Chapter Six
"So," said Beast Boy, holding up a finger, "Robin, Star, and Cy get an alert – the police had been anonymously tipped off – and they end up at the deserted part of town, which is not suspicious at all, by the way. Nothing seems to be amiss, so they poke around the area, Cy does some scanning, but nothing comes up. Then they decide to check out the library, and it literally blows up in their faces, and now we have this charming little centerpiece for our kitchen table." By that he meant the piece of rubble with the marking. Beast Boy folded his arms and nodded to himself in smug satisfaction. "I believe that covers everything, doesn't it?"
"Uh…" Robin raised an eyebrow. "More or less…"
"Well, the answer is obvious, then," said Beast Boy.
"It is?" asked Starfire, confused. "I do not see it."
"Yeah," Cyborg added, giving Beast Boy a look of skepticism. "Why don't you explain it to us, genius?"
Beast Boy scratched a spot on the back of his neck. "I would, but why steal Robin's thunder? Go ahead, Rob, this one's all yours."
Robin sighed. His gaze shifted restlessly about the room as he spoke, as if he were trying to pluck the truth from thin air.
"Well," he started, the little notch between his brows deepening in thought, "the way I see it, two things have happened in the last two days – the museum robbery, and the explosion. I won't even go into the thief's attack on the tower. And both of those things seem to have something in common. Don't you think so, Raven?"
They were all standing around the kitchen table and the stone slab with the death-mark. Raven was the only one seated, at the end of the table, her head in her hand, fingers tangling the short brown hair. She stared at the piece of rubble. Her mind seemed to spin, turning it all over, digesting, but she couldn't make anything out of it and she couldn't remember where she had seen the mark before or if she had seen it at all.
When Robin addressed her, she looked up from the stone for the first time since she had come in. She felt broken-down. Her injuries throbbed. Even as she stared at him, her eyes were looking backwards, into the past, where there was nothing but mist and the dark place of forgetting.
"What you're saying," said Raven finally, "is that the events are connected."
"That's what I'm saying," Robin nodded.
"I guess that much is obvious." Raven screwed her eyes shut for a moment and rubbed.
"They both go back to you. Do you have any idea why these things are happening?" he asked.
"No," she answered hollowly.
"We've been over this already, man," Cyborg interjected, glancing at her. His voice seemed to come from somewhere far away. "Maybe you should just drop it."
Robin wasn't listening.
"Are you sure you don't remember anything about this symbol?" he asked again, leaning one hand on the table, leaning a bit closer to her. Intimidation tactic. He probably didn't even realize he was doing it, but Raven did.
"Yes," she hissed in a flare of defiance. So what if they didn't trust her? So what, so what…
Robin pulled back. "I'm sorry, Raven, it's just – you've hidden things from us before. I want you to feel like you can tell us anything…"
"Yes, Raven," said Starfire, approaching her from Robin's other side. "We are your friends, are we not? We will listen to you."
Raven stared them for a long moment. All the feeling seemed to drain out of her.
"I do trust you," she said slowly, standing up. "Do you trust me?"
"Of course we do," Robin replied, and the others nodded in assent.
Her voice hardened. "Then please believe me when I say I don't remember. I wish I had something useful to tell you, but there's nothing. There's just nothing there." She shook her head. "All I know is this – you recognize the Mark of Scath, don't you? This line here –" Raven traced a finger over the sweeping slash that cut across Scath's symbol " – On Azarath, you draw a mark like that over the name of somebody who is dead."
"…Or somebody you want to be dead." Robin leveled his gaze at her.
"That's right," said Raven heavily, dropping her eyes to the table top. "Obviously, the target here was Trigon, but he's not around anymore…"
"So they're after you," Beast Boy murmured, voicing the thought that had begun to take root in her mind.
Raven's eyes darted in his direction. He was giving her a hard, fierce look. She glanced away.
Robin toyed with the idea. "Then it could be that the museum robbery was just a ploy to weaken Raven… that the jewel was a weapon to use against her..."
"That doesn't make sense," said Cyborg. "If that were the case, why didn't the thief just kill her when he came to the tower? He had the perfect opportunity."
"Perhaps he made a mistake…?" Starfire suggested.
"Maybe," Cyborg replied, with a note of skepticism in his voice. "But in that case, whay go through the trouble of staging the museum robbery at all?"
