A/N: It's a day late. So much for making my deadlines…

Currently the authoress is suffering from intense intestinal problems after consuming waaay too many cherries. There are other problems as well including, but not limited to, summer homework, community service commitments, and (shudder) college applications. Thanks to those who reviewed, (THANK YOU!), and to those who did not… well, I'm sure the guilt is just eating away at you. I do hope you enjoy this chapter. I had fun writing it

Session #4

It was never really her choice in the first place.

After all she had thousands upon thousands of years of human instinct and evolution against her. There were simply some things that could not be avoided or left unacknowledged no matter what her modern thought process might believe. And this was definitely one of those things.

She had barely begun to forgive him for his recent behavior, when he had gone and made things worse, much worse, in a way that could not be repaired with an apology. Perhaps he hadn't meant anything by it in the beginning, and perhaps it was just suppose to be another "pestering Raven moment", but whatever his original intentions had been, it had most certainly damaged the word friendship in a way that Raven feared was irreparable. He had never treated the term with much respect before, she had to admit, so perhaps it shouldn't have been such a surprise to her when he went and abused it beyond recognition.

There hadn't been any warnings, or foreshadowing, or any reason for it to have happened. Maybe fate was against them, or destiny was showing them that the crumbling thing they called a friendly relationship was not meant to last. Either way now Raven was dealing without boundaries or limitations or anything to grasp onto and call home.

It had happened a few days after the apology that was not an apology. They had gone to the local bookstore after lunch, just to browse, to mull about with the rest of society. Raven had found that there was a small thrill in normalcy, whether it was just standing in line, or passing by one another, and seeing faces that she did not know and would probably never know.

The titans did these things on occasion, perhaps just as a chance to experience the other side of themselves- the side that might have lived in a house and had a family and went to school. The half that might have been their wholes had those genes, or diseases, or accidents, or deaths not existed in their lives.

But it was just suppose to be another trip to the bookstore with Raven picking out her stack of 5 or 6 books, Starfire grabbing her usual magazines, Robin and Cyborg occasionally purchasing a book or two, and Gar leaving with a gameguide or a music CD. She had been browsing the fiction section, already toting the poems of Walt Whitman and Lord Byron under her arm when he had snuck up on her.

Actually, she had seen him walking down an aisle and purposely avoided it, but as she was rounding the corner he had come up behind her and stopped her dead by calling her name. She didn't particularly want to talk to him since lately her thoughts had been too dangerous and her emotions too prone to fluctuations. She didn't want to see him here either, following her in a pair of jeans that hung loose on his hips and a shirt that was wrinkled.

Seeing him like this made something in her chest ache, and she knew it had everything to do with how completely human he looked standing there- like maybe they were two people who knew each other and had met again by chance in a bookstore. And now he was calling her name in recognition, wanting to catch up on old times, wanting to talk with her and walk with her, like maybe they weren't going home to the same place and like maybe they didn't see each other everyday. She fell for it a little bit, saying his name in response.

"Gar?" And it even came out in a question as if she was also surprised to see him here.

"How are you doing? Got any good books?" He asked her, looking down pointedly at the two held beneath her arm. She noticed how his eyes only flickered to glance at the books and then after that how they remained firmly fixated on her face.

"Well I've been looking for some good poetry so I picked out Walt Whitman and Lord Byron." She explained. He nodded then held out a hand.

"Lemme have a look." She stiffened but handed him one anyways, watching as he flipped it open to the middle and began reading. It was hard to stand there and watch him, because her mind kept going back to stupid things like maybe he thought the poetry was dumb, or maybe he thought she was ridiculous, actually reading something so old and classical.

Her fingers played nervously with the engraving on the other book she held, feeling over the grooves that spelled Lord Byron. Raven turned, examining the other books on the shelf, and hearing the pages turn as she tried to focus on the titles she was reading. As far she knew, Garfield never read books. He had plenty of fun messing with hers but he never actually opened one up and tried to understand the words inside. It unnerved her to see him with his head bent over one and his green fingers flipping the pages.

"It's interesting." He said eventually, and her heart pulsed hard in surprise when he spoke.

"Interesting? Is that all you can say about one of America's greatest poets?" She asked, daring to put a teasing tone in her questions. But he ignored it and continued on anyways.

