Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans.
Hey everyone! It's been a while! But I was working on a few things, this fic being one of them.
Greetings to all those who are currently following me and perhaps will follow me, I enjoy Constrictive Criticism. That means no kicking me in the shins, tying me up and taking away my laptop. Help me become a better writer! Cuz I enjoy writing a good story just as much as I love reading a well-written one.
On another note, I hope you like this! :D
Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
~Edgar Allan Poe
The first time he ever saw her had been an accident. Well, that's what anyone else would've said had he told them. Back when he thought about it often, while the memory was still at the front of his mind, Garfield Logan had believed it had something to do with the penny he had found earlier in the day (Rita had said something about finding a penny being good luck), because he had gotten lost when he heard the music and he had been the only one to hear her. He knew part of the reason was because no one went to school during summer vacation, and he was aware that he hadn't meant to find her and that he had just passed by at the right time, but he just knew it wasn't a coincidence.
Garfield was eight years old when he left Africa with his new adoptive parents to the States and they, along with the school itself, had decided taking a tour of his new Elementary School a week before it began was the best way to introduce public school. The young boy had practically jumped off the walls of his home when the day finally arrived. His real parents had taught him how to read a little before the accident, and he had made many friends in the nearby village, but everything seemed very different from what he had grown up with. Still, since his real parents jobs often involved them moving around often, he hadn't gotten the chance to go to school with other kids. So Garfield openly embraced the new experience and felt excited at all the new things he saw.
The halls were covered in pictures and paintings by all the other kids who went to the school and they had a huge playground with all the toys his real parents used to tell him about. The school secretary explained the different subjects he'd learn and showed him his classroom where he found a bunch of desks for each student along with one for him which, and since it was close to the window it made it the best because he could see the playground from where he would sit. After the tour, which was too short in his opinion since they had only walked to his classroom and the library, the secretary had Steve and Rita fill out some last-minute paperwork for him to start in the fall.
After a while, he had gotten bored and snuck away to find the playground again, only to find all the doors locked. Eventually he gave up trying to get outside and simply wandered around the halls looking for a different way back to the Office since he wasn't lost. Garfield often remembered how his dad used to praise him for his naturally sharp hearing, so it was no surprise that when he passed a certain part of the halls he caught a faint yet somewhat sad melody echoing in the air. What surprised him was the fact it was even there; no one, aside from certain grown-ups who came to the school during summer vacation, were allowed in the building. Nevertheless, Gar felt himself drawn to it; feeling as if the music was calling to him, reaching deep inside him in a way that was sad yet comforting. He remembered his mother had sometimes listened to music that sounded like the melody, and the instrument it came from was one of his favorites, so just like any curious child Gar followed the tune.
The place the music was coming from was farther into the school than he had ventured during the tour, but Garfield was determined to find the person who seemed to transfer their sadness into each note that rang out. Suddenly, the song became so absolutely tragic and mournful it brought back memories that tore at his heart and threatened to break him. Taking off towards the sound, Garfield pushed his feelings aside and focused on finding the room. It wasn't long before the melody changed once again; this time sounding hopeful and reassuring as if the person had managed to find encouragement and bring it to life through the song as he reached another hall that seemed promising.
Garfield slowed his pace and began creeping towards the open door, almost afraid to ruin the now uplifting tune, before poking his head into the room. A girl who looked about the age as him stood in the center of the room with her eyes closed and her body slightly turned away from him. She wore black leggings, and a long deep-blue sweater that was slightly too big for her with a black bird on it and blue flats. Her pale skin emphasized by her midnight-black hair and she stood with smooth elegance yet shy confidence that she just seemed to radiate naturally.
After a moment, Gar realized she was the one creating the music that had called out to his soul and brought him to her. The instrument beneath her expert hands (because there was no way an average person made music sound like that) had a polished frame and elegant design that not only seemed perfect for her; but actually reflected her. Garfield watched, completely hypnotized, as her fingers and hands moved and created each note with a grace that almost seemed unnatural; it was as if she pulled the melody from her very being and poured it into the instrument to give it life and energy. Gar had never seen a girl like her before; a girl who held a quiet charm while she let her emotions spill and flow through the music she created. She was absolutely beautiful, in every sense of the word.
An eternity passed by before the song began to slow and reach its end, yet the girl never noticed him in the doorway; both completely lost in the spellbinding tune. The music his mother used to listen to was nice and full of different sounds from different instruments, but it was nothing compared to what this girl created; because she created magic, in its purest and strongest form.
It was the first and last time he ever saw her. Just as the last note faded, a piercing shout reached his ears and Garfield turned to find his parents, along with the school secretary, rushing towards him. He had barely glanced at them before turning back to the music room to find it empty, the instrument abandoned and lonely. Garfield had searched the room in a panicked frenzy for her till his parents managed to convince him to leave, and he kept up his search throughout the school year but none of the girls who played an instrument looked like her and no one, not even the teachers, knew of the girl he described to them.
As the years passed the music and image of her faded little by little before the memory finally retreated to the farthest corner of his mind, yet because it was still there and because part of him held it dear to his heart, Gar secretly hoped that he would find her again. Because deep in his spirit, he refused to believe he had lost the opportunity of meeting her before ever having it.
The only thing she vividly remembered about the child was how his blonde hair contrasted with his burgundy-purple shirt. It wasn't that she hadn't cared to find out who he was, since she used to wonder what would've happened if she had stayed, but the fear of being discovered had driven Rachel Roth* from the room the moment she heard the voices that had called for him. She knew sneaking into the school when she wasn't supposed to was wrong, and that if her father found out it was possible he'd take her away from her nana, but the feeling Rachel had gotten when she had found the music room had overwhelmed her, and she had lost herself to the sensation.
