Cross Town Train, a Teen Titans + Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy Crossover fanfic

Cross-Town Train

George Pollock, Jr.

Raven huffed.

Where's the damned train?

Not that she needed to take one. She chose to.

Yes, she could have flown back to Titans Tower. Yes, that would have saved the walk from the cinema that turned out to be closed for renovation. Saved the walk down the street and around the corner from where she had left Robin sitting embarrassed and humiliated on the curb outside the theater.

Well, it was his fault. He should have checked to see whether it had reopened.

Saved them the trip. Saved her the flare of anger she had fought to keep down. Anger that could have wrecked the block – and Robin.

He wouldn't have deserved that. And it would have ended their friendship. She didn't want that. It meant too much to her.

Where is the damned train?

The subway station was empty except for her. The platform was long and littered, lit by fluorescent lights that were trying very, very hard to help out – but coming up short.

In front of her was the valley of the shadows of the tracks. But she would fear nothing here. Her powers and her smarts comforted her. That was all she needed.

She glanced back around. Illuminated ads enticed about things that made no sense here.

Who needs to buy a laptop computer, perfume or an expensive watch in a subway station? It's pointless.

Where IS the damned train?

Robin asking her out made no sense, either. He and Starfire seemed to be an item.

So why ask me out?

Were they having a spat? Was Robin avoiding his feelings about the orange alien girl – again? Was Starfire finally tired of trying, waiting and finding no response? There were times when they seemed very close, and then there were times when Robin would wuss out, mumble something elusive to Starfire and change the subject.

It's his fault, like with the theater. It's always the guy's fault.

Strangely, it was Starfire's fault that Raven was in the techno-cave now. She had walked into the Tower's weight room recently and saw Starfire sitting on one of the benches, doing leg lifts. When Raven asked her friend what she was doing, Starfire said she feared that her legs would atrophy because she flew so much. She didn't want that to happen.

She said she had seen a program on the television about a famous Earth leader named "Eff-Dee-Arr." She had seen him sitting at the edge of a swimming pool, his legs hanging in the water. He was a full-bodied older man from the waist up, but his legs looked like sticks covered in skin. The program said his legs had atrophied.

It scared her.

"I don't want that to happen to me …," Starfire had finished in a frightened whisper.

Raven explained that the man had suffered a terrible Earth disease called polio and that it had paralyzed his legs. He couldn't move them. He had no choice. So they had atrophied. But he persevered and triumphed over that, Raven noted.

"But … still …," Starfire had answered after some thought – still sounding a little frightened, "I know that you also fly … and I would not want that to happen to you, either, friend Raven. Would you like to join me in the lifting of the weights with your legs?"

Raven joined her. A friend had invited her, and there was no harm in it. After that, whenever practical, Raven started walking places, once she had flown to the mainland from the Tower's island.

Like walking away from Robin today. She had told him to let her decide where they went together next time.

Maybe there won't be a next time. Maybe there shouldn't be. Maybe I shouldn't be "something" between Robin and Starfire.

Between a guy who could throw explosive projectiles with deadly precision and a girl who could fire green energy bolts from her hands and eyes.

Probably not a good idea to be caught between all that. Better to stay out in the first place. Seems smart.

The skittering of tiny claws on tiny paws clicked from among the tracks. Raven went to the edge of the platform and looked down. A rat was scampering along the rails. It stopped when she appeared, looked up at her, wrinkled its pointed nose and ran off into the darkness of the tunnel to the left.

Vermin. Ugh.

She had seen Beast Boy turn into a rat. But it was green, and she knew that it was him, so it didn't seem so bad. The real animal was different: It slunk among the shadows. It was vicious. It was hateful even to its own kind. Some people liked pet rats. But no one ever loved a sewer – or subway – rat. Not even another sewer or subway rat.

Beast Boy, though, was always Beast Boy, no matter what animal he had made himself for the moment. Somewhere in the morphed body was always an annoying, obnoxious clown. She once told him that his jokes were always lame, but he just kept them up.

Annoying? She had once slapped him – in an England that never was, created by a madman – for a British accent that grated like a rock being dragged across a parking lot. He snapped out of it immediately.

I slapped him – and he still was there for me. For all of us.

Beast Boy, she recalled, had been there to save her from a mutated abomination in a sewer. Been there with a hug – annoying though it was – after she triumphed over the legacy of her father's ultimate evil. That was beyond kind.

