Just a brief A/N from me. I'm a former Fanfiction veteran, though I have decided to use a new account as a clean slate. This story is pretty much being written due to the R34 rule that "If you do not find what you are seeing, make it." (However this is not R34, so don't worry.) If this ends up like the others with a similar plot, I apologize, as I simply had not found them.

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, or any other DC related content.

Chapter One

Time has a way of moving ever onward, unceasing in its influence on the inhabitants of the universe. As it moves onward, so too must those caught in its waves and currents, unable to escape. Just as sorrow must end, joy shall also crumble to the will of Time.

Seventeen years.

That was how long the Titans had been disbanded. Other heroes had risen and fallen like the original crew, ending both happily and tragically. The next generation had recently taken the wheel, attempting to fill the footfalls left behind by their parents. Although nobody knew that this new group, being hailed modestly as The Jump City Heroes, were of any relation to the original Titans, each and every member felt their parents' shadows' overwhelming stature.

Their parents, however, could not be more proud of them. They sat together, watching as their children battled the villain on the television screen. Despite no longer being a team, they had remained lifelong friends, and some, lifelong partners. Cyborg and Bee sat in cream colored armchairs, a young girl with eyes glued to the screen at their feet. Raven and Beastboy were on the couch, a blond haired toddler trying to free himself from his mother's grip. Robin and Starfire, whose home they gathered in, beamed proudly over mugs of coffee.

"Oh Yeah! Did you see that punch Des did?" Cyborg shouted as the teen hero clad in a purple spandex suit with a large yellow lightning bolt reaching from his left shoulder to the right side of his belt smashed his fist into the bridge of the villain's stony nose. The twelve year old pumped her own fist as vigorously as her father, crying out "Booyah!"

A dark haired girl dressed in a purple belly shirt and sleek black pants shouted commands, violet bolts pounding down on the boulder-like villain. Robin gave out an energetic, "That's my girl."

The camera panned out, and briefly two cloaked figures were seen in the air, one maroon and the other a foggy gray. Just as the two were about to attack, the news feed cut out and went into standby. Beastboy groaned, slumping backwards, "That's no fair! My kids never get time in the spotlight!" The boy beside him babbled loudly, as if joining his father's raucous. Raven shot him an annoyed look, but said nothing.

"It's alright, Gar, there'll be more battles," Bee told him, watching Cyborg and her daughter high-five. Beastboy hadn't heard her as his attention had turned to his son.

Robin flicked off the television, checking his watch. "The fight looked almost over, they should be home about eight."

"Unless they go out and get pizza," the girl, named Haley, pouted, feeling left out. She had been begging to join the team, but was considered too young by both the teens and the parents.

"They better not," Robin countered. "Tomorrow's a school day."

"Speaking of, it's close to bed time for ya," Cyborg said to Haley.

"Aww, but Dad," she protested, though Cyborg and Bee had already stood up.

"It was nice hanging out," Bee addressed the group.

Cyborg gathered up a large gray coat and approached the front door, Haley following obediently. He slid a pair of rings onto his fingers and his metallic parts faded into the illusion that was Victor Stone."See y'all later."

Raven and Beast boy stood up as well, gathering their own coats and dressing the young toddler in warm clothing. Raven said, "We should get going too," and took the child in her arms once her own holo-ring was on. Beastboy grabbed the door and becoming a blonde middle-aged man again.

"Bye guys," he grinned, stepping out the door with his wife, into the night and back into his normal life.

:::

"Okay team, time for the final blow!" Nightstar hollered, zooming in to land a hard punch to the gollum-like villain known as Landslider. The villain turned towards her, trying to break from his dark aura straight jacket. The cloaked figures, Albatross and Ibis, let go with their powers as soon as their leader stuck. Powerhouse, the electric-themed hero, leaped into the air and hammered down onto Landslider's chest with both fists, sparks flying as the blow formed a crater in the road.

"Awyeah," Powerhouse crowed, stepping back to admire the knocked out villain. The other three heroes landed beside him as a troop of policemen came to haul the massive statue into an armored van. He high-fived Nightstar and Ibis and held out the offer to Albatross, but the brooding boy ignored him, stalking h his gray cloak swishing in annoyance.