Her mother often said music was a blissful way to tell radiant, poetic things when words failed. That it gave soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, charm to life and a brightness to everything around them. That it had the power to inspire, heal, calm and enchant. A complete contrast to her father who said music was a cruel sort of beauty; that it held the exquisite loneliness of pain, the magnificence of disappointment and never-satisfied want. That it was nothing more than majestic sadness and the pleasure of tragedy. Yet when Rachel realized the joys of music, it became an escape and an expression.
Rachel had discovered her talent for music at the tender age of five when her nana, Azara**, had taken her to watch one of her mother's practices once again, which she appreciated yet tried to avoid going as much as possible for reasons unknown to anyone else other than Azara. Rachel had gotten curious when she found an empty room full of different instruments and, despite the instrument being too big for her, began playing the one that had held her interest since the first concert her nana had ever taken her to. By the time Azara found her, young Rachel was playing the slightly more complex pieces of her mother's favorite song, which wasn't surprising considering the young girl was the daughter of Angela Roth, a well-known pianist and musical composer.
Rachel was aware that her talented mother was friends with the best musical instructors in the city (along with a few she had met on tours), that she had the best possibilities for the finest education in music anyone could hope for and a father who had more than enough financial resources to pay for her lessons if (for whatever reason) her mother was unable to, yet she insisted on not telling either of her parents about her newly discovered talent. Azara only asked for an explanation once before never bringing up the subject again, and Rachel was more than thankful that Azara not only understood her, but was also willing to instruct her. Music was different from anything else she had experienced and Rachel refused to accept another detached, condescending and unfriendly teacher like all the other ones in an area she enjoyed along with parents who she knew would disapprove of her secret passion for their own personal reasons.
Rachel's father, the well-known business man Tristan*** Roth, had insisted on starting her education when she was four; bringing in the most recommended tutors and professors to prepare her as his heiress and live up to the reputation both he and his wife held. Because of that, Rachel often spent her days in studying subject after subject in her apartment (although it was really Azara's), while her father took care of the company and her mother practiced and performed, both of them only checking on her once in a while when they found the time. Not that she minded too much; in a surprising show of maturity for her young age, Rachel had accepted the opinions each of her parents held for her as soon as her nana explained it to her. Although part of her longed for the caring, supportive parent-child relationship she had heard other children speak of.
Because of that, Azara was a comfort in Rachel's life; raising her like a daughter while encouraging a simple and independent lifestyle since Azara knew she wouldn't live long enough to see Rachel enter adulthood. The young girl knew both of her parents had more than enough to afford an extravagant apartment with equally extravagant things for her, and her father occasionally insisted on having her live in his mansion, but Rachel liked the way Azara lived; down-to-earth, independent and just overall sensible. She was more than glad her nana had convinced her father to let the young girl live the way she did.
When Rachel wasn't studying, the two spent their free time meditating, practicing, reading (the young girl held a deep fascination with books about myths and legends from other countries), or Rachel snuck off and sat on the apartment balcony for as long as she could. Since they lived near an elementary school, Rachel often saw children passing by the apartment, along with them on the school playground, and secretly wondered what it was like being in a class with other children. Making new friends wasn't her forte, and having famous/important parents didn't help since the few kids she had tried talking to at her father's company either snubbed or feared her because she was a Roth.
So it wasn't a surprise that after three years of watching the school and the children that went there, she snuck out of the apartment to wander the grounds. Surprisingly, Rachel discovered an unlocked door that lead to an office connected to the room that filled her eight year old heart with excitement and wonder but also with sorrow and disappointment. The music room had a row of five keyboards lined up against one of the walls and the cabinets beside them held flutes, violins, trumpets, clarinets and many other instruments protected by a plastic casing, probably to keep the students from 'borrowing' without permission. Rachel gave a small, longing sigh when she noticed the chairs and stands for music sheets against another wall, as if someone wanted to give the illusion of a miniature concert hall to the children when they practiced.
To her amazement, and relief, Rachel noticed her favorite instrument in the center of the room and gazed at it with a fondness she rarely expressed before positioning her hands and shutting her eyes, setting her feelings free through the music. Rachel lost herself in the melody while her hands and fingers danced as she played a song hidden deep within her soul and she flew towards the heavens with the high notes and reached for the farthest depths with the low ones.
She had never tried composing before, but Rachel could feel the music she brought forth cleansing her; releasing the storm that had brewed in her mind when she entered the room. It was her own song, her own story. And when she felt the melody shift once more, the music became a mantra that calmed her spirit and soothed her soul. A loud commotion from the hallway tore Rachel from her haven as the last note rang out, and fear instantly gripped her heart when she realized she wasn't alone. Rachel only had time to notice that the person in doorway was a blonde-haired boy before she abandoned the instrument and fled from the room, finally stopping once she reached the apartment.
A week later Rachel and Azara left to travel with Angela on another tour and as the years passed, the memory of the little boy faded along with the curiosity of who he was and if she'd ever find him. But the world worked in mysterious ways, and although she never expected it, the events in her life allowed Rachel to cross paths with the very boy who watched her discover her mantra once more.
*In the comics, Rachel Roth is not Raven's real name; it's just the alias she chose for herself when she decided to enroll in school since she couldn't enroll with just her real/superhero name "Raven".
**Azar is Persian for "scarlet" and Azara is the same. I wanted something to be similar yet sound relatively normal.
***Tristan means "tumult" in French. And that word means violent, uproar and noisy commotion.
The Cover Photo… took forever to perfect. And I STILL work on it from time to time.
I rewrote this chapter too many times to count. I hadn't actually planned on having no dialogue when I was fixing it for the umpteenth time, but when I was halfway thru I was like wow… and left it at that.
Anyways, tell me what you think so far! Read and Review (I like reviews haha) and remember Constructive Criticism only.
Take Care!