And he had been there when he finally told her that she was strange – way creepy, even – but that she always had at least four friends. At least that many. Even when she and Cyborg alone had been covered in oil and grease when they worked on the T-Car together. Friendship was sometimes messy.

WHERE IS THE DAMNED TRAIN?

It answered her.

A growing rhythmic trundling came from the tunnel. In an instant, the lead car burst into sight with its glaring headlights. Its silver, snaky body followed quickly with an airy rush. Its lit windows showed the empty benches within, the handrails and hanging straps, and ads lining the upper edges. The train slowed and stopped unnaturally fast with a piercing squeal of brakes. The beast rested a moment before the doors opened in clacking unison.

She stepped inside. No one else in the car. So it seemed. She stood and pondered for a moment, and as she did, three electronic chimes sounded. The doors closed behind her. After a groaning lurch, the humming acceleration of the train began. Outside, the station disappeared, replaced by the darkness of the tunnel and its lights that zipped by quickly and were lost again and again. The interior illumination became more artificial than when she had entered.

Where should I sit? Like it matters.

A desert of forgettable striped-vinyl seats, with litter underneath, spread to her left and in front of her. To her right, on her side of the car, a semi-partition obscured the benches beyond.

Perfect. Some privacy from no one. Just the way I like it.

She passed the partition.

Holy.

Mother.

Of Azarath.

Mandy.

Damn.

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.

The small blond girl – her short legs dangling over the edge of the seat – looked over at Raven to her left with half-closed cynical eyes. Raven knew that the child considered the half demon's presence unimportant. It had no meaning in her life. She turned away silently.

Raven sat two spaces away. In kind, Mandy's attitudes meant nothing to her.

Mandy stared ahead at nothing. Then, barely audible: "Hey." It suggested that Raven's presence had registered. It still meant nothing to Mandy, but it had registered.

"Hey," Raven replied, without bothering to care.

The car started a slight bouncing over the irregular lay of the tracks. Bouncing and bouncing.

It's irritating. Like that girl.

Mandy still focused forward. When she spoke again, each word was slow, heavy and cutting. "Can't … you … fly?"

"I can," Raven said. "I just don't want to now."

"Why?"

"Long story."

"Then I don't care."

Same old Mandy. Raven crossed her arms and leaned against the back of the bench. She closed her eyes and sighed.

"Tired from walking, are we?" the child asked. The sarcasm washed outward from her.

You know, for a little girl, you're a real bitch. "No," Raven said.

"Then why are you here?"

"Leave it."

"Done."

Just shut up. Just shut up. I've had a bad day. Just shut up.

Silence, except for the bouncing and the muffled clacking of steel wheels on steel rails. For a moment.

Why today? Why here? Last person I want to talk to. Ever.

"You know," the girl finally said, glancing at Raven and beginning to bait, "unless this train can float, you're up a creek if you're going home. Or up a bay."

Raven opened her eyes. "Only going to the waterfront," she said to the benches on the other side of the car.

"That's across town."

"Gold star in geography for you."

"What then?"

"Then I fly home."

Where I don't have to be with you. With a sideways glance, Raven assessed the girl: Same black hairband. Same pink dress with a blue-centered yellow flower on the front. Same black patent-leather shoes.

Doesn't she ever wear anything else? She blinked – then recalled her closet at the Tower.

Like I'm one to talk.

"I hate my home," Mandy said.

Too bad. "I feel your pain," Raven replied, and didn't mean it.

"Everyone there is a moron."

"Really."

"Most people are morons."

Raven's eyes narrowed. She uncrossed her arms and faced the child. "I'm not 'most people.' And neither are my friends."

Mandy was silent, then turned away and stared straight forward again. "My friends are morons," she clarified quietly.

Well, there is some justice in the world, after all. "Where'd you say you're going?" Raven asked, hoping it was close.

"I didn't."

"True."

More silence. A sigh from Mandy. "City Hall station. Then I catch the Endsville train."

"Thrilling."

A sarcastic glance. "Beats walking."

Raven raised an eyebrow. "And then you … walk … home … do you …?"

Mandy thought for a long moment, finally facing the gray girl fully. "You know …," she said, cool with calculation, "you're good …"

How long is this tunnel going to be?

"Must be annoying with all those people in the Tower," Mandy offered with a vague color of contempt.

