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Chapter 3

The Mountains of Madness

When they decided to turn in for the night, Raven moved away from the fire in one direction while Jinx moved a little closer to it. They had talked about having a watch rotation but decided it unnecessary given that they hadn't seen a single living thing besides themselves since their arrival. The fire had done a commendable job heating up the interior of the small cavern, and so Raven actually found it necessary to find the edge of its warmth near the back if she wanted to sleep comfortably. As comfortably as she could on the naked ground, anyway.

She settled in and lay down facing the fire, Jinx and, behind them, the corridor leading to the exit. As she waited for sleep to find her in the unfamiliar place, she saw her thoughts wander back to their earlier conversation. Not over any great or important matter, mind. More out of simple curiosity.

Since her arrival and the subsequent formation of the Titans, she had watched many of her friends and new acquaintances grow, mature, and begin embracing certain hallmarks of that maturity. Namely, in this case, forming romantic relationships, Robin and Starfire being by far the most pronounced. But there were others: Cyborg and Bumblebee, albeit unofficially as of yet. Beast Boy and Terra, regardless of how it had ended. And until recently, Kid Flash and Jinx herself. Raven was certain there were more out there, as well, no doubt developing between other, less familiar and less frequently visited members of their circle.

When she considered the utter lack of time she had devoted to exploring that set of feelings, it became almost a point of shame for the empath. Since being more or less set free by her father's defeat, she had promised herself to begin exploring her emotions in earnest. Of course, she was who she was. A lifetime of suppression had shaped her personality into the one everyone knew, and exploring her newly available emotions would not change that. At least, not at the start. Not at the flip of a switch.

Over time, perhaps, if she chose it. Certain avatars of her other selves inside Nevermore might even disappear completely if she became familiar enough with what they represented. But the act of truly absorbing an emotion was, in reality, a long and tedious process, done just a little day by day by allowing herself to feel it. It would take a great deal of time to absorb them all, if she even chose to do so. The truth was that it made her uncomfortable.

For as much as she wished no longer to be divided, the thought of actually doing so made her exceedingly uncomfortable. There was no spell, no ritual or incantation to merge her permanently with the parts of herself that had been sundered, no. It would be simple actions taken every day: doing things, saying things, changing her way of thinking, and while the thought may have been romanticized when it was impossible, like some forbidden fruit, the reality of it now that it was possible made her reconsider.

She liked who she was. Perhaps the greatest revelation to come of her friendship with the other Titans and her ousting of her father was that one: whatever she was, she liked who she was, had been accustomed to the way her mind worked and, when she was honest with herself, found peace in it.

She had seen a news report once, some time before, regarding a new surgical implant that offered to give sight to certain blind individuals. Even those blind from birth, if they fell under the specific condition it could treat. Most hailed it as a miracle, but those who had been blind from birth, interviewed by the program, while they had praised it, had also indicated that they would not prefer it. Blindness was the world they knew, the world they understood. To have sight thrust upon them now would have been not only terrifying but also would have required them to relearn everything about the world.

Blindness was the world she knew.

Still, she had resolved at least to explore her newly available emotions. Many she had: allowing herself to tell or to chuckle at jokes, or to smile more often than she had previously, or to be perhaps a little lazier now and then or a bit ruder than she normally would have been, if the mood struck her. But there were still several emotions into which she had not delved.

Chief among them, of course, was Rage—for obvious reasons. But beyond that were others she continued to ignore for one reason or another. They were too inconvenient, or they were too alien, or they made her feel uncomfortably exposed. Those associated with romance tended to fall into any or all of the aforementioned categories.

Still, she had often pondered over them, since Robin and Starfire had embraced their relationship in earnest. For the larger part of her life, such things had been pointless to consider; the world would end before they would ever matter. Those feelings had received so little thought that considering them now continued to feel not unlike trying to conceive of the non-Euclidian.

And so she avoided them, knowing entirely well that doing so would only perpetuate the problem, if indeed it was a problem at all.

Cowardice, she had concluded. But even so, she could justify that as well: after all, cowardice was an emotion, too.

