Break Me to Small Parts
A/N: So I'm supposed to be writing a completely different type of story. I'm supposed to be working on a lovely little piece inspired by the possibly tripped out Lewis Carroll. But I was listening to Regina Spektor and this story was born. It just happens like that sometimes. Anyway this piece is the first in my collection of drabbles and babbles. I figured that since most of my pieces are more like micro-fics, it'd be wiser to house them all under one big heading.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans; it belongs to the respective writers and creators as well as DC Comics. I also don't own the title of this piece. It was taken from a line in Regina Spektor's song 'I Need Your Love'. Go and check out her music. I promise you'll be inspired to write something.
She didn't know how it happened. How she was back here, living and breathing. How she was okay. One moment she was nothing, a weightless, shapeless vapor. A cloud of dust, trapped in a prison of granite and earth. The next moment she was pale flesh, sunshine hair. Heavy and weighted, surrounded by the dust of her former home. She was alive.
She'd been at the Tower for little over a week. The way back to her former home had been a snapshot in her memory, frozen within her. They had welcomed with wary eyes, and grim smiles. They let her stay because they trusted her. And watched her closely because they didn't.
She functioned well enough. She was able to do the little things like eat, sleep and talk. She knew her name, age, and the color of her eyes. Knew her past before them and after them. Knew of her betrayal. Her powers even worked well, although she could tell that practice would be a must. She was going to be fine, they told her.
Except of course, for the fact that three years of her life had passed.
To her it was no more than a day, an hour, a minute, and a second in the paradox that is time. For her nothing had changed. But in actuality she'd been imprisoned in stone for three years. She remained the same as the last time they saw her. They had changed.
Oh had they changed. Where once sat boys, now stood men. Tall, strong, proud men had replaced the silly, awkward boys she held so dear in her mind. Where once were girls, now stood women. Intelligent, beautiful, graceful women had replaced the insecure, self-conscious, and self-deprecating girls she remembered. They cancelled out the memories of the children she held within, tucked away in heart shaped memory box.
More than their looks had changed.
With a grin, she watched as the young man with hair so black it was blue, turned his now unmasked eyes to the woman with hair as crimson as a rose. Watched as he fell in love with her all over again. Watched as she brought him the stars.
With a smirk she watched as the man who shone like silver, slipped his decidedly cocoa colored arm around the shoulders of a woman with a wicked smile and hair a dusty pink hue. Watched as he showed her how to be good.
Three years later and the one that hurts her is the one she saw coming. The one she knew was inevitable.
With a sigh she cannot contain, she watches as the young man with eyes that flicker like emeralds, embraces the slight woman, whose jacaranda purple eyes are locked on to him. Watches as he holds her oh so gently. Watches as he makes that face she remembers oh so faintly. The one that lets you know he's only looking at you, the one that makes you feel as if you are all he needs, all he wants. She only saw it once. Watches as he leans for the kiss, that she knows the indigo haired girl is anticipating. Briefly she wonders if he still taste like spearmint.
And even though she knows its too late to change the past, she can't help but wonder…if she'd been around these past three years would they have changed like they have? Would they have grown like they did? Would he be kissing her instead? Somehow she doubts it. She wasn't meant to be here, meant to be a part of this revolution.
Strange…how she suddenly wishes to still be in her cavern, to still be caged in that earthen tomb she knew so well. Her heart couldn't break there. Here she was breaking into a million small parts.
A/N: So if you've actually finished this piece I'm sure by now you now whose point of view this piece is from. What can I say; I don't completely detest the blonde troublemaker. She does have her uses after all. Anyway tell me what you think by leaving me a review. By the way this is just the first of what I'm sure will be quite a few drabbles.