I do not own Teen Titans. But I can dream!
As every young couple is, they are blissfully happy. But happy, innocent things rarely last.
Snuggled on a sofa in their small apartment in Gotham, is their one-year-old son who is sitting between his parents, half asleep. His parents are talking in low murmurs about a less than perfect subject.
"May, I'm worried. It's been over two weeks since we've heard from Mark."
She frowns slightly.
"With his lifestyle he could have been shipped off to jail and we would never know."
"Maybe we should try calling around. See if anyone's heard anything."
Her mouth forms a straight line showing her dislike of this idea, as she looks him firmly in the eye.
"No Will. You are not getting our family into trouble over your deadbeat brother. And what are you going to do. Call every prison in Gotham and just casually ask if they've picked up a criminal that looks like your brother?"
He sighs, running a hand through his dark hair.
"You're right. I just wish-" he pauses, hearing a faint knock on their apartment door.
"Who- is that him?" she asks, brows knitting together in worry.
"Maybe."
He stands, walking quickly over and opening the door. Instead of any recognizable face, a dark figure stands at the door, dressed in sweats, the hood pulled up, shrouding his face in shadows.
"Mark? Is that you?" he asks, concern in his voice.
The person ignores the question, and shoves past him and into the apartment. The woman stands abruptly, leaving her sleeping son lying on the sofa.
"What are you think you're doing? How dare you come in here?" she hisses at the figure.
The man turns to his wife quickly.
"May, go in the bedroom. Now."
She glances at the figure again, then back at her husband.
"Fine." she spats.
Quickly she gathers her son, holding him tightly in her arms, and goes into the bedroom and locks the door behind her.
The figure turns to the man, face still hidden under the jacket hood.
"Mark, stop this nonsense now!" he speaks, frowning, "And take off that stupid hood!"
The figure chuckles in a raspy voice.
"You might not like what you see."
Suddenly he pulls off the hood in a swift movement. The man gasps in horror.
"Mark, my god. What did you do to yourself?"
Mark's lips, now stained a bloody red, twist into a cruel smile.
"Don't worry dear brother. It's no problem for me. Although people seem to think it is." he turns to him, "I think their exact words were something like, 'Oh my god, what have you done to yourself? Are you crazy?"
He frowns suddenly, hate in his eyes.
"Or maybe that's just what you said."
"Mark, what's wrong? What happened to your voice? It's-it's-" he stops, not knowing what to say.
The other man chuckles evilly.
"Strange? Weird? Totally bizare?"
"Just so... high."
Mark snorts.
"Please. Your new found concern for me is a joke!"
He bursts into a maniacal laughter, red lips twisting into a horrible, inhuman grin. His brother mearly watches, horrified.
"Touching," he speaks, laughter dying down, "But still ridiculous!"
"What happened to you Mark? Tell me!" he spoke, voice rising. "You're not making any sense! You just come bursting into my apartment with no word, and your skin i -is as white as a ghost, and you've got that horrible grin plastered on your face, and you're not acting normal at all, and I'm only going to ask you one more time. What the hell has happened to you?"
Mark's smile fades slightly at his words. But it returns just as quickly.
"Well, if you really want to know, The Big Bad Batman was chasing me after I had broken into some jewelry store, and he chased me into a factory."
He paused, rubbing his eyes.
"There was a big vat of chemicals, Batman, h-he tried to hit me, I-I dodged, but the floor was slippery, and I fell."
He laughs again.
His brother only stares on in disbelief.
"You fell into a vat of chemicals?"
"Better believe it little bro. It's what gave me such a unique new look."
He grins at his brother's horrified look.
"Mark, you need help. Turn yourself in."
"What? No!" he retorts quickly. "I got away from batboy all by myself!"
"Mark," he begins, placing a firm hand on Mark's shoulder, "You're scaring me. I think the chemicals somehow affected your mind. You need help."
"I don't need help!" he shouts, shoving his hand away. "I don't need help from anyone!"
"Mark, stop." he speaks gently, turning to him, "You need help and-" he stops as he sees what his brother is holding.
