Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the setting. I only own the voice that which I gave them life in this story. :)

Café Devenir

"There are other beaches to explore. There are more shells to find. This is only the beginning."

-Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Chapter One

Actually – now that I look back to it – we never saw it coming. Everything that led up to it, all the fighting and the drama, the hugs and the pushes, the cards were dealt on the table…and we never saw it coming. It was like that unfamiliar yet comfortable smooth climb up to the climax – and then the devastatingly steep fall into 'the end'. Although I have to check on that last one. Somehow, I still have that lingering feeling in my chest telling me it's not the end; that maybe after everything that's happened…we'd still keep in touch. I know it won't ever be the same as it used to be. Not after…yeah…but we'd been together through thick and thin. It's hard to imagine that after all that, we'd go back to what our lives normally entailed.

I wish…I wish things happened differently. Don't get me wrong but…I wish we all had that happy ending. It's really cliché – that's what Bruce thinks, anyway – and I know I'm not one to delve deep into why fairytales make me cringe. That's Rachel's job. There's nothing wrong with reading them. Heck, I love 'The Little Mermaid' just as much as Gar loves his tofu. It's just so ironic when you read them…you know life will never turn out as dandy as Cinderella marrying Prince Charming and then living happily ever after. Look at Vic. Look at Gar. They've had such horrid pasts and presents yet they're still arguing about meat and tofu. They're banging it out on Mega Monkeys 6 almost every night. It makes me so jealous of what they have – even more so when I look at Gar with Rachel, and Vic with Karen. They're so happy it hurts.

Maybe I'm wallowing too much in my own self-pity. Maybe…after all this time, I still haven't moved on. Not when every day I see myself with my arm extended, reaching for their hands…seeing their faces contorted with fear as they fall with a sickening crunch to their deaths. I swore I'd never let them go and maybe I've taken that promise a little too literally. Maybe this is just the way I cope with things. It isn't necessarily healthy. Hell is it even right. Everyone's drifting apart already. Just as Kory said we would.

All I know is…things will never be the same.

But before everything...before the turning point of my life's book, I was still Richard Grayson and I hated Monday mornings.

BEEP – BEEP – BEEP – BEE—

Ugh. I have to come up with a better alarm ring soon or I'll destroy this stupid thing. I groaned as I sat up reluctantly, grimacing as I checked the date. I loathe Monday mornings. It's not even because I have to go to work after an amazing weekend. It's because I have to go to work because Bruce will have my ass if I don't. Come to think of it, Bruce only does that on Mondays.

I yawned impulsively, stretching my arms and legs for eight straight seconds. Groggily, I got into the shower and locked the door. Afterwards, I put on my regular black suit-red shirt combination and set to de-taming my hair. Monday mornings are a drag because Sunday evenings won't let me keep my abnormally spiky hair in shape, so I have to keep re-spiking it first thing.

Finished. My, you look incredibly dashing today, Grayson. I winked at the mirror and stumbled downstairs for some breakfast. As usual, the overwhelming scent of bacon and eggs wafted into my nose and I inwardly drooled. Alfred always had the best cooking. I greeted him a good morning before I sat down in front of my breakfast.

Alfred's 65 years old but he could pass for younger easily. He's been there for Bruce since the beginning, and now for me as well ever since Bruce adopted me. His thick British accent did take some time getting used to – especially when he uses British slang to make us confused – but after hearing it every day for the next eleven years, I guess it grows on you.

"By the way, Alfred, this is really good," I said through a full mouth. It came out warbled and incomprehensible. Somehow, Alfred still understood.

"Thank you, Master Dick," he replied, then turned to begin washing the dishes. I finished my serving quickly and got up, thanking Alfred once more before heading off to work.

Okay, fun facts time. I thought that you'd like to know that (1) I live with Bruce but (2) just 'cause I do doesn't mean he lets me off all the time because (3) he's an annoying prick and (4) I'm pretty much his younger clone.

