Okay, people. Here we go. Something tells me this won't be over in just a few chapters, but even I don't know exactly how it's going to turn out. This one's a work in progress, so I can't promise weekly installments, nor the size of such installments, so, if you would, bear with me. Hope you enjoy it! R&R, please!
I don't own the Teen Titans.
"Then's the time Obed he begun a-cursin' at the folks fer bein' dull sheep an' prayin' to a Christian heaven as didn't help 'em none. He told 'em he'd knowed of folks as prayed to gods that give somethin' ye reely need….them as didn't know what 'twas all abaout got kind o' swayed by what Obed had to say, an' begun to ast him what he cud do to set 'em on the way to the faith as ud bring 'em results."
"The Shadow Over Innsmouth"
-H. P. Lovecraft
Godwar, Part 3
"The Faith That Would Bring Them Results."
Chapter 1: Faith
Raven stood at the plate glass windows on the upper story of Titans' Tower, looking out at the storm clouds moving across the sky. The storm hadn't broken yet, but she expected it to, at any time.
Her supernatural senses were telling her a different storm was about to break, one that would be a good deal more devastating than any in the history of man. And, to make matters worse, she didn't have a clue as to what to do about it.
Of course, the others didn't have any idea about how things were shaping up. And, in truth, she wasn't completely sure herself. It wasn't as though she could see the future, see exactly what would happen, or the exact events that were about to transpire. But she could feel the buildup of energies, see, after a fashion, the general direction the timeline was headed in.
And, after a certain point in that timeline, she saw…nothing.
That didn't mean there was nothing there to see, she hastily amended, there, to herself, watching the physical storm brew outside. Only that she couldn't see it. The ability to foresee the future—even in such a limited extent—is often vague and mostly unhelpful. After all, if it were anything more specific, she thought, with a wry smile, she could have made a fortune in the stock market. Or Las Vegas.
{{Daughter.}}
Raven started and looked around, even as she realized the uselessness of the gesture. There was only one being in all creation who'd contact her telepathically and call her "daughter."
Raven rubbed her face. So. The Entity hadn't been lying when it said he was still alive. {{Don't call me that. Go away.}}
{{No. Not until you've heard what I have to say.}}
{{You've nothing to say that I could possibly want to hear.}}
{{So unforgiving. It almost makes me proud. But surely you realize that I would not contact you in this manner, nor reveal an existence you were previously in doubt of, for any trivial reason.}}
She had to give him that. Trigon, the demon lord who'd sired her, had never really communicated with her, except for his using of her as a living portal into the world of humans. That he would do so now indicated something of considerable import.
{{Alright, you've got my attention. Say what you have to say.}}
{{I know you have been in contact with the being you call "The Entity." I would warn you about him, and about the one called Typhon. Their battle is far from over.}}
{{I hate to burst your bubble,}} she replied, in a mental "tone of voice" that said just the opposite, {{But I've known that for some time.}}
{{Of that, I've little doubt. But I think you are unaware of just how much their war can cost you, what the effects of it can be upon you, and yours.}}
{{And those effects are…?}}
{{You yet retain too much mortality to fully comprehend the scope of their actions. But this much I say, that you can comprehend: to you and your friends, I extend the offer of sanctuary, here in my domain.}}
Raven thought about that, for a moment. Then she began to chortle. The chortle turned into a full-throated laugh. She found herself leaning against the reinforced glass of the Tower's windows to keep from rolling on the floor.
{{Something amuses you, daughter?}}
Raven mastered herself, wiping tears away from her face. {{Perhaps you don't see the irony. Sanctuary, in Hell. It's a bit like the Pacific ocean offering to keep a bar of soap safe from water.}}
{{You believe there is no fate worse than confinement within my domain. But there is, daughter. There is.}} And with that, Raven felt Trigon's presence fade from her mind.
She pondered. Could there be something worse than Hell? She couldn't conceive of any, but that didn't mean there weren't any, of course. And she'd seen enough of creation to know that there was always something one hadn't thought of. Usually just around the corner.