In the middle of her internal deliberations, Raven caught sight of Jinx by the fire. She had moved, the latest in a series of flip-flops between curling toward the fire and curling away from it. "You're still cold," Raven said.

Jinx looked up, half groggily. "Huh?"

"You keep tossing and turning."

"Oh, yeah." Jinx smiled some, playing it off. "Whatever side's facin' the fire is fine, but…can't seem to stay warm." She chuckled. "I actually feel like it got colder."

After brief consideration, Raven got up and made her way over.

Jinx gave a puzzled look as she approached.

"Tomorrow's going to be another long day. You need sleep. You'll stay warmer if we share," Raven told her.

"Share what?" Jinx asked.

"Body heat."

Jinx recoiled slightly, now wide awake. "Uh…"

Raven paused, staring at her. "What?"

In the next few seconds, the series of emotions that washed over Jinx, dismissed or buried however quickly, painted a nonetheless accurate picture for the observing empath.

"Oh," Raven deadpanned, then raised a curious eyebrow. "Really?"

Jinx took a more defensive posture. "Really what?"

"Empath," Raven reminded her simply.

Jinx groused. "Seriously unfair…like an invasion of privacy, or somethin'…"

"Sorry." Raven's characteristic lack of feeling seemed to undercut the apology, even though it was sincere. "Why?" she inquired, attempting to hide the depth of her interest.

Looking away and still seeming somewhat violated, Jinx merely shrugged. To her surprise, however, Raven continued in her previous course. "What are you doing?"

"Sharing warmth," Raven said obviously.

"W— Really?"

"Are you still cold?" Raven asked.

"Well, yeah," Jinx couldn't deny.

"Then yes."

"Uh… Little weird, isn't it?" Jinx asked.

"Are you going to make it weird?"

"No!" Jinx denied, like she had taken offence.

"Then no," Raven concluded. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm tired. I would appreciate some rest."

Still noticeably uncomfortable, Jinx put up no more fuss when Raven lay down behind her—flat on her back, facing up, with her cloak spread over them both.

"Relax," Raven told her, practically able to feel Jinx's heartbeat through the anxiety in her mind.

"Ugh," Jinx complained, blushing in a blend of embarrassment and misery. She forced her eyes closed, trying to comply. "Just…stop talkin'. Please?"

In agreement, Raven said nothing more. The fire crackled and popped, and over time, Jinx did manage to equalize to some manner of calm. Not long after that, her shifting stopped, some twitching occurred, her breathing slowed, and Raven felt her pass into the veil of sleep.

The empath herself, however, took somewhat longer, her mind occupied by thoughts of the unintended revelation that had put her companion so off-kilter. Although Raven had no personal experience with such things—physical attraction, perhaps a little, toward Aqualad years before—she was nevertheless well versed in the nuances of those emotions that indicated when one person had feelings for another. Beast Boy and Terra, Cyborg and Bumblebee, even Robin and Starfire in the beginning stages of their friendship, when the Titans had first come into being. Not the deep, satisfied feelings of a meaningful relationship, but the earlier ones of infatuation and attraction: a crush, as it were.

The suggestion of sharing warmth had inspired those feelings in Jinx, however quickly she had managed to hide them, and left little question at whom they were directed. In the end, Raven attributed little meaning to them, having learned long ago that one could not fault others for their feelings, only for the actions they did or did not take as a result. Jinx's feelings were hers. She could not control them, and she had taken no actions. Hence, there was no meaning.

Even so, Raven found herself unable to completely banish the thought. To her knowledge, she had never before been the subject of those infatuated feelings.

Beast Boy, perhaps. Although his had always been more…innocent, an unusual blend of childlike at some points and primal at others, but only briefly touching on anything of intellectual substance in between. Even those had withered in the time since Terra.

That Jinx's feelings had not been given life through action was true, and that alone should have been enough to put the matter to rest. And perhaps it would have been, in the time before her father's defeat. Now, however, even the ghost of such feelings begged the question: did she return them?

A simple question, or at least it ought to have been. Probably it would have been, for any remotely normal person. As it was, deciphering the answer, for Raven, was exactly as her mind had referenced earlier: non-Euclidean. So unaccustomed to thinking about people in such terms was she that, when it came to even so simple a question regarding such feelings, she could not even determine if she had them.