Robin growled with frustration. "We just don't know enough yet. I'm going to go ahead and send that rendering of our thief to the police – Raven, we'll go to the museum curator tomorrow. Now –"
"Wait," said Raven, swallowing a welling-up of tension at the idea. "Before we do anything else we should get rid of this – this thing." She gestured toward the piece of rubble.
"Why?" Robin asked.
"Depending on what spells are on it, it could be used to – I don't know – listen in on us, or even gain access to the tower."
"There are spells that can do that?" said Cyborg, raising his eyebrow.
Raven shot him a dark look. "There are spells that can do anything."
"How 'bout a spell for that attitude?" he muttered, but with Cyborg she always knew he didn't really mean it. He filled the space in her life thatshe supposeda brother might have taken.Raven chose not to listen.
"Right," said Robin, bringing everyone back to business. "We'll destroy it, then, and – Raven, since the enemy seemsconnected toyour home world, are there any wards you could put up to protect the tower?"
She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "I could try, but… I won't be able to reinforce any of them, so they would only be as powerful as they are inherently. And if whoever did this really wanted to invade the tower, I don't think a simple ward could stop them."
If she'd had her powers, she might have been able to create one strong enough. But… no use dwelling on that.
"We can try it anyway," said Robin. Then he looked around at all of them. "Let's get to work."
The rest of that day was spent in a flurry of activity. Raven put up the wards, but she didn't have much faith in them. After that she attempted to research the symbol in her old books, but she wasn't surprised when she found nothing.
At the end of the day, she felt the kind of hopelessness that she hadn't experienced since Trigon had come to earth. She sensed that she could do nothing to stop this – the symbol, her powers, death, winding all together and carrying her away. Especially now, she could do nothing to stop it.
The monks used to say, so long ago now, what will come, will come. And it was a terrible thing, but Raven believed them.
The museum curator was an elderly man, but it seemed misleading to describe him as such. Although his hair was white, his skin finely wrinkled, there was a look of athletic strength about him and he stood straight and tall. He wore a crisp gray suit, and everything about him looked clean. His name was Allen Darber.
Raven looked blandly at him when he smiled in greeting – his smile was uncomfortable, as if rarely used – and Robin, who had accompanied her as he said he would, offered his gloved hand.
"Welcome, welcome," said the curator, Mr. Darber, ushering them into his office. "We may speak privately here. Please, take a seat."
There were two chairs before the great oak desk, which Mr. Darber sat behind. Robin and Raven took the chairs offered to them. Looking about the room, Raven could see shelves filled with books and other curious odds and ends lining most all the wall-space.
Mr. Darber steepled his finders and peered down at them. "I have, of course, looked over the museum's files on the stolen item – to be frank, they are largely incomprehensible. I was not aware that any of our records had been left in such a state by my predecessor. Before this, I have had not occasion to look over the information on this particular item…."
"May we see these records," said Robin. It was not a question.
If Mr. Darber was phased at all, he did not show it. "Certainly. I have already ordered my staff to prepare copies, but I don't know how much use you will have for them. There is very little information to be found – where the item was discovered and when, I do not know. All we can say for sure is that the item is a ruby of great size, but I begin to doubt even that after what has happened."
Raven looked sharply at Robin. He had told the curator about her powers…? She felt a sting of betrayal, but… what did it really matter, anyway? She wondered why she was even there. Surely Robin could handle this on his own.
"What do you think happened?" asked Robin.
"I could not begin to tell you," Mr. Darber sighed. He looked at Raven "But the girl is much changed, is she not?"
Raven had not cared a great deal about the proceedings until then, wanting distance and solitude and clarity. But at those words she looked up at the curator, frowning fiercely. Mr. Darber was smiling his uncomfortable smile, and there was a gleam of intense interest in his eye. He leaned forward a bit, as if he could not contain himself.
"Please," he said to Raven, "I am most interested to hear, from your perspective, what it was that occurred here two nights ago."
Raven glanced sideways at Robin. He nodded slightly at her. She turned back to the curator and narrowed her eyes.
"What do you mean by that?" she asked, not willing to trust him.
Mr. Darber leaned back in his chair. He sighed. "To think that an object of such power sat in this very building for years – and we all thought we had it pegged for what it was. To have what seemed a sure thing proved false – actually, it is a trifle embarrassing. But it causes one to wonder, what else could be out there, hiding before our very eyes?"