"There you are, Raven," said Hank, just rounding the corner of the circular hallway. "Been looking for you. I've got the latest duty rosters for you to go over, as well as a whole telephone book of forms you need to sign."
Raven sighed. Not long ago, Robin had made good on his promise to marry Starfire, and the two were even now honeymooning on Tameran. And, in typical Robin style, he'd left her in charge, much against her will. Very much.
And the old saying about not judging someone until you'd walked a mile in their shoes had been proven with a vengeance. Raven hadn't realized just how much paperwork was involved in just keeping things running, before now.
The conference room was nearest, so they retired there to sort out the messages. There was a hypertransmission video from Robin and Starfire, showing them at a beach on Tameran. Although Starfire looked jubilant (indeed, for her, that was not all that unusual), Raven had to smile at the expression of discomfort on Robin's face. Tameraneans don't have the practice of wearing swimsuits, so every beach there was a nude beach. Some guys would kill to have a problem like that, she thought, even while signing form after form after form. "What are all these, anyway? I don't recall previous times being this…complicated."
Hank shrugged. "You know Robin. The original control freak. Speaking of whom…" He produced a form from under all the others, and gave it to Raven to read. Her jaw dropped as she glanced over the document.
"What? I don't believe this. Control Freak wants to be a Teen Titan?"
"Yep. Seems he's served his time, and now actually wants to join up. Maybe he feels, like, if you can't beat 'em… And that's not all." He produced another such application. "Seems Billy Numerous also wants to join."
"Billy Numerous. A Teen Titan." Raven mused over the words. "In a way, I can see Numerous' powers coming in handy….but I don't know about Control Freak. I mean, aside from his remote, he doesn't have any powers of his own, does he?"
"None that I know of. Unless that 'training' he took in that TV show he dragged everyone into a few years back actually carried over into the real world. But even if he doesn't, you have to admit, his mastery of the technology that he used to create that remote is…impressive. Even Cyborg can't duplicate it, and I heard through sources that Gizmo's tried and failed."
Raven shook her head. "It's just…somehow I never thought I'd see the day when these two, especially these two, would actually apply for membership in the group they've previously fought."
"Well, you know." Hank had brought a cup of coffee over to the table. Now he took a sip. "People do change. Prime examples: Kitten and Blackfire. Of course, if you—we—accept them, they'll still bear watching."
"Of course." Raven was still looking over the applications, almost in shock. "Especially Control Freak. If he's as tech-savvy as all that, we really couldn't let him have unlimited access to the Tower's computer system." On the other hand, she found herself thinking, exactly how would we keep him out?
"So. What's the verdict?"
She shook her head. "None, yet. I'll look these over, and give the wardens at the prisons where they were a call. I'm not going off half-cocked. And, of course, even assuming they are approved for candidacy, it would still have to come to a vote."
He nodded. "Sounds fair. Oh, something else, something you asked me to remind you of: Nemesis and Deena are dropping by for a visit tomorrow."
She groaned, and face-palmed her forehead. "That's right. I'd forgotten all about that. What time are they expected to arrive?"
…
Raven and Angelique were on the roof of the Tower, actually at the Titans' helipad, when the boom tube opened up just overhead, disgorging Nemesis, known to her as Jasson, and his charge, the little Osiran girl Deena. "Raven! So good to see you again!" He shook her hand, then drew her into a hug. Raven wasn't normally a hugger, but this was her "little brother," from an alternate timeline she'd visited once. After the death of his mother and sister, Raven had found herself inadvertently filling the emotional void left by their absence, and the twelve-year old Jasson had come to regard her as his sister. Since time passed differently there than here, the next time she saw him, during the invasion of Apokolips, he'd grown up (at nearly seven feet tall, he definitely wasn't "little" anymore), and, as a disciple of the Entity, whom he revered as God, become the massively-muscled powerhouse he now was. The Entity had prepared him especially to battle Darkseid, and to act as his agent in mortal affairs, granting him might almost beyond human comprehension. Normally, he approximated Kryptonian or Osiran level, in terms of strength and power, but when channeling the energies of his God, there was no real upper limit to what he could do.
