Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans. This is probably going to be three chapters long. Hope everyone enjoys!

As the sun set, Garfield Logan looked over the field at the enemy camps. He wondered what the couriers had to say. Less than an hour ago, couriers from all five countries had come charging down the Kilrain Road, bearing messages to their respective armies. Generals had withdrawn their troops from the battlefield and had called counsel with the highest officers. Finally, word came. Troops came rushing out of their cams, without weapons, without bloodlust, without hate. The war was over.

After seven long years of fighting, after seeing many of their friends die, the soldiers were overwhelmed. A peace treaty had been signed not two days ago, officially ending the war. The nation of Azarath, the Gotham Empire, the Tamaranian Federation, the Emerald Confederacy, and the Stone Clans were at peace. Men and women hugged each other, patted each other on the back, and laughed heartily. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen.

So he searched the crowds for faces, one in particular. The face of the only woman he'd ever loved. She was the niece of the ruler of Azarath, and had broken up with him when the war began. He had hoped, prayed, that she wouldn't get killed, that she had second thoughts and didn't fight. Though their allegiances differed, him to the Emerald Confederacy, her to Azarath, he wanted to see her one last time. "Garfield!" his former best friend yelled, and then tackled him.

"Victor, what in Napoleon's name are you doing?" Garfield asked as he struggled to get free.

"We've been at war for seven years; you really think I'd miss a chance to do this once the war was over?" Victor replied, sucking on his pinkie then delivering a wet willie. "Got ya!"

Although he was overwhelmed by seeing Victor alive, he only had one thing to say, "Dude, have you seen… her?"

After pulling Garfield up, Victor Stone gave his friend a sorrowful look. "Garfield… I, I heard that she died. Got killed during the charge at Armistead Ridge last year. I'm sorry," he said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulders.

Upon hearing this, Garfield broke down and cried. Raven was dead; for all he knew, he could have been the one who killed her. After all, it was his brigade that was stationed at Armistead Ridge during the Battle of Charlesburg. God, why couldn't it have been my life! Why did you take her away? Why?

The urge to celebrate the peace gone, Garfield headed towards the barracks. Victory watched him go, knowing that he wanted to be alone. Soon, Victor took to celebrating, with thoughts of Garfield in the back of his mind.

Dancing, singing, feasting, it went on all night. Garfield couldn't stand it. The war was over, Raven was dead. That was all there was to it. He'd go home, spend the rest of his days alone, with her ever present in his thoughts. The tent flap opened and someone stepped inside. Garfield nearly turned and told them to leave him be until he heard a voice that made his heart stop cold.

"Garfield?"