Walking Forward

Chapter One: Rebirth

His legs trembled as he peered over the balcony's edge. Fifteen stories up and the concrete still didn't look soft enough. Richard's eyes tried convincing him otherwise, but his logical mind performed every mathematical formula it knew to prove the landing would be quick but painful.

His eyes watered and twin streams trickled down his face. His shoulders bobbed and he fought to still himself, lying that this was the only path left to him after the tragedy and he should just accept it.

Forcing an arm steady, he reached into his pocket and produced his phone. The wallpaper was a picture of himself and his family—father, mother, and brother—smiling carelessly in that frozen portrait of a more innocent time. Fighting his quickening breath, he held the phone up against the sunset and let the image embed itself into his mind. He closed his eyes, wanting it to be the last thing he ever saw.

But he couldn't jump yet. Not with the railing in the way. So, he effortlessly climbed the short way up to the top of the balcony, his acrobatic training balancing him perfectly. He looked one last time at the ground, the city, the sky, and then his family. As his eyes closed shut and he thought he finally found true serenity, he caught something in the corner of his eye. Curious, he looked sidelong beside him and was horrified to find on his neighbor's balcony Victor Stone, an African-American gentleman, in a black business suit also standing on his balcony's edge with a briefcase in one hand, presumably attempting the same thing Richard was. Or at least, he was, but now he only returned Richard's shocked, silent reaction at seeing his neighbor in an eerily similar position.

They remained frozen as they were atop their balcony railings, both having lost the nerve to jump in each other's company and only uncomfortably staring at one another in the situational irony. Still more silence passed between the odd pair before the black businessman blurted in annoyance, "Well, now, this is just awkward!"

She tucked the gun at the bottom of her duffel bag and buried it under piles of laundry and toiletries. She heard her sister enter the room before she closed the zipper. Kori sighed at her presence.

"So that's it?" her older sister called, arms crossed and façade steely. "You're just leaving?"

Kori straightened to her feet and slung the duffel bag over a shoulder. She took a moment to note the heavy distinction between herself and her older sister. Where Cami had once lived a wild and hedonistic life before the tragedy, she'd since assumed a tremendous amount of responsibility and placed her job and her family far ahead of herself—begrudgingly, no doubt, but dutifully all the same. Gone were the punk-rocker clothes and the underground scene she loved so much, instead weighed down by skirt suits and blouses to assimilate her into a faceless corporate nightmare she wanted no part of. But the role of eldest child compelled her to provide for her family when no one else would.

Kori, on the other hand, became what everyone expected Cami to become. She fell from her old, placid self and shirked all responsibility after being fired from her third job in three weeks—too consumed by bitterness and rage to follow any steady or narrow path. And, truth be told, she was tired of watching her older sister and younger brother succeed in life while she only degenerated into a deadbeat. I'm done with this house.

She monotoned to Cami in the doorway, "Yup."

Her sister glared incredulously at her. "Have you even thought about what you're doing here? You're abandoning Ryan and me—the only family you have left—just so you can hunt some—some ghost the police can't even find!"

"He's not a ghost, Cami," Kori shot back. "He's just a man. Just flesh and bone and filth and he bleeds like everything else! If the police can't find him, that just means they're not trying hard enough."

"So, that suddenly makes you a stone-cold man-hunter now, huh? Kori, believe me, I want to see him dead just as much as you do, but we can't throw our whole lives away just for some desperate shot at revenge!"

Kori snarled at her as she strolled past. "If it were us, mom and dad would."

Outraged, Cami seized her by the shoulder and spun her back around to reply, "No. They wouldn't."

Indignant, Kori pushed her away and headed for the door without another word. Left alone in the small house, Cami called after her, "Won't you at least say goodbye to Ryan?"

Kori was too stubborn and prideful to wait for him. But she didn't have to. He was only just returning from high school when their eyes met in the driveway.

"Hey, Kori," he waved. "Where you goin'—?"