"Good to see you, too, Jasson." She extricated herself from his embrace, and turned to Deena. "Hello again, Deena." She held out her arms, and the child came into them.
Deena was the product of the union between two Osiran warriors whom she'd met during her sojourn in Jasson's world, warriors who were that world's version of this world's Omega and Athena. Raven hadn't known, when she left, that the female warrior had been with child. But now, seeing the little girl, she couldn't help but feel a slight hitch in her breath: the child looked so much like her parents, her friends….both of whom were dead.
Jasson turned to Angelique. "And you must be Angelique. I've heard a lot of good things about you."
"Yes, sir." Unsure as to what else to say, Angelique turned to Deena, Linking with her via the Osirans' built-in telepathy. {{Hey, Deena. Wanna go play?}} Wordlessly, even in Link, Deena nodded, her eyes shining.
After they'd left, Jasson turned to Raven. "Well. I heard about your promotion. Congratulations."
Raven rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I never wanted this job, and I still really don't. But nobody else seems willing to step forward and take it, so I guess I'm stuck with it."
He chuckled. "The Curse of Authority. Could be worse, Raven. At least this way, you don't have to worry about anybody over you giving you grief."
"No, I'm the one that has to give the grief. Not sure which I prefer."
"What's the ancient proverb? More blessed to give than to receive? Well, anyway. Say. Where's Hank?" Nemesis looked around.
"Hank? You know about Hank?"
"Of course. The Master briefed me quite thoroughly on all these things before I arrived. He likes Hank, you know. And, in my book, that speaks pretty highly of Hank. I was hoping I'd get the chance to meet him."
"Well, he was called away on an errand. Some family business he had to attend to. You know, we're at partial strength right now. Four of our members recently got married, and while one couple is back from their honeymoon, they've mostly stuck to their new house in the Rocky Mountains, in Colorado." While speaking, the two had moved downstairs, into the main sitting room. Raven busied herself in the kitchen, feeling the need to be a "good hostess." "Would you like something? We've some superb grapes flown in from—Great Azar, how'd that get in here? And what is it, anyway?" She was staring at some sort of shapeless….something….that lay up against the back of the fridge. Jasson joined her, and from his puzzled expression, he didn't know what it was, either. "It's not moving, is it?"
"I—I don't think so." She straightened up. "I'm tempted to zap it, just to be safe, but for all I know, it might be one of Starfire's home delicacies. And Terra seems to love her food. So until I know what it is, I guess I'll just leave it alone. And hope it hasn't contaminated anything else in the fridge." She frowned in thought for a moment. "Maybe I should put a lock on the door, just to make sure it doesn't get out."
Jasson stood back, rubbing his hands together. "Tell you what. How does lunch sound? On me."
"Uhm, sure. You've got money? I can get this, if you'd like…."
"No, no. The Master made sure I had everything I'd need before I came over here. So. Where to?"
…..
Soon the pair found themselves drawing a certain amount of attention at the local McDonald's. Not only did pale, grey-skinned Raven get her share of stares, the red-haired giant next to her also drew some looks, many of which, Raven noted, with some amusement, were appreciative appraisals from various females in the restaurant.
But fast food was a new experience for Jasson, since the civilization on the world he now called home, the rejuvenated worldlet of New Calador, had not yet progressed to the point where such were commonplace. The whole concept of chicken nuggets completely puzzled him, amusing Raven a bit more. She had to reassure him that they weren't anything nasty.
But finally they got their orders, and were seated in a booth over by the window. "So tell me, Jasson. What's been going on in your life? Fill me in on what happened after I left," she said, while mixing up her salad dressing.
"Oh, goodness. Where to start? You know, after you left, there was a war, right?"
"No. I'm not surprised, however, what with what the female warrior told me."
