A/N: Main note at the bottom; if you like the chapter ahead of you, I would really appreciate it if you could give it a quick read. Thank you!
I do not own 'The New Teen Titans', or any of its characters.
New York, New York. The city that never sleeps.
And, yet, one particular Manhattan street lay dark and still, completely deserted, until a man turned a corner, his shoulders hunched against the biting winter wind, his footsteps and angry words shattering the silence.
"They didn't mean a thing to me," he muttered, shaking his head as he stalked down the sidewalk, on a mission. "You're all I want, Carol. All I've ever..." He slowed, a long sigh escaping his lips as he stopped, hanging his head. For a second, he let his stiff upper lip drop, propping himself up against the brick wall of the apartment building beside him. After all this time, after everything they had been through together... She'd never forgive him. Not this time. "It's hopeless."
He straightened, cast his eyes longingly to the townhouse across the street, hoped to see a glimpse of his love in her window. But all was dark in her apartment.
She was probably sleeping. It was late, after all. He could picture her, curled up on her side, one arm hidden under the pillow, the other tucking the covers under her chin. She hated the cold, but hated sleeping in long pyjamas more. Had always said she slept better in shorts, even if that meant braving the cold on nights like these. She would always moan as they got into bed, her legs bare and her teeth almost chattering. Once they were under the covers, she would wriggle closer to him, as close as she could possibly get, every inch of her pressed to his side. He would grumble, wrap an arm around her shoulders and complain about her cold feet. He would tell her to start wearing socks to bed. She would wrinkle her nose and make a noise of disgust, tangling their feet together, ignoring his half-hearted protests. Her breathing would soften and she would drift into a peaceful sleep, content beside him.
He would watch her for a while, run his fingers through her caramel hair and praise every decision he had ever made that had led him to her.
In the morning, she would wake him with a smile and a kiss, and say that she had slept perfectly in her choice of pyjamas. He would raise an eyebrow, drawing a mischievous grin from the woman before him as she left to make coffee for them both. He would watch her leave, far too in love to call her out on using him as her personal radiator. He didn't mind. Not really. He knew he would put up with her cold feet every night for the rest of his life if it meant he could wake up to that smile every morning.
He wondered if she had started wearing socks to bed.
He sniffed, wiping a hand down his face as he brought himself back to the here and the now. It was no use thinking about what was, or what might have been. That life was over, and so were they. She wouldn't care what he had to say now. Not so long ago, at the club, going to her apartment had seemed like the best plan ever to be thought up. Maybe it was the cold air or the forty-five minutes that it had taken him to walk here, but he had since started sobering up, and now he was beginning to see what a god-awful idea this was.
"Oh, hey, Carol," he said mockingly, grimacing at the air in front of him. "It's so great to see you. How've you been? Yes, I'm drunk, but only a little bit, because I left the strip-club-crawl that I was on with those friends of mine you hate early because I wanted to wake you up at 12am to tell you I love you, and I'm sorry I slept with your ex best friend." He nodded, sniffed again, almost impressed with his own idiocy. "Great plan, Grant. Great plan."
He dropped his head back against the brick wall, closed his eyes in defeat. Go home, Grant. He opened his eyes, blew out a breath, and pushed off from the wall, taking his own advice.
He hadn't made it two blocks, though, when a twinkling in the sky caught his eye.
Now, Grant Wilson had never really been the kind of man to put a lot of stock into things like signs from the universe or whatever. He knew there was no one looking out for him. The was no bigger calling, no destiny, no omnipotent being with a plan for him. His fate, his choices, his luck, was all his own. But there was something about this particular star, so bright and beautiful in a sky so dark, so empty, outshining everything around it and stealing all of his attention that brought his thoughts back to his original, terrible goal. Maybe he was looking for a reason to turn back around. Maybe he was grasping at straws. Maybe it was a complete coincidence.
But, whatever it was, it was enough.
That is, until he realised that whatever it was was getting closer, and it was headed straight for him.
In that moment, as time slowed and his vision became so filled with such a bright light that he began to see spots, Grant barely managed to throw himself to the side, out of the way of this fireball's path. He crawled behind a car as the construction site he had been standing right next to not five seconds ago collapsed in on itself, dust and what smelled like smoke blowing out onto the street, covering anything close by.
Grant was ready to bolt, to run before anything could set ablaze, or collapse even further, or someone called the cops; he did not need another run in with the cops. But he heard something, quiet, barely even audible. At first, he wasn't sure he'd heard what he thought he'd heard. Maybe it was the wood creaking with all the damage it had recently undergone. Maybe it had come from an open window in one of the many apartments around him. Maybe...
And then he heard it again, louder this time, and definitely coming from the ruins of the site.
Coughing.
Despite his better judgement, and despite the very loud voice in his head telling him to run, Grant jumped up and approached the building, pulling the neck of his sweater up over his nose and mouth as he entered the new gaping hole in the front of the building.
"Hello?" he called out. His voice was muffled by his clothing, but he didn't dare remove it from his face. Sure, he wanted to help if someone was in here, hurt, in danger, but he wasn't suicidal. He waited a beat, strained his ears for any noise, his eyes for any movement. Nothing. "Hello!" This time, a quiet whimper came from his right, and he turned, took several more careful steps towards the direction of the noise. The first thing he saw under some of the rubble was long, bright red hair. But it was the golden skin and what looked to be a bonafide spacesuit that stopped him in his tracks.
Carol Sladky awoke with a start, and laid still for a moment, staring up at the moon through the skylit above her, wondering what it was that had woken her up. It was the middle of the night, pitch black outside, and all was quiet...
And then someone started pounding on her studio apartment door.
Grumbling, she threw the covers back and jumped out of bed, intent on giving whatever idiot was banging on her door right now a very large, very pissed off piece of her mind. She'd gotten home from the hospital after an 18 hour shift late that night, and all she'd wanted to do was sleep.
"This better be really freaking important," she bit out as she swung the door open, glaring at the culprit until she recognised the oh so familiar face. She hadn't even heard from Grant in weeks, not since she'd found out about his many drunken... antics. She didn't know when she'd see him again. Wasn't sure if she'd even wanted to. But the wave of emotion that washed over her when she saw him at her front door was so strong, so overwhelming, that she almost didn't notice the unconscious girl in his arms. Almost.
"It is really freaking important," he said after a beat, his eyes pleading. "I need your help."
Carol managed to pull her eyes away from his to inspect the girl he was carrying. Beautiful red hair, the curls so long they touched the floor. Some sort of bodysuit, lilac and tight over her generous curves. Skin covered in something gold, almost glowing. She couldn't see her face, but Carol just knew she was beautiful.
She turned back to Grant, raised an eyebrow. "What did you do?" she asked, blunt. Grant faltered.
"I didn't... I didn't do anything."
Carol snorted. "Sure." Despite her doubts, both about Grant's 'innocence' and her next decision, Carol opened the door wider and let him in, gesturing to the couch.
"Carol, I swear," Grant tried again, lowering the girl down onto the couch and switching the nearest lamp on before turning back to her as she closed the door. "I was walking down the street, and I saw this, like, I don't know, I thought it was a star, at first, but then I realised it was moving, moving towards me, so I jumped out of the way and it crashed into that apartment building a few blocks away that they're doing construction work on, and then I heard someone in there, and it was her." Grant turned back to the girl a second, looking concerned. "She doesn't look hurt, but I also couldn't wake her up."
"So you brought her here?" Carol asked him, her eyebrows raised.
Grant nodded, as if saying well duh. "You're a doctor."
It took Carol a second to respond. "There are a lot more doctors at the hospital. You should have called 911."
"I..." Grant cut himself off, looked away for a second. By now, she knew what guilt looked like on his face.
"Grant."
Grant blew out a breath, nodded to himself. "I didn't want to call 911, because... I mean, I'm pretty sure the thing that fell from the sky was... Well, was her."