No, I do not blow off business partners whenever I want to. No, I am not dating anyone as of yet. Yes, I still have an adequate amount of humanity left inside me. No, I am not earth-shatteringly ugly.

The last one is a lie, as you can tell. But I like to pride myself in my looks just as much as Bruce likes to pride himself with how many girls he can get on his arm in a day. Yeah. He's an embarrassment. And because of his playboy reputation, I've become a victim of the media every time I hook myself up with a girl. I am now, apparently, an authentic Gotham playboy in a Jump City world. Which is great if you actually were a playboy.

"Master Dick," Alfred said, interrupting my thoughts. "Master Bruce wishes to inform you that you have a boardroom meeting at seven. Do not be late."

I nodded to show him I got the message and checked my watch. Shit. I have ten minutes to get to Wayne Enterprises, travel up to the top floor, get my notes ready and then sit listening to people drone on and on about profits for at least an hour. Well, that's the plan if I actually get there on time. Otherwise, Bruce would keep me in his office all day and lecture me on the importance of punctuality. Then he would tell me to stand in for him for a whole week of boardroom meetings while he goes around and prances with Selina in some flimsy hotel room. Life sucks. Aw hell, I'm just saying that.

Okay. Plan A. I ran towards the garage and flung myself over to my most favored sleek-and-shiny black Kawasaki Ninja 250R. Hastily putting on my helmet (psh, as if I need it), I turned on the engines and sped through the open garage door.

Eight minutes. Riding my Ninja will always be the best experience in my entire life. I love the feeling of time whizzing past you, the wind in your face (when there's no helmet), and the heartwarming sense of flying and power. I mean, the only exception is when you get caught going over the speed limit, but my expenses cover for that mostly.

So after taking a couple of left turns here and right turns there, I parked just in front of the 'awesome' Wayne Enterprises skyscraper and handed my keys to the first guy who comes up to me in uniform. I took off my helmet and placed it under my left arm, ruffling my black spikes in frustration as I repeatedly mashed the 'Up' button on the elevator.

I must've stood there for three whole minutes. I checked my watch and groaned. I might as well hand my ass over to Bruce to save him the time. Ding! FINALLY! I got in hurriedly and continued to mash the topmost button. For a second, I thought I was going to make it unscathed but no. These people just had to get in at the last minute to watch me get killed. I swear I need coffee.

The elevator doors closed and I felt my feet get heavy. We had to stop four times so people could get off on their floor so by the time I checked my watch again, I was already screwed. The elevator 'dinged' once more and I sprinted out, unlocked my office door, placed my helmet on the table, and grabbed the nearest notebook, then made my way towards the room where the meeting was being held.

I stopped in front of the door, already seeing Bruce sitting with a bored expression through the narrow glass slit. Shades? Check. Hair? Check. Notes? Check. Okay, all set.

I pushed the door open. "Sorry, I'm late, I only got the time of the meeting…" I paused. No one was in the room apart from Bruce and Fox. "…just…now…" I turned to Bruce who was sitting with an amused expression on his face. "Uh, where is everyone? I thought there was a meeting at seven – I even drove through a red light for this!" Bruce continued to smirk and I continued to scowl. "Wait…so there wasn't a meeting?"

Bruce Wayne, owner of Wayne Enterprises, raised a sleek black eyebrow. "Why? What did Alfred tell you?"

"He told me that you told him to tell me to be up here by seven for a boardroom meeting. I had the incentive to get here on time," I gritted my teeth.

"Well, your incentive is flawed," he said and he pointed at the clock above Fox's head. I seethed. "If it makes you feel any better, Dick, you won't have to sit through an hour of old men talking about money…at least for another thirty minutes." He smirked.

I turned to acknowledge Fox, who was smiling at our little tirade. "Can you believe this guy, Fox?" I pointed at my surrogate father with a scowl.

"I take it that is a rhetorical question, Mister Grayson," Fox replied, still smiling.

I sighed. "It's Richard, Lucius. Or Dick, like some people like to call me, or like how some people are." I glared at Bruce.

He only chuckled. "You just indirectly insulted your name, Dick."