"Yeah." He fumbled with his sauce cup, opening it, and dunked one end of a chicken nugget into it. "Hm. Pretty good. Don't know exactly what I was expecting, but this is…good.
"Yeah, there was a war. The greater Lords had mostly been killed off by the singularity bomb the other warrior set off, but there were still others. But surprisingly enough, not all of them fought us. A few, a very few, but a few, saw things from a different perspective. They saw that this whole business of making people do their jobs for nothing wasn't gonna last, so some of them actually sided with us. Not many. But some. And every little bit helped."
"What about Deena's mother?"
His countenance fell, just a little. "She was killed in battle. Deena hatched shortly thereafter. So really, Deena's never known her true—*"
"Wait." She reached over and put her hand on his arm. "Did you say, 'hatched'?"
"Yeah. Turns out Osirans can reproduce in two different ways: one, live birth, same as us, or two, the females can, in times of uncertainty, or whenever they choose to—I have to admit, I don't really understand all that much about that-, actually lay eggs, which can then be tended by someone else, or by machines, for that matter." He shrugged, downing another nugget. "I suppose it's efficient. It gets the warrior back into active duty faster. But that's why Deena looks so small for her age."
"Her age? How old is she?"
"She's nine. But you probably noticed she looks smaller, like about six or so. That's why: Osirans who hatch are usually somewhat underweight compared to those who, er, come out the other way."
Raven chewed and thought about that. Yeah, that did make a lot of sense, considering what she knew about Osiran warriors, born and bred for war. Well, anyway…. "So you raised her by yourself?"
"Yes. As I said, she never knew either of her parents, so she naturally came to see me as, well, not a father figure, 'cause I always told her I was her brother, but, well, I guess as the only family she's ever known." He grinned at a sudden remembrance. "Even an Osiran infant is pretty strong. I remember helping her out of her shell, and she latched onto my finger. I thought she was gonna break it off or something."
"Jasson, that was…a lot of responsibility for you." Her admiration for him grew a notch or two. Basically, when he was barely a teenager, he'd had to become a single "dad," and in the middle of a war, to boot. Make that three notches.
Shrug. "I adapted. I had to. The war was in full swing, with what few Lords who sided with us working behind the scenes to undo the conditioning on the humans—and the warriors and Thinkers, too. It was an uphill battle. In many cases, we were heavily outgunned.
"It was shortly after Deena's mom's death that the Master contacted me. Told me who and what he was, what he needed, and what he wanted me to do." Pause. "He gifted me with these powers, but with those powers came the responsibility to use them wisely, and in his service. It," again a pause, while he looked far off, "it wasn't an easy task. It was a lot of responsibility. But someone had to do it." He'd finished his chicken nuggets and started on his ice cream. That, too, was, well, not entirely a new experience for him, but one he didn't get that often.
Raven sucked absently on her diet coke. "Well, tell me a little about how you've been. I know it hasn't been easy on you, but, well, I guess what I'm asking is, what about you, what about your life, socially speaking?"
He smiled and shook his head. "'Fraid that's zip. No time. Between caring for Deena, the war, and training every day for my eventual fight with Darkseid, I really didn't have much time for any kind of social life. Now I've still got no time, what with being the Master's agent on New Calador, raising Deena, plus my duties back on Earth. My Earth, I mean. The planet I was born on. So, no. Nothing going on in that department. Just as well. I don't miss it." Besides, none of the girls I ever met could even begin to measure up to you.
Raven almost choked on her soda. The thought, or, more accurately, the wordless feeling, had come across clearly and distinctly; there was no possibility of a mistake. Jasson?
But he continued to eat his McFlurry, completely unaware of any surprise on her part.
Of course, she knew how the process worked. A thought goes around and around in your head to the point where thinking it becomes sheer reflex, and you don't think about thinking it, much like a mannerism or gesture becoming so ingrained that you don't even notice you're doing it. But other people do.