"... How much have you had to drink tonight, Grant?"
Grant huffed. "She has gold skin, for crying out loud!"
Carol smiled. "You're right, she must have fallen from the sky. Just like anyone that has ever worn body paint before." She shook her head, folding her arms across her chest. "Half the actors on any sci-fi show you've ever seen have had to wear body paint once or twice."
Grant's unimpressed expression let her know that he no longer found her sarcasm endearing.
"Then what's up with the space suit?"
Carol looked over her shoulder at the girl, the spacesuit in question, and shrugged. "I'm pretty sure my sister has one just like it." Grant sighed, ran a hand down his face. It was enough to make Carol question whether she really needed to be quite so flippant. She shrugged again, turned to the girl. "I suppose, though, since you did find her in a collapsed building, it wouldn't hurt to check her over."
Grant sighed, relieved. "Thank you," he said, his sincerity obvious in his tone. Carol smiled, kneeled down beside the girl.
"Though, maybe next time you could do everyone a favour and take her to an actual hosp-"
Carol paused, a chill rushing down her spine.
"Did you leave a window open or something?" Grant asked, rubbing his hands over his arms. "You hate the cold."
Carol stood, wary, and turned back to Grant. It was then that she noticed the strange shadow in the corner of the room.
It didn't take long for Grant to catch on that something wasn't quite right. "What is that?" he asked quietly, after following her gaze and saw the same, eerie thing. Carol didn't answer him. She wasn't sure if she could. Though it really shouldn't have been possible, the shadows seemed to move. It almost looked as though they were growing, spreading across the walls even as they watched. Carol started to think she was imagining things. Then Grant cleared his throat. "I think we should leave."
"I think that's a good idea," she said quickly, the pair of them spinning back to the unconscious girl and then stopping short when they realised the three of them were no longer alone in the apartment.
"Who the hell are you?" Grant asked the silhouette, hovering over the girl. Too caught up in what was happening, Carol missed the way he moved his shoulder the tiniest amount, putting himself between her and the stranger. "How did you get in here?"
"How I got in doesn't matter," the stranger said. A dark hood was low over the strangers face, hiding it from the light of the moon above them, keeping it from view, but Carol could still feel the eyes burning into her soul. "The better question is why."
"I don't care why you're here," Grant bit out, his anger masking the fear that must have been lurking underneath. He had always had a temper, but lately it had gotten much worse; and yet, in that moment, Carol really didn't seem to mind. "What I care about is you getting the hell out of my apartment."
The stranger tipped her head, barely a nod. "As you wish," the stranger said softly, staring down at the girl, still against the couch cushions. "Thank you for taking care of her. Your kindness will not be forgotten." The stranger looked up at them once more, the dark shadow where a face should be sending a chill down Carol's spine. "And you were correct. You should leave. Both of you. Quickly."
Before either one of them could ask what that meant, what the stranger knew that they didn't, the figure was gone, disappearing into the shadows like smoke, and taking the golden girl with her.
For a long moment, all the two could do was stare. Not seconds ago, there had been two other beings in the room with them. Now all that was left of either of them was a dark shadow, slowly fading into the darkened corners of the room like smoke.
"What the hell just happened?" Carol said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Grant didn't have an answer for her. The only response she got was the shattering of the skylight above them as something came crashing through it.
Robbie watches his parents from the shadows. He doesn't see the the sellout crowd, cheering from the stands, nor his family's colleagues preparing and practising their own acts around him. All he sees is his parents, flying high off the ground, flipping and swinging and twisting. A routine they had done countless times.
They had it perfected.
His eyes do not leave them as his mother, elegant and poised, attached to the high swing by only her legs, locked at the knees, reaches out for his father as he releases his own swing. His mother catches his father, his hands tight in hers, as she always had.
The crowd roars, delighted.
The ropes snap.
The swing falls.
So do his parents.
It isn't a new dream for Robbie, but as the cheering turns to horrified screams around him, as friends and guests alike rush to the floor, blocking the bodies of his parents from view, the same overwhelming sense of confusion and disbelief wash over him. He feels like he did that night, as though no time had passed at all. The grief in his heart pours out into his bones, chilling him from within, rooting him to that very spot.
He could have stopped this. He could have warned them. He could have saved them.
Through the crowd, the bustle and the wailing, he sees a new figure, unfamiliar in a sea of memory. They stand perfectly still, their face hidden from view with a low hood, but Robbie knew this person was looking for him. Waiting for him.
The crowd remains unaware, both of him and this newcomer, and yet it parts as he approaches, as he passes, almost as though they know. This was a path he must take.
He slows as he reaches the figure, ignorant now of the commotion around them. This person before him was all that mattered.
Delicate hands reach up, pull the hood back to reveal a pale face, calm and beautiful, framed by waves darker than the night sky. He has never seen this face before, he is sure of it. But something about her feels comforting. He doesn't know her. But he wants to.
"Who are you?" he asks her, his eyes searching hers. "Why are you here?"
Her expression does not change, but she lifts her hands, places them gently on either side of his face. They are cold, but his cheeks warm at the touch, and the serenity in her eyes seems to fill his mind, his body. "Wake up, little Robin," she says softly, her tone comforting even as the words pierce his chest. It has been so long since he's heard those words. "I need you."
Robbie opened his eyes, his chest heaving as the ceiling above him came into focus. A whole decade had passed since that night, and yet every time those memories came back to haunt him in his sleep, he still woke feeling like the little nine year old who had just witnessed his parents' deaths.
Yet, this one had seemed different. Yes, the grief was still fresh and heavy on his chest, and the guilt still lingered at the back of his mind. But there was something else, too... Something almost hopeful.
Robbie sat up, shifted to lean back against the headboard and stare into the shadows of his dark bedroom, catching his breath. It was then that he noticed something small and pale against the dark pillow beside him.
Something flashed before him, barely a memory, of pale against black, the difference stark and harsh and somehow befitting, and then it was gone again, and he was left simply staring at the new object.
He reached out, plucked it from the pillow. It was a note, small and rectangular, almost like a postcard. On one side, a drawing of a black bird, the name Robin printed under it. On the other, a handwritten note.
A girl is in trouble. I need your help.
Make your way to Central Park, tonight.
Danny will find you.
No name other than his own pseudonym. No details. Why was he needed? What lay in Central Park? Who was Danny? More importantly, how the hell did someone manage to get into his apartment and put a note right next to his head without waking him?
Oddly, and despite his better judgement and the time of night, Robbie found that none of those questions mattered. He jumped out of bed and grabbed his phone from the nightstand, dialling a number he knew by heart, and knew he could trust.
He was going to Central Park. And he wasn't going alone.
As his phone buzzed, Wally West grumbled, reaching out blindly for the noisy object on his night stand. He found it, almost threw it across the room and away from him, until he saw an old friend's face on the caller ID. Grumbling some more, louder now, he sat up, turned on the nearby lamp, and answered.
"Please tell me you're calling me for a nice chat, and not because you need me to come running to Gotham in the middle of the night," he said in lieu of a real greeting. He could hear the light laugh his friend gave him, though, so he knew he hadn't taken it to heart.
"I know better than to call you for a nice chat when you're getting your beauty sleep," Robbie responded, and Wally's heart sank a little. "I need a favour."
"Uh-uh," Wally said quickly, shaking his head in the soft light of his room. "Whatever kind of help you need at this time of night is not help I'm interested in giving anymore." He tipped his head. "Unless you got yourself arrested or in trouble with a girl or something. Something normal."
Robbie was quite for a second. "Someone left a note on my pillow while I was sleeping telling me to meet them at Central Park. It was addressed to Robin. I'm going."
Wally shook his head again. "Sorry, you're on your own."
"Wally..."
"No, Rob, I'm out," he said. "I need time away from that life. I need to figure out whats going on in my head." Wally sighed, suddenly exhausted. "I want to help you, I do. But if I help you with this, I'll just get sucked back in."