Not wanting to waste time on a formal goodbye, Kori grasped him by the back of his thick hair and pulled his face in to meet hers. She planted a long and tender kiss on his cheek and he flushed and froze in the sudden embrace. Kori slowly pulled herself back, her hand still in his hair, and looked into his confused, innocent eyes wistfully, her silence speaking greater volumes than words ever could. She broke the contact and continued down the driveway until she entered her car.

Ryan turned to the doorway to find Cami standing there, defeated and already silently mourning their sister's departure, and he suddenly understood what was happening. He whipped his head back to his sister behind the wheel, and from his lips escaped a choked and heartbroken "Ko—ri…?"

Her hands were on the steering wheel, her bag in the navigator's seat, and it was only then that she felt the full weight of her actions crush her where she sat. The silent tears broke through and, for those moments when she looked into Ryan's pleading eyes beyond the windshield, her resolve faltered. But she pulled herself together, put the stick in reverse, and drove away.

"Kori, wait—!" Ryan had screamed and started after her, but it was too late. He was left behind in the dust and feared he would never see her again.

Kori never looked back. Hide all you want, but I will find you. And when I do, no one will be able to save you, Uncle Gavin.

Jason smirked at him, his expression haughty yet serene, his eyes charged with that same fire they always had yet belying a kindness within. He didn't move. He didn't say a word. He only stood as he was in the alley: the rising sun shining on his relaxed form, one hand clutching a brown paper bag and the other fiddling with a revolver. He watched with silent amusement as his brother struggled to reach him.

Every step was an agonizing labor for Richard, coasting along a brick wall for support as he trudged onward to reach his younger brother.

Not…giving up… I'm not—!

His knee buckled and he lurched over, still holding onto his surroundings in the narrow passage for support. But he pulled himself up before hitting the ground—Not…done…yet!—and he forced himself onward, inching ever closer to his wayward brother.

Jay—son… Don't you dare go…

Only precious feet away now, and his younger brother never moved from his spot, perfectly at ease with his place in the universe and hardly caring if Richard reached him or not.

Richard watched in horror as the other figure emerged from the shadows: a purple-and-green hoodie obscuring his chalky-white face in shadow, save for a sickening grin, and a rusted lead pipe in his gnarled hands poised overhead for the kill.

"JASON! NO!" Richard screamed in vain as the thug brought his weapon down on the oblivious soul, and he bolted forward with newfound strength to save his brother. And when his hand reached for Jason's shattering form, the rising sun overwhelmed him and its light washed away the alley, returning Richard indoors to the clinic and between the two balance beams he grasped onto for support. Cold sweat ran down his face and under his clothes, his knees trembling and calves burning from the tribulation, but he didn't fall. Half displaced from time and horrified though he was, he didn't fall.

The eyes on him were wide and vibrant, and after a moment of stunned silence, Raven of all people was the first to exclaim, "Richard…you did it! You're walking again!"

His physiotherapist's words fully reawakened him to the present, and that's when he remembered the accident after the averted double-suicide over six weeks ago. He'd broken both of his legs saving Vic after he slipped off that railing and only just took his first real steps in over a month.

I'm walking…

Vic stood in the doorway in his dark business suit, arms folded and smiling proudly at his friend's progress. Nice job, bro. You're gonna be just fine.

Richard looked down at his feet and a small part of him allowed himself to forget all the grief and misery of the last two months and to finally smile again. For all his failures and accidents, he finally accomplished something. His eyes welled and intermittent teardrops fell to the floor. It was only when he looked up again and saw Jason's body lying before him in his mind's eye that his smile faltered and the tears fell for a different reason.

Victor shook Raven's hand before he left. "Thanks again for helping out. This really means a lot to me."

And Raven returned with a light smile—the kind she only gave to close friends. "It's no problem, Vic. He's making some good progress. Still, it's obvious he's got some issues weighing him down."

Vic was silent, his mouth half-open and almost tempted to reply, but he kept himself in check. He turned his eyes aside and the handshake ended.

Raven looked on him knowingly and said, "Hey, I get it. There are some things even friends don't talk about, so I won't ask. Same as why I don't care why he means so much to you. It's just one of those things."