Had Jasson been carrying a torch for her, all these years? But no, a very careful, very guarded probe revealed nothing of that nature. She could sense no feelings of unrequited passion; he simply thought of her as head and shoulders above anyone else in his experience.
"Raven? You alright?"
"Huh? Oh, yes. I'm fine. Er, why do you ask?"
"Well, your face turned kinda red. Just wondered. Say, you know what would be great? You should come visit us on New Calador sometime. I'm sure the Master could arrange it."
Raven thought. In truth, she was a bit curious about the new world the Entity had created especially for the liberated lowlies he'd rescued from Apokolips. She'd often wondered how they were faring.
But she shook her head. "I don't think I'd have the time, Jasson. Running the Titans takes a lot more than I previously thought. And then, there are….other matters." She was thinking of the impending more-than-physical storm, and the effects it would have on the world of Earth. Earth would probably need every superhuman available just to cope.
"But you'd love it there. And you wouldn't have to stay long…I'd just like to give you a tour of the place. We're still mostly an agrarian society, but that's working out really well for us. We're not to the numbers where we have any really big cities, certainly nothing like this." He gestured to the surrounding city, outside the cafeteria.
"A peaceful country lifestyle?" Raven smiled, thinking about it. It certainly sounded tempting…"Well, perhaps I could manage a couple of days away from here. It might be nice to take a bit of a break, to be somewhere where I wasn't in the spotlight so much. Here, I can't even turn around without someone noticing me, sometimes wanting an autograph, but most of the time wanting to complain about their shop being destroyed in the last supervillain battle."
"Er, wellllllll," he dithered, "Much as I'd love to show you the place—and I really really would—honesty forces me to admit: if you really want to avoid the limelight, New Calador might not be the place for you."
"Why is that?" What did he mean?
In response, he pulled out a small locket from a vest pocket of his blue and white uniform, and handed it to her. She opened it….and gasped in surprise.
Because inside the locket was a stylized bas-relief picture of her, in a relaxed, almost dancing pose, hands to either side of her, eyes closed, a gentle smile on her face, with dark-plumaged birds flying over her head in a graceful arc, between her upturned palms. "Jasson, what-*" While obviously handmade, the picture had the look of something designed to be produced in great quantities. "What…?"
"You mean, the Master never told you?" Wordlessly, she shook her head. He leaned forward on the table. "Everybody on New Calador knows how you went head to head against Darkseid himself, to buy the Master time to evacuate them all to safety. They regard you as their savior, or, or patron saint, at least. Their hero. Their protector. Raven, they practically worship you." It was true, she thought numbly. The picture had the iconic look of a religious or quasi-religious artifact.
Practically in shock, she thought of the irony of it: when she'd gone to fight and forestall Darkseid, in order for the rest of the team to escape, he'd mockingly offered to make her a goddess, his equal, stating that, from Apokolips' throne room, she could keep others from coming to harm, could protect them from those who would exploit them. She'd seen through his warped sense of humor…but by doing so, she'd apparently earned the very thing he'd facetiously offered.
Totally unexpected. "Please don't tell me they've built shrines to me." She glanced again at the icon.
He looked away, a look of mischievous guilt on his face. "Wellllll, okay, since you asked, I won't, but….." She could read the rest of the sentence even without him speaking it aloud. "Azar help me," she murmured, hiding her face in her hands.
…..
Another time zone: Terra Markov, now Terra Logan, lay beside her husband, watching him while he slept. It had been a busy night, and young as she was, she was still a little tired.
Their new house was her dream house come true: state of the art construction, utilizing many of the features found in Slade's lair, now the Titans' alternate HQ, in order to make it as trouble-free and self-maintaining as possible. Of course, some things still had to be done by hand, but those were nothing she wasn't prepared for.
One thing the nearly sentient house couldn't do, however, was something she and Gar were endeavoring to accomplish: they wanted children. So far, they'd been unsuccessful, but Terra wasn't overly concerned about that just yet.
But something was keeping her awake at times when she wished she could rest. Something called guilt.