He heard Robbie sigh quietly, resigned. "Okay," his old friend said. "I get it, I do. I'm sorry for waking you."
"It's cool," Wally replied, keeping the guilt rising in his throat from reaching his words. Robbie had never asked him to do anything he didn't want to. Never pushed him. But when the roles were reversed, Robbie didn't have any limits or restrictions when it came to helping his friends. And now, after everything they'd been through, Wally couldn't even make the short trip to Central Park to make sure his friend was safe.
But he was right. If he returned, even just for the night, something else would come up. Someone would need saving, or someone else would need his help, and he'd be stuck in that life again. He needed to be here, to focus on himself, his family. He needed to be selfish. It wasn't a luxury many people like him got, and he was going to make the most of it.
"I am sorry, Robbie," Wally said quietly, blowing out a breath. "I just can't."
"I know," Robbie said, his tone comforting, despite the disappointment he knew he must be feeling. Wally hated him for it. "But, if you wake up in the morning and they're talking about my dead body on the news, that's on you, buddy."
Wally smiled at the joke, almost laughing.
"I'll be sure to make up for it in your eulogy, then." Wally could hear the chuckle through the phone, not a hint of sarcasm or resentment in the sound.
"Go back to bed, Wally," Robbie said, the smile evident in his voice. "If I survive the night, I'll call you tomorrow."
"I'll pray for you," Wally responded, both of them saying their goodbyes and ending the call.
For a moment, Wally stared at the wall across from him, questioning his decision. If it were anyone else calling you, he wouldn't have thought twice about saying no. But Robbie had always been there when he'd needed him. Always. No questions asked. And now Wally couldn't return the favour. No, not couldn't. Wouldn't. Wouldn't help out a friend asking him only for his company.
Superheroes didn't get to retire. It wasn't an option for them. They were heroes, in their actions and in their blood. So how did Wally do it? By consistently letting down his friends? By say no to people in need? By denying people his help?
Yes, he was being selfish. But he didn't choose this life. A freak accident turned him into what he was, gave him these abilities, and from that moment on he stopped being just Wally West. He'd become Kid Flash, first and foremost. For a while, he had been happy with that. He had liked helping people, saving people, being a hero. But he was a kid back then, and so much had changed. All he wanted now was a regular life. Finish college, maybe get a doctorate, meet a girl, settle down. He didn't want the superhero life anymore. He wanted that life. A boring, human life.
But why did he get the luxury to choose, when so many others didn't?
Wally flopped back onto his bed, closing his eyes on a sigh when he hit the pillow. Half of him really wanted to go, to be with his friend, to help. The other half protested. Loudly.
He feels the bed shift under him, as though another body lay next to him. He turned his head to see an enchanting, but completely unfamiliar, face lying beside him. The face of a girl he had never seen before. Yet he felt no fear. No shock, no panic. Instead, her presence comforted him. That feeling should worry him, but he can't find it in himself to care.
"Who are you?" he asked. It was not a question born from worry, or unfamiliarity. He simply needed to know this girl.
"You will get an answer to that soon enough," she promised quietly, her eyes entrancing him. He can't look away. "But, for now, I need you to do something for me."
Wally stares for a moment longer, committing her face to memory. It wasn't a face he ever wanted to forget. Finally, he nods.
"For you... Anything."
The flames grew higher, licking at the walls and filling the room with heat and smoke. A child sits on the ground, unable to move from both confusion and utter fear. So young. Too young. Too young to know what was happening, why it was so hot, why she couldn't breathe, why the adults lying beside her wouldn't wake up, wouldn't help her, even as her cries grew louder and more terrified, even as she hit them over and over, her tiny fists doing nothing to rouse them from their sleep.
Just then, as her cries turn to screams, something lifts her from the ground. A woman, tall and strong, clad in red and bronze, cradles the child to her chest, shielding her from the danger. The woman takes another look around the room, sees the bodies laying on the floor, still as stone. She knows she cannot help them. She was too late.
The girl holds on to the woman tightly, her tears leaving streaks down her dusty face. She feels safer here, protected, as she presses her face into the woman's chest, like she's trying to hide. She doesn't want to see the people on the floor, the scary flames, the crumbling walls, anymore. She wants to feel safe again.
If she hides here, maybe she will.
Donna opens her eyes, cutting off the memory. It's not as though she really remembered anything after that, anyway.
Everything from that moment on in her life was a blur. She knew the superhero Wonder Woman took her to Paradise Island after that. She knew she spent the better part of ten years there, learning all they had to teach her and training her to be like Diana, like all of them. She knew she came back when she was thirteen, where Diana adopted her, took care of her in this world. She knew she followed in Diana's footsteps after that, trained to do what she does, to save people and fight evil. She knew for the last five years she'd been doing a pretty damn good job of it. But, try as she might, she doesn't remember anything from her old life. She doesn't remember her parents, her home, her childhood. That one memory, set in the space where she now stood, the destroyed ruins of an old apartment building in Brooklyn, is all she can recall from her time before Diana, Hippolyta and Paradise Island, and even that memory has been darkened and warped by time.
Donna loved her life with the Amazons. They were wonderful, they taught her well. She knew she was loved, and she knew both Hippolyta and Diana treated her like their own daughter. But sometimes, Donna couldn't help but feel like something was missing.
She would give anything if she could only remember her mother's face, her voice, the feel of her arms around her.
But that wasn't possible. She'd tried hypnotherapy to recall lost and repressed memories, spoken to friends and colleagues whose abilities allowed them to see things others could not, she'd even sunken so low as to try high street psychics. And now she was playing detective, standing where that building had once stood, the building Diana had rescued her from. Since then, it had been knocked down, too damaged from the fire and subsequent squatters and vandalism to fix. Now it was barely a construction site, just a plot of land covered in rubble and debris, left to decay and gather dust in a run down neighbourhood.
She had hoped coming here, standing where she once had, would help bring something back.
All it did was anger her more.
She had always assumed those people she remembers in the fire, the bodies around her, were her parents. So when she realised no one would have come running up to Diana after she had saved her from the fire, she didn't think much of it. But did she have no other family? No one else who loved and cared for her? No one who missed her? A child rescued from near death by Wonder Woman had to have been big news. If she'd had any other family, and they'd known she and her parents were in that building, surely they would have known a child was saved, but left alone. Surely they would have wanted to find out to see if that child was her. Surely, as soon as they'd have realised it was her, that she was family, they would have insisted they take her in, that she stay with them, with family.
And yet, no one did. No one ever came looking for her. And as much as she loved the family she grew up with, and as lucky as she was to have been taken in by them, that still hurt.
Even as a child, barely three years old, she'd had no one who cared enough to find her.
Donna scoffed at her own tears. That was a whole lifetime ago, and no amount of tears would change it.
She turned, eager to leave this place and the missing memories behind, switching on her flashlight to help navigate her way through the dangerous remains of the building. And it's then that she saw the small white card, catching the light and her attention.
She approached it, slowly, cautiously. Crouching, leaning closer to the object propped up against what could have once been a window frame, Donna noticed a large black raven, under which was written the name Diana had given her so many years ago. Wonder Girl.
For a second, Donna stilled.
Then, grabbing the card and sliding it into her pocket, she left the old building, and quickly. She didn't know who left that note, or how they knew she would be there, but it couldn't add up to anything good.
She didn't slow as she made it to the sidewalk, nor as she climbed into her car. She didn't slow until she was halfway home, passing through Greenwich Village and was absolutely certain no one had followed her that far. Still, just to be on the safe side, she pulled up outside a loud bar, jazz music floating past the smokers stood outside, and turned off the engine. If anyone had followed her, she didn't really want to lead them straight to her front door.
Instead, while she hung out in the busy public space with lots of witnesses around, she pulled the small card back out of her pocket, her curiosity peaking now that the instinct to get the hell out had subsided.
