Hello everyone! This is my first AU story, and only my second actual story written. I got the idea for this story after reading the first fifty pages of Raven's Gate and noticing a striking similarity between the main character, Matt, and Beast Boy, especially past-wise. The more I read the book now, the more they seem to familiarize with one another. (And by the way, no, I am not stealing from that book, the only thing that is the same is that both Matt and Gar have been disowned by an aunt and are going to a new foster home, the first non-relative one)

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, DC comics, or the book Raven's Gate, by Anthony Horowitz! Neither do I own Fruits Basket, or any of Natsuki Takaya's works. I got the title from her manga, Fruits Basket, and also a few of my ideas and analogies. I do not own them. If any of those were mine, do you think I would be wasting my time here while I could be stopping the cancellation of that awesome show mentioned above!


What Becomes of Snow?

Chapter 1: Prologue

Garfield Logan leaned his head back on the cushy tan fabric of the plane seat and sighed. Yet again he was off to a foster home, this time in a small, rural town called 'Little Brook'. It was hidden somewhere in the depths of Colorado, nestled in the middle of the Rockies. It snowed so much there that, amazingly, snow days were nonexistent. Everyone owned a snowmobile, and simply skimmed over the top of up to ten feet of the white fluffy stuff to get where they needed to go.

Gar wasn't used to cold weather, though, having grown up in various homes in California. Sadly, he had recently run out of relatives willing to house him after his last aunt got sick of his presence. His greasy social worker had taken a mere three weeks to dredge up a family that wanted a foster child around his age. That was lucky, considering that not many wanted to handle a sulky 16-year-old boy, and an expensive vegan one at that.

Apparently, the woman who was going to foster him was a single parent, but had inherited quite a sum of money from her great-uncle when he had passed on. Gar didn't know anything about the guardian's child, though, because he had only spoken to his foster parent on the phone for a few minutes. The first thing he had asked was why she would be interested in him, but she had only laughed and said that she had always wanted to help out the cause of orphans. He had cringed at the term because, for most of his life, that word had been like a punch to his stomach. He hated being reminded of what he was. A seemingly bitter, poor orphan destined to be either pitied or ridiculed by the masses. He was not going to become that. Ever.

The woman, who insisted upon being called Angela, hadn't noticed his pause and had continued chatting about how she now had a decent home big enough to house five or more people comfortably. As soon as she had gained her fortune (her dowry from a dying great-aunt somewhere in England), she had begun to scour all databases for a child who normally wouldn't have been picked by someone wanting a sweet, innocent, and unmarred little kid, as most foster parents did. She wanted someone older and with a reputation for being angsty because she wanted to 'save' him or her from the endless torment of living in an orphanage. Without realizing it again, Angela had found another insecurity of Gar's.

Apparently this woman had a knack for unintentionally finding the one tender spot on a person and picking and picking at it without even noticing. It was a rare talent, but a few unfortunate souls inherited it from somewhere and had notorious records of social issues. Most of these people were found on daily talk shows, complaining about how they have no friends, haven't had a date since the fourth grade, and have problems gaining a job because all of the bosses in the world were 'out to get them'. Of course, this woman seemed to have a good heart, and meant well, but no matter how unintentional the little mental stabs were, they hurt all the same. Immediately Gar had sent up a mental note to steer clear of his new foster parent when she was in a chatty mood.

Pulling himself out of reminiscings, Gar stared out at the open landscape below. Everything he had once known, from the maze-like streets of Los Angeles and San Diego to the inner workings of supermarkets and busy beaches had blurred away to prim, perfect squares of green and tan.Occasionally the sun would catch a faraway building just right and spark a bright gleam of silver in its respective place, but otherwise all there was to see was bleak, open landscape. Large, fluffy clouds floated by in sparse clusters every now and then, below, above, or on level with the plane. In the rare case that one collided with it, a soft sound was heard as the water droplets misted the smooth metallic sides. Gar admitted it was pretty beautiful and serene, looking everywhere and not seeing more than a glint of human workings, but the unfamiliarity of it all sent a glimmer of helplessness inside of him. For the first time he realized he was at the mercy of the plane and the wind, and that all that could bring him to his death would be what felt like a small draft of air to the people below.

A wave of nausea gripped him, and he clutched his stomach, grimacing. Noticing a small plastic ring on the top of the window, Gar pulled on it. Down it came with ease, and with it a thin layer of tan polyurethane foam that served as a windowshade. Sighing in relief, he fitted the ring onto a small hook at the bottom of the window and leaned back. On his righthand side, below the window, was a control panel riddled with buttons. One showed the crude image of a girl in a short dress, carrying a tray, and he guessed that it was the flight attendant call button.

The vertigo-sickened boy pressed it, and a low-frequency buzz sounded in his ears. Almost immediately the sandy tan curtains at the back end of the plane flipped open, revealing a teenage girl about his age in a short--you guessed it--tan, dress. A spotless white apron covered the front of the outfit, reaching around the back of her neck and tying about her waist. The girl's hair was long and curly, and flowed over her shoulders in soft dark blonde waves. Sepia oval-shaped glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, hiding flashy emerald eyes, and bags of peanuts stuck bulkily out of her apron pockets. Stepping down the aisle in awkward heels, she glanced up at the ceiling. The small lightbulb next to Row 14, where Gar resided, was flashing, signaling to her that it was he who had pushed the button. Pulling down the edge of the too-short dress uncomfortably, she stopped at his row and looked at him.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked, still uncomfortable with her outfit. She never had been a revealing girl, but she had needed a job and her cousin worked as a security guard at the airport. With some good family connections, she had been hired as an assistant flight attendant for the summer, despite her age and lack of experience. It was directly in the job description that the uniform must be worn lest she be fired. Shifting in her place and almost stumbling, she flinched. She never had liked heels, either.

Gar looked at her and asked, "Can I have a glass of water?"

Glancing behind him at the closed polyurethane curtain, the girl grinned. "Sure. First flight?" she asked, gesturing to the window.

"Yeah! How did you know?" Gar asked suspiciously.

"The curtain is down. I had the same problem the first time I flew, I felt like throwing up every time I looked out. Ended up just closing the curtain, like you did, and drinking some soda. Nothing much but gum helped the ear pressure, though. Still bothers me today." the girl hesitated, rubbing her ears absently, then smiled a thin, apologetic smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle up. "Forgive me, everyone says I talk too much. I guess being a silent little mouse of a girl during my first fifteen years of life would have backfired on me somehow, in the end. I should get your water before you hurl. You're turning green, you know." she smirked.

With a wink, she was gone, off to save the day, or, rather, his lunch.


Hajimemashite and konnichiwa! (Gomenasai, Takaya-san! I used your saying!) Hello and welcome to my second fic, everyone! I started this a while back, but never really decided to send it in-I was afraid I'd get too bogged down with two stories going! But...I guess I will, partly as a personal 'gomenasai' to all of my readers who waited so patiently on my first story, Quality Time, while I sat on my lazy butt for about 3 months. This story is a BB/Rae story, and the twist should come in during the next chapter. Some of you smarties may have already figured it out, though...I gave waay too many hints. This was basically the prologue to start it, kinda to set the foundations and...hehe...add in a cameo character. Y'know, the insane flight attendant? If you can guess who she is, you get cyber-cookies! (grins) Though it may be a little hard, because she isn't famous...or anyone you know...I don't think...O;o... Anyway! Until we meet again, my awesome reviewers, seyonara!