Transcendental
A carefree, daredevil playboy with a tortured soul. A shy, traumatized artist with a past. This is a story of two broken people healing each other, overcoming the past and looking towards a brighter future.
Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Once again, I thank you for the reviews; teentitansluver, I Am, and I'm Not A Princess, and to those who favored and followed. This fanfiction's little band of fans is growing bit by bit like a blooming flower. I really appreciate your time to read and review, so thank you very much!
There is one more thing I would like to mention: one of our fellow reviewers asked me this, "I thought Richards eyes are blue so why did his reflection have green eyes?" This question is indicating to the last scene of the chapter two. For those confused, I deliberately (purposely) written that his reflection has green eyes. I shall not explain more, you shall see later in the story.
Well, that is all, happy reading everyone. Enjoy! - Mayumi Y.
Warning: Out of character-ness. Mild language. A tiny blood scene.
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, any DC Comics based materials, and Pepsi.
Transcend(ental): to overcome or surpass something (a goal, an experience, etc.) beyond ordinary limits
Chapter 3: Promise
Richard sat on the floor, his hair disarrayed from clutching his head with his fingers too much. Too much. Too much voices were in his head as he tried to forget those words that he can still so painfully hear.
"After the matter is over, the images would not disappear completely due to the influence of reversed nerve connection. He will be afraid of looking at himself because of the consistent mood memory. The center of fear will cause him to develop more fear and anxiety. When he is in fear, he will enter the state of false death. Stop breathing. And his heart might even stop beating from functional effects. Because of reversed nerve connection, illusions will stay and he will choose to avoid remembering . . ."
He was now sprawled across the floor, lying on his back, his right knuckle, bloody and bruised, dripped shamelessly on his red carpet. He stared at the ceiling, as memories he wanted to forget flooded in.
A spiral staircase. A woman with long dark hair, in a white dress, emerging from the shadows under a tree. A teenage boy with black hair as his, standing on the edge of a building.
Beside him, was a folded piece of paper. With his clean hand, he reached for it slowly and stared at it.
It was the drawing, of the mother and child.
Richard was jogging up the stairs as someone called his name.
"Grayson!" the boy caught up to him and slung an arm around his shoulder. With his other hand, he held it out for a shake. "Malcolm Duncan," said the chocolate skinned boy as he introduced himself with a grin. "New captain of the basketball team." Richard shook it as Malcolm continued to talk, "I saw you play yesterday against the Gotham kids, and I'll say, you're pretty good. You interested in joining the team?"
Malcolm had a friend beside him. Richard noticed it was Leonid Kovar as he pitched into the conversation with his Russian accent, "If you join, we win college cup."
Richard took off Malcolm's arm and replied, facing him, "Isn't that quite a waste of time?"
"Huh?" the two boys sounded, completely looking clueless.
He struggled to not roll his eyes. "Do we get paid if we win the championship?" he asked seriously.
"Of course not," Malcolm answered, slightly angered by his question.
Richard turned around and continued to jog, giving a hasty, "Then forget it."
Leonid punched Malcolm's arm, knowing he was right all along, "I tell you he was weird."
"Ain't he a little conceited?"
The art studio was quiet as students were concentrated on creating their own image of the plaster statue of Mars. Kori sat on her regular spot, at the corner of the room near the windows. Her bangs and her hair were messy and hurriedly tied up into a pony tail. She wore a decent dark green v-neck sweater with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and a light peach pleated skirt that ended above her knees. Her fingers were smeared with black chalk as she revised her drawing.
Madame Rouge walked around the room, inspecting the students' progress, her red high heels clicking as she walked. Madame Rouge is a teacher that expects high expectations for any member of her art class. She is very passionate about the different forms of art, this is the reason why she is strict on criticizing. But she is, nonetheless, a very nice teacher outside the studio.
Richard strolled into the room, his unhidden blue eyes searching for a certain redhead. As soon as he spotted her, he grinned and whispered loudly, "Kori."
Kori's head whipped to the side and she saw Richard, grinning handsomely, wearing a thin white long-sleeve sweater underneath his open navy blue button up shirt. His shades dangled at one of the pockets of his shirt and she noticed a shiny wristband that reflected from the sunlight through the windows and the knuckles of one of his hands was wrapped in a white cloth.
"Kori Anders!" he whispered loudly once more.
She just stared at him as Madame Rouge happened to be beside her, observing her work. Richard smirked as he knew that she was not answering him because she did not want to get in trouble.
"Hey, sweet little teacher," Richard greeted teasingly. "Hello!"
Madame Rouge grimaced and she turned to Kori, sternly saying, "Kori, how did you get to know such a bad kid? Listen to your teacher. Stay away from him."
Kori lowered her head, flushing slightly, while Richard was just snickering at the background. Once Madame Rouge had walked away, Kori glanced at him once more.