"What's wrong with him now?" Nightstar groaned, looking to Ibis. The small red haired girl shrugged and followed her brother.

Ibis caught up to him, her hood falling back as she followed the taller, older boy. He'd been reserved for as long as she could remember, though his anger and solitude had grown tenfold recently. "Soren, what's wrong?"

"Don't use our real names around here, moron," he hissed, though she figured it was mostly because he had come to dislike his name.

"Fine, Albatross, what's gotten into you?" she found it even harder to keep up. Overhead she saw Nightstar flying, keeping only a few yards ahead as she knew what was coming next. Powerhouse rode away on a skateboard in the opposite direction.

"Nothing, leave me alone," he groaned, suddenly phasing home. She sighed, deciding to follow Nightstar.

"Hey Mari, wait up!" she called, rising into the air. Jump City shrank below her, the wind feeling cold against her porcelain skin.

Nightstar slowed for the younger girl, noting the worried look on her face. "Still ain't talking?" Ibis shook her head. "I've never seen him so touchy."

"If he fails his English test tomorrow, he'll be even more testy," she replied. "His grades have been slipping and he doesn't leave his room anymore."

"Maybe that's frustrating him, he's always gotten straight A's," Nightstar mused, watching the streets go by beneath her.

"No, he can pass if he really wants to, but it's like he just doesn't try. We heard Mom and Dad fighting a few weeks ago about it," Ibis's purple eyes cast downward, unseeing as she remembered that night when he had offered to let her and Connor stay in his room so as not to hear them argue.

"All parents fight, Ember," Nightstar shrugged. "You should tell him not to worry about it."

"That's just the thing, he snaps at me whenever I try to bring it up."

"He'll come around. He's a lot more sensitive to emotions than you are, so maybe you should try to help him by helping yourself feel better," the older girl suggested, flying a little closer. "And if you're really feeling worried, talk to you mother. Of all people she'd know what to do."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Ibis smiled softly, noticing their humble little street just ahead. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mari."

"Sure thing, Em. And good luck with your brother," she nodded to her team-mate and veered to the right, towards the upper side of town where her normal teenage life awaited.

:::

Soren tugged at his purple hair in frustration. The world around him crumbled, and he felt the weight of loneliness crystallize deep within his heart. Darkness hugged him tightly as he huddled in the corner of his room, his cloak wrapping him in what little comfort he had left. Nobody understood the agony he had been feeling, nobody had seen it build up and break him from the inside out.

He felt the bruise on his arm and winced. Was that from Landslider, or those seniors who had pinned him to the ground and let loose their anger upon him? What was worse was that he knew he could not fight back against the latter, that his powers and secret identity prevented any retaliation. Now he felt too shattered and weak to even will himself to stand against them.

And then his mind settled on a memory more painful than his beating.

Soren had felt the wave of anger from his parents bedroom, and knew that they were arguing again. It had probably started over something stupid, but he could feel that it was fueled from exhaustion and over-broiled emotions that had nestled inside them far too long. From Ember's room emerged fright and sadness, as she was the one unfortunate enough to be able to hear them. It was never that coherent, but the sharp tones and raised snippets would come across to her once in awhile. Connor was too young to understand, but the infantile emotions of fear and confusion budded in his heart.

The older boy crept quietly through the living room and down the short hallway leading to the rest of the rooms. He picked up Connor first, hushing the little boy and cradling him close. In his free hand he gathered the child's cup of milk and favorite blanket, the child already starting to close his eyes as Soren's breathing calmed him. As he felt his way towards Ember's room, he caught a snippet of the debate from the other room.

"I know his grades are slipping!" That was his father, they were fighting about him again. "He's been busy saving the city!"

"He should be more focused on school than the city. You remember how hard it was to set up our identities as citizens, to make enough money to survive without our diplomas," his mother was the one who had insisted that he and Ember stay in school, while his father considered it trivial.

"We could have gotten them. A G.E.D. at the least," his father countered.