Terra had deliberately left out certain parts of her past to Gar, and he'd never pressed the issue, sensing something she wasn't comfortable talking about yet. One thing, of course, and one he knew about—sorta—was her relationship with the now-deceased Slade Wilson. He knew they'd been intimate at some point, but he'd overlooked it, forgiven her for it, and loved her anyway. That had just solidified her love for him all the more. But there were other things he didn't know about, didn't have a clue about, and she worried that, should he find out about them, that he might feel…differently. And….she was afraid.
When she was twelve years old, Terra Markov, the illegitimate child of the king of the small country of Markovia, had been exiled from the land of her birth. Her father had given her some money, and essentially told her never to return to his land. And the child she'd been had begun to learn some very hard lessons, lessons no twelve year old should have to learn first-hand.
Before, money had not really been a concern for her. While her father didn't dote on her, he nonetheless saw to it that she had everything she needed, and a great many things she just wanted. And she had a roof over her head, and a certain amount of security. But all that disappeared when she was exiled. And she was confronted by the harsh reality: if you don't have money, nobody wants you around.
For a while, it hadn't been so bad. She hadn't been forced to beg on the streets or anything. She'd even managed to get a couple of odd jobs, sometimes something like baby—or animal—sitting, or even housekeeping, and had proved herself trustworthy and reliable enough that she was able to make a little money. But it was so very little. This went on for a couple of years, and all the while, she kept her true identity a secret. Even as young and inexperienced as she was, she knew there were people who wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of her, if she were ever to become linked to anyone of status.
But there had come a time when there was just no money at all. Nobody would hire her, her powers were too unpredictable to make use of them, and she had been forced to scrounge around in dumpsters just to survive.
More than once, she'd thought about trying to get in touch with Brion, her half-brother. He'd always taken care of her, even when they were little, and she knew he would now. But she couldn't figure out how to go about doing that without alerting the Markovian king, and she was certain he'd nix anything Brion would try to do for her. Brion might even get into trouble for it, and she definitely didn't want that.
So the time had come, when, sitting all alone, hunger gnawing at her ribcage, freezing cold in an alleyway in Berlin, that she'd made up her mind to do what she had to do. There was just no other choice.
So she'd taken some of her best garments (though none of them were really all that good), and carefully ripped them in strategic places. Applied makeup to her face until it felt like it was an inch thick. Then, she'd taken up a station on a nearby street corner, keeping close to the shadows, so that she could duck back in should a police car appear. And she waited.
She didn't have to wait long. A long, black limousine had pulled up, and the rear passenger window came down. After a bit of negotiation, she—very reluctantly—got in, and went with the man to a nearby hotel.
While "freshening up" in the room's bathroom, she'd gotten a good look at herself. She barely recognized her own reflection. Haunted was a good term for the way she looked. She was about to go out there and have sex with some strange man, just in order to put food in her stomach.
Was this what she'd come down to? Was this all life held for her? A princess of Markovia…reduced to this?
She found she just couldn't go through with it. She just couldn't. So she'd quietly sneaked out by way of the bathroom's window, leaving the water running so he couldn't hear. After that, she just ran. Ran and ran, until she didn't know where else to run to. Now, she realized that she'd been running away from that horrible moment ever since…but without any clear direction in her life.
She tried using her powers. Sometimes they worked. But sometimes there were unforeseen side-effects, and, a few times, she'd wound up causing more harm than good.
She remembered standing at a sink in a truck stop's filthy rest room, and, once again, just looking at her reflection in the mirror. She'd had some "offers" of a "free ride to wherever yer goin', honey," from a couple of men who had come through there, and, more than once, been seriously tempted. Maybe this was all she was good for.
But she'd just never gotten up the nerve to go through with it, to cross that line, to sell her body to some man for money.
But the very fact that she'd never actually gone through with any of that still did nothing to alleviate her guilt. Basically, she'd been prepared to prostitute herself, to survive. She'd just chickened out at the last moment, that was all. In essence, she'd already committed the deed in her mind, and now her mind was tormenting her with feelings of guilt. Because Gar didn't know. What if he found out?