She flipped it over, ignoring the raven and the name that she had already seen, and focusing on what the message on the other side.
We can help you find the answers you seek.
Make your way to Central Park, tonight.
Danny will find you.
Donna didn't like that. She didn't like it at all.
Did the person who left this for her really know the kind of answers she was looking for? Or was this simply a well planned trick? Regardless, whoever it was knew that she would be there, at that time. And they knew why she was there.
She contemplated going straight home, she really did.
But it just wasn't very likely, was it?
The bell above the diner door rang, signalling his departure, and Garfield made his way out onto the cold, Upper East Side street, ice cream in hand. Damn the chill; if he wanted ice cream, he was having ice cream.
He meandered down the sidewalk, his hood low over his head, hands gloved, as though to ward off the cold air. Nobody looks twice as they passed him, too caught up in their own worlds, or too drunk, to notice him. To notice anyone, really. That was something he loved about Manhattan. Everybody had their own lives, their own friends, their own business. Anything that wasn't part of their world, didn't matter. It wasn't hard to be invisible here, and, sometimes, that was all Garfield wanted.
Finishing off the ice cream, scraping the last of it from the bottom of the tub, he paused long enough to throw it in a nearby trashcan. As he did, a store across the street caught his eye. Barely lit, the wide windows were mostly cast in shadow. But, as he approached, the few lights in the tanks on the adjacent wall grew. He could see, even from the window, the green-skinned lizards, shuffling around in the tanks that were their homes, or bathing in the warm light. All except one. One was hiding, his tongue barely visible as it flicked out from beneath a hollow log. Garfield couldn't help but smile.
He turned to leave, to return to his journey home, but as he did, he noticed a small, white card in the bottom corner of the window. He pulled it from the glass, intrigued, wondering if it was some kind of advertisement, maybe for the pet store. His breath caught, though, when he saw a familiar old name printed under a black raven. Beast Boy. He huffed, tired of the name. He was, after all, no longer a boy. Or so he liked to tell everyone.
Your friends need your help.
Make your way to Central Park, tonight.
Danny will find you.
If that were the strangest thing he'd seen today, he might have thought twice about following the directions. But, as it were...
He didn't know who Danny was, or how he was going to find him in an area as big and vague as Central Park, but if his friends needed him... Plus, while he was there, he could inform whoever left him this note that he's recently undergone a PR revamp and was no longer Beast Boy.
Garfield spared one last glance at the lizard, slowly peaking out from under its hiding spot. He was sure it was staring right at him, but that wasn't so extraordinary. Turning, he caught his own green-tinged reflection in the glass. He pulled his hood down further, sure to hide his face from the sight of anyone who might pass him, and left, walking back in the direction he had come. The direction of Central Park.
Sprinting around the final corner of the track, Victor Stone was sure this was his best record yet. Might have even been the best for the school.
He didn't slow until he crossed the line, dust blowing up from under his feet, clouding around him. Through it, though, he could hear clapping, and covered his one good eye to make his way through the cloud to the stands. His coach was on his feet, an impressed look on his face.
"That was incredible, kid," he said, lowering his hands to check the time on his stop watch, whistling. "Better than incredible. That was damn near unbelievable." His smile dropped a little, and Vic felt his heart do the same. "But it doesn't change anything."
Vic shook his head, almost smiling at the tragic turn his life had taken. "How can that not change anything? Can you honestly tell me that I'm not the fastest, and the strongest person you've got at this college?"
"Kid, you know you're the best," his coach said, and the honesty in his face hurt. "You were before, and you are now. But..." he paused, and Vic could tell he wasn't sure if he wanted to continue. "Your school record was patchy at the best of times, kid. It was nearly enough to have you kicked off your athletics teams. And after the accident, given the... circumstances of your treatment... The board believes you have an unfair advantage over the other students.
Victor was silent for a long time, unable to fully process what his coach had just told him. Unfair... "Unfair advantage?" he said, quiet, shocked. "You think this is an unfair advantage?"
Lifting a metallic hand, Victor ripped back his hood, revealing what human face he had left, the rest of it made up of metal and wires. That was his treatment; filling in what parts of his body he had lost with metal skin and robotic limbs. The rest of his body followed suit; both of his legs, one arm and the other hand, half of his torso... All lost in that goddamn accident.
"People avoid me in the street," Vic said, tears building in his one human eye. "Kids see me, and they run away, screaming. My girlfriend couldn't even look me in whatever face I have left when she told me she couldn't love me anymore. I spend most nights lying awake, wishing my father had left me to die, rather than turn me into the monster that I see in the mirror everyday." Vic shook his head, straightening. "And now you're saying I can't have the one good thing that I had left, because it's unfair to everybody else?"
"If it were my choice, kid, you know I'd have you back in a heartbeat," his coach said, making his way towards him from the bleachers. "I wouldn't think twice about it."
Victor nodded. "But it's not your choice."
"I'm sorry, kid," his coach murmured, laying a hand on his cold, lifeless shoulder for a second. "I did everything I could. They'd already decided."
Victor let him leave. Stood in the middle of the track for what felt like an hour. What else did he have to do, after all, now that everything important to him, everything he loved, was gone? His mother was dead, his father was more of a monster than he was, his girlfriend - ex-girlfriend - wouldn't answer his calls, he hadn't heard off any of his old friends since before the accident, and now he didn't even have his athletics to distract him from the way his life was falling apart.
Even if he had wanted to leave, he wasn't sure he really had anywhere to go.
Finally, Victor felt his legs moving, returning to the bleachers, making their way up the steps to where his bag lay, waiting. He was just going to go back to his old, slightly gross apartment alone. Maybe pick up some takeout on the way there. It's not as though he really had to watch his diet anymore, was it?
As he reached down to pick up his duffle bag, Vic saw a small, white card, placed gently on top. For a moment, he wondered if it was from his coach, maybe a flyer for something, or a contact to get in touch with. But as soon as he saw the name printed underneath the picture of the black bird, he knew it wasn't from his coach. There's no way he could have known that his father had taken to calling him a Cyborg after the incident, after his experiments.
Which means someone else had left it for him.
He turned, did a full 360, scanning as far as his new robotic eye could see - and that was pretty damn far. Nothing. Not a suspicious soul in sight. No one hovering, waiting to see if he'd found the card. No one leaving the area except for his coach and a few drunken students by the dorms about half a mile away. Turning back to the card in hand, he flipped it, curious, and saw the handwritten note on the other side.
You are not alone.
Make your way to Central Park, tonight.
Danny will find you.
Now, Victor wasn't exactly naive of the dangers of the world, or of New York on a Friday night. He had been on both sides of that danger many times. But, c'mon... what was the worst that could happen? Oh yeah, he'd already had that. So, whether this was a trap or an invitation didn't matter. It's not like he had anything better to do.
Robbie slowed his bike to a stop, pulling up outside a beautiful building, tall and magnificent, set just across from the green escape of Central Park. He pulled off his helmet, sitting still for a moment to contemplate whether to not he really wanted to do this. He was, after all, going in alone, and with no knowledge other than he was needed. And that someone called Danny would meet him here.
Where, though, was something he didn't know. Central Park consisted of over 800 acres. This Danny guy wasn't exactly going to just stumble upon him in a space that big.
And, sure, Robbie knew how to defend himself. He'd been doing it pretty well for nearly eight years now. Well... a few incidents excluded. But he'd learned from those mistakes, and he was stronger and smarter and better than he'd even been. But if this was a trap...
He was only human. He could only endure so much. He couldn't heal like Wally did, couldn't run like he could. If this went downhill, if he was walking into some kind of set-up, it wouldn't be easy to get out. If he got out at all.
Was this really something he wanted to do?
"Robbie?" he heard, a familiar voice calling him from behind. He turned, turned his back to the park and whatever decision he was about to make, and was met with a friendly face. He smiled.
"Donna Troy," he said, swinging a leg over his bike and making his way towards her. "Long time no see."