No, that wasn't right. Of course she would know if she had them. They would give themselves voice in her mind, the instant they appeared. The bitter truth was that she did not know if she could have them, whether a lifetime of suppressing and avoiding them had so stunted her development in that particular field that she was now incapable of cultivating them properly.

But the thought had been raised. That, in itself, was a start. Brought to her attention—the seed planted—maybe now something would happen. Was that how it worked? The next step? Did something develop on its own, some natural conclusion to which she would come? Or was more input required on her part?

Resolving to allow the notion some time to mature in her mind, she commit to sleep now and to revisit the issue later.

And so, for now, she slept.

Later, Raven shot awake to a loud yell. She found the fire rekindled, only slightly, and Jinx on the ground nearby, her demeanor suggesting she'd fallen.

Jinx's gaze turned on Raven. "Oh. Real mature."

"What?"

Jinx picked herself up, dusting herself off. "Okay. I get it: don't wander off, or whatever. But if ya got your powers back, ya could've just said so."

"I didn't," Raven responded.

Jinx's annoyance turned to confusion.

"What happened?" Raven cut in before Jinx could say anything more.

"I…got up early. Figured I'd go, y'know…look for breakfast or somethin'," Jinx said, still uncertain. "So I start walkin', then…poof. I'm back here, flat on my—"

Raven raised a hand to signify she understood. "Show me."

Getting up, Raven followed Jinx to the opening of their little cave. Some distance away, a lone torch lay abandoned on the ground, casting its dim light against the gloom to mark how far Jinx had gotten.

"Try again," Raven told her.

Jinx crossed her arms petulantly. "Y—"

"I believe you," Raven cut her off again. "I just want to see it. Did it hurt?"

"No," Jinx admitted after a moment.

"All right. Then, if you don't mind…" Raven gestured in the direction of the torch.

Like she still wasn't totally sold on the idea, Jinx nevertheless acquiesced and, one step at a time, retraced the path she had taken. When she reached the torch, she picked it up and turned to face Raven, who gestured for her to keep going. Sure enough, a few feet later, Jinx disappeared without any subtle or spectacular display, as though she had simply stepped out of the world. The torch fell to the ground, and Jinx landed on her bottom not far from Raven.

"Son of a—" she swore under her breath, then stood up and looked, disgruntled, to Raven. "So? What gives?"

Raven stood in examination of the phenomenon. "I'm…not sure."

"Your powers definitely still on the fritz?" Jinx asked.

Raven gave a nod. "It could be another side effect. When the original interaction occurred, I wasn't just trying to contain the explosion. I was also trying to protect you from it. Reaching out to you. The hex may have twisted that into some kind of tether."

With the newfound understanding, Jinx's frustration evaporated into a mischievous smirk.

Raven noticed, raising an eyebrow.

"I can think of worse things to be tethered to," Jinx teased, then shrugged as she did an about-face and headed back inside with a crude snicker. "No point bein' coy about it now, right?"

Before following, Raven caught herself pondering a moment over how, in her own way, Jinx had embraced her own method of straightforward practicality: where most individuals might have experienced a lingering awkwardness at having their innermost thoughts aired to the subject of their intimacies, after a night to sleep on it, Jinx had opted instead not only to accept the situation but also to take ownership of it through making light of it.

Without much more delay, they decided that following the cliffside would be their objective. It wasn't much, but being the only landmark at their disposal, it was all they had. It also afforded them the hope that they might find a travel path used by the native people of their abyssal abode, if indeed there were any such people. If so, a valley through the mountains might have served as a natural funnel toward a road to civilization, or at the very least a body of water created by runoff from whatever source lay at the other end of the water trickle in their cave.

If, by the end of that day's exploration, they failed to find any of the aforementioned or food, they would try climbing the following day. Thankfully, Raven could sense a resurgence in her powers as their fatigue started to subside. They would need a little more time to fully relax and recover, not unlike a muscle stuck in spasm after sudden over-exertion, but the news seemed to brighten Jinx's spirits even in the face of their lack of anything to eat.

