There's this man.

He's a bright, colorful man. With a loud, stern voice and bright eyes that always sweep over the battlefield in an analytical, yet alluring gaze as soon as he enters. He sweeps for danger. For allies. He's alert and constant.

The man is Robin. And Bane knows she's head over heels for that man.

As she sits in her cold dark prison cell in Arkham, she reminisces about the boy draped in green, yellow, and red. The boy with slick black hair and gleaming, captivating eyes caught her attention in their first fight. Bane is positively in love, to a sickening degree.

When she trudges through the cafeteria, skinnier than she'd like, she thought about him. When she ate slop and glared at the picky warden from the corner of her eye, she heard his voice. Even when Robin wasn't there, he was. In her mind, at least.

She knows it's obsessive. Unhealthy. But she's a criminal, a crook. So she doesn't care. Especially since her love for him is keeping her going within the cramped little cell they shoved her into. Robin, though, it is worth it. She wants to run her hands through his slick black hair, wants to fiddle with that yellow of his cape to see what fabric it was made from. Instead, though, she sits. And simply thinks, all day, every day, about the man of her dreams.

Then, there's another man.

Someone inherently less interesting. Someone less important to her than Robin. A man with a wicked smile, whispered words, and analytical and cold eyes. Someone named Rupert Thorne. A sly man who spoke just what she wanted to hear. A mutual alliance, he promised through the dark shadows of her cell. To get rid of Batman and some of his pesky sidekicks.

Bane agrees because Robin is one of those sidekicks. This gives her a chance.

The venom is powerful in her veins when reintroduced. She feels invincible, with mass muscles and a bulky frame to tower above others. She's free again.

The battlefield is dark and icy. A somber tone as a sliver of mist carries out across the barren environment. Distantly, Bane is aware that the man who helped her escape was fighting Batman. She didn't care. As their battle raged on, she turned her focus toward the two before her.

There's Robin, of course, and lord does he look exquisite. His hair was trimmed slightly since the last time they met, and his mask was cleaned in the wash just that morning. His crisp-cut chin tilted up in acknowledgment of his opponent. Of her strength. And does she very much do the same to him. He's powerful, to her. He could ask her to destroy an entire planet and she'd do it. In a heartbeat, just to see Robin smile.

Then, there's the woman next to him. And Bane hates her. For standing next to her man, to claiming what should be Bane's.

Batgirl. A tarnish on her and Robin's picture-perfect lives. An infiltrator. A home wrecker. An opponent.

And Bane does to her what she does to any enemy. She destroys her.

They engage in their twisted dance of fighting, as each of them does every time. They have their gadgets and their training, but Bane has her enhanced strength. Her love. And her hatred. All combed together into one disjoined sense of purpose, tainted and not quite right all at once.

They throw punches. Bane throws them back. Twice as hard. And all at Batgirl. So she cannot really be blamed when the deafening crack of the girl's spine could be heard just below her horrid scream. Robin cried out in anguish at seeing his partner hurt, and it infuriates Bane to no end. Batgirl is the reason they aren't together. Can't he see that?

So when Bane approaches Robin, who rumbles for a gadget from his waist, she lowers herself onto one knee. And pleads.

"Be with me."

He blinks. The battlefield, for once, has gone still.

"Leave with me, together we can be more!" Bane continues. "I love you. I always have. Leave with me."

There's a series of emotions that flicker across the boy's face. An episodic nature that she watches, closely, with an infatuation more closely resembling obsession than any normal sense of love or care. Disbelief. Horror. Anger. And, there, she sees it.

Hesitation. Desire.

It's there. For a fraction of a second. Then that second, short and sweet, passes, and Bane is devastated. Especially since, as Robin shouts out a devastating "NO!", he launches himself into an attack. One meant to hurt.

One aimed directly at the vials pumping Bane full of her venom, of her strength.

She isn't able to guard against his attack. She's still reeling from his slight desire turned into an angered attack. Bane is still wobbly from her chance being plucked from her fingertips to do nothing else but simply watch, an audience member in her fight, as his attack lands.

And lord, he's still frighteningly gorgeous as he shatters her venom tubes. There's a sorrowful cry from her lips as she falls, victim to love and rejection and violence all at once, and plummets to the ground.

Where Batgirl lays, battered and bruised, her fingertips twitch.

Robin checks with her. He feels for a pulse. His gaze lingers on Bane, stern and regretful all at once before he joins Batman in the fight against Rupert Thorne. And, like his comrade, he falls.

___

Batgirl wheels down the aisle, her Father attached at her side, with a dazzling smile and fluttery white dress. Robin, who stands down at the altar, is entranced as he watches her move. She's moving with purpose and determination, despite her newly bound life to wheels, and that spark of life has never once left her eyes. It's perfect, in every sense of the word.

She is perfect.

He doesn't let himself get carried away with thoughts of Bane, battered and broken after their fight. The way her eyes widened with absolute disbelief and sorrow as he turned her confession into an opportunistic attack. No, for his focus is on his gorgeous fiance, his soon-to-be wife.

"You're beautiful," He chokes out, true to every word.

Batgirl, seeing his response, tilts her head back and giggles fondly. The bells of the church chime, and the sun brightens in the room.

It's all so beautiful.