"Not long enough, in my opinion," she responded, her grin betraying her words. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly for a moment, before letting go and taking a step back, her eyes searching. "What are you doing in New York?" Then, concern. "Is Bruce okay?"
"Bruce is fine," he reassured, a hand on her arm. "I've... actually been staying in Brooklyn the last few months."
Donna's eyes narrowed, questioning. "Why?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest. "You have a perfectly good wing to yourself at Wayne Manor."
He nodded, a little uncomfortable. There was a reason he hadn't told Donna he had moved out. He had a feeling he was about to be reminded of it. "Bruce and I... we kinda had a fight."
"Why?" Donna repeated, this time less surprised and sympathetic. "What did you do?"
"Hey," Robbie whined, put out. "I didn't do anything."
"Is it because you dropped out of college?" she accused, hands on her hips now. Robbie just sighed.
"Partially, yes," he decided, shrugging. This was easier than explaining the whole story. And not entirely untrue. "He was angry at me for dropping out, I get that, but it's been a year. He's still picking fights about it." Robbie sighed, ran a hand through his hair. "It's not like I don't earn my keep."
Donna tipped her head, smiling a little. "I don't think it's about earning your keep, Rob," she tried, pulling her coat tighter around her. "He wants the best for you."
"And college isn't that," he said, shrugging again. "Not for me."
"It isn't for everyone," she agreed, rubbing her arms. "I'm sure he'll come to realise that soon enough, and then the two of you can get over yourselves and stop bickering." She smiled, joking. "But it's cold, and I have somewhere to be."
Robbie nodded. "Me too, actually," he said, hiking a thumb over his shoulder. "Just not entirely sure where."
Donna poked her head over his shoulder, eyes narrowing as she took in the entrance to the park. "Central Park?" Robbie nodded. "Why are you going into Central Park at this time of night?" Instead of answering, Robbie reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the card, held it up for her to see. Her eyes widened.
"I woke up and this was on my pillow," he explained, reading it aloud. "It just says to go to Central Park, tonight, and that-"
"Danny will find you," she interrupted, pulling out her own replica of the card. Robbie sighed. "Any idea who Danny is?"
"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "He must be psychic or something to find us in there, though." They were both quiet for a second. "This is a trap, isn't it?"
Donna laughed, bitter. "Someone who won't reveal themselves getting Robin and Wonder Girl together in the middle of the night in a deserted and poorly lit area, without any real rhyme or reason? Oh, it's a trap, alright." She let out a harsh breath, shook her head. "I can't believe I almost fell for that."
"Hey, I did too," he said, trying to comfort her. She took his card from his hand, her head continuing to shake.
"Please," she scoffed, reading his note. "Someone's in trouble, and I need your help? There's no way you'd ever leave that call unanswered." She looked back up at him, handing the note back to him. "You're a sucker for someone in distress."
"So what's your excuse, Miss I never do anything illogical without serious contemplation or actual fear of worldwide catastrophe?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. She avoided his gaze. "You're bulletproof and you still won't run into gunfire if you can help it. So how did this cry for help get you?"
Donna cleared her throat, holding out her own card. "Because I didn't get a cry for help," she admitted, her eyes staring at something passed his shoulder as he looked over her note.
"The answers you seek?" he read, frowning as he looked back up at her. "What does that mean?"
"I was at the apartment building Diana rescued me from when I was a baby," she told him, still avoiding his gaze. "That's where I found it."
Robbie nodded, understanding now. "The answers you seek," he said again. "Your parents."
"Just anything, really," she corrected, shrugging a shoulder elegantly. "It's been about twenty years since that fire; at this point, I'll take whatever answers I can get." She sighed, pouting. "Well, I'm thoroughly disappointed now. You wanna get pizza or something?"
Robbie laughed a little, looking over his shoulder, back to the park. The trees parted over the opening, made way for the path that led into the park. It was right there. And now that he wasn't alone...
"Maybe we should go anyway," he suggested, watching Donna's eyebrows ride up her face.
"You're kidding," she said, like it was absolute. Like any other reality was not an option. "It's obviously a trap."
"So what if it is?" Robbie asked, shrugging. "Now we know it's a trap. We'll be on alert. And we'd be together. I mean, in case you haven't noticed, the park is a pretty open space. If anything happens, you can fly us out of there." She seemed to think about it. Robbie liked that. "Donna... What if it's not a trap?"
She raised an eyebrow. "It's a trap."
"But what if it's not?" he said again, watching her closely, seeing the gears turning in her head. "What if it's not?"
For the longest time, Donna was silent, her eyes flicking between Robbie's and the park behind him. He let her think it through, knowing that he could plant the seed in her head, but if he forced the issue, pushed too hard, he'd lose her. She had to come to this decision herself.
"Let's go," she said quickly, spinning and looping her arm through his, pulling him across the street. Robbie couldn't help but smile.
They entered the park, as alone as they had been on the street, walking close together, side by side, both of them on high alert, but neither really sure where they were going, or what to be on the lookout for.
And then they found it.
They were making their way up a dark and narrow path, the only sounds around them that of their breaths and their footsteps. They turned a corner, not even five minutes after they'd started their journey, and stopped, both of them pulling back immediately at the sight. It wasn't a distressing sight. Normally, there would be nothing wrong with coming across a quiet street in the middle of the city, lined with townhouses and stores, street lamps lighting up the otherwise darkened sidewalks. Normally, there would be nothing wrong with that at all. But when that street was placed on what was usually a large, open green... It certainly took them by surprise.
"Has this..." Robbie paused, swallowed. "Has this always been here?"
Donna shook her head, not taking her eyes off the street before them. It looked like any other street. If either one of them had seen it ten minutes ago, they probably wouldn't have even noticed it. But it was so obviously out of place here, surrounded by grass and trees and absolutely no other building... It was almost laughable.
"Do we... I mean, is this where Danny is supposed to find us?" Robbie asked. It wasn't necessarily directed at Donna. He wasn't sure who he was asking, if he's honest. "Is that how they knew he'd find us?"
"I don't know," Donna said quietly, her arm slipping from his as she approached the street, slow and quiet. Robbie followed. "This wasn't here yesterday. I'm sure it wasn't. I was here yesterday. This wasn't." As the reached the beginning of the street, even the colour of the road a stark difference from the gravel path they were on that lay right next to it, she reached out a booted foot, gently nudging her toe against the concrete. When nothing happened, she did it again, firmer this time. Satisfied, she placed the whole foot down, shortly followed by the next. She tapped her heels a little, clicking them against the floor. "It looks like a real street. It sounds like a real street."
"This isn't a 'if it quacks like a duck' moment, Donna," Robbie said, widening his eyes. "Streets don't just get built overnight." He looked around them, at the stone walls of the buildings. It all looked so real... Donna marched to the side of a building, pressed her ear to the wall, knocked it. She shook her head, turned back to him.
"It really does quack like a duck, though Rob," she said, raising her eyebrows in question. "That's a solid wall."
"Okay, I know I've been gone for a while, so I might be out of the loop," a new voice said, pulling their attention further into the street, where their old friend and colleague stood, leaning against the front of a building, a shadowy figure behind him. "Is listening to magic buildings the new norm for New Yorkers?"
"Garfield," Donna said in greeting, not entirely unenthusiastically. Garfield just smiled, the grin spreading across his green cheeks.
"Donna," he called back. "Robbie. How've you both been?"
Robbie approached him first, Donna following behind a little slower. Robbie made a mental note to bring up her manners later. "Not awful," Robbie answered for the both of them. "How about you? When did you get back from your trip?"
"A week or so ago," he responded, walking forward to meet them.
Robbie raised an eyebrow. "Any luck?" he asked him, referring to the less than exciting reason for his travelling. Searching for a missing parent is hardly a vacation.
