Author's Note: This is a birthday present for my friend Lou Buggins! Have a happy one and may all your wishes come true!
Disclaimer: I have not owned, do not own and probably will never own the Teen Titans.
-=oOo=-
Origami
Who is the happiest of men? He who values the merits of others,
And in their pleasure takes joy, even as though t'were his own.
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Distichs.
Raven walked into her room and closed the door. She was exhausted after the confrontation they've just returned from, but any restful break would have to wait. Right now she had to meditate and calm down.
Outwardly emotionless, she seethed inside. The responsibility was hers; the villain escaped because of her mistake. It did not matter that the rest of the team never said one word of criticism, or that she couldn't detect any feelings of reproach or disappointment coming from any of them. Even Robin was unable to find anything wrong with her performance, but in the end it was irrelevant. She knew what really happened.
She screwed up. She let them down. She failed them.
She opened her eyes at the soft knocking, releasing the focus and breathing slowly out, emerging from her meditative trance. She knew it was Garfield even before she sensed the pattern of his emotions behind the door. He had several different ways of knocking, and this was one of them. The one he used when he was concerned for her and wanted to comfort her.
It blended well with his aura; it glowed with those same sentiments. And yet, in every previous occasion it included a feeling of almost resignation, of knowing that she would push him away and snub him and reject his attempts at making her feel better. But not this time. This time there was a calm certainty about him, one that piqued her curiosity and made her open the door with a telekinetic command.
"What is it, Beast Boy?" she asked with more coldness than she wanted, realizing in a flash that it was a defensive response to his own unusual emotional state.
"I brought you something," he said quietly. She lifted an eyebrow.
"Come in," she invited, her interest fully roused.
"I know you don't wanna hear it, but it wasn't your fault," he began, noting the immediate hardening of her eyes and the shadow of a frown clouding her features. He smiled and lifted a hand. "Don't worry. It's not why I came to see you. Well, actually it is, but not that way."
He extended his arm and opened his hand, showing her a small origami tiger in his palm. "I made you this."
Her gaze went to the small paper figurine, then up to his eyes, then back. Her mouth opened, then closed.
Say something! she scolded herself uselessly. She felt the tide of her magic rise and coil inside her, threatening to burst out.
Her voice returned, a little cracked and rusty. "Since when do you practice origami?"
He chuckled. "A while ago. I wasn't very good at it."
She nodded, racking her brains for something to say that would not sound stupid.
"Will you take it?" he startled her. She glanced into his eyes again, then focused completely on keeping her hand steady as she took the small paper animal.
"Thank you," she said hoarsely, turning around and placing it gently on her nightstand. "Why give me this?" she asked him over her shoulder.
"The tiger is strong. It's fast. It's powerful. But still it can miss its target. Still it can let the prey escape. Still it can go hungry. More often than not, in fact."
He stepped closer. His hand touched her shoulder.
"You are human," he whispered. "You're allowed to make mistakes every now and then."
She closed her eyes and tried to ignore his words. Then his touch was gone. She turned around, her hand lifting to stop him, but the door was already closing behind him.
She stood there for a few moments, then shook herself off, removed her clothes and slipped into bed. She glanced at the carefully crafted paper animal on the nightstand, smiled and fell asleep instantly.
-=oOo=-
She put the kettle on and waited for the water to boil. The clammy coldness of sweat on her back and chest had almost dried out and her hands were only trembling slightly.
She looked through the window. The moon was low; dawn would be coming soon. She was drowsy, but she knew there would be no more sleeping tonight. The nightmare would return.
Her usual reaction was to dismiss it, shrug it off and keep going. There was not much she could do about it; even banished her father did not and would not relinquish the grip he had on her. He would haunt her and try to influence her for the rest of her life, and it was her duty to grit her teeth, deny him and push ahead. But tonight she just felt tired.
Tired of the nightmares, tired of having to keep everything bottled inside, tired of hiding it from her friends and from the world. Exhausted of her life, weary of being herself.
The water boiled and the door opened. One was startling, the other confusing. She stood motionless.
He walked over to the counter, removed the kettle and poured the boiling water into her mug, then turned to face her.
"Nightmares?"
His voice wrenched her out of her paralysis. She floated over to the counter, scooped up some honey from a jar and mixed it into the tea. Refusing to answer, she took the mug and carried it to the coffee table, sitting down on the couch. She stared out through the window, not willing to acknowledge him.
"You can tell me, Rae."
No, she couldn't. Her issues were her own cross to bear. She managed fine all these years. Burdening him with her problems would only dim the light in his soul.
It was something she could never do.
"I'm fine," she said finally, keeping her voice from cracking only because there were just two syllables to speak.
He sat beside her and watched her intently. She sipped the tea, scalding her tongue. She ignored the pain just as she ignored him.