"Come with me," he whispered, nodding his head in a direction. "At the back."
She bit her lip, peeking at Madame Rouge's back, then slowly stood up and walked to Richard's direction. He grinned happily as she followed him at the back. It was a hallway, leading to the basketball courts, filled with wooden easels, plaster statues for projects, and empty canvases. "There's so much stuff here," Richard commented in his regular voice, interested at the supplies that one person needs to be an artist.
"Sorry I interrupted you in your class," he apologized sincerely. "Oh, yeah," he reached at his backpack, unzipping it and pulled out a piece of paper that was neatly ironed, starched, and laminated. "I wanted to give this back to you."
Kori tenderly held it in her fingers, while Richard continued, "It was a little crumpled, but I've made a copy."
She smiled sweetly at him, "Thank you."
He looked at her in disbelief, shocked that she would be thanking him, he babbled onwards, "Y-You're thanking me? But, I messed up your drawing . . . Why thank me? Sorry, I just, I didn't know there was a drawing at the back, so I stuffed it in the pocket of my pants carelessly."
"It's okay," she assured, lifting her head up from her drawing to look at him. "It was only a draft. It's no use once I paint it on canvas."
Richard paused, staring at her then at the drawing, he whispered, "Useless meaning . . . you want to throw it away?"
Kori's eyebrows knitted together, wondering the change of his tone and attitude. She did not respond as he pressed on, "If you're going to throw it away . . . can you give it to me instead?"
Her heart softened. He liked the drawing. Smiling quietly at him, she suggested, "If you really like it, I can give you the final oil painting."
His reaction was priceless, the grin suddenly bursting at his face as he exclaimed happily, "Really?" He narrowed his eyes playfully, mockingly pointing an accusing finger, "You're not kidding me, right?"
She shook her head adorably and replied, instantly making his day, "I'll paint as fast as I can."
Richard was so happy, raising a hand to his head, "Yes!" He paused, then chuckled at her, "Wait, don't I act somewhat imprudent? I'm taking your stuff for no reason . . . now that I think it over, it really feels that way." He looked at her, her head bowed down again and eyes glued to her shoes. "I don't have money. What's there I can use for exchange?" He bit his lip, deep in thought.
The two of them stood awkwardly for a while, until Richard sounded a "Hey," which brought Kori's attention, waiting to see what he will 'exchange.' He smiled at her, "Why don't I protect you? Let's agree on it first, whatever happens to you in the future, I will certainly be by your side and help you." He laughed to himself, "Let's just agree on it, okay? Anyway, this is just what I'm capable of doing. So, yes?"
Kori bit her lip, smothering a smile at his ridiculous offer, but nodded cutely.
Richard grinned once more, perfect white teeth showing, but then his smile turned mischievous, and so did his eyes, "Also . . . there's one more thing I can help you with. It's . . . when you want to fool around . . ." Kori lowered her eyes, embarrassed at his suggestion.
" . . . I can contribute my body for you to use. Free of charge," he smirked and gestured his hand to his chest. He bid farewell and walked towards the door leading to the courts. As he was closing in near the exit, he heard Kori's endearing voice, "Can you . . . Can you lend me your body?"
Richard froze, then spun quickly to face her, blue eyes wide as saucers. Unfortunately, his backpack made contact with an unstable plaster statue and the stacks and piles of neat statues and easels clattered and clanged noisily to the ground. Kori flinched at the loud noise, her eyes wide as well at the destruction that he had accidentally caused.
For a few seconds, there was silence between them.
He sighed in exasperation, "What did you just say?"
She pursed her lips together, meekly saying, "I . . . I just said if you can lend me your body . . . to be my model?"
Richard stared at her, dumbfounded. Not knowing what to do at this situation, he dumbly scratched his head.
Kori entered the art studio, her eyes scanning the room to see if there were any students or teachers. Fortunately, there were none, so she was free to call Richard to come in. "You can come in now."
He chuckled, "I'm not used to sneaking around like this."
"Over here," she stopped him near the windows, where natural light can come in.
"Do I take my clothes off?" he asked, half-serious, half-joking as he took off his backpack.
"No!" she replied, slightly panicked. "You only need to take off your bag and your polo shirt." She brought a chair to where he was standing, "You can just sit here."
"How do I sit?"
"However you like."
He hung his shirt, jacket, and backpack and the back of the chair, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows, he sat down, leaning lazily at the back, his legs slightly spread apart. He watched her work as she took out a new canvas and organized her easel and supplies. Feeling in the mood to tease her, he said with a naughty smirk on his face, "When I said I would lend you my body, I never thought you would waste a heavenly thing and use it for painting." He wanted to see her reaction, but it seemed that the words did not affect her. "My original intention was that the two of us went to do something happy and would make you feel very comfortable."