He smiled lightly, relieved at his friend's kindness. "Yeah. Thanks, Rae. I can always count on you to understand things like that. You take care."

Richard hoisted himself into the van and used his upper-body strength to lift the wheelchair into the cleared area behind his seat. His friend in the business suit entered the vehicle and took the driver's seat beside him shortly after. "You've got some wonderful friends," Rich said suddenly, staring out the window at Raven returning inside the building. "Only makes me wonder more…" he cut the thought short, remembering the unspoken agreement he and Victor shared.

"Why I was gonna jump?" the taller man finished.

Incredulous that he was willing to talk so freely about it, Richard was at a loss for words. He only nodded in reply.

Vic sighed as he put the van in reverse, looking behind him as he spoke. "I wonder the same thing now. I was so sure of my conviction to end it back then, but after we met…I dunno what I was thinking." They were clear of their parking space and drove out of the lot, into the flow of traffic. "But what about you?" he continued, more solemnly. "Life still givin' you a raw deal?"

A short pause, then Richard answered, "It's hard to decide."

The driver exhaled through his nose at the red light. "I know, man. I know." As they watched the other cars pass them by from the adjacent road, Victor asked, "So, what're you doing these days? You been able to work without your legs?"

Richard had his elbow propped on the door and his jaw on his fist, still feeling only half-alive as he'd been in the last eight weeks. "No. I quit my job just before we met. I tried getting it back after the accident, but they already replaced me. Haven't been able to find anything since then. It's just been the one unemployment check so far."

Vic looked at him empathetically, his mind already dreading how this could lead him back to the same dead end they both narrowly avoided. When the light turned green, he had an idea. "You could come work for me."

That captured Richard's attention instantly, bringing him further back to the present than he'd been in a long time. "You mean…at your big, fancy law firm?"

Victor Stone shrugged with a bright smile. "Sure. I could really use a secretary. And I know you're qualified because of just how knowledgeable you are about the legal system. And you've got a big mind. I know you're always deep in thought 'cause of how pensive you are most of the time, and the brilliant way you work things out under pressure…well, I saw that firsthand when you saved my life."

"We saved each other, Vic."

"Yeah, but you saved me twice. First, when we stopped each other. Second, after I slipped and fell anyways. Anybody else would'a frozen under the circumstances, but you—you were so quick to move and think of somethin' and we both got out alive because of that. Well…your legs weren't so lucky, but the point is you're a fast thinker and you win more than you lose when you put your mind to something." He saw the subtlest motions of Richard's bitter façade to know that brilliant mind was already weighing all the options and outcomes of the offer. No…more likely, he's wondering why I'm doing this…continued generosity for saving me or to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't relapse.

At length, Richard replied, still somber and reticent, "I guess there's no way I can really decline. But wouldn't I need to get my degree first? I didn't have much education after high school. Aren't I better off as a receptionist?"

Victor smiled. "I'd consider the receptionist thing, but you're not exactly the most chipper dude on the block; you might scare off our customers—no offense. But we do get some rare cases where high school graduates move on to become legal secretaries without any official degree. I really think you're smart enough to pull that off. Interested?"

Still in shock at the proposal, Richard considered anyways: Either this is his way of saying 'thanks' beyond paying for my physical therapy, or he wants to make sure I don't try and kill myself again. Whatever his motivations are, it doesn't matter. I could use the distraction. Plus, I owe him for all he's done for me. He answered sincerely, "Yes. Yes, I am. Thank you for this chance."

The suited lawyer smirked. "Cool. There's still the official channels to go through, but I've got more than enough pull to get you in the door. I'll put the good word in…"

And as his friend spoke of the near-assurances to come, Richard—still a far cry from the level of emotional recovery Victor already achieved—only half-paid attention to his promising words. The rest of his mind writhed and tangled with every unresolved pang of remorse for the loss of Jason and he wondered if any amount of worldly gain would ever keep him from relapsing back to the crossroads he faced eight weeks ago.

