Volte-Face

I hate German class. We've learned all of six verbs in the entire first quarter.

Thank you…
APurpleAvacado- Safe clinical levals are good. xD
Symmetrical- Your review cracked me up. Dunno why... And yes, OTP pretty much means "favorite pairing." It's 'Only True Pairing'... I think...
kill the flamers
Mutou Yasu- Yup, just a dream. How would they have ended up at a train station anyway...?
BadluckGoodluck- I love when people do that, by the way. So you get a super thanks... (hands super thanks)
ferretgirl-1124- Who, me? An evil little wench? I have no idea what you're talking about...
Jinxed Ravyn
rynnsloveless
Yu-Yu- You only fav'd me just now? xD

So, due to band and school, this chapter's delay was ridiculous. Since band is ending with this Friday's game, I'm happy to say that I'll have extensively more time and energy to dedicate to writing. (I seriously haven't been able to write productively since August. Yick.)

Just a fun fact about a test we took Thursday: The literacy of America is sinking. The proof? The national vocabulary test used lyrics to "Status Quo" (yes, High-School Musical lyrics!) to prompt the essay. I don't know if that's pathetic, or if that's pathetic. Or maybe that's pathetic…

Sorry for another obligatory Freud quote. (Heh.) It was either that, or a Doyle quote… which I'm going to end up using anyway, later…

"The interpretation of dreams is the royal road to a knowledge of the unconscious activities of the mind."
—Sigmund Freud

Vividly, but in a definite dream, she could hear the rain.

Raven opened her eyes to the falling drops of water, taking a breath in, her lungs swelling with renewed life. The air was cold but fresh. She was standing somewhere solid—somewhere dark, with a single bright circle of light in the middle of it.

Voices clattered into her subconscious and she winced at the sound of sirens and a megaphone. Figures faded in around her, moving and yelling in voices she couldn't understand. Robin was next to her, shimmering translucently against the dark background. She could see herself between Cyborg and Beast Boy but her back was turned and, from the stiffness of her shoulders, something was utterly wrong.

Raven turned her vision to the other side where Karen stood, hands in fists at her thigh. Each of the two younger boys on her team clutched a leg, faces half buried in her jeans.

Jerking her vision around again, Raven realized that none of them were in uniform. Not only that—but their faces were those of fighters on a mission… But it was as if they'd already admitted defeat.

The sirens came in clearly now and halfway across the darkness, cruisers and officers were settling themselves on a cliff that her mind had only vaguely formed. The blackness they stood on turned into the pitch-colored tar of a parking lot, painted lines worn and faded with time.

And then the ground started shaking. The outer lines of massive vehicles formed, etching their way onto the cliff through the rain and noise.

Tanks. Army-green tanks, followed by a squadron of Armed Forces.

Finally, the creaking became loud and apparent in her mind. Over Robin's voice and the megaphones the police were holding, a scratching, scraping noise rasped over the pavement, and what had to be a herd of robots appeared on the far side of the circle, past the brightness in the center. Something glinted in the horde of clanking; a two-toned mask with an eye on one side and slits at the bottom.

Her perspective changed and suddenly she was just behind a silhouette, viewing the circle from a new location. She was moving without moving, seeing through the eyes of someone else, and she could feel the person's breath catch as the eyes met the center of the circle: the brightest area.

Raven didn't understand. No one was there. She felt her breath—the person's breath—become irregular, her heartbeat skipping and jumping as it bruised her ribs.

Slowly, ever so slowly, a figure appeared in the splotch of light. He'd been there before, she guessed, but the other eyes she was seeing through didn't focus on him.

Roy was screaming, defiant in demeanor, legs spread apart in a furious stance; his hair hung across his face, but it was ineffably him. He was wet and bedraggled, and even though his face was clean-shaven, his usually-trimmed hair was a long mop, his bangs hanging to his sallow cheekbones.

And then her view blurred and changed, and she could only see through one eye. Something had happened—two silhouettes were in the circle of light now, a dark-haired man on the ground while a gun extended toward him from the redhead's hand.

Raven felt her arm raise and—in the instant she realized she was holding a gun as well—pulled the trigger, sending a single bullet into the boy's side.

Raven gasped in a breath, back in her own body, staring up at the darkened ceiling. One tremor wracked through her body and then she was shaking, teeth clacking involuntarily. Her breath grew short and her veins iced over, worsening the trembling.

She pushed herself to stand, a newborn fawn struggling toward the doorway. The sound of the bullet whistling into flesh spurred her to move faster.