Silently, she sat down and sharpened her pencil. Richard decided to change the topic into a deeper one, "I heard you hate men . . . why?" She did not answer, so he interrogated further, maintaining his tone light and mild, hoping that she will answer. "It's not because you like girls, right?"
"Could you please not twist around?" she inquired quietly. "And stop talking. It's hard for me to draw with you acting like this."
He scoffed at her, "I'm not a statue like these, I'm a real person." He scanned the studio and his eyes landed on Mars, which reminded him of something he wanted to share. "Have you heard of the Mars prophecy?"
She did not answer, her mind was focused on the task at hand: drawing him.
"The prophecy says that a terrifying King will control this world and the world will be ruled by Mars . . . What kind of world do you think it would be if it were ruled by Mars?"
Kori stopped drawing, interested in his insights, "It seems that you're more inclined to believe that Mars is evil."
"It doesn't matter what I believe in. The world is all messed up anyway. It'll collapse sooner or later," he confessed his beliefs. "I also don't believe the future is going to be great. So, why don't we just come to a flashy and glorified ending? Doesn't that sound better?"
She glanced at him, then continued back to work. His head leaned against the back of the chair. He looked at the ceiling, murmuring to himself, "Why hasn't it happened yet?" He closed his eyes, "This world . . . I wonder how it's going to end."
"If the world is really destroyed, wouldn't you be devastated?" Kori questioned as she opposed and contradicted his views.
They stayed silent for a few minutes. As she drew him, she noticed his bandaged hand, in concern, she asked, "What happened to your hand?"
There was no answer.
"Hey," Kori called, no answer. "He's already fallen asleep just like that," she muttered to herself. Setting down her pencil, she stood up and went beside him, leaning down to observe his tired and sleepy face. A tiny smile lit her face as she inspected him, her head was filled with thoughts, "He acts so crazy. And it's difficult for people to identify him." She raised a hand, to touch his face as it was flawless, pale, and looked soft, but as she was just centimeters away, she dropped her hand, "But he has such a clean face, a pure face. I can't sense any trace of malice in it. In this world, there are many malicious people and you can't do anything about it. It doesn't matter how hard they try to pretend. Their malice will be revealed. Bit by bit, and it will emit a foul smell . . ."
"Appear," Mr. Wilson wrote on the white board. "Aparacer. It is an intransitive verb. It's very easy, yes class?" Then in Spanish, he asked the class fluently, "Does anyone want to volunteer in front of the class to construct a sentence? Raise your hand, please."
Slade's one eye scanned the theater, his eye landed on Richard, who had his feet up at a chair in front of his and he was asleep with his mouth open. He smirked and called out, "Senior Grayson."
Gar looked at his sleeping friend and nudged him, "Dick."
Richard fluttered his eyes open, disoriented at what was happening. He stared at Gar in confusion.
"Slade wants you to go up and construct a sentence," he whispered.
Kori and Rachel turned their heads to look at him. In the need of rescue, Rachel raised her hand, "Senior Wilson, let me do it."
"Ah, do not be so quick, Miss Roth. Let us give Senior Grayson a chance," Slade grinned, a little evilly. Feeling he wanted a little payback, he taunted him, "What is the matter, Mister Grayson? You have taken this course for two years. This should not be difficult for you."
Richard stared at him coldly, then stood up and strolled his way to the board, a marker in his hand. He gripped it tightly as Slade continued to taunt him in English with a smirk, "Is it right to piss people off during class hours?"
"You woke me up," he answered roughly through dry lips. "Don't blame me."
Slade just chuckled and continued to right other intransitive verbs on the other side of the board. Richard shook his head and chuckled, he was so going to get him back. As he started constructing the sentence, the whole class erupted into gasps, conversations, grimaces, some laughter, some girls covering their mouths with a hand, Kori gasped quietly as she read his sentence, while Rachel smirked at his . . . courageousness to defy Slade.
Slade turned around, "What is it, class?" Then he faced the board, to what Richard had constructed. Richard finished his sentence and read it aloud in Spanish, "This teacher, who appears to be nice, is in reality a terrible person, who initiates sexual harassment to his female students." As he repeated the sentence again, in English this time, the class turned their eyes to Slade, who started erasing the board with his hand.
Richard walked up the stairs of the theater and spotted Kori sitting at the aisle seat, he held out his hand with a smile, "Give me five. Isn't it fun to strike back?"
She looked at his hand, then at his face. She had a smile on hers, thankful and grateful for what he did, she slapped his hand quietly.
A handsome, young man stood under a tree, beneath the shadows. He was smiling to himself, his dark blue eyes staring at the ground with his hands clasped behind his back. He was wearing a white dress shirt and black pants.
