Overprotective.
Just a oneshot that's been roving around in my head for a little while. Mostly a stylistic experiment.
--
So you left another family, this time by choice. After all, Mento was an ass (and you knew full well what that word meant, even though you were barely thirteen, you would have had to have been deaf not to after spending so long around Robotman, and Mento has always been down on swearing, which is exactly why you take such delight in labelling him as such), but hey, you're in California now, although your English isn't so good (although it's better than your Czech) and you haven't got any money or friends or a place to stay, but you're nearly there. Hollywood. Idly, you wonder if it's going to be like Rita always told you it was. But hey, look at that, a meteor.
...Did it just crash? Sweet.
--
So you've got a new team now, with new friends, and you know who you want to be best friends with. Robin. You'd always looked up to him, ever since you'd got your powers, 'cause if an ordinary boy with a stick can be a superhero, perhaps there's hope for a green kid that can turn into animals. He doesn't seem to like you that much, though.
After a while, you start drawing comparisons between Robin and Mento (not Steve, never Steve. Steve was the father that comforted you when you dreamed of the boat. Mento was the superhero that left Larry and Cliff behind; and barely noticed when they made it back home three weeks later). He doesn't seem as bad, but then again, Cinderblock's no Brotherhood. You wonder what he'd do, if push came to shove.
But hey, look, there's girls on the team, and it seems like a couple of weeks ago that all girls had cooties, but every time Starfire walks (floats) past, you can't help noticing that she smells really nice.
If you were a few years older, and a bit more self aware, you'd realise how creepy that sentence sounded.
There's another girl on the team too, and she doesn't seem so nice. She's cool and all, but she seems a little full of herself, a little holier-than-thou, and the irony of that wouldn't be apparent for years. But anyway, she's the cause. She's the source of your problems.
--
You have no idea when it started. All you know for sure is that it was some time before Terra arrived; Terra arrived and turned your world upside down (the right way up) for all of three weeks. You can remember the scene; you were on the couch with Cyborg, grinning to yourself as you exuberantly celebrated a rare victory over the mechanical man when you turned to see her looking at you, purple eyes boring into you and filling your soul with a feeling you know well. You may be a week or two shy of fourteen, but you know the feeling all too well.
Fear. Pure, visceral dread that threatens to engulf you with the weight of it.
From then, you have a mission. You stick to her, in some cases literally, courtesy of a certain alphabetically themed thief. You follow her around until she threatens to kill you and you half believe her. You pester her anyway. You claim it's because you want to be friends with her, which is a lie. You don't give a damn what your relationship with her is, as long as your mission is complete.
Well, mission is the wrong word. Call it a project.
It extends to the battlefield too. You hover around her as much as you can, especially when you aren't going up against metas. Someone who has to buy a gun is going to use it, you know. You act as a kind of kevlar vest, 'cause her blacklight shields (while being so totally awesome) are a lot less strong than you'd expect, and are most definitely not bulletproof. You, on the other hand, are, in the right circumstances. It hurts, yeah, but that's nothing new. So you jump in front of gunfire for her. She never notices. No one ever does, and that's the way you like it.
Your project seems to be going well, when Terra arrives. You can't help it. Something about the blonde draws you to her, and the project is all but abandoned in the thrill of being able to hold a (slightly, tentatively) flirtatious conversation without the fear of death, either through magic or birdarang.
That doesn't turn out so good, though. You let the ball slip, and the project almost comes crashing down around your pointy ears. You silently berate yourself, and carry on.
When Malchior arrives, you're happy, at least for the moment, because Raven's happy, at least for the moment. When it all comes crashing down, of course, you're there to pick up the pieces. You're careful not to overstep your clearly-marked boundaries, though. You're pretty sure you're bad luck to get too close to. Terra provided the final proof of that.
--
So it turns out Raven's a half-demon, and her dad is coming to destroy the world. Idly, you chalk it up as another factor in the project, and go check if Cy wants to play video games.
As Cyborg deposits Raven in the safe room, you hand her the lucky penny you found earlier. She needs the luck more than you do.
Standing side by side with your friends, you get ready to do what you've done for three years now. Realising you can't afford to pull any punches, you let loose the expression of your rage, your hate, your pain, and your fear.
You've got too many ghosts hanging over you. No one else you love is going to die. Not if you have anything to say about it.