It took too long to get to Robin's room, and even longer for her to type in the access code with such quaking fingers. She could hear herself whispering but it didn't register—all she could truly hear was the thunder, the robots, the bullets. The floor still shook from the tanks.

"Robin—" she gasped out as the door slid open. She flicked the lights on and caught her reflection in the wardrobe mirror—her hair was mussed, her eyes wide and insane, her cloak twisted around her neck where she'd neglected it.

"Robin?" She turned to the empty bed numbly. "Robin!"

A jutting shriek came unintentionally from her lips as the bathroom door flew open. Robin, dripping wet, stared at her in annoyance; but then he caught her expression and went rigid, taking quick steps to reach for her.

"What—?"

"Robin, he's going to shoot Garth—a-and there will be tanks, and cruisers—and Speedy gets a gun; he's in the middle—"

"What? Who's going to shoot Aqualad?"

"Slade! Slade, Robin! He's going to be there with those robots, across from us, across from the tanks—"

"Wait, hold on," Robin said, expression softening. His tone was urgent but slow. "Raven, you need to calm down. All right?"

"But—"

"Shh…" He gestured to the bed. "Sit, okay?"

"But… he… I… Fine." She took a breath and obliged, watching as he stepped into the bathroom. When he came back out, he was in a white bathrobe, the towel that had previously been around his waist over one arm.

"Start from the beginning," he said calmly. "Was this a vision?"

"A dream—I fell asleep reading—but it was so—"

"Shh," he urged again. "Just stay calm. Why was Slade there?"

"I don't know!" A particularly violent quake shook her slight frame. "He was watching Speedy and Aqualad, who were in the middle of the circle—"

"Circle of what?"

"Of… of people," she tried. "It was Slade and his robots, the Titans, and then the government. And they were all there for Speedy, I think."

Robin pursed his lips. "Didn't you say Aqualad got shot?"

"He did—he was on the outside of the circle, then he went to Speedy, ended up on the ground with Speedy's gun in his face, and Slade shot him…"

Alarm passed through Robin's eyes, but he hid it quickly. "Speedy had a gun… pointed at Aqualad?"

"Yes—I think Speedy knocked Garth down and then… I don't know. But he had this vicious look on his face—"

"Raven," Robin repeated, sitting beside her on the mattress. "Right now, I just need to know if you think your dream… vision… thing… is going to really happen; and if so, when."

"I…" She shook her head, still winded. "Azar, I don't know. Why would Slade be after Speedy, Garth, or any of us?"

Robin nodded. "He hasn't showed his face in months."

"But," she suddenly said, "it played out exactly like a real vision would, forming in flashes and solid pictures, switching views and everything…"

"And why would Speedy want to shoot Aqualad? He… er, likes him…"

Raven's blank look made Robin move to his feet and start pacing. "Are you saying Speedy really is imagining his… feelings?" He clenched and unclenched his fists, doing quick laps along the length of the room. "Raven, is this jeopardizing the team? Would Speedy really hurt him?"

She just shook her head again. Her face had grown pale and now Robin's pallor was nearing the same shade.

"He couldn't go to Slade, could he?" Robin spat the man's name with foul bitterness. "I mean, making waves is one thing—if they're going to end up surrounded by supervillains and Armed Forces…!"

"I know," Raven sighed. "And I didn't see anything but that event. If it's true, we have nothing to stop what's happening. If it's false… well, we won't know until the moment passes."

Robin froze, turned. "Moment?"

She gave a grim nod. "When Speedy runs away."

xXx

He could hear the bells ringing a low, dreary chime that announced a marriage taking place. Slow, treading through mud, Garth ran down the road, swerving cars and not caring if the crunching of metal were car wrecks he had caused. He had to stop the wedding.

He finally reached the chapel, white doors glowing. His hand burned when he touched the handle but he endured the sensation, yanking them out of his way. The light from outside threw long shadows across the dim room.

Torches lit in a neat row toward the altar, where three figures stood. One of them was the minister, long and elegant in coattails, singular eye roving for the interruption that made him stop. The bronze half of his mask glittered in the firelight, shimmering eerily.

The groom stood to the left, top hat stretching high. In his right hand was an iron manacle, held as if it were fragile. In his left hand was the pale hand of his fiancée.

The bride herself glowed in pure white, the veil hiding her face, her hand offered to her to-be husband in a delicate gesture.

"Place the ring on the bride's