"It's different, and… very honest about everything. Like he just writes down whatever he's thinking." She noticed that he seemed caught somewhere between a grin and forced seriousness. He was fidgeting a little, still staring at the book and not quite meeting her eyes when he spoke.

"I'm not sure if I understand." She didn't like the way he seemed to be dancing around his thoughts.

"I don't know. It just doesn't seem like your type of poetry." He confessed and this time the edge of his lips did rise in a light smile. The heat rose in her face.

"What kind of statement is that!" She told him indignantly, "My type of poetry? Are you saying that I won't appreciate good literature? That his thoughts are too advanced for mine? You don't know anything about what I read!" This only provoked a laugh, something light and airy like his smile.

"Should I recite a passage?" He asked, his eyes glinting dangerously.

"Please do." She was still ruffled, and much too eager to prove him wrong for her to see what was coming, but when he read her the words it was like everything in her brain just exploded into silence.

"The poems of the privacy of the night, and of men like me,

This poem, drooping shy and unseen, that I always carry, and that all men carry,

The mystic amorous night—the strange half-welcome pangs, visions, sweats,

The pulse pounding through palms and trembling encircling fingers

The curious roamer, the hand, roaming all over the body—the bashful withdrawing of flesh where the fingers soothingly pause and edge themselves

The young man that flushes and flushes, and the young woman that flushes and flushes

The red lips parted, blooming with the sound of ecstasy."

He paused there, looking at her as if to say that he could continue. But she was sure that he knew the point had been won, and now she was flushing and flushing and hating herself, and hating him and hating Walt Whitman.

And it might have been okay if Gar had just blushed and apologized and handed the book back to her. Well, it probably wouldn't have been completely okay, but it would've been better.

"You misunderstood me, but now I think we can both agree that his poetry is a little...unique." And he grinned. She was shaking hard and trying to drive the poet out of her head so she could focus on salvaging the situation. It almost worked for a second, but he seemed to anticipate her motives.

"Do you always read such interesting books?" He asked coming forward a few steps. The book lay open in his hand, held loosely between his thumb and forefingers. The added intimacy sent her heart rate skyrocketing.

"I was not aware…" She mumbled, all the while dreadfully aware of her pink cheeks and the way he was giving her that tilted smile. She wanted him and his ideas out of her mind, wishing she could stop thinking about roaming hands and fingertips especially when he was so close. It was like he knew what was going through her brain, and she could tell by that cocky smile that he was enjoying every moment of it.

"It's perfectly healthy you know." He said advancing even more so that now she was tilting her head slightly to look up at him. And all the while Raven was thinking, he wouldn't dare, he wouldn't be so stupid… so selfish. But even as she was trying to convince herself, the room was shrinking rapidly around her, around them, making Gar and everything about him her only focus.

Raven had unwillingly begun to accept the fact that Gar, for lack of a better description, was a very sexual being. He was male of course, and like most male minds he probably couldn't help but focus on such matters. But there was more evidence to support her perception than just the subject of his gender. His movement, his body, his stance, his grin, the way he just looked at her sometimes, all of it seemed to bleed something almost erotic.

And he was doing that now, enjoying the way she stuttered and blushed and tried to back the hell away from him only to be foiled by a bookcase. He was becoming something else entirely- a thing of hot breath and heady scents and warm expanse.

And for God's sakes he wasn't even touching her! But he might have been for the way her skin seemed to crawl and writhe. She felt it all over like an unbearable itch, threatening to drive her mad if he didn't just… just…. do something. She couldn't figure out whether that something was leaving or another thing entirely.

"I'm not interested in those things." She managed to choke, and was quite proud to have even gotten the entire sentence out without tripping over her words. And she thought it had been the truth- was almost positive that it was the truth. Then he laughed low in his chest, turning her skin to gooseflesh, and Raven began to wonder if her body was betraying her words.

"Don't lie to me." He whispered. Her anger rose in a refreshing wave of familiar emotions. Albeit, the reaction had been delayed, but now Raven was suddenly afloat again, held there above the waves by the lifesaving feelings of fury and resentment. She felt the control return and flow through her veins reassuringly, driving out whatever her stress induced body had pumped into them.

And now, she could look him square in the eye, and remember just who he was and remember just who she was. And she knew that he was accusing her of being something other than Raven, and of feeling things that were unRavenly. She had an identity to protect, and no amount of sexual charisma was going to make her forget that duty.