He turned to address Robin. "I assume that, once recovered, the artifact will not be returned to this museum, correct?"
Robin shook his head. "We can off you a compensation…"
"Later, later," said Mr. Darber, holding up a hand. He looked back to Raven. "It seems I can no longer claim to have a professional interest in the item, so call it a – personal curiosity, if you will. I simply wish to know, so I ask you once more, would you tell me what happened to you here?"
Raven stared at him. "Why should I?" she asked bluntly.
"Raven," said Robin, glaring at her. She glared right back with a swell of righteous anger.
"He has no information for us. He said so himself. So why should we – why should I have to tell him anything? There's nothing to gain here. You could have just collected the files and left."
There. She'd said her piece. There was a grim satisfaction that came with that. Not enough to loosen the knot in her stomach, though. She felt sick. Her injuries ached, but she hadn't brought any extra painkillers. In her mind's eye she could see the spot where it hadhappened, and that made cool, wet chills run through her. She had passed that spot on the way to the curator's office. It was difficult to miss.
Why was she here? Why had Robin brought her along at all?
"Raven, we don't have anything to lose, either," said Robin. She wanted to hit him. More than that, she wanted to get back to the tower, to her painkillers and her books and her quiet places.
"There's not a lot to tell," she said after a moment, folding her arms peevishly. "I tried to use my powers on the ruby, then I blacked out. When I woke up, my powers were gone."
Behind the desk, Mr. Darber raised an eyebrow. "Riveting."
"That's all there is," Raven shrugged. Whatever Robin said, she would not go into the absent memories, the mysterious symbol, all that chaos.
"Are you certain?" asked Mr. Darber. "You remember nothing more?
"Nothing," Raven told him.
"Strange," murmured Mr. Darber, stroking his chin in thought. "Most interesting."
"And you don't know what it could be?" Robin asked.
Mr. Darber shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. I had hoped one of you might have some insight that would… put the pieces into place, so to speak."
"I'm sorry we couldn't be of much help," replied Robin, looking pointedly at Raven. What did he want from her?
Mr. Darber inclined his head politely. "I will have the files brought up for you."
"Those files… they were put together by the previous curator, weren't they?" said Robin. "Is it possible that he knew something that he didn't put down on record?"
"If he did, he has taken the secret to his grave," Mr. Darber sighed. "Most unfortunate. But considering the state of the records on this item in particular, it is a logical assumption that perhaps some things were meant to be kept hidden. Then again, he was a very old man when he died, and I think we should not come to conclusions so hastily."
"How long ago did he die, if you don't mind my asking?"
"No, I did not know the man personally. It's close to six months now – you see, I have not had time to look over all of the records myself. I did not know any of them were left in such disarray…"
"We understand," said Robin, but Raven was only half listening. "Thank you for your time."
"You're most welcome," Mr. Darber smiled. "And I invite you to return to speak with me any time you please."
Raven already knew that was not going to happen. Just down the hall was the place where the jewel had sat. She itched all over, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to leave this place and the curator and the pounding in her head. However, she was forced to sit through several more minutes of small talk before Robin finally collected the files that they needed.
Walking out of the museum, Raven's strides were long and quick. Robin almost had to jog to keep up, but she did not care whether he did or not.
"I know how difficult it must have been for you to come back here," Robin said, as they climbed into the car they had taken. Robin was in the driver's seat. "But you could have been more helpful."
Raven stared out the window. Her reflection in the glass was startling. Brown eyes, brown hair – funny, that. She had always imagined it would be black in a situation like this.
"I don't see how. I told him the truth."
"Fine," said Robin, skirting the issue. "How are you feeling?"
She closed her eyes. Things washed over her, and away. Out the window, the city rushed on by.
"Why did we meet with him?" she asked. "We don't know anything now that we didn't know before."
Robin sighed heavily. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to…. But if you ever do, I… I'm here."
Raven bit her lip.
"Anyway," he went on, putting aside the moment, "it's best to leave no stone unturned. We need to be as thorough as we possibly can."
"Okay," she said, quietly.
Raven resented her friends' attempts to keep an eye on her. Most of the time it was painfully obvious what they were trying to do. And she had no desire to be anybody's burden, to be cosseted and cared for like a little child. She had never been a child like that.
It had taken her long enough to let her friends into her solitary life. She did not want them intruding any further.