Before I could bark back, Fox interceded. "Perhaps you would like to go back to your office and calm down a little, Richard. I'll send for someone to summon you in thirty minutes."

I nodded, helpless and more than a little frustrated at my 'father'. I stepped out into the lobby and growled. Sometimes – scratch that, all the time – Bruce was such an annoying, manipulating son of a—

"Hey, Dick."

—gun. And he doesn't give a damn about what people go through to be on time or how they feel on a Monday morning. Surely he has a little bit of humanity…

"Dick. Come on."

No. I take that fun fact back. I am most certainly not his younger clone, nor will I ever be. Sure, I'm bitter towards people I've just met and tend to be antisocial during social gatherings, but I'm not heartless. Which is what Bruce is.

"Dude. Richard. Why are you standing in front of your door talking to yourself?"

I shot my head to the side to glare at the person who has just invaded my personal space. A flash of shocking red hair and goofy grin was all it took for me to identify my long time best friend: Wally West.

To be honest, I never expected our friendship to last this long. We tended to get on each other's nerves almost all the time and we didn't hang out as much as when we were kids in high school. But still – it wouldn't hurt to have a friend even if said friend was Wally West.

"Um, I know you're not gay but could you stop staring at me?"

I snapped out, shaking my head. I frowned. "What do you want, Wally? I'm not exactly in a good mood today."

"Who isn't? It's Monday morning so come on, get over yourself," my 'best' friend scoffed.

"Not everyone had to speed through a red light to get to this damned building for a meeting scheduled for seven o' clock on the top floor with people coming in and coming out of the stupid elevator pissing me off to the max and getting me worried about dying young, JUST SO I CAN GET HERE ON TIME FOR A GODDAMNED MEETING THAT ISN'T DUE FOR ANOTHER HALF HOUR."

Anyone could tell I was livid. Very livid. So if they were any normal person, they would back away immediately. Unfortunately, when your name is Richard Grayson and you are the heir to the fortune at Wayne Enterprises, you make friends with people with the name of Wally West who is anything but normal.

I had to resist the urge to head bang myself on my door when Wally spoke again. "Geez, man. That's harsh and all but people go through red lights everyday."

"Wally?"

"Yeah?"

"You suck at compassion."

The redhead only rolled his eyes before turning to look at me. "Says the guy who wears shades indoors. I mean, who does that?"

"Me."

He snorted. "Yeah, well, you look stupid but, of course, everyone is gonna think otherwise. 'Oh, Richard Grayson, you look so mysterious! Please, come fu—'"

I put my hand on his mouth to tell him I got the idea. "You know, faux soprano sounds good on you."

"Thanks, that was actually me imitating Jinny," he threw in an aloof smirk, emerald eyes glistening.

I shook my head smiling. "You should just go ahead and propose already. There's only a miniscule possibility she'll say no."

"Don't jinx it," he closed his eyes tight and spat into the flowerpot behind him saying, "Kenahora" repeatedly, like a mantra. It took him a few moments to calm down but when he finally did, he grinned all-knowingly.

I raised an eyebrow. "Dude, what just happened?"

Wally checked his watch and frowned. "I'll explain later, Dick. I gotta run. See you later!" And just like that, I was alone.

I sighed as I entered my office at last. It wasn't as big as Bruce's. The view was only mediocre. And there was hardly anything to do but do paperwork and sit in front of my desk. Said desk wasn't the least bit interesting either. All I had on it was a picture of my parents when they were alive and very much in love; a pot of pens and pencils; a silver lamp; my helmet; some books and bits of paper; unsigned contracts and the lot. To my left, two tall shelves encased all my mystery novels, which I only read if I'm desperate to do something with my life. At the moment, I'm too pissed to think.

After half an hour of brooding and depressing thoughts, I heard a knock resound through the room. I got up and sighed, opening the door to reveal none other than Bruce himself – with a frown etched on his face.

"I take the meeting is in place?" There was no hiding the undertones behind my question. Bruce only narrowed his piercing blue-grey eyes at me.