"Don't insult me. I would not stoop to entertain such ideas." She sneered, happy to hear the bite was back in her voice. This caused a flicker of a frown on Gar's face, something of hurt mixed with confusion. The book snapped shut lightly in his hand, and he leaned even closer, which Raven didn't know was possible. It seemed there was only a sliver of air that separated their faces now. She could feel his breath hit her face.

"I am not asking you to stoop, but to rise up and meet them." He whispered and it seemed to suck out whatever air remained between them. She was drowning in his proximity again, just like in the hallway, and it was him that was filling up her lungs and it was him that was pumping into her heart and veins. The angry edge was fading into passive shock because he was almost pressed against her and his face was coming forward to settle itself close to hers.

Everything was noisy now, between the small breaths he took by her ear and the sound of her heart going off in rhythmic thuds. There was a nose tracing along the side of her face and a hand gripping the bookshelf on her right.

And oh…

...he was warm and the air was thick with something that made movements last for lifetimes. Her body was nothing but nerves, feeling every brush of skin on skin and every burst of air.

They were not in a bookstore. He was not Garfield. She was not Raven.

Lips brushed the bottom of her jaw almost accidentally, her mouth parted and exhaled, inhaled, smelled skin and hair and warmth. There was desperation and fear and want mixing a toxic combination in the air they breathed- something heady and powerful and intoxicating, so that she found herself tilting her head so that nose and mouth could whisper across her skin again.

The whoosh of air through lips and the feel of him against her- the feel of losing control and functioning on reflex alone. She would press forward only to encounter a flicker of hesitation which would draw her backwards again. It happened once, then twice, with noses barely brushing and eyes threatening to close.

But then there was a firm shape pressed against her stomach, and he was pulling away from the world they had been enclosed in. Her hands went to the shape, finding the book held there against her abdomen by his hand. She grabbed it, touching skin to skin again for the briefest of moments, then he was turning and walking away from her. She barely caught the grin shamelessly spread across his lips.

It had taken place in only a matter of seconds- just a few confusing moments of fumbling and stretching intimacy to the breaking point. They hadn't kissed, but it had been so close. If either of them had been trying in all seriousness...

But there had been a layer of hesitation sitting there between them like an invisible force field. She was panting now, Raven realized, her skin damp and her heart still pattering in her chest with the occasional weak flutter. And, the worst part was, she had wanted so badly to just tangle her fingers into his clothes or his hair and pull him in to feel the pressure of his lips. It had been the most powerful surge of raw desire she had ever felt, and it sure as hell scared the living daylights out of her (in retrospect).

And now she was wondering just what had been going through his mind, and what had given him the guts to just tempt her like that. She should have slapped him, or kneed him in the groin! Anything besides what she had done! Instead here she was leaning shakily on a bookshelf for support, while her lungs worked overtime to supply oxygen to her pounding heart. She clutch the book tighter, forced herself to breathe smoothly, and then almost felt like bursting into tears when she realized she had to go home with him.

He would be there in the mornings when she got up. He would be there at the dinner table every night. He would be there wandering around, just waiting to catch her off guard again. He would always be there haunting her with small touches and stolen glances and knowing looks, like he could read the most intimate parts of her mind. And he seemed hell bent on exploring those unfamiliar parts of her personality, taking to the challenge with such… enthusiasm, that it made her wonder what sort of satisfaction or reward he was trying to get out of it. She jumped about a foot in the air when all of a sudden Victor stuck his head around the corner and called her name.

"Yo Raven! We're leaving soon!" He yelled and she hastily tried to compose herself, smoothing her shirt and taking deep, even breaths.

"Yeah, okay. I'll go pay then." She called back. She was almost to the register when suddenly she stopped, grabbed one of the books from beneath her arm and set it on one of the sale shelves. Walt Whitman could go to hell.

---

The air was crisp and the leaves crunched underfoot as the five of them walked down the street. Overall it was another pleasant autumn afternoon in Jump City. They passed a bakery and Raven's nose picked up on the scent of pies and bread fresh from the oven. Even in her current state of trauma and panic, she found herself relaxing, which might have had everything to do with the fact that Garfield was walking on the far end of their group.

Maybe, she thought, this was his way of making it up to her. Maybe he was giving her space and time to recover.

