Achilles

Moving to the city had been hard to get used to for Roslyne. It wasn't so much the hustle and bustle as much as the different schedule and people. There had been a feeling of unity at the compound that she had grown very fond of, even if she had actually lived there for a shorter time than she had in Gotham.

Nobody cared about her the way that they had then, nobody feared her, and maybe she was just being arrogant and spoiled, but she missed it. She missed the attention she got--from one person in particular. Roslyne knew it, and Henry knew it, and it made him furious.

They had argued countless times about her relationship with Bane, still did after years of being away. He was convinced that she had suffered some form of Stockholm Syndrome, and, of course, she insisted that she hadn't.

"I stayed there out of free will!"

"And, if you'd tried to leave? You think he'd let you?"

"Honestly, toward the end, I think so, yeah. It doesn't even matter, though, because I would have stayed. I would have stayed as long as I could have, Henry. You're the only reason I left!"

"Did he scare you? Is that why? Ros, did he ever hurt you?"

"No, god dammit! He treated me like fucking royalty!"

"And, you never did anything? You never had se--..."

"Henry, no, Jesus Christ! We never fucked! I was, like, sixteen!"

"I'm just making sure, okay? I don't know why you'd be so attached to him, if you weren't in love with him, or something."

Roslyne rolled her eyes, feeling a distant pain in her chest. "I was too young for love. I admired him, yeah, still do, but it doesn't matter now, does it?"

She had never fully forgiven her brother for taking her away. Had he not interfered, she would have stayed, would have followed Bane in everything he did. He had helped her, saved her, really, and she owed him everything.

Roslyne found ways to cope with missing him, though. She had a gym membership at a little place just a few blocks away from the apartment when she sparred a few days every week, sometimes with trainers and sometimes with strangers. She beat everyone she fought unless she felt like letting them win, and everyone who watched her were nothing short of impressed, always asking her where she had picked up her skills from. She'd just shrug and reply, "Let's just say I studied abroad."

She also sketched frequently, whether she was bored at the apartment or taking notes for Crane. If there was room on the paper, there were geometric drawings, like the ones she had done when she first arrived at the compound.

Life was extremely different now, though. She had gone to school for the first two years, getting into college early with forged documentation (courtesy of the mercenaries), and studying medicine and psychology. She left with the offer of an internship at the asylum, which she knew her old friends had something to do with as well since her boss knew of one certain R'as Al Ghul.

Maybe at first glance, Roslyne wouldn't have expected it from Dr. Jonathan Crane, but upon further observation, it was not surprising in the least. He had a busy and troubled mind, a depth in his eyes that only plotting and illegal activity were likely to fill. He probably actually belonged in one of his padded cells next to his patients.

But, he was rather good at faking sanity, and Roslyne liked the man enough to work with him. He had a very dry sense of humor and a cynical nature about him. He didn't unnerve her, which most people found strange considering one look from the doctor's light, glazed eyes sent most of his colleagues turning away.

The asylum took up most of her time, but on her off days, she tried to stay busy, shopping or working out. If things got too dull, she would register for a class or two online and continue her studies. For a once homeless girl, Roslyne was extremely intelligent, something that a few simple IQ exams administered by Crane himself had shown her. She had wanted to act surprise, but, truth be told, she knew it already, remembering the way that her teachers in primary school had been dazzled by her, and there was no way that she would have been able to accomplish what she had with the mercenaries if she wasn't something at least slightly above average.

Roslyne had finally begun to get used to the boring routine, growing tired of waiting and hoping for her old masked friend's return. She could only live off of memories for so long.

But, all of the waiting and hoping had finally paid off as Barsad and Mücher sat in her living room, quietly discussing plans with Henry as Roslyne remained standing, not really able to take it all in due to her overall state of shock.

There was a faint buzzing in her head as she thought of Bane and her time spent with him-- the training, the spoken words, the days of silent companionship, his face underneath the mask.

