The Bane of Our Existence [The Dark Knight Rises]

8: Curiousity Killed the Cat

Gotham was full of sinners, regardless of what context that was taken in. Murderers, psychopaths, the rich who would die before they gave to the poor, criminals ran the city. It certainly needed to be absolved, and so Bría was not concerned about what would happen to Gotham. It was just another city, an empire of its own, and all empires eventually fell. Every empire was a living, breathing thing. It was born, raised, and eventually it had to die, like every other living thing.

"I can live with that," she said at last.

Bane stood up from where he was crouched in front of Bría, and grabbed something from a shelf. A crude looking first aide kit was in his massive hands, and he unzipped it. Bría watched with fascination as his deft hands managed to withdraw the hydrogen peroxide and a sterile pad. A part of her recoiled when he crouched down in front of her again, but not because of his closeness, but rather the dangers of exposure.

"Last I checked I was disease free, but you should be wearing gloves," her inner paramedic told him. "Rule number one, don't touch other people's blood."

He stared at her, almost coldly, but not quite. "I have more blood on my hands than you know."

"All the more reason to let me do it," she suggested, then reached out her hand for the pad and the bottle.

Bane didn't give in, however, and simply poured the hydrogen peroxide onto the pad, then pressed it against Bría's cheek. She winced at the impact, but the solution quickly soothed the ache in her face. Relaxing, and giving in to Bane's unorthodox ways of medical safety, she looked into his eyes as he cleaned the wound. As he tossed the pad into a trash bin, he pulled out two butterfly bandages and placed them firmly on her cheek, closing the wound as best as possible. Bría was honestly surprised that his big fingers could handle such a tiny bandage.

"So much for being the strong type," she said, referring to his mention of only the weak succumbing to their wounds when they had first met. She knew that having a cut on her cheek didn't mean that she was weak, but over the last twenty-four hours she'd been attacked twice. The concussion had ebbed, but a headache still lingered.

"Do not underestimate yourself."

Bane stood up then, as if he could no longer look into her eyes. He put the first aid kit back on the shelf and had his back to Bría. Standing still, he appeared to be pondering something, his mind deep in thought.

Bría shamelessly studied his frame; his muscular build was amazing, peak physical health and ability. A long scar ran down the length of his spine, an old battle scar, she suspected. Rising to her feet, she stepped a little closer to see the scar.

"What is this from?" She asked as she reached up, touching the scars on his back daintily with her fingertips.

Bane instantly recoiled from her touch, and she stepped back to be out of his range, in case she had crossed a line asking. She held her hands tight against her chest, "I'm sorry."

His eyes did not show anger, but confusion. People always asked why he wore the mask, they wanted answered for what was right in their face. No one had ever asked about the scars, the real reason why he wore the mask. He wanted to answer, and yet he did not know how. The story was ancient, there was no point in bringing up the past.

"I just don't often see spinal scars that long..." she mumbled, trying to justify what she'd done.

"Because other men could not survive what I have," he told her. It was not a real answer, but it told Bría that the conversation was over.

Still, Bría tried to piece it together, "Crude surgery done... to relieve Neurogenic shock. The impact to cause such internal damage-"

"That's enough," he snapped, raising his voice.

"I'm sorry, I'm curious by nature," she admitted, not showing any fear anymore. It was clear from the day's recent events that Bane cared about her differently than he did anyone else in the sewers. She was not just another rat looking for work, but someone he possibly admired.

"Curiousity killed the cat," Bane quipped.

"I doubt you would kill me for using my background to figure out what happened to you," she smirked, feeling braver by the second.

"And why is that?" Bane asked.

She smirked, but she didn't answer. Instead, she said, "curiousity killed the cat, Bane." 

Hey guys, if I post tomorrow would you be online at all to read? I don't want to post if it's just going to sit there. But hey, it could be a much needed relief from spending all that time with relatives (those who celebrate).