"Jason!" the nurse called. "Jason! It's time to come back inside!"
He turned around, giving the ground one last glance and slowly walked to his nurse.
"What were you doing over there?" the nurse asked him while giving a tender smile.
Jason smiled back and responded, "I was watching the world's most beautiful thing."
On the spot where Jason had been staring, a snake coiled itself around a defenseless rat, eating and killing it.
Jason stood in an office, staring outside the window. The sun was out and he could feel the radiating warmth on his face. The door opened, and a doctor walked in with his white coat. Dr. Light stood beside him and decided to start the conversation, "Jason," he said his name gently. "What happened? You're not wearing your uniform again," he commented on his patient.
Ever so slowly, Jason turned his head to face him, a smile on his face, "Because . . . this makes me look more normal."
Dr. Light grunted in understanding, and cleared his throat to give him news, "Dr. Meridian says you'd be released from the hospital next week. You've been here for almost two years."
"Two months short," Jason replied. "Director . . . you remember my name."
Dr. Light chuckled, "People here are always coming and going, but I remember everyone and their individual stories."
He grinned at his new discovery, "What a coincidence. I've been looking for someone to answer my question." Jason turned around and picked up a piece of paper, "I once found a drawing left by a previous patient." He opened up the rolled poster, revealing a picture drawn by a black crayon. It had a shape of a face, and its eyes were left white in shade of almonds. "Do you know who drew this, Director?"
Dr. Light smiled at the memory, "Of course I remember. He was my patient." He rolled it up and looked at Jason, "He's about your age. When he just checked into the hospital, he dared not to look at mirrors. He broke all the mirrors in the hospital."
Jason gave an odd smirk and stated lightly, "I wonder how he's doing."
Richard jogged down the stairs, heading to his bike. He was stopped as someone called his name from above. He turned around and saw Rachel smiling at him.
"You're leaving already?" she asked mildly.
"Yeah. I'm on my way to work," he replied, smiling slightly.
"Then . . . I'll go to your place tonight, okay?" Rachel suggested with a flirty look on her face.
Richard chuckled at her suggestion, "Aren't we already over?" He turned around and walked down the stairs. Thinking over her offer, he decided he needed a little fun to pull out the stress, so he looked at her again with a smirk, "Okay, then. I'll call you if I get home early."
Rachel beamed as he walked away, her chin leaning against one of her hands.
"Rachel," Tara walked beside her. "What are you doing?" Her blue eyes traveled down the stairs and saw a familiar black haired boy. "You still haven't given up?"
She smirked and replied, "Some things will never end."
Richard snugged on his helmet, clipping it underneath his chin. As he started his bike and left school grounds, Slade appeared and watched him set off with hatred and determination in his eye. He sped off the road, riding at least 40 miles per hour. He spotted a food supply truck about to cross the intersection, instinctively, he pressed on the brakes to slow down to stop. But as he pressed it, for some reason, his bike would not stop. He checked the brakes.
Someone had punched a whole to the wire.
As he was closing in on the truck, he forced the bike to slide under it, his helmet falling off and it was crushed by the truck. Now safe away from the intersection, he stared at the truck as he had just slid under it, shocked and confused as to why his brakes did not work. He could have gotten hurt, or worse . . . he could have died.
Author's Note: I'm guessing that Slade got burned?
Again, there are a few things I want to point out for those in need of clarification:
1. On the first scene of this chapter, I use the words "reversed nerve connection." I did not want to use "reversed pychology" because it is and it is not what Richard's condition is. He fears his own reflection due to the occurence of illusions and memories. I shall not spoil anything for you readers, all of this will be revealed in the next couple chapters.
2. Again, I included some characters from the show. In case some of you do not know who they are, I shall type them in order of appearance throughtout this chapter: Herald, Red Star, Madame Rouge (obviously), and Dr. Light (another obvious one).
3. I have included two other people that are not in the Teen Titans show, but they are related to the Batman universe. Some of you might possibly know who these two people are: Dr. (Chase) Meridian, a psychiatrist that appeared in Tim Burton's Batman Forever (1995). She was played by Nicole Kidman. But, do not worry, she will not be a main or supporting character in the story. And then there is Jason. I am sure most of you know who he is and his last name, who I have not yet mentioned in the story but I know that you know. If some of you do not know who he is, Jason was the second Robin under Batman's wing. He was tortured and killed by the Joker, then he was resurrected. He is not a villain, per say. He is more like a vigilante and an anti-hero.
Thank you very much for reading! I would greatly appreciate reviews as I enjoy reading them. For any questions or other clarifications, please feel free to PM me. I hope you are enjoying the story so far and I shall be updating in another few days to revise the next chapter and work in progress of my summer homework. Thank you! - Mayumi Y.