With luck, her powers would return completely in the next day or two. They had water, enough wood to last if used sparingly, and would not starve in that time. Until then, Raven deemed exploration the better choice over meditation, opting to allow her powers to right themselves rather than try to meddle in their recovery and the hex variable by way of meditation or trance.

And so they went, significantly less hindered without the need to lug around their supply of firewood. Keeping the cliff or mountain range, whichever it was, to their right, they trailed along its base for some time. Their individual paces varied, sometimes leaving one or the other slightly farther ahead, but by and large they kept steady progress.

Conversation was sparse, Raven not particular predisposed to it and Jinx, as near as the empath could tell, otherwise indisposed with something in her own mind: a thought, perhaps, or something else that dredged up the same noxious sludge of doubt, dread, and perfect, undiluted fear that she seemed continuously to bat down, beat back, and bury before it was dredged up once again. When they rested, too, Raven found her companion, between the odd quip or characteristic snark, given to distant gazes into the dark.

Outwardly, Jinx appeared much as she ever had, save those worrisome far-off looks, which might easily have been attributed to physical or mental fatigue by anyone unaware of the emotional turmoil bubbling just under her everyday façade.

Opting to kill two birds with one question, Raven decided both to indulge her promise of emotional exploration while also attempting to draw Jinx's attention out of herself.

"Can I…ask you something?" Raven inquired as they walked, trying through her tone to veil her question in innocent, intellectual curiosity.

Jinx glanced over.

Raven kept her eyes ahead. "Why…didn't you ever say anything?"

From anyone else, such an utter non-sequitur might have prompted clarification. From Raven, however, and given the situation, Jinx grasped her meaning without much effort. She smirked. "Say what? Until a couple months ago, I liked guys—as far as I knew," she admitted with a chuckle.

"Rivalry," Raven acknowledged aloud, recalling their previous conversation. "So…what changed? When did you notice, I mean."

A spark of something in Jinx, a series of fleeting feelings—lightning fast, almost certainly involuntary—in response to the question. A mixture of intrigue and subtle curiosity that Raven had come to recognize as suspicion.

"I'm not sure ya wanna get into that."

Raven merely waited, allowing her silence to push the issue in a way that words could not.

"Don't do embarrassment, huh?" Jinx's smile widened, almost deviously. "Ya sure about that?"

This time, Raven met Jinx's glance. Still, however, she answered with silence.

Jinx shut her eyes a moment, losing none of her grin, then continued with a sigh, "When Kid Flash and I, uh… Well, when the uniforms came off, like I said, I wasn't really into it. But he's a nice guy, right? So he's very…generous," she implied.

Raven tightened her hold on her cloak somewhat to assure it stayed up, lest her blush betray her.

"He wants me to have fun, too. And I am," she added quickly. "But I mean, I'm just not really…and he wants me to, y'know…and I don't want to ruin it for him, hurt his feelings or whatever, so I start goin' through my head to find somethin' to, y'know, get it done, and…well…" Jinx let in insinuation trail off, pretty sure she'd gotten the point across.

"Oh," Raven replied simply, feeling a warmth spread across her face despite the cold wind.

Jinx went on like it was nothing. "So, yeah. After that, didn't uh…didn't take a whole lotta work to connect the dots," she said with another chuckle.

Raven, however, had since dropped the topic like a hot stone, her attention swallowed whole by the end of the mountain range—more than that, by the end of the mountain itself. She stopped, causing Jinx to do the same and her companion's smile to be replaced by a puzzled look.

"I have good news and bad news," Raven reported.

"Yeah?" Jinx asked in mild excitement. "What's the good news?"

"I know where we are."

"Okay…" Jinx became wary. "And the bad?"

"You aren't going to like it."

As the wind seemed to pick up in eerie recognition, Raven felt an unrelated chill scurry up her spine at the crumbled monolith before them, the graven image that must once have stood in conquest and unquestionable dominion over the land and far into the sky, whose fallen form had come to rest in the creation of the mountainside they had found, followed, and sought shelter within. Her eyes peered into it, and its peered into her, stone and cold and unblinking: the cracked and broken four-eyed visage of Trigon the Terrible.