rolled her eyes.

"Please, you make it sound like I'm in some kind of crazy sub-dom relationship."

"Might as well be," he muttered darkly.

And, Roslyne just frowned at him, recognizing that facial expression from years ago and coming to the conclusion that Henry was annoyed with her.

"Are you kidding me? You're angry with me because I'm on good terms with Bane? Would you rather I wasn't? I would be dead right now if it weren't for him!"

"That doesn't mean you have to follow him around like some kind of puppy!"

"I can't believe you're fucking mad at me! You have no fucking right! Jesus Christ, Henry!"

She was standing, now, arms raised along with her voice. "And, here I was actually giving you the time of day. Clearly, this was a waste of time."

She moved to leave the room, hearing her brother huff angrily behind her before he called out, "Ros, wait, fuck."

She turned, lips pursed, eyebrows raised.

"I'm sorry, okay?" He stood as well. "I'm just... stressed, is all. I'm freaked out because of this new Gotham project, and I just got back after two god damned years there, and I have to follow orders again, and someone fucking died in there, Roslyne! Did you not see that? Bane killed a man!"

"I saw," she sighed. "With how long you've been with him, though, I thought you'd be used to it."

"Why are you?" He challenged.

Roslyne shrugged her shoulders. "Dunno, maybe because of all the shit I've seen on the streets. Maybe I just didn't like the guy."

"Did you even know him?"

She shifted slightly on her feet. "No, but what he was saying... He was doubting--..."

"Oh god," Henry groaned. "It's like you're brainwashed already."

"I'm not fucking brainwashed, Henry! I know that killing is wrong, and that basically everything that these mercenaries do is wrong and illegal and harmful to society, and I know that Bane is some kind of super genius mastermind villain, or whatever, but you know what? I still trust him."

Henry's face hardened.

"I trust him because, so far, he's done nothing but take care of me and train me and make sure that I'm comfortable here."

"You shouldn't even be here, though! That's exactly the point! Why would he want a little girl running about the comp--..."

He couldn't even finish before Roslyne squatted low, kicked his feet out from under him, and slid behind his falling form to catch his head from hitting the ground, positioning her hands very similar to the way Bane had on the unfaithful soldier's neck.

"I'm not worthless, if that's what you're trying to say," she grit out into his ear, moving a hand down to press against his windpipe instead and smirking at the choked noise he emitted before releasing her hold and getting up gracefully.

Her brother gaped at her, raising a hand to his neck as he stared at her wide-eyed. "Where the fuck did you learn to do that?"

"Where do you think?"

Henry stood on shaky legs, looking at her differently now, recognizing that his own little sister was dangerous. "Bane's been training you?" She nodded. "One on one?" Another nod. "He's never done that before."

She shrugged her shoulders and sat easily on the cot again, explaining, "I guess I proved myself worthy when I took Strade down, one of the first weeks I got here."

"Strade? Where is he anyway?"

"I'm sure only Bane knows."

Henry frowned. "Well, what'd you take him down for?"

Roslyne gave him a look that told him everything, and the man's frown deepened even more, face darkening. "Well, good. And, the other guys... Have they tried anything?" Roslyne shook her head, leaning back and appearing a little too casual. "And..." Henry swallowed, "Bane?"

The girl rolled her eyes, "Christ, Henry, no. I'm not sleeping with him! Loyalty is all that's between us."

Though, she couldn't exactly deny the feeling she got when around the man, the way that his touch calmed her, how his hidden smiles made her stomach flip, how his voice, mechanized and strange, and daunting as it was, never failed to make her lips tiwtch upward. The first few weeks, months, that she was there, she could claim that it was a simple interest, that she was just intrigued and curious. Now, however, she wasn't so sure.

Henry, knowing none of this, finally let himself grin, relief washing over him, and he too sat down. "Well, that's-- that's good, Ros. That's great. You don't need to do that, uh, for anyone! I mean, we've got girls here that--..."

"I know, Ry. I know about the girls. Men are men. It isn't surprising. I, however, am not here to pleasure anyone, so can we please move on?"

He grimaced at her word choice but nodded. "Okay, um, what do you want to talk about, then? We've got years worth of catching up to do."

Roslyne stared at him for a few moments before laying back on the thin mattress entirely, lifting her arms to cradle her head in her hands, then asked nonchalantly, "How was Portugal?"

Henry chuckled warmly, a small laugh that Roslyne hadn't heard in years, one that washed over her entire body and seemed to wrap it in a security blanket of sorts.

"It was awesome, Ros. Maybe we'll go again, and you'll be there with me."

He spoke like it was some school field trip in question, but both knew that it was nothing like that. Roslyne guessed that while he was there, chaos ensued at the hands of Bane and the soldiers, that people died and were injured, that the economy took a hit, and that the country was just terrorized in general. Henry was lying about his great time, but she didn't mind much. For now, they were on good terms, brother and sister, catching up as if Henry had just moved away to go to college while Ros was left at home.

After an hour or so had passed, as well as many conversation topics, Henry grew somber once more and sat up straight on the cot. "So, the Gotham project..." Ros quirked an eyebrow. "Do you think you'll be coming with us? I mean, joining in on all of the... illegal activity?"

"Terrorism, Henry. Just call it what it is," she sighed, sitting up. "And, I'll go if he needs me to." She didn't need to clarify. They both knew exactly who he was.

"Just like that? No questions asked?" Henry pried.

Roslyne shook her head. "No questions asked."

And, the truth of it shocked her, what lengths she would go for Bane. Even if it meant Henry would be upset with her, she'd do it. If she could end up in prison for life, or put in grave danger, taken hostage, she'd do it.

She'd go wherever he wanted her to.

The siblings fell back on their respective mattresses and stared up at the water-damaged ceiling unblinking, letting silence roll over them with no intentions of breaking it.