So some nights she tossed and turned. Her conscience wouldn't let her sleep. And sometimes, she'd thrashed about enough to wake him, and then he'd taken her into his arms, pulled her close…and the two of them had simply gone back to sleep, with him never realizing that that simple gesture, on his part, soothed her fears and calmed her soul.
But something still bothered her. Her interrupted time with the Titans—she still cringed at the memory of Slade, and all he'd said and done—especially done—had served to give her employment, and a certain standing in the community. She was no longer Terra Markov, homeless person. Now she had an actual income. It was a huge relief.
But some part of her wondered. Although she hadn't known it at the time (at least, she didn't think she did), the green-skinned Teen Titan who'd taken such an interest in her was actually pretty well off, financially. She'd only come into the knowledge that he was after they were engaged. Of course, none of that made any difference to her.
Unless, of course, it did.
Had she subconsciously zeroed in on someone who could provide for her? She couldn't recall ever knowing that much about his financial affairs, but maybe she'd heard a rumor, just a dropped comment or two, that hadn't registered in her conscious mind at the time, but that had—maybe, possibly-affected her feelings towards him.
Had she, in essence, married him for his money?
Of course not, she told herself. She married him because she loved him, would always love him, no matter what. Even, even if they'd been living out of a cardboard box, she still would love him. At least, that's what she told herself.
But how could she know?
In her mind, it didn't matter that she'd been unable to go through with it, that first time in Berlin. The fact was, she'd been prepared to do so. She'd actually decided to fuck a man for his money. It was one thing to have loveless sex with someone, as she had with Slade (and she was definitely not proud of that, even though, to this day, she wasn't really sure just how it had come about), but to feel forced to do it, and for money, was a very different thing indeed. So now she felt…tainted. And so far, she hadn't found any way of removing that stain on her soul.
Could she be sure she wasn't doing that right now? Absolutely sure? How?
Something on the very edges of her mind rippled and rustled. Instantly, she was fully awake, every sense alert, like a rabbit that has heard a twig crack. Lying there in the dark, she carefully probed around the edges of her mind, just as Raven (and, yes, Slade, also) had taught her: feel carefully, search for thoughts/feelings not your own. Maintain a tight hold on your own feelings and thoughts. Control. Control is the key.
"Terra?" Garfield yawned awake, pushing up from his pillow. "Something wrong?"
"No, Gar. Just…thinking." She came into his arms, and the two entwined themselves together once again, just as they had at the Tower, and had done so almost every night together since her resurrection. She settled against him, enjoying his warmth, and just his simple nearness. Those doubts she had…they were just that: doubts, and doubts only. It was all in her head. She knew she loved him, would always love him, no matter what.
But just before sleep overtook her, the stray thought ran through her mind: always is a very very long time. Could anything ever be truly and completely always?
…..
She was back on that streetcorner in Berlin, all made up, ready (she thought) for business. As before, the black limo had pulled up, and the back passenger window rolled down in a steady motion that implied an electric motor behind it. But instead of the anonymous man she'd seen then, it was Beast Boy's face, looking out at her from the warm interior of the car. His face twisted in a sneer. "You've gotta be kiddin' me." The window rolled back up, and the limo sped off into the freezing night.
Scene change: Terra had returned to the room at Titans' Tower she shared with Garfield. Upon opening the door, however, she was greeted with a shocking sight: Garfield—her intended—was locked in a steamy embrace with Raven, both of them only partially clothed. As she stood there, paralyzed by the shock, they broke apart momentarily and looked at her. Their expressions were anything but apologetic. "Well, well," said Beast Boy, a cruel gleam in his eye, "look what the cat dragged in. Or should I say, the garbage truck."
Raven's face wore a superior, triumphant expression. "Oh, come on. Did you really think he'd settle for a teenage whore like you? You were just practice. I may be his half sister, but it doesn't take much to be a whole lot better than the likes of you. And he'll always love me, regardless."