"Now I see just what your problem is Will." he speaks, aiming the gun directly at him.
"Mark, put the gun down."
"You just don't know how to take a joke!" he pulls the trigger, and a loud bang rings out.
"You know, I never did like the name Mark," he says, smiling down at his now-motionless brother lying on the floor, "Now everyone can call me-"
He pauses, thinking for a moment.
"How about something like... The Joker! What do you think Will? Oh right,- you're dead."
His lips curl into a vicious smile, for he is very pleased with himself. Suddenly he hears a click behind him, and whirls around to see his brother's wife May with a gun pressed to his back.
"May, so good to see you again. "
Her eyes fill with tears as she sees her husband lying dead on the floor.
"You filthy monster. How could you murder your own brother?"
He laughs at her question. "Quite easily, really."
"He trusted you! Loved you! I told him that you were nothing but scum, but he never listened to me!"
"My brother always was an idiot."
He chuckles. "And it seems you are too."
He looks at the gun pressed straight in his chest. "So you're going to shoot me."
She blinks, trying to keep tears from running out of her eyes, as she wraps her fingers tightly around the trigger.
"I'm surprised a woman like you even knows how to hold a gun, much less fire it. They usually don't like the loud noise and the-"
"That's not going to work." she cuts in. "You're just trying to distract me. Capture my attention, so you can get away."
He smirks.
"You're very clever."
He shifts, almost nervously. "You've got guts kid. But the real question is do you have enough guts to pull the trigger?"
She bites her lip nervously, a million thoughts racing through her mind. After a seconds thought she acts. Another shot rings through the apartment as she pulls the trigger.
"Nope."
He stumbles, clutching his leg.
"You little-!" he shouts. He presses his eyes shut to fight the pain.
"I'll kill you for this! I swear!" he screams at her as she quickly grabs her son.
She wraps her hands tightly around his small ones and quickly, unlocking the window, climbs on to the fire escape. She climbs as quickly as she can while carrying her son at the same time.
Soon they are on the ground, and she runs, not knowing where they will go or what will happen to them, but they are together, and they are alive. She thinks of her husband, how her son will never have a father, and her eyes fill with tears. But her son is waking up, and there will be plenty of time to mourn later.
Now he whimpers from exhaustion, and she gently rocks him, pressing him closer to his chest.
"Don't worry, Momma's here." she smiles down at him.
"Don't be scared. Momma won't let anyone hurt you, Jason." He sighs, closing his eyes again.
She presses him close to her chest as they both flee into the night.
Azar breathes in deeply as she walks into the temple of Azarath, her heels clicking against the cool marble floor.
She glances upward at the darkening sky, and feels a gust of cool wind burst through the temple, signaling coming rain. There will be a horrible storm later, even though it has never rained a day in Azarath.
Azar sighs, thinking back to the events that led to all this horror.
Arella Roth, a lost and confused 19 year-old girl with no parents of family of any kind, had made a horrible mistake, and had ended up giving birth to the devil's own spawn. She had found Arella lost and alone, crying in an ally, about to kill herself.
She had taken Arella's hand, dried her tears, and brought her to Azarath, where Trigon's daughter had just been born an hour earlier.
But as soon as she was born the skies had turned black, the wind blew hard enough to chill a person to their bones, and lightning and thunder shook the air.
The gods must be punishing us for harboring such evil' she thinks as thunder rings, almost like mocking laughter.
Turning her attention from the brewing storm, she continues on her original path.
Soon she reaches the main hall of the temple of Azarath.
Seeing a hunched figure sitting by the roaring fire makes her heart ache. She walks over to her, trying to not disturb her.
"Arella." she speaks, looking down at the young woman, wrapped in a blanket.
Arella doesn't bother to even acknowledge her presence.
"Are you all right?" Azar asks, eyeing the girl.
"What have I done?" Arella speaks, voice flat and hollow.
"Arella-" she begins.
"I've doomed an entire universe to destruction and suffering. And there is nothing I can do but watch the whole thing play out before my eyes. Because of my mistakes billions will suffer."
she turns to Azar, tears running down her pale cheeks.