But…
"So then I showed him that the controller had been unplugged the whole time," Cyborg paused above the open hood of the T-car and laughed at the memory. "It didn't make a difference! – hey, hand me the socket wrench, would ya?"
Lulled by the sound of his voice, Raven absently handed him the tool – he accepted it without even looking up from what he was doing. Sometimes he would ask her to help, but the rest of the time she would sit cross-legged atop one of the many storage crates and listen to him talk.
He told her funny stories, usually at the expense of Beast Boy, or he ranted about Robin, or whatever else was on his mind. She didn't have to say much, and that was the way she liked it and Cyborg didn't seem to mind it either.
"This one time, last April Fool's, me and Robin were trying to set up the GameStation so that B.B. would be rigged to lose –" here Cyborg stopped to fiddle with a few things about the engine "– And I told Robin not to touch the blue wires or the red ones, but…" he chuckled in reminiscence, "… Mr. Leader went ahead and did it anyway – his hair stood on end all over, like a – a Chia-Pet. Screamed like a little girl, too – no offense, Rae."
"None taken," she responded mildly. Staring at the garage floor, slick with oil and grease spots, she thought about Robin. She thought about things he had said to her.
"Cyborg…" she began, after a moment, "Do you think that I… that I act like I'm alone?"
Cyborg stopped working on the engine to look at her. "Who said that? Robin?"
Raven said nothing. Her eyes flicked to the side. Cyborg nodded and glanced back down at the car.
"I dunno, Rae. You're a pretty private person…"
She rolled her eyes, feeling bitter. "I'll take that as a yes."
But Cyborg slammed his hand down on the side of the car. His eyes burned holes in her, and she shrank back. "It's not like that, okay? Why d'ya gotta take it like that? Even when you blow us off, or stay shut up in your room, or whatever, we're still your friends. So just…" he sighed, and there was a great release of tension, "it doesn't even matter – Robin's an idiot."
Raven stared hard at the floor. "I'm sorry," she said after a moment. "I never looked at it that way."
"S'okay," Cyborg shrugged his massive shoulders.
She shook her head. "No, it's not."
"Hey, hand me the plyers for a minute," he said, seeming not to hear.
"I cannot understand! In what manner have I been mistaken?" exclaimed Starfire, hands on her hips. It was evening, and the last of the sunlight was hitting the roof of Titan's Tower, and making everything golden. Starfire stood before a row of tiny, potted gardenias, each with an offering of meat before it, big slabs of steak that had probably belonged to Cyborg. The flowers were wilted, some turning to brown, dry husks. The steaks looked unhealthily green.
"Um…" said Raven, for want of anything else. "Starfire…"
"Although I have prepared the offering of sustenance, no consumption has occurred! Perhaps it was the substitution of earthly meat for the customary roasted okarens? But I have not heard of any okarens on this planet, so I have concluded that must not be the case. Friend Raven, please advise me – I believe that my potted plants do not wish to live!"
Raven put her head in her hand and rubbed her eyes.
"Why did you bring out the steaks, again?" she said finally, not entirely sure that she wanted to know.
"On Tamaran that is the way we tend to our plant life," Starfire explained, as though it were common knowledge. "An offering of meat must be placed out, so that the plant will not accidentally consume other organic matter or life forms… This is not the proper way to care for seedlings of earth?"
"Not exactly…" said Raven, trying to imagine the carnivorous plant life of Tamaran.
Starfire clasped her hands together. "What must I do?"
"Well, first you should get rid of the rotting meat," Raven told her. "All they really need is sunlight and a little water."
"That is all…?" Starfire echoed, looking at the gardenias with a little bit of awe. "So simple – the Earth is truly a wondrous planet!"
A long moment passed, and then Raven smiled.
She did not want them intruding any further. Good things could not last, and it was useless to try to forget.
The monks used to say at prophecy, so long ago now, what will come, will come.
A/N: Another one of those transition chapters, kind of. I wanted to get a little of Raven's relationships with the other titans, so there you go. Also, I think Raven is a pretty fatalistic character, at times (like when she knocked out all the other titans and went with Slade to summon Trigon in 'The End'),so she's feeling a little hopeless right now. Things are spinning out of her control.
Thanks for all reviews! Every author loves to hear some feedback, and you guys are great, really. Please let me know what you think. I'd be very interested to know :)
Next time: Expect the unexpected...