"Only around Beast Boy," Raven admitted. "The others are cool."

"He the green freak who can't decide what species he is today?"

Watch your mouth, girl. "Freaks come in all colors," Raven said, sizing up the child.

"Like … gray …?"

Damn you.

Mandy changed directions. "I know about freaks. I know a guy without a brain. Clueless. And he always wants to hang around me. It's like being followed by a slug. A brainless slug."

Well … here goes nothing … "Ever thought," Raven started, "just being a friend?"

"A what?"

Why did that not surprise me? "Just accept that he's there. Don't try to analyze it."

"Would you like having a slug hanging on you?"

Thanks for that image.

Mandy studied the Titan. "You're a loner, too, I've heard."

"Sometimes."

"So you can do without friends, too, right?"

"Sometimes," Raven repeated. "But not always."

"I'd kill to be alone," Mandy said quietly, as if she were voicing her most precious wish. "No one else in the world. Just me."

And they call me creepy. "It'd get old after a while," Raven offered.

"I don't care. Friendship is overrated. It's done nothing for me."

"It takes practice. That's what I've learned."

"There's no one I know worth the effort."

"You don't know until you've tried."

Mandy crossed her arms. "I have tried," she answered, strangely sounding close to yelling. It was as if she were trying to convince herself. "No one … understands me …"

Wow. Déjà vu.

Wait …

Wait a minute …

Her …

…

… eyes …

Raven watched quietly as the tunnel lights outside played frenetically over Mandy's face.

And on the tiny seam of moisture lining the lower edges of her eyes.

"Well … one person … understands me …," Mandy continued in a weakening voice.

The train trundled along for a slight while before the child spoke again. It sounded like a hopeless prayer:

"One person in the whole world …

"… and he's Death …"

Oh, my God …

The unshielded moment passed. Mandy looked back at Raven with an expression of forced resolve. "Don't you ever tell anyone … I said that. Ever."

"I won't," Raven said. "We all have secrets."

"Listen to me," the girl continued, with a kind of growing fierceness. "If you ever tell anyone that, my friend can make you disappear. Forever.You understand?"

"Yes," the half demon said, not afraid at all. "I'll meet him someday, anyway."

"I don't need other people."

"You said something like that."

"There'll never be someone worth my time."

"You said that, too."

"I like being by myself."

Says you. "Fine," Raven said. "Means nothing to me."

The pitch of the steel wheels started to drop, and the train's slowing leaned them slightly forward. The next stop was coming up, Raven knew.

They sat quietly in the unnatural light for a moment more. Raven crossed her arms. She did that whenever she had something to ponder. And she had something to ponder now.

The car bounced a final time, and Raven wanted one more look at the rock with the crack in its heart. Her eyes darted to the right.

And saw Mandy glancing at her.

Creepy. What are the odds?

Hope…

… she'll be all right …

Whoa ….

… Did I just think that …?

Outside the windows, the false fluorescent day of the station appeared. Inside the car, an electronic sign on the wall opposite them flashed a red-dotted message: CITY HALL. The train's brakes squealed, muffled but still piercing.

Slowly, Mandy lifted herself from the bench. One tentative foot found the floor, followed by the other. She turned away from Raven, started to walk off – then stopped. The blond girl moved her head slightly in the gray girl's direction but didn't make eye contact.

"Nice chatting with you," Mandy said.

Raven looked away and waved a dismissive hand. "Whatever …"

Mandy left the car. Despite herself, Raven watched the girl through a window as she crossed the empty platform and entered a dim corridor on the left. Soon the darkness took her.

A dark path. No end in sight. All alone.

Damn …

That's too close to home.

The chimes sounded, the doors closed. The train lurched and started again. Almost immediately, it was engulfed by another tunnel with its zipping lights.

Raven pondered.

I treated Robin like crap. He didn't deserve it.

Damn.

She decided she'd apologize to him when he got home. So what if he didn't know that the theater wasn't open? She didn't want to lose a friend like him over something like that.

Or Starfire. Or Cyborg.

Or Beast Boy.

Ugh.

Did I just think that?

She settled back into the seat and closed her eyes.

Then, in her private darkness:

What the hell.

I'm glad for my friends.

All of them.

The waterfront station was above ground, she knew. And it was a sweet, sunny day above, she remembered.

She smiled. At the end of this tunnel, there was warmth at home. And light.