"How can I live with myself, when I know that all that suffering and pain is my fault? she asks despairingly, even though she knows that there is no answer that Azar, or anyone can give her.
Azar sighs, thinking for a moment before sitting down next to Arella.
They sit in silence, the only sound from the crackling fire. Arella sniffles, putting her head between her knees.
"It wasn't your fault."
"What?" she sits up, looking at Azar curiously.
"It wasn't your fault." Azar continues, "You were completely alone, no one was there to help you. Trigon manipulated your weaknesses, abused them. Made you feel wanted, needed."
"And it worked. I fell for it." she hangs her head in shame. "And now everyone is going to pay the price."
"You don't know that for sure." Azar speaks suddenly, turning to her.
"You heard the prophecy I well as I did. In 16 years Trigon's child will fall pry to his will and become his portal to the Earth, with them dying in the process." she closes her eyes, as if trying to shut out the nightmare.
"I have been alive for a very long time Arella." Azar begins, staring into the depths of the fire. "In 1,000 years of life I have learned many things. But most important is that the only thing that is certain is that nothing is certain."
Arella arches an eyebrow. "And that means?"
A thin smile appears on her face.
"That the prophecies are always vague. And they don't happen the way one might think."
"You think that she won't become the portal?" she asks, a tiny spark of hope creeping into her voice.
"No, that is certain. But we don't know what will happen after that."
"Then there really is no hope, no chance of defeating Trigon." Arella closes her eyes, feeling utterly defeated.
"Maybe not."
"But you don't know that for sure!" she cries out, frustration evident in her voice.
"One can never know anything for certain. But we can train her. Teach her to control the darkness within her."
Azar places a firm hand on her shoulder. "But the thing she will need most is love. A parent who loves her."
"I don't think I can." Arella says, voice trembling.
"Have you seen her yet?" Azar asks softly.
Arella shakes her head.
"You need to see her before you condemn her."
The two women enter a room deeper still in the temple.
"There she is." Azar speaks softly, gesturing to the tiny baby lying in a cradle in the far corner of the room.
Arella tiptoes over to the crib, looking down at the small child sleep peacefully.
She stares, transfixed by the little thing's breathing, a small smile on her face.
"She- she doesn't look evil."
"That's because she isn't." Azar speaks, smiling at Arella. "Evil isn't born, it's made."
"Maybe- maybe you're right." Arella smiles. "Maybe she can do this. Defeat Trigon."
"She still needs a name."
Arellla sighs.
"I don't know. She's just like a little bird."
She stoops over, picking her up.
"Like a little Raven." she whispers, rocking her gently in her arms.
"Soon we shall talk about how to train your little Raven in how to use her abilities. But now you should rest while you can."
Azar squeezes her shoulder warmly. Arella reluctantly hands Raven over to Azar's waiting arms.
"Just… make sure she stays safe?" she asks Azar quickly.
"I promise no harm will come to her. Now rest."
For the first time a real smile shines on Arella's face.
"Thank you. For everything," she speaks, turning to the door.
Azar rocks the child in her arms, sending peaceful thoughts to her. Raven slowly opens her eyes, blinking sleepily, staring up at Azar. '
Purple…' she muses, noticing the baby's distinct eye coloring.
Suddenly the violet orbs seem to flash red, but only for an instant, before fading back to purple.
It happened so suddenly it made Azar wonder if she was only imagining things. She studies the baby's face for a few moments.
"Raven, little one, you're going to have a very difficult life. But I think- no, I'm sure you can handle it. I'm positive."
She smiles down at the child, who is drifting back into sleep, resting free of the burden of its troubled and uncertain future.
And Azar finds herself wishing that this moment, one that is quiet and free of pain, could stretch on forever.
So I've had this story around in my head for months now and I just got around to typing it! Basically, it's my entire head canon of Red X and Raven's lives and how they met and everything!
Also this is going to be pretty much completely out of canon for Jason Todd. Mostly because I don't think Jason Todd and Raven have ever really had any romancy stuff in the comics.
Anyway, as always please review!
1.1.15