She had never told Henry that she had seen him, truly seen him. Roslyne wanted to keep it a secret, something just between her and Bane. Her brother would probably read too much into it, anyway, and she wasn't about to put up with his ridiculous accusations.

"So, when should we be expecting everyone?" Henry asked, now sitting on the coffee table.

"Honestly, within the next few days. I doubt they'll make their presence known as soon as they arrive, but you might get a few guests in the apartment," Barsad informed him.

Henry tried to seem as if he was looking forward to it, but his little sister knew him too well for that. She could see the minute twitch next to his left eye, noticed the way the tendons in his arms were beginning to pop out. He was not happy about the mercenary's return, and it was probably because Roslyne was suddenly giddy as a schoolgirl.

"Great," he managed through gritting his teeth. "I guess we should start preparing, then."



Waiting was the hardest part. Barsad hadn't specified how long it would be, just very soon, and that made it extremely hard for Roslyne to go about her daily routine, especially since the sniper was actually staying with her and Henry in the apartment, Mucher having gone back to the compound to come back with the other soldiers.

Roslyne went to work, staying dilligent as possible and following Crane around like she always did. When she got off, she went straight to the gym to blow off all of her energy and to avoid the guys at the apartment. Henry and Barsad didn't get along very well, mostly because both men wanted to play the role of big brother, and if she were being honest, the nineteen-year-old sided with the European man every time.

It stayed like that for a solid week-- seven days of waiting, seven days of sitting on the edge of her seat, seven days of Roslyne being nothing more than a bundle of nerves.

Saturday led her into a late night, though, and she got out of the hospital at around one in the morning, Dr. Crane insisting that he walk her to her car. It was a little chilly outside but still bright from the city lights.

"Thank you for staying so late with me," he said politely, showing an almost uncomfortable smile.

"It was no problem. Wasn't the first time, and I'm sure it won't be the last."

Crane nodded, not saying anything else, and turned to walk to his own car. Roslyne watched his receding, lanky figure, shaking her head a bit as she watched his car speed off before letting out a high-pitched shriek as a hand was clapped over her mouth.

There was a hard body pressed against her back and long fingers wrapped around her neck. Roslyne frowned, panic dissipating slightly as she went over all of her training. She could take this guy easily, no doubt about it.

"You just stay quiet, and it'll be over soon, sweetheart."

That voice. That accent.

Roslyne had to roll her eyes at the recognition, thinking very little before rearing her head back and butting it against her so-called attacker's.

"Fuck!"

She reached up to the hand around her neck as the man stumbled from the previous blow, grabbing his pinky and breaking it without a second thought.

Another curse left his mouth, and Roslyne slipped out of his loosened grip, ducking down and kicking his legs out from under him. He fell to the hard asphalt with a grunt, oxygen being pushed from his lungs abruptly. She knelt down, straddling his chest, knees pinning his hands down, and glared daggers at him.

"God dammit, Gillen."

He frowned, looking up at her in something close to genuine fear before it melted into confusion.

"Roslyne?"

She smirked devilishly, "The one and only," and punched him square in the nose.

He really needed to learn to pick his battles better. Apparently, three years wasn't long enough to teach him.

Gillen hissed, hands twitching underneath the brunette, and he called her a number of offensive names.

"Lovely to see you, too. How was the trip?"

The soldier just narrowed his watering eyes at her. "Fuck you!"

"No," she shook her head. "That's the whole reason you're in this position, remember? Because you tried." She put more of her weight on his limbs, grinning as he squeezed his eyes shut, then slowly stood up and dusted her hands off.

Gillen rolled over, moving to get up only to earn a swift kick to his ribs. He collapsed again, grimacing, and reached out to wrap his fingers around Roslyne's closest ankle. She could only scoff and pivot, stomping hard on his wrist and hopefully breaking a few small bones.

"Tell Bane I said hi," she uttered with another smirk, stepping over him to get to her car as satisfaction swept over her.

She couldn't help but chuckle darkly to herself as she pulled out of the parking lot, eyes still flitting to her rearview mirror to watch the the man still in a heap on the ground.