Okay, so that was kind of a long wait, but seriously, I've been worse about updating in the past. This time it was only 15 days, and I swear, I was working really hard on this chapter the whole time. You know, writing when I should have been taking notes in history, and Spanish. But I've also been knitting practically nonstop, because I still have quite a few presents to get done by Christmas.

Excuses aside, this chapter is about James, just like I promised. It's also sort of creepy, but not to an extreme. Well…maybe parts of it are kind of extreme…but then again, I thought War of the Worlds was hilarious, so maybe I'm not a good judge on where the line between creepy and not-so-creepy really is.

I don't have very much else to say, and I would respond to reviews, except that's apparently not allowed anymore. Hmm…that's kind of making me angry right now, but they do have some new reply feature. Apparently I can respond to your reviews, and my response goes to your email like a story alert. And there's some private messaging thing that my parents totally wouldn't let me use. So…I guess I'll try the reply thing out on a couple of people…unless you don't want me to or something. This will definitely be more difficult than just responding here…and I probably won't be able to get to everyone. –sniffs— Sorry, people.

Well, here's chapter three, anyway. Hmm…the first part is just reflective, then it picks up right where James's part in chapter one ended.

DISCLAIMER – I do not own Teen Titans, although my sister does own a Robin action figure, which happens to be missing both his arms (her fault, not mine). I also do not own Porphyria's Lover, by Robert Browning. Lines from that poem are in bold.


Porphyria

Chapter Three -- Reasoning

James's first memory was of Lucy. She was all around him—no matter where he looked, he could catch a glimpse of her lithe form, dancing between the moonbeams. James wouldn't have thought it possible to be bonded so completely with another if he hadn't felt exactly that way his whole life. Lucy was a part of him as much as his own hands.

Their mothers had passed down their tradition of childhood friendship. From the time they were born, James and Lucy barely spent a moment apart, and were never separated willingly. When they were young, they would lose themselves in grand adventures played out in the garden behind James's house, or on the secret balcony that they discovered one morning and never told a soul about. Time passed and altered their interests—years later they would still come to the balcony, but to sit and talk in peace, watching the trees shake in the forest beyond. Or else they would absorb the books they dragged up with them, pausing to read aloud a favorite passage or eloquent poem.

On the eve of her fourteenth birthday, Lucy alone was spared in the head-on collision that destroyed her family. Although James and his parents welcome her with open arms, Lucy was changed. Half of her heart was buried with her mother, father, and tiny brother, and James struggled to keep the other fluttering half within his grasp. It was his soft and pleading voice that pulled her away from the railing of the balcony on the night of her deepest desperation, his shoulder that she cried on until this was nothing left inside of her that could hurt anymore, and it was his heart that bled when he saw her violet eyes devoid of the light they'd once shone with.

It took him three patient and painful years, but one night he was able to coax her out on the sprawling lawns, and she sang for him, and they danced between the moonbeams. He kissed her on that night, not on of those childish pecks they'd done of a hundred double-dares, but a true and passionate kiss, that made them both complete. Although her lilac locks were far from golden, she was his Porphyria, and nothing could ever tear them apart.

But that same night she left. It was so sudden and shocking that the real version of events remained murky to James. Only one thought stood out—she was gone. James awoke the next morning to find that even his parents had vanished, and he could only hazily recall their departure as well.

For the first time in his life, James was truly alone.

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James watched this Lucy with admiration. Her eyes were fierce and full of spirit—a spirit that reminded him of his Lucy. He'd had his fears, but perhaps this girl would do after all.

Lucy's hands and feet were tied, and he'd covered her mouth to muffle her protests. These restraints weren't enough to stop her from trying to get her way—James watched, bemused, as she struggled on the floor.

At the very least, he could try to reason with her. His Lucy had always been understanding. James knelt down beside the girl, taking a moment to stare deeply into her wide, dark eyes—exact copies of the ones he always saw staring back at him from the shadows. Gently James reached out, longing to touch that porcelain skin. She recoiled, but James gave a crooked smile, and tenderly ran his finger down the side of her face. Once again she pulled away. Sighing, James pried the tape from her lips, as carefully as he could.

The second her mouth was free, she spat at James and bared her teeth, almost in a menacing snarl. James narrowed his eyes in anger, ready to lash out at her, but reprimanded himself. Where had the patient James, the one who cajoled and coaxed Lucy for three years until she worked up the nerve to venture out of her shell? He's gone, he left with Lucy, James thought.

"Who are you?" the new Lucy asked, breaking his train of thought.

"My darling," James murmured, "you couldn't have forgotten me, your James. I haven't forgotten you."

Her violet eyes widened in hear. "Let me go," she demanded, shrinking back from his piercing green eyes.

"No." His voice was low and dangerous. "You belong with me, Lucy."

The girl pulled back again, nearing hysteria now. In a minute she would probably start screaming, just like the rest of them. This wasn't getting anywhere. If only she would just listen—this was the same fatal flaw that every Lucy had.

Anger boiled up inside of him, past his ability to control it. He lunged toward the struggling girl and stuck her across the face. The force knocked her to the floor, and she chose to stay there rather than risk angering James any further. His anger now spent, James calmly leaned forward and replaced the tape across her mouth.

He took a moment to flash her another crooked smile. "We'll try this again later."

As he pulled the door shut, he paused, listening to the girl resume her struggles to free herself. Now he was wishing that he hadn't hit her, but then again, she brought it about herself. If she wouldn't be reasonable, James would be forced to do something he'd rather not do. For now, he'd give her time to calm down, and then try again. Maybe there was still hope.

That hope was gone the next night, as he trudged through the mud, with a limp form wrapped up and tossed over his shoulder. The park was empty, save for James, the latest failed Lucy, and the moonbeams. Suddenly he spotted an empty bench, and grinned in the darkness. Tenderly he set her down, arranging her as if she'd sat down for a brief rest. The dark bruises around her neck marred the perfect picture, but James could easily ignore those by now. He stepped back to admire her, and paused for a moment to honor her beauty. It was a pity that she hadn't been able to accept her new life—now she had only the darkness to love.

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The Titans stared uneasily at Robin's back as his finished his telephone conversation. By the tone of his voice and his posture, he wasn't hearing good news.

"I understand. Yes, I'll be there. Thank you."

He hung up the phone, but didn't turn around. Instead, he hung his head and sighed heavily.

"Friend Robin?" Starfire asked gently. "What is troubling you?"

Reluctantly Robin turned and faced his friends. The sorrow in his eyes frightened Beast Boy, and he suddenly knew exactly what their leader was about to say.

"There was a body found in the park this morning," Robin said quietly, staring at the floor. The rest of the team didn't dare to breathe as they waited for him to continue. After a moment's silence, Robin looked up again, a frown etched into his features.

"They think it's her."

TBC


Just keep in mind—if you kill me, you don't get to find out what happens next. Trust me, people, it'll work out. Please review, I'm dying for your responses to this chapter.

Child of a Pineapple