Disclaimer: Six years later, I still don't own Teen Titans and I hate myself every day for it. :( Thanks Obama.
Chapter 1
It had been three years.
A man with vividly green skin stood in the middle of the sidewalk, glaring absentmindedly at the blaring newspaper headline.
"THREE YEARS SINCE END OF TEEN TITANS. WHERE ARE THEY NOW?"
Had it really been that long?
Three years since he'd played video games with Cyborg.
Three years since he'd helped Robin with paperwork.
Three years since he'd had any Tamaranean cuisine.
Three years since anyone had seen or heard any sign of life from Raven.
Three whole, entire years since he had been a Titan. A crime fighter. A hero.
Well, that last one was debatable to some, at least. The changeling now worked as a paramedic, taking time in between shifts to visit kids at the children's hospital, raising spirits one green animal at a time. Both occupations seemed to be a good use of his abilities. While rare, there were a few opportunities for his powers to come in handy as a paramedic. Like how a couple of weeks ago, he had entered the trunk of a crushed car as a mouse and transformed into a rhinoceros once inside, allowing quick access to a trapped young couple. Mostly, though, he was good at his job due to the immense amount of first-aid training and hands-on experience he had received in his days as a Titan.
The man briefly wondered why he hadn't been sought out to interview for the article. He supposed it was because his ex-teammates, save for a certain empath, had chosen to remain relatively within the limelight. Still somewhat strange, considering how easy he was to place with his green skin. While he had certainly undergone the most drastic physical change of everyone, that would never be something to budge. Whatever the reason, he was grateful nonetheless. Nowadays, Garfield Logan preferred to dwell on the sidelines. If he ever happened upon an incident, he'd take action when necessary- what kind of person would he be if he didn't?- but if possible, he always tried to get the authorities involved before stepping in himself. It just wasn't his responsibility anymore. He knew his days of crime-fighting were over.
The same could be said for most of the other titans as well. Robin- or Richard Grayson, rather- had unsurprisingly kept his foot in the door. He was now the Bludhaven Police Chief; just far enough from Batman to keep his sense of self (and his sanity) in tact, while still holding power over the area's crime world. Last thing Garfield knew of Starfire, now known as Kori Anders, she had gone on to become a Metropolis-area news reporter, engaged to none other than the police chief himself.
Victor Stone, his cybernetic friend and the only one he had remained in semi-close contact with, had opted to remain in the area as well. He was now a big-wig sports doctor and researcher up in Star City, not too far from Jump itself. The two met up for lunch or drinks once or twice a year, checking in with each other every now and then the way old acquaintances do. After the Titans disbanded, courtesy of Jump City's newly-appointed corrupt mayor Mr. Dwayne Pearson and his council, most of the team had attempted to stay in close contact with each other. However, as they adjusted to civilian life, it just got more and more difficult to make plans until they all just... stopped trying.
To the others it must feel like a lifetime ago. Staring at this newspaper headline, though, Garfield Logan could hardly believe it had been more than a few months. He was assaulted with what seemed like millions of pent up emotions at once; he experienced the familiar sensation of his chest tightening, his muscles all simultaneously tensed up, and his senses, animal and non, began to go into hyperdrive.
The changeling finally pulled himself away from the newspaper stand, searching frantically for a secluded spot within the busy streets of Jump City. Taking a right turn into an alleyway, the man walked just far enough from the street for people to not bother him before slumping against the red brick wall and roughly sliding into a sitting position. He tried to avoid drawing his knees in toward his chest, knowing that medically it was the wrong thing to do, but it was the only remotely comforting position his mind could conjure at the moment. He rested his head on his knees, lazily digging through his pocket for some earphones as he struggled to fill his lungs with an adequate amount of air. He gave up on the earphones quickly, opting instead to focus on his breathing. Four beats in through his nose, eight beats out through his mouth.
Four... Eight...
Four... Eight...
Sigh.
Panic attacks were fairly new to him. They had started occurring out of nowhere about a year ago, becoming more and more frequent as time went on. But that didn't exactly make them easier to deal with. He had experienced random bouts of anxiety growing up, but nothing compared to this. It was something he had only ever felt comfortable discussing with Raven. It was also one of the many things they had started bonding over before they were blindsided by the end of the Teen Titans.
He shuddered.
Raven.
His stomach churned at the thought of the sorceress. What could have possibly happened to her, where she might be, whether she even thought of any of them anymore. He shook his head rapidly, trying to snap himself out of it.
If she was even alive.
The last of them to have spoken to Raven was Kori, a little over a week after news of the city's decision had been brought to light. They had gone out for coffee, and nothing seemed unusual. That was all she had been able to tell them. Despite the numerous occasions Gar had begged her for more information, Kori's claim that everything had seemed normal remained unchanging. She always looked heartbroken repeating it, so he had eventually stopped asking. At the time, they had all left the tower just a day prior, and were getting settled in to their new respective homes. They had all promised to keep in contact and meet up at least once a week. No one had heard from Raven since.
Garfield jumped at the sound of an obnoxiously loud garbage truck emptying a dumpster at the other end of the alley. This thinking certainly wasn't helping his current condition. Even so, able to take a mostly deep breath, he stood up and brushed off his scrubs, reentering the crowded sidewalk and making his way to the local hospital for work.
