Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans.
a/n: This is the shortest chapter I've ever written, but I feel like I'm setting the stage nicely and it just felt right, so hey. Short and sweet.
Again, just a reminder that this FF will be mostly "behind the scenes" stuff that will fit in canon. Still a romance. I've got it covered (hopefully).
Will update soon to make up for this teeny chapter.
Reviews, sharing, etc. are greatly appreciated.
wound (1): an injury to living tissue caused by a cut, blow, or other impact, typically one in which the skin is cut or broken
Chapter Two: Wound
Days passed. The birthday cake was gradually nibbled away at (Raven suspected Cyborg and Silkie as the main culprits), the confetti was vacuumed from the floor (who knew they owned a vacuum?), and her presents were beginning to collect dust at the corner of her room (a gothic video game from Cyborg and Beast Boy, a trashy romance novel from Starfire, and a meditation DVD box set from Robin).
Her birthday had passed.
But the Prophecy was yet to come.
"Um, Rae?"
Cyborg was giving her a meaningful look from the sofa.
"What?"
"That's the third aspirin you've taken today."
Diligently, Raven swallowed another mouthful of water, then twisted the aspirin's bottle cap back on. "And?"
Cyborg's gaze widened, then narrowed. "It just doesn't seem healthy, Rae."
Of course it wasn't healthy. Intelligence had been screaming at her during the ten minutes she contemplated taking the third pill, when she was just staring at the bottle.
But Raven needed this. She needed the damn headache to go away. She needed to stop feeling so afraid. She needed to stop feeling a lot of things.
Most of all, she needed to stop thinking about him.
Robin was away, off on some quest to learn martial arts or something. This left Starfire moping around and Beast Boy would mysteriously vanish from time to time; hence, Cyborg on the couch, partner-less in his video game.
And Raven?
Smothering her feelings was becoming a 24/7 ordeal. While it had been difficult when she was a child, when she was restless and stupefied at the idea of pacifism, it was never this intense. Raven felt everything at once: hope, anger, disappointment...
Fear.
Though she would never admit it, Slade had terrified her during their tryst. Slade had always been Robin's problem, Robin's struggle - now, she understood why her leader was so dead set on capturing the man. He went beyond the limits of evil - he was darkness, darkness in a human body.
No wonder her father had saved him. Raven didn't fully understand the in's and out's of the Prophecy, but she did know one thing: Trigon sure could pick his men. Out of every dead soul...
Her forearm began to itch.
Absent-mindedly, she scratched it, only for the sensation to grow worse. Alarmed, Raven looked down to inspect it, and found an inscription glowing through the fabric of her sleeve, burning her skin.
Shit.
Raven wrapped a hand around the mark, grimacing.
What you have concealed, you shall become.
"Raven, are you listenin' to me?"
Cyborg had paused his game to throw her an exasperated look.
In response, Raven gave him a withering glare, muttered something about a nap, and retreated back to her room, stretching her legs as far as they would go when she walked.
.
Slade was, at the moment, bored. It wasn't often the man felt so - he was Slade, after all. The fiercest criminal in Jump City. The number one enemy of the Teen Titans. Now, the servant of one of the most powerful beings in the universe.
Usually, it all kept him fairly occupied. Slade was a man who liked to keep busy.
But Trigon was wrecking havoc somewhere, gathering strength for the Prophecy's fulfillment, and his next assignment wouldn't be doled out until Trigon finished destroying...whatever it was he was destroying. This left Slade with a lot of time on his hands.
Tick, tock, Raven. Time's running out.
For the girl, maybe. But for Slade, time was agonizing. He could neither sleep nor eat, drink nor breathe - in almost every way, Slade was dead. There was no blood, no skin, no organs; nothing that would even make him anatomically human.
Well, except for his eye.
The eye was the only true reminder of Slade's humanity: it pulsed, it watered, it focused and unfocused. How it operated without nerves and flesh, Slade would never know. And, if he was being honest, he didn't give a damn. It was all he had left - who cared what made it functional, made it alive?
Look at it.
Slade surveyed the cavern around him. It was dark, dank, quiet -
Drink it in.
Dead.
He spent most of his time here, practicing with the demons and punching rocks. If he was feeling particularly sadistic, Slade would remove his armor and simply look at his bones - it gave him reason, gave him fuel to keep going. To remember why he was doing this.
This will come to pass.
Slade dragged a hand over his mask, as if he still had a face under it.
I will make sure of it.
Perhaps he'd gone overboard with the girl. No doubt Robin had the wrong impression by now. They might think he was in love with her, or something equally ridiculous. Unless Raven told them, what reasons could they possibly construe for his return?
No! I won't do it!
His shoulders shook when he chuckled. He had to give Raven credit for her complete, utter denial. The girl had blatantly refused to believe she had any part in the Prophecy until he was holding her over the flaming Earth.
Burning. Burning against her skin, burns through his bones...
He flexed his fingers. Christ, he missed feeling things. Skin, paper, wood, plastic; even pain. Anything was better than this numbness.
Actually, scratch that. Numbness constituted the lack of feeling.
But for Slade, there was no lacking. There was nothing.
Hello, birthday girl.
Raven was his salvation. Getting her to comply to her part in the Prophecy was critical to him getting his life back. Hell, he ought to follow her, make sure she was safe until the time came.
Slade straightened. Yes, he supposed he should keep tabs on the girl.
After all, she was led by Robin. God only knew what kind of reckless, justice-hungry situations the boy would lead her into.
And Slade wasn't working for God.