"Yes," he nodded curtly. "But since I can still sense your obvious distress over the matter in the morning, I will excuse your tardiness."

"Tardiness to something that didn't exist yet," I muttered under my breath. Thankfully, Bruce didn't hear (or chose to ignore it) and walked away into the meeting room.

Like the obedient puppy I was, I followed him inside.

Auspiciously, the meeting didn't last as long as I had expected it to be and I was out in no time. The only bad side to this was that I didn't have anything to do until lunch break where I normally went out with Wally to the arcade or to some random café.

Nonetheless, the remaining hours until noon passed by slowly. I was ready to sink into my angst-y hole of a brain when the alarm on my phone signaled it was time to kick butt.

I hurried out of my office, clutching my helmet as I headed towards Wally's cubicle. Some of the employees greeted me politely as I walked into Wally's division. Of course, being the respectable heir that I am, I politely responded.

Wally's cubicle was normal and dull from the outside, but inside the walls were painted with several posters of some speedster in a comic book. I think he said his name was 'The Flash' or something. Anyway, first thing I noticed, Wally wasn't there. This was weird because he would normally wait here for me so we can go and get lunch. It was by this time I saw the note stuck to his computer screen.

Hey, Dick.

Sorry about ditching lunch bonding time but I got something serious to do today. I'll see you tomorrow and we'll kick butt in Mortal Kombat first thing. How's that?

Signed: Wally West.

Well, this sucks. I have officially no source of entertainment for the whole day of work. I officially despise Mondays.

Leaving the note where it was, I took the elevator down to the parking lot and recognized my Ninja in all its sleek and shiny glory. I fetched my keys from the guy in uniform and set to go somewhere where I can be at peace. Sure, I had no one to go with but that didn't stop me before. It just sucked because it was a Monday and Wally rarely ditched our lunch bonding time over work.

It was then I decided to just walk around the city until I got bored and head back. So, with heightened dignity, I parked my Ninja somewhere legal and shoved my abnormally large helmet into my abnormally large messenger bag. I walked with my hands in my trouser pockets.

I guess it took being bored out of my mind to finally relish in the urban scenery of Jump City. It wasn't at all dark like Gotham. Come to think of it, Jump seemed to be the polar opposite. Everyone was so lively, they kinda blinded me with their happiness radiating at a hundred miles per hour.

I turned a sharp left off Nevermore Avenue. I'd never been to this part of town before. I always gave the excuse that I couldn't afford to be seen somewhere so gloomy. The media would have a field day. 'Richard Grayson – dealing with drugs?' Yeah. Bruce would have my head if I tarnished even a little of Wayne's reputation.

But even that fact didn't turn me away from the fact that I was hungry. I twisted my head to look for some sort of eligible eatery but only found some rundown building marked 'Café Devenir'. Now I know my French lessons did me some good when I deduced the meaning of the name. I chuckled at the cheesiness as I walked down towards the entrance.

The café didn't look like a café at all, at least not from the outside. The walls were painted a childish yellow; the roof was a vibrant red. More than anything, it looked like some kids' playhouse. The door was just ordinary wood. I peered into a large window and saw only blue. Damn, the windows were tinted. How could I be sure that I'm not walking into some strip club?

I sighed in exasperation as I told myself that I might as well just take the chance for my grumbling stomach. Besides, strip clubs have food, right?

A/N: OK, this is my first Teen Titans fic. I've been getting the RobStar feels recently and decided to make a story of them with BBRae and CyBee (and other minor characters). I've finished writing up the whole draft so if you have any suggestions for improvements, please leave a kind review. If not, please leave a kind review anyway if you have the time. I will be updating regularly although since I am entering a busy year in my school career, some events will delay chapters. In any case, I hope you enjoy this story and have a nice day/afternoon/evening. :)

If anyone's wondering (which I doubt), I tried my hand on this 'Book Cover Image' thing and made the cover. It's pretty crappy since I can't draw as well as other artists but whatever.