Garfield smiled, shaking his head, his green hair swishing with the movement. "No, not yet," he said, shrugging a shoulder as though it wasn't important. "If Steve was this good at Hide and Seek when he was a kid, I feel bad for his parents." He looked between the two of them again, expectantly. "Anyways. I heard you need my help."
Robbie frowned, looked back at Donna, who seemed just as confused. "What?" he asked Gar, completely at a loss. He reached into his pocket with a gloved hand, pulled out and handed over a card exactly like Robbie's and Donna's. Well, not exactly, as it turns out.
"Your friends need your help," Donna read aloud from next to Robbie, still not sure of what was going on. "Need your help with what?"
Garfield shrugged. "Everything I know is on there," he said, nodding to the card in Robbie's hand. "I was kinda hoping you'd be able to fill me in on the rest."
Robbie looked at Donna again, shrugging, before they both handed Garfield their own notes. After reading them, his eyebrows raising as he did, he handed them back, blowing out a breath.
"I'm beginning to think this is a trap."
Donna smiled at Robbie, a silent I told you so.
"Three Titans in one place, brought together by an unknown party?" Gar continued, shaking his head. "Doesn't exactly scream reunion to me."
"What about him?" Robbie asked, jerking his chin towards the tall figure in the shadows, peering into the window of what would have looked like a regular gun store, if it weren't for the pink satin, fairy lights and glitter covering the display. The figure in question looked over briefly as Rob spoke, before hiding behind the hood again, turning away from them slightly.
"Oh, the Robot Wars reject?" Gar clarified, smiling to himself as he lead the way over to the person in question. "He got a note too. He won't tell me what his says, though. Just that it said to come here." He slowed as he reached the gun shop and the person who was determined to keep his face out of the light of the street lamps. "However, if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say whatever was written on his card was pretty irresistible."
Donna raised an eyebrow at Robbie, probably more to do with the dirty undertone Gar had put on that last word than the words themselves. "What makes you say that?" she asked as Robbie smiled.
"Because it's the same with our cards," he said, as though it explained everything. He turned, gestured wildly to the figure beside him. "Guys, this is Borgy. Borgy, this is Robbie and Donna."
The man beside him grunted, turned enough for Robbie to see the other half of his face, the one that shined like steel, with the red light emitting from where his eye should be. Beside him, he felt Donna tense. Quickly, he turned away again. "The name's Victor, actually. And I was just leaving."
Donna stepped forward as Victor moved to leave. "Wait," she said, lifting a hand. Victor stared at it, raising the eyebrow above his human eye. Donna pulled her hand back. "Garfield said you got a note too."
He nodded. "Yeah," he said, his voice gruff. "I think mine was a mistake."
"It wasn't a mistake," she argued. "These notes were personal. Addressed to each of us individually. I found mine in an abandoned building I was exploring. Nobody really could have known I would have been in there tonight, but they did. They left this note for me."
"Mine was in a pet store window," Garfield added, turning to Victor. "I'd stopped to see the lizards, because, well..." he gestured to his face, in all its green glory. Victor seemed to relax a little. "Look at me. I'm basically the Lizard King. The bastards love me. But, whatever. The card was in the window of that particular pet store."
"Mine was on my pillow," Robbie joined in. "Right next to me when I woke up."
"They were left for us to find," Donna continued, watching Victor carefully. "They wanted us here. And they got us here using excuses they knew we wouldn't be able to say no to. Answers to questions I've been asking my whole life."
"Someone in trouble," Robbie supplied, Donna smiling in gratitude.
"Hot chicks," Garfield said, smiling. Robbie laughed, ignoring Donna's groan.
"You don't need to tell us what was on your note," Donna continued, trying her best to pretend Garfield was somewhere else. Somewhere far, far away. "But I'll bet it either uses your biggest weakness, or it promises something you really want."
Victor was quiet for a second, eyeing Donna cautiously. Finally, though, he handed over his own note, looking much smaller than the others in his large hands. Donna took it, smiled.
"Both. Mine says I'm not alone," he said for the others to hear, surprising even himself. "I kinda figured that meant there were others like me, people who were... different." He looks at the trio in front of him, shakes his head. "Yeah, you're green," he muttered, gesturing to Garfield. "But you're also an ass. And neither of you two look different to me."
Donna smiled. "Looks can be deceiving," she said, her words only further proven when something whizzed past her, blowing her hair up and around her face, before coming to a stop a few feet behind Victor. They all turned, three of the four not expecting anything other than Wally West grinning at them.
"Am I late?" he said, backtracking enough to join the group.
"You're always late, Wally," Robbie said, dropping a hand on his shoulder as he smiled back at his closest friend. "Despite being one of the fastest men alive. I don't know you how do it."
"It takes a lot of skill and years of practice, let me tell you," he responded, looking around the group. He paused when he got to Victor.
"I thought you were dead set against coming?" Robbie asked him, narrowing his eyes at him. "What changed your mind?"
"Well, I couldn't let you get yourself killed, could I?" Wally responded, barely sparing Robbie a glance, still obviously staring at Victor. It hurt Robbie just watching. "Who're you?"
As Garfield went to 'introduce' the unfamiliar man to Wally, Donna slapped a hand over his mouth.
"Victor," the man introduced himself, holding out a hand and staring more than a little. Wally didn't seem put off, and shook his hand.
"This is Wally," Donna said, quickly jumping away from Garfield a second later and wiping her hand on her coat. "You're disgusting, Gar." The man just smiled and poked out his tongue teasingly, pleased with himself.
Wally looked to Robbie, took a step closer. "We're just telling strangers our real names now?"
Robbie shrugged. "He got the same note that I did, so did Donna and Gar. He's got to be related to all of this somehow." Robbie lowered his voice a little, just so Wally could hear. "Besides, he's obviously not just a bystander."
"I can hear you, y'know," Victor informed then, his face otherwise not moving. Wally snorted.
"I just..." Robbie huffed, ignoring Donna's smirk. "I meant that you're obviously... different. Like you said." Victor just hummed.
"Wait, so you all got notes?" Wally asked, thankfully changing the conversation and looking around the group. "The same note?"
"Pretty much," Donna answered, reading hers over again, as though a new clue would present itself. "All of them said to go to Central Park and that Danny would find us."
"Actually," Gar interrupted, "they say to make our way to Central Park."
Donna narrowed her eyes, confused. "... Is there a difference?"
"Yeah," Gar said, smiling. "I didn't make it to Central Park."
"What does that mean?" Wally asked, taking a step back. "Did you die on your way here? Are you a ghost?"
"If I'd died, do you really think I'd come back as a ghost just to see you guys?" Gar asked, tutting. "As if. I don't know who the lucky lady would be, but I would definitely be peeping on somebody."
"Okay, I don't want to sound like a broken record here," Donna cut in, turning to Gar. "But, again, you're disgusting."
"I meant," Gar continued, ignoring the repulsion on Donna's face, "that I was still a full block from the edge of Central Park when I came across this street."
Donna looked back at Robbie, eyeing him as though asking him is he high? "What are you talking about?" Robbie asked him, wondering where the joke was here.
Victor nodded his head. "I'd just left my apartment in Hell's Kitchen," he added, shrugging at Garfield's nod. "Turned a corner, stopped to take a look in that gun shop, and the next thing I know, his green-ass face is getting all up in mine about how my acting career had declined since RoboCop."
"Wait," Robbie said, holding up a hand. "What?"
"I know," Gar agreed, nodding. "Not my finest work, but I was excited, okay?"
"No, hold up," Robbie ordered, taking a deep breath. He turned to Wally. "Where did you find this street?"
"Central Park," he said, eyes flicking between him and Gar.
"Right, okay." Robbie turned to Donna, who looked so utterly lost that he wasn't sure she'd be any help here. "And Donna and I were in Central Park when we found this place."
"Found it in a place that had been just a big patch of grass yesterday," Donna said quietly, staring past all of them, into air. "There's no way this place could have been build overnight, Robbie, you said it yourself."