A sudden jerk and spin of the wheel only saved Kori by precious seconds from the crazy truck driver that sped across her intersection when she had the right of way. What could've been a demolition was reduced to a hard collision that slammed against the side of her trunk and forced her car to spin out of control through the congested inner-city intersection. Through frenzied instinct and skill, she somehow managed to avoid crashing into any other vehicle, but she now veered uncontrollably for a young woman in a red plaid jacket and dark grey beanie playing guitar on the sidewalk. The blonde guitar player yelped and jumped to her feet against the side of a building, clutching her precious instrument close to her as Kori's car veered in and suddenly stopped mere inches away. When she finally realized she was still alive, Tara Markov forced her dinner-plate-sized eyes open and took a deep, panicked breath of the precious oxygen she never thought she'd taste again.

Kori was shaken up herself, scarcely believing she avoided a chain-collision in this kind of traffic and that the young guitarist wasn't smushed against her car and the building she was caught between. They looked at each other breathlessly through the windshield, neither yet fully returned to the present, but when time had halfway reoriented itself, Tara slowly, nervously raised a hitchhiker's thumb to the one that almost smashed her.

Dumbfounded, a look of confusion sprawled on Kori's face. But she swallowed the absurdity and reluctantly motioned for the other girl to get in. Tara beamed, gathered her stuff, and hopped in the navigator's seat, throwing her few possessions in the back. "Hi," she greeted with a smile, still breathing heavily, "I'm Tara."

"Kori," the driver returned, still not fully aware of her surroundings.

"Thanks for the ride, Kori. You don't know how hard it is getting out of Chicago without a ride."

"Where're you headed?"

"Florida," she answered plainly.

Kori turned to stare at her with a perplexed and mildly irate look on her face. Florida was more than a few states and a time-zone away. "No, that's not out of the way at all," she replied sarcastically.

"Awesome!" Tara cheered, either missing the sarcasm or ignoring it. "I got some money if you need it on the way. Just take me as far you can and I'll work something out from there."

Kori sighed as she put the stick in reverse, only now wondering if her car would still run after that hit. Fortunately, it did. Perhaps more surprisingly, she was still moving after eight fruitless weeks of searching for her parents' killer. Though she never considered resignation, she was growing tired. And now, after over two months of roaming what seemed the entire state of Illinois and turning up empty-handed, she had just agreed to drive a complete stranger four states away from where she believed her target to be. "What have I gotten myself into?" Kori moaned to herself.

"An adventure!" Tara answered, still jubilant even after their shared near-death experience.

The truck that hit them was long gone and beyond Kori's ability to track. The police would probably arrive soon and she didn't feel like making an official statement for a payback she'd never get. So, Kori drove her car back into the flow of traffic to the surprise of every spectator who watched the incident. It's been eight weeks of failure after failure and I'm no closer to finding Uncle Gavin than when I started. Maybe I just need a break…

It was an uneasy but quick decision to make. Maybe it was the adrenaline of the wreck that impaired her judgment—or maybe it was almost dying after eight weeks of failed searching and avoiding almost all human contact that made her reevaluate what she was doing with her life—but whatever it was that shook her, she'd suddenly become prone to the whimsical suggestion of a guitar-playing hitchhiker and she had no qualms with that. At least, none that she realized.

Kori allowed herself a small, nervous smile and said to her new acquaintance, "You know, I could really use an adventure right now."

[Author's note] This story was actually a challenge by Green Gallant. He wanted me to try a civilian AU Robin/Starfire story based on Luke Bryan's song "Roller Coaster." Of course, since songfics with lyrics are against the rules and I wanted to get creative, I somehow ended up with this instead xD I'll try to get this somewhat on track with the source material in another chapter or so, but still with my own creative spins on it.

Also, this was supposed to be K+, but since FanFiction's rules for K+ stories clearly state they must be "without serious injury" and both of Robin's legs were broken here (even though it happened off-screen), that's technically a violation of that rule, so I had to change the rating to T. This is dumb because, by this site's logic, the cartoon Teen Titans would be rated PG-13 instead of Y-7 because Robin broke his arm in one episode. ...Anyone else think FanFiction needs to seriously reevaluate its content guidelines?