Over the years he had happened upon the likes of Doctor Light, Control Freak, and even Mad Mod. So as he strolled past room after room, making his way to the EMS office, it should have come as no surprise when Garfield peered into one of the rooms to see none other than Adonis. And it didn't. What he did find surprising, however, was the way he was staring blankly straight ahead, actively ignoring the slew of questions from the multiple staff members and officers surrounding him as they restrained his still arms and legs. Even more so was the way he seemed to sense Gar's presence, slowly craning his neck to make direct eye contact before baring the most menacingly soft smile he had ever seen. His face was bruised and bloodied, with a particularly large gash just above his right temple, which a nurse was currently attempting to cover with gauze. By the looks of it, he shouldn't even be conscious. And yet, here he was, his expression completely unfaltering as he stared at Garfield. The green man was so unnerved by the action that he took a few subconscious steps back, before bumping into a pillar and being snapped out of it by his work earpiece loudly erupting in his skull.
"Logan! We need you downstairs, stat. Unknown code-red situation on 9th."
9th Street. Shit. Bad neighborhood. His neighborhood.
Garfield sprinted through the hospital corridors, taking the stairs four at a time and ending up at the ambulance exit barely a minute later.
"'Bout time, lard-ass. Stop at the breakfast bar on your way down?"
The shape-shifter rolled his eyes at his friend's hypocritical humor. Roger was a large man, not just in fat but muscle as well. He boasted a receding hairline and large, thin-rimmed glasses.
"At least the breakfast bar has healthy options, dude. You look like you chowed down on a few quarter-pounders for breakfast," he retorted with a smug look.
Roger simply smiled, shrugged and patted his beer gut. He tried to laugh, but it came out forced. No matter how long you called this your profession, no one could hide their jitters on the way to the scene. It was almost always a tense ride; you never knew exactly what you were walking into.
They took a few sharp turns, whizzing past car after building after car, until Garfield started recognizing the tell-tale signs of 9th Street. Plywood-covered windows, rusted, booted cars- even a barbed-wire fence surrounding the neighborhood playground. The vehicle finally came to a halting stop, beaten only by a couple of cop cars. The sirens of more units sounded in the distance. The police who were already there were mostly focusing on controlling the small crowd , with a couple of officers clearly blocking someone from the audience's view a few feet within a seemingly deserted alleyway. Roger jogged toward those officers, who were kneeling over the person and seemingly tending to whatever wounds they had, to get an idea of what was happening. The rest of them quickly pulled out a gurney and other gear.
"Beast Boy!" someone in the crowd yelled behind him as they ran to the scene.
He shook his head briefly before the sight of deep violet hair splayed out on the concrete stopped him dead in his tracks.
No way.
"Gar, GO! What the hell are you doing?!"
Garfield stumbled forward, finally setting the gurney down next to the body. The girl before him was clad in a simple lavender t-shirt dress- which would have ended mid-thigh all around were it not ripped from the seam up on the left side- an oversized black knee-length sweater, and plain black sneakers. Her chest-length purple hair was matted with blood in several spots. Garfield tried to focus on his job, picking up on the fact that Roger was already calling it in to the emergency room staff.
"Female, about eighteen to twenty-one years. No Med-ID. Slight pulse. Critical condition. Going to need a rape kit."
Garfield felt his body moving- lifting the girl onto the gurney, strapping her in, placing her in a head brace, rushing back to the ambulance- but his mind was entirely elsewhere. He couldn't pretend he hadn't noticed the pale gray skin, or the wavy violet hair, or the freaking jewel in the middle of her forehead. His head was swimming with unanswered questions.
It was her. It had to be. It was Raven. And she was dying.
"Gar, hey, listen," Once inside the ambulance, Garfield found himself face to face with Pamela, a middle-aged woman with dark hair and laugh lines, staring into his eyes with her own kind blue ones. This woman's genuine niceness gave Kori a run for her money. "I need you to focus, okay? We know why you're freaking out, we know who this is, but we need you. She needs you. Let's save her, yeah?" She flashed him a tiny smile and glanced between the girl and he, finally snapping him out of it.
"Right. Yeah. Okay."
Gar set to work, gently thumbing her eyelids open and checking for dilating pupils. His breath hitched again when they revealed familiar amethyst irises, but he didn't stop working. He quickly reached behind him and retrieved a stack of gauze pads and tape, which he applied firmly to the- knife? Was that from a knife?- wound in her side. Reaching back again, he grabbed this time for a roll of gauze, winding it tightly around the long gash on her inner thigh. It looked to be at least seven inches long, and pretty deep at that. He began wrapping more gauze around it as blood easily soaked through the first few layers.
"May have hit the femoral artery!" he shouted out to no one in particular. As the others bustled around him, he continued applying pressure to the leg wound, listening keenly to Roger's second conversation with the hospital and knowing that there was nothing else he could do for the time being.
"We've got her I.D. Veteran. Rachel Roth, twenty years old, lives down on 4th. No restrictions, no medical info, no cell phone. We're prepping her for surgery, be ready when we get there. About two minutes out."
Gar drowned out the rest of the chatter, leaning forward to allow Pam access to the breathing mask behind him. This was going to be the longest day he had had in a very long time.
So... kind of short, right? I'm sorry! It's a preface! Next chapter will be up on Saturday. ^-^ My plan is to update this with longer chapters once a week. We'll see how that goes. c;
Please let me know what you think! Read, review, you know the drill. It's like leaving a tip for a desperate waitress who hAS BILLS TO PAY AND IT'S NOT HER FAULT THE FOOD DIDN'T COME OUT IN A TIMELY MANNER OKAY.
*breathes* Okay, I'm good. So much left-over rage from being a waitress. *cringe*
Anyways. Review. Message. I don't care. If you're an asshat I'm gonna delete it, otherwise constructive criticism is gladly welcomed and appreciated. :) Thank you friends! Have a lovely week!