And maybe not… because when she glanced over he met her eyes and let that telltale smile spread over his features. Then he was turning away and laughing at something Victor had told him, loud and joyous as ever. No guilty conscious nagging at his mind.

"Raven, you seem to be feeling better." Starfire noted.

"I suppose." She replied, not really believing herself.

"You are so secretive my friend." She mused, staring intently at Raven with her large green eyes.

"I like dealing with things on my own."

"It would not hurt to have some company every once in a while, I think. If you ever need to just… get away, you can always come shopping with me, or maybe we could just go to lunch." Raven glanced up at her and allowed herself a small smile for Starfire's sake.

"That might be nice. I'll think about it."

"We are the only two girls in the tower. It might be helpful and beneficial for both of us to spend time together. There are some things that can only be shared between two females." Starfire reasoned. Her logic was not lost on Raven, but years of solitude made her feel awkward and hesitant.

She thanked her friend anyways, and they chatted casually as they walked along. This type of companionship was soothing after her heated encounter in the bookstore. There were no hormones or sweaty palms or racing hearts. It was light conversation with occasional giggles or smiles that warmed her with simple comforts. She actually was beginning to let it get to her, between the nice weather and the smell of autumn and coffee shops.

Something brushed against her hand lightly, and the touch barely registered in her mind as she conversed with Starfire. But then it happened again and again and when she turned to glance at who or what she was brushing against, Raven practically stopped right there in the middle of the street.

It was Gar, strolling casually alongside her with the back of his hand gently brushing along hers as they walked. Starfire smiled at him in surprise. Like Raven she had been unaware of him up until that moment.

"What are you doing here?" Raven snapped. He was ruining the mood, turning her pleasant evening into another battle and it was seriously starting to tick her off. Whenever he was around she was forced to put up wall after wall of protective barriers to keep him out. It was hard work fighting him in these discreet ways, whether she was flinging sarcastic comments at him or just outright ignoring him.

Gar didn't look at her. He just kept that strong profile pointed ahead, arms swinging loosely by his sides. Back and forth, skin touching skin with every swaying movement. She made to move away, to put more space there between them so that annoying little burst of contact would stop distracting her. But then his fingers snagged hers on a downward stroke, holding them firmly while Raven felt herself go pink. He was holding her hand.

---

It was so much easier to hate him when he wasn't around. Those were the times when she built up her arsenal, creating reason after reason to dislike him and then spoon feeding those reasons to whatever part of her went soft and stupid whenever he came around. But all her ranting and raving and sessions of denial still didn't stop the memories or the night sweats.

When her mind wandered, it wandered to him. When she dreamt, it was often of him. She was always coming back to him in her thoughts and remembering the feel of him, the smell of him, the details that meant nothing and everything- the shape of his hand, the slightly pointed tooth that would sometimes rest fang-like on a green lip.

When she was with him every sense was on high alert and every possible wall, physical and mental, was placed between them. When she was alone, the barriers came down and her mind bubbled with repressed thought. At night, in a moment of weakness, she would sometimes think of him and a physic tendril might leak out to seek his presence, just to feel him there and find reassurance in his warm, buzzing thoughts.

It was so wrong, so terribly terribly wrong. She didn't like him in that way! She had never liked him in that way! What was he to her but another brainless male? It would have been so much easier if he had just stayed Beast Boy, all annoying, clumsy, skinny boy whose only interests were vegan food items and gaming consoles.

But then he had to go and grow up and ruin everything! Now they were stuck, with thoughts of friendship now and forever damned to the farthest reaches of their universe. It was all uncharted territory with Raven roaming hopelessly through this confusing new world. A new world in which Garfield drew lazy circles on her back, pressed her against walls and bookshelves, and held her hand.

But she'd be lying if she said she didn't like that last part at least a little bit.

A/N: It feels like it took ages to write this and yet it's still so short! Well, don't want to rush things do we? I mean what fun would it be if I just went okay "kiss, smooch, slobber" and was done with it?

Inspiration was drawn from Becoming Jane, a movie which had me sighing and sobbing for the remainder of my evening. I recommend it to any hopeless romantic like myself. And I apologize for any typos once again. Proof-reading is not my forte.

Critique and Review please.

I would like to know what you liked and disliked so that I can improve my writing and make my readers happy. Next chapter to be up sometime between the end of this week and the middle of next.