"How?" his mother barked. "We were too busy trying to get gather a savings before Soren was born! We had no legitimate credit, nobody would hire us, remember? We had to go crawling to Richard for money just so we could at least afford diapers!"

Soren ducked his head into Embers room, seeing her curled up on her bed with a pillow pressed tightly to her ears. She looked up at him when he came in. "C'mon," he grunted, leading the way to his room. He heard the words that constantly echoed in his ears since that day:

"Do you think I wanted to get pregnant at seventeen?"

It was something that had haunted him his entire life. He was the reason his family fought, why they could never reach for their desires, and it stabbed him with each breath he believed he didn't deserve. He was never supposed to be born, of that he was certain. He was an accident, something that his parents loved but were better without.

The thoughts of ceasing those unearned gasps of air had tempted him relentlessly, though he had refused to do so. It came to him once again as he fought the urge to break down again.

A knock on his door jarred him. "Sorren, you alright?" his mother inquired from the other side of the door. He couldn't answer, lest his voice broke and caused her more pain and worry than she already felt, the emotions which he had caused her wafting through to him and feeding his guilt. "Sorren?" she called again, and after a few moments she simply turned away, leaving him alone as he desired, her concern growing.

:::

Desmond Stone slid into his seat just as the bell rang, pulling out his touch-pad which stored every student's required materials in order to save space. He opened up his homework file and sent it to the teacher, looking around. Mari whisked by, sitting beside him, a cinnamon scent following her. She sighed as she pulled out her own touch-pad, keeping her head down. Des flashed her a grin, but it fell quickly when he saw how strained she seemed.

"Yo, Mari, what's up?" he asked, noting that their teacher hadn't come yet.

"It's nothing," she shook her head, "Just tired from yesterday. I was up 'til eleven studying for that Chemistry test today."

"Aw man, I forgot about that!" he groaned. "I'm so gonna fail."

"You? C'mon, you're a whiz at that stuff. Besides, the chapter was only on the Periodic Table," she snorted at the last part.

"Oh yeah," he rubbed the back of his shaved head, opening up the file for English 10. "You find out what's up with Soren?"

"Nope," she shrugged as the teacher came in and greeted the class.

"The Buckley gang's been pickin' on him recently," he whispered, watching the visual demonstration on his touch-pad.

"What? Why haven't you stopped them?" she hissed back.

"Are you kidding?" he retorted, "They're seniors! I can't go up against them, and you can't either."

"Then why doesn't he stand up, then?" she muttered angrily.

"I don't know, probably the same reason we can't, our p-"

"Mr. Stone and Miss Grayson, perhaps you would like me to pause the lesson until you finish your conversation, hm?" the older man at the front announced sarcastically.

Desmond jumped and the two teens said in unison, "No, Mr. Jacobs."

"Very well, if you skip to 10:43 you'll see the tools found at the architectural dig dating roughly two-hundred thousand years ago..."

:::

The wall collided roughly with his back, the fists on his chest aggravating the bruises that still covered his body. He heard the crack as his head hit the concrete floor and feet crushed and battered his body. It was the Buckley gang again, lead by the sleazeball Buckley Rogers, Football Captain. The other boys were his team lackeys, other seniors glorified for having kept the winning streak going for Jump High. The school hadn't lost a single game for seventeen years.

Soren heard somebody cry out, and realized it was himself. Somebody had dumped his backpack on top of him and a heavy leather-bound book fell into his face. Another kid picked it up and punted it across the courtyard, signaling the end of their onslaught. They snickered as they left him sniveling in the dust, dirt ground into his face.

He focused on calming down, his powers threatening to burst forth and take him back to where he felt safe. If he gave in, he'd lose everything his family had fought to give him – a normal identity. Soren wiped the snot and tears from his pale face, and gathered his belongings to stuff back into his bag. People passed by and ignored him, carrying on as if he didn't exist. He lifted the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, and walked into the throng of passing people, pretending to be what he was not: normal.

Something inside him had been pushed over the edge, and it became clear what he needed to do. He was done being a burden to everybody, of holding the world on his shoulders. He took one last look at the faces of his peers as the answer enveloped him.

He was ready.