"So what?" Robbie asked, spreading his arms out on either side of him. "The whole street just up and moved across the city?"
"That's exactly what he did."
Everyone turned to look at the new voice, turned to see a young, black haired girl standing at the top of the stone steps leading up to one of the townhouses. Clad in a long indigo dress and matching cape, she looked exactly as she had in Robbie's dream.
He opened mouth, had to try a few times before any words come out. "You're... You're the girl from my dream."
She nods, her face expressionless. "Thank you all for coming. If you'd like to come inside, I can explain everything."
"Hey, wait, no," Donna said as Robbie took a step towards the new girl. "Why don't you explain everything out here?" she said, pulling Robbie closer to her and lowering her voice. "Where we can fly away if we need to."
Hesitantly, the girl looked towards the skies. "I'd really rather do this inside, if that's alright with you."
"It's not," Donna said shortly. When the girl paused, Donna raised an eyebrow. "Or we can all just leave."
The girl nodded her head once, accepting. "Alright," she said, sighing. "There's a girl upstairs, sleeping. She's alright now, but she's recovering from her turbulent escape from a spaceship where she was being horribly experimented on and her consequential crash to earth, and the race that were holding her captive have sent out search parties to find her. If they do find her, she will be made to return to a life of slavery and torture and other, unspeakable, horrors." She waited a beat, allowed her words to sink in. "If you would rather return home and continue with your lives, that is fine. But if not, if you'd actually like to help this girl, I can explain everything else inside, where the skies are not so open to the prying eyes of alien races." She turned then, having done her work, and made her way inside, disappearing from view.
Robbie cast a glance back to the rest of the group, made his decision, and followed her.
After that, so did everyone else.
Koriand'r's rest was turbulent.
Images flashed across the insides of her eyelids, her mind replaying her escape as she slept. Her body may have been resting, but her mind could not.
She was dreaming of her escape in the pod, of the otherworldly beings that had chased her, the destructive beams of pure energy that they that fired at her. Every single shot had missed. She didn't think that was an accident. From what she'd seen of these beings in her time of imprisonment on their ship, they were malicious creatures, too bloodthirsty to miss a single shot. Those shots were meant to frighten, to warn, not to kill.
Her Tamaranean body was too precious to them to destroy it.
Then, with a sharp intake of breath, she awoke.
The first thing she became aware of was the pain. So much pain. There wasn't a single inch of her body that didn't ache or throb, at least a little bit. It was, however, slightly muffled by the confusion and unfamiliarity she felt as her eyes began to adjust to the darkness.
She definitely wasn't on the Q'ST'R, she knew that much. She was lying on something soft and warm, her head sinking into a cushion, a sheet pulled over her body. Such luxuries she had not experienced in years, not since she'd been taken from her home. She had definitely escaped, could feel the crash echo through her body as she relived it in her mind. But what little she could remember after that was a total blur. Voices. Darkness. Cold. So where had she ended up? Maybe her captors had found her, had returned her to her prison and were now playing a cruel trick to entertain themselves. Or maybe someone had saved her. Maybe someone had found her, taken her somewhere safe.
Either way, she was going to find out.
She pulled herself up, trying her best to ignore the searing pain in her sides, her head, her arms, swung her legs over the side of bed. It hurt, but she eventually managed to get to her feet, swaying for a second before she straightened. She made her way, slowly, to the open doorway, leading out to an equally dark hallway. She could see, though, a faint light coming from below, seeping up the stairs ahead of her. Distantly, voices. She didn't recognise the voices, or even the language, but she followed the sound, warily descending the steps, careful to remain quiet, covered in the shadows. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the voices got louder, the light brighter, the sense of danger receding as she sees a small group of beings sat together a nearby room. Koriand'r couldn't be sure, but none of them seemed threatening. At least, not yet.
She stepped closer to the room, pausing under the wide archway, her eyes narrowing against the harsh light. One of them, a girl, turned to her. She didn't say a word, her expression did not change, but almost instantly, Koriand'r felt a sense of calm wash over her. She knew she did not have to be afraid anymore. She knew she was safe here. With them.
The girl said something, almost like a greeting. Koriand'r didn't know what she had said, but the nod of her head she recognised. It was a sign of respect that Koriand'r had not seen in years. She couldn't help but smile.
The others in the room turned to look at her at the girl's greeting, each of them looking her over as she did the same. Most of them looked similar to each other, and to the girl. In fact, they looked much like herself. Some of them were darker in skin, some of them paler. The skin of one of them was the colour of her people's eyes. But, regardless, none of them were similar to the Gordonians. For that, she was relieved.
The girl who had greeted her stood, gestured to the chair she had just vacated for Koriand'r to take. She did, grateful. She may have only just woken up, but she was already exhausted, and, despite her body's quick healing rate, she was still aching all over.
She'd have appreciated it more, though, if they'd spoken in a language that she could actually understand.
"Did you just call her princess?" Garfield asked from beside Richard. No, Rachel corrected herself. He goes by Robbie now.
She nodded. "Her name is Koriand'r, and she's a princess of Tamaran, a planet that lies about 26 light years from this one, in the Vega star system." She looked at the faces before her, half of them outright dazed, the others pretending that they weren't.
"So," Donna said slowly. "She's an alien princess." Rachel nodded, and Donna mirrored the movement. "How did an alien princess end up on Earth?"
"Like I said," Rachel began, standing tall in front of the group, each of them following her every movement closely. They obviously didn't trust her. But that didn't matter yet. "She was imprisoned by Psions for experimentation. I'm not sure how, but she managed to escape. She ended up here."
"And you need our help protecting her from the... Psions, because they're looking for her," Robbie finished, looking between Rachel and the princess sat in the chair beside her.
Again, Rachel nodded. "Even here, Koriand'r is not safe." She tipped her head. "But, I will admit, that is not all I want your help with."
"What's else is there?" Victor asked, suspicion clouding his face.
"That is not important right now," Rachel answered. "Right now, we need to find a way to keep Koriand'r safe and hidden." She moved to the window, took a second to scan the skies. So far, they were safe. "Which is why I have brought you here. Danny can keep us moving. I can't be sure where we'll end up, but if it keeps us safe and out of the Psions sights, I suppose it doesn't matter."
"Wait," Robbie interrupted, raising a hand. "Hold up. What do you want from us here, exactly? Do you want our help protecting her, or do you want us to run away?"
Rachel frowned. "Both," she said simply.
"Both," Robbie repeated, looking a little surprised.
"Both." Rachel looked at each of the heroes in front of her, one at time. She paused when she found Wally. He hadn't said a word since they'd entered the house. He also hadn't taken his eyes off of her. "The best way that we can keep her safe until the danger is passed is to stay hidden. If we can avoid a fight and protect Koriand'r..."
"Listen..." Donna paused, frowning. "Whoever you are."
"Rachel," she interrupted quickly. Donna didn't seem impressed with the help. "You can call me Rachel."
"Cool," Donna said, smiling brightly. Rachel had the feeling it wasn't very sincere. "Listen, Rachel. We're not exactly in the business of running away. Usually, when there's someone in danger or a threat looming over someone's head, we stick around and fight the bad guys."
Rachel nodded. "I understand that," she said. Donna sighed. "But this isn't a small group of your 'bad guys'. This isn't even a spaceship full of them. The threat we're facing is a full fleet of space ships, each of them filled with violent, sadistic beings who will stop at nothing to find the experiment that they lost. Their own lives hang in the balance. They will not give up so easily."
Robbie sighed. "So you're asking us to leave our families, our homes, to go on the run for an undetermined amount of time with you and this Danny guy, both of whom are complete strangers to us, so that we can protect a girl we don't know against an alien horde who would literally tear apart this planet looking for her?" Rachel paused. She should have known the conscious of such heroes would get in her way.