"Yeah," said Beast Boy, either oblivious to or actually enjoying her mounting anguish, "It's not like I need Slade's leftovers, anyway. Close the door on your way out." He turned back to Raven, smiling in his arms. "We'll have your stuff sent to the nearest streetcorner. That's where you belong, anyway."
No, no, she told herself, stumbling back, breath hitching, but whether to cry or scream she couldn't say, this is a dream. It has to be. I'm having a nightmare. This is my worst imaginings, come to life. But it's only a dream. Gar would never do me this way, I know he wouldn't!
Scene change: She knelt, completely naked, except for chains around her wrists and ankles, arms manacled behind her, before her father, the king of Markovia. "Terra. You have disgraced the name of the House of Markov. No, not merely disgraced it; you've dragged it through the sewer. Mere exile is insufficient for your crimes." He paused, watching her shiver with cold and fright, savoring her fear. "So I'm giving the men in my eighty-first battalion a gift. You. You will be theirs to do with as they please. You probably won't survive the month, but I really don't care. Guards! Come take her away!"
Desperate, she looked around for Brion. Surely…."Brion! It's me, Terra! Help me!"
But Brion Markov, her half-brother, just turned his back on her, disdainfully. "It's a whole lot better than you deserve, tramp." And the guards came and dragged her off…
Someone was shaking her. "Terra! Terra? Wake up! Terra!" She woke up to find Garfield holding her, his arm behind her head, a look of worry on his green face. "Terra?"
"I'm, I'm…" She found herself crying uncontrollably. "I'm…alright, Gar. Just…just a bad dream." She clung to him, trying to stem the tide of tears that seemed to just keep coming.
"No," he said. "A bad dream is getting chased by a T-Rex. This was worse. Way worse. Wasn't it?" Wordlessly, she nodded, her head against his bare chest. "So what was it about?"
"It…I…I don't know…it was nothing. Really. Just some crazy dream…"
He held her head against his chest, his hand behind her, underneath her hair. "Was it about me?" Again a wordless nod on her part. "Did it involve me, like, rejecting you or something?" Another wordless nod. "Maybe in favor of Raven?" Nod. "Terra. Listen to me. Listen very closely to what I'm about to say, okay? Will you do that?" She sniffled and nodded again, still not trusting her voice to speak. "I don't know the particulars of your dream, but one thing I can tell you, without any doubt whatsoever: I love you. Ever since the moment I first laid eyes upon you, right up until now, and I still do, and I always will. No matter what. I look at you, and I see my one true love, the girl—make that the woman—whom I want to spend the rest of my life with. And I will never ever forsake you. I promised I wouldn't, didn't I? I made a vow before God Himself. And if your dreams are telling you different, well, you just walk straight up to 'em, kick 'em right in the balls, and tell 'em 'Get the hell outta both our lives!' So there." And he kissed her face, kissing her tears away.
She sniffled some more, laughing and crying at the same time. "I…It's just, I can't seem to shake this notion that if you really knew me, you…wouldn't want me."
"Is this about Slade?" No reply. "Well, if so, it's like I told you before: I don't really care how it all happened. I don't even care if you seduced him. Doesn't matter. All that's over with. You're still the girl I love, and always will. So just know that, in your heart, and don't worry about your feelings. Feelings aren't facts, and they can fool you. But know what you know, and what you know is, I love you. And that is a fact. Can you do that? For me?"
She nodded, lying there, against his chest, and trying to smile. "I'll, I'll try. But this, this nightmare just seemed so real…"
"Nightmares often do. But they're still just dreams, not truth, and here, in the waking world, the truth is: I love you. You're my wife, soon to be the mother of my children—our children—and I'll always, repeat always love you."
The two drifted back to sleep, completely unaware of the faintest wisp of fog or mist that had found its way into their bedroom, and even now, stole quietly out…
To be continued…