"Maybe this can help," he said and slowly placed an origami wolf on the coffee table in front of her.
It wasn't easy, but she held herself together. She glanced at the figurine.
"How?"
She felt him smile even as she avoided looking at him. "The wolf is a guardian. It is loyal, brave and strong. It cares for its own, and it will always watch over them. It will keep the nightmares away."
She took another sip to burn her tongue into life. "Thank you."
He rose from the couch and left soundlessly. She stared fixedly at the small paper wolf while she finished her tea, then picked it gingerly up and went to her room to get some sleep.
-=oOo=-
The words hurt. The injustice burned.
But they were right.
She was a witch, a demon, and she carried evil and darkness inside. It was quite plain to see, and to feel. The way those people reacted should've been expected; the fear, the rejection, the distrust.
The words were always there, sometimes unsaid, sometimes whispered, sometimes shouted. No matter what she did, no matter how much she sacrificed, no matter how many she saved. But she couldn't blame them. Even she feared and distrusted herself.
She folded her legs in lotus position, sitting on the floor. She inhaled deeply and focused her awareness, breathing rhythmically, whispering her mantra, her mind trying to empty itself from external influences and internal turmoil.
It was impossible.
As soon as she could chase one dark thought from her mind, another one jumped in to take its place. They circled around her head like sharks around a lifeboat, taunting, mocking, hurting. They laughed derisively at her denial, sneered contemptuously at her hope. They sneaked stealthily in, leaving a slimy, leprous stain behind even when she managed to crush and evict them, the stench rising and permeating her soul.
She gagged. Her fists balled up and her jaw clenched as she fought it.
Demon. Witch. Monster.
Daddy's little girl.
A low moan escaped her throat as she bent double, the pain and shame inside her unbearable. Sobs convulsed her shoulders and tears burned, unshed, in her eyes.
Strong, warm arms closed around her. A familiar scent invaded her nostrils. She clutched at him, sensing her fear and self-doubt fade and vanish at his touch. Suddenly she felt safe, and it broke her. The floodgates burst open, and she wept.
He held her, silent, unmoving, solid, until it all went out. The outburst dissipated, but she remained in his embrace, refusing to think, knowing that it would mean having to put on her expressionless mask and push him back and hurt him and keep him away. She needed him, but she could not have him. It was perhaps the most painful thought of all.
"It's not true and you know it," his quiet voice floated slowly to her consciousness. She buried her face into him deeper, not wanting to hear it, fearing the implications. But her soul would feed off this moment for a long time; she wanted to make it last as much as possible.
"Rae…"
"Hush," she made herself say. He obeyed.
After a minute she sighed and pushed him gently away. She turned her back to him to make it easier for her to say it.
"You should leave."
"I have something for you."
She didn't want to do it. She fought it with everything she had, but she couldn't stop herself. She turned. He was holding the small likeness of a bird made of paper in his hand.
A raven.
"It's misunderstood because of its color," he explained. "But under the black feathers, the raven is smart, loyal to its own, fiercely protective of its kind. It is a remarkable animal."
She wanted to take the origami bird, but she felt her hands shake. She closed them into fists and looked up, meeting his gaze.
"Why are you doing this, Gar?"
He didn't smile, but his eyes shone. "You know why."
She looked down. A desire to teleport away filled her, but in her current state she would end up in several different destinations. She was trapped.
He stepped closer, took her hand and placed the paper bird in it. He cupped her chin and brought it up. Tremors went through her, the magic whirling inside, confused and conflicted, while she stood frozen, not certain if she should remain immobile and cold or run away or push him back or –
His lips touched hers and the world dissolved, fading into a washed-out watercolor, into a spidery pencil sketch, into nothing.
She didn't want it to end. She didn't want to return to the cool, gloomy reality of her room, to open her eyes to the real world and acknowledge it. She only wanted to melt in the heat of his kiss, to drown in the tide of his love, to feel this fire that swept suddenly through her blaze up and consume her and leave nothing behind. But she had to breathe.
She broke the kiss and hid her face in his shoulder. "Say you love me," she whispered.
"I love you."
"Again."
"I love you."
It hurt. Every time he said it, it hurt, and it cut, and it burned. But she needed it. She needed to sense it bursting brightly from his soul, to hear it rolling out from his lips, to feel it tingling under her skin as it caressed her into shivering peacefulness and terrified calm.
She lifted her head and looked into his eyes.
"It's not going to be easy, Gar."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I know. But you are worth the effort."
She returned the smile. "There's another characteristic of ravens that you didn't mention."
"Oh?"
She sank her face into the crook of his neck. "They mate for life."
His arm pulled her in tighter and his fingers went through her hair. She felt him kissing the top of her head.
"I was counting on that."