"I understand that you're worried about your cities, about the lives of the people who live here." She took a breath. "I don't want to put anyone is danger anymore than you do. But I need each of you alive and well if you're to help me with the other reason I brought you all together."
"Maybe if you told us a little more about it, we could make the decision ourselves," Robbie challenged, raising an eyebrow. Rachel tensed, her jaw tightening.
Releasing a long breath, she nodded. "We don't have time to go into the details, or to explain how I know this. But it involves saving the world, and many others after it. It's bigger than the lives of the people you know, even bigger than the lives of every person on this earth. This is about saving the universe."
Rachel could see each of them thinking it over. Finally, after what felt like an hour, Robbie turned to Donna, the two of them sharing some silent conversation. They turned back to her.
"Well, then," Robbie said, standing. "I guess we'll just have to be extra careful with the Psions."
Rachel sighed, her head dropping. She could, of course, change their minds.
But she had done enough of that tonight.
"Where was the last place you saw them?" Donna asked her, standing beside Robbie and wiping down her jeans.
In that moment, despite every fibre of her being disagreeing, Rachel made a decision. "I can take you there."
They all looked surprised, but only Donna looked put out. Rachel had a feeling she would have trouble with that one.
Robbie turned to Victor, the latter rising from his seat to rise above them all. "We do this sort of stuff all the time, Victor," he started, his tone relaxed. "This is our life, has been for years. You don't need to follow us if you don't want to."
Victor barely considered it, already having made up his mind. He glanced over to Koriand'r, baffled at all the movement. "I know what it's like to be somebody's experiment." He turned back, smiling at Robbie. "Maybe a little vicarious revenge will be good for me."
Robbie nodded, pleased, and turned to Wally. He hadn't even wanted to come here in the first place, and that was when it was just to help him out. Now he was back to saving the world.
"Wally?" he asked, his friend still seated. He'd never looked more torn up. "No one would blame you if you went home."
He was quiet for a long time, eyes boring holes into the floor. Then, without a word, he stood. Nodded. Robbie smiled.
"Why don't I get a choice?" Gar piped up, already heading towards the door.
"Because you up and left for over a year," Donna answered, strolling straight passed him and out the door. "We had to clean up your messes while you were gone. You owe us."
Garfield, Robbie was sure, had an response for that too, but he didn't hear it. As Victor and Wally followed the first two out of the house, Robbie paused, turned back to the princess in the chair, watching them all leave with her brows low. She was confused.
He turned as Rachel approached the girl cautiously. "Are you coming?" he asked Koriand'r. She opened her mouth to respond, closed it quickly. She huffed.
"She doesn't understand English," Rachel explained, watching her. "She hasn't understood a word we've said."
Robbie sighed. "You can't speak her language?"
"Unfortunately, no," Rachel said, shaking her head. "I don't know anyone here who does."
"So, what do we do?" Robbie asked, looking around the house. It wasn't exactly a fortress. "Could we leave her with Danny? Could he keep her safe?"
Rachel tipped her head. "Maybe. But I'd rather she stay where we can see her," she said. She held out a gloved hand, lowered it to Koriand'r. She stared at it for a second, her emerald eyes flicking between Rachel and Robbie. Finally, she placed her own hand in Rachel's, and the latter girl pulled her to her feet, led her towards the door.
"We won't be the only ones able to see her," Robbie reminded her, thinking of the Psions and whatever awful experiments they had planned for this girl. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"No," Rachel said immediately, shaking her head. Robbie sighed. "I don't. I don't think any of this is a good idea. But, given the change in circumstances, I'm afraid it's the best I've got." She left then, taking Koriand'r with her.
Robbie lead the group out into the open space of the United Nations Plaza, half of them having changed into their usual crime-fighting attire. He turned, paused to check in on Donna. She still didn't look pleased with the turn their evening had taken. He sighed, locking eyes with Rachel. He considered her for a second. She was obviously like so many of his friends. He'd never met her before tonight, yet she had somehow appeared in his dream, told him to wake, that she needed his help. That wasn't a coincidence. That was her doing. Had she also built that entire street in Central Park, manoeuvred it throughout the city to collect each of them? Was the street just an illusion, something she had made them see? How had she known where Donna would be, or Garfield? How did she know their alter-egos? Their deepest desires? Their weaknesses? She had to be powerful, Robbie knew that much, but the question of how powerful frightened him.
Worse still, Robbie got the uncanny feeling that she knew everything he was thinking.
He cleared his throat, her face unmoving as she continued to stare, waiting for him to speak. "Is here good?"
Finally, she looked away, observing their surroundings. She nodded. "I found Koriand'r not too far from here. A kind man had found her after her crash and taken her to seek help in an apartment nearby. It was mere seconds after Koriand'r and I left that the Psions had locked onto us. They will likely still be searching for her close to that original location, and to the site of her crash." She scanned the skies as Robbie frowned. "With an area as open and vulnerable as this, they will surely find us very soon."
"What happened to the man?" Robbie asked her, unsure he wanted to know the answer. Rachel turned back to him, her straight face unwavering.
"I do not know," she answered simply. Robbie sighed. That was what he had been afraid of.
"Are we really just going to stand around and wait for them to find us?" Donna asked, turning to Robbie, her arms folded over her Amazonian-inspired suit. "We're out in the open here. I don't like it."
"That's the whole point, Donna," Robbie reminded her as she scoffed lightly and shook her head. "We need to draw them out to fight them. At least this way we've taken away their advantage of the surprise attack."
Garfield laughed. "Yeah, because the fish in those barrels don't mind getting shot if they know you're coming," he quipped, eyes scanning the skies avidly, betraying the casual tone in his voice.
"We're not fish," Robbie responded. Garfield shrugged.
"Most of the time."
"How long do you think it'll take them to find us?" Victor asked, moving around in a full circle. Robbie could only imagine the things he could see with that robotic eye.
Rachel barely moved as she responded. "We won't be waiting long, I can assure you. However..." She trailed off, turning back to Robbie. "There is still time to turn back if you've changed your mind." Robbie was sure the girl didn't blink. Like, at all. "This is a fight we can avoid."
Robbie shook his head. "Just because we can, it doesn't mean we should."
"Very well," Rachel said reluctantly, nodding once. "Then it's time we move to find a little cover. I believe they're on their way."
Donna nearly laughed. "How could you possibly-"
"She's right," Victor cut in quietly, staring off into the night sky as what Robbie would have thought to be unassuming stars began to move, began to grow. It was only a second later that the sound of the ships engines reached his ears. "They're coming."
A/N: Okay, so this is based on the comics The New Teen Titans, published in the 1980s. It's literally been nearly 40 years since this comic first came out, so... It's kinda outdated.
I did, originally, start writing this in a script format, like, forever ago, because I wanted to try something new. It didn't sit well with me though, and I heard that there will be a show out next year about the Titans, and it felt a bit weird to continue writing it like that after knowing that, so I transformed it for my trusty FanFiction, because I didn't want to stop writing it, but also didn't want to continue in that format.
I will be trying to spruce it up a little, bringing it into 2017, adding some more villains, more character nuances and just kind of exploring the main characters, their relationships, their backstories, their frames of mind, more than I feel the comics did, but it will still be following the main storylines. Probably, anyway. We'll see.
I don't know if it's okay to put this on here, since it's not a 'spin off' or an original continuation of another story/publication/show or whatever, but maybe it could be classed as an adaptation? I mean, I've seen stories on here that essentially retell the story of a show but with one extra character, or from a different character's POV, so I guess it's not really too different from that? I don't know, that's why I'm writing this, so whatever your opinion is on the matter, I'd like to know.
I figured it could be a (potentially) cool thing to read if you're into DC films or TV, or you like the Teen Titans cartoons, but also if you don't read a lot of comics, or haven't read these ones. Or maybe even if you have. Who knows.
Let me know what you think, any and all thoughts, suggestions and/or constructive criticism is much appreciated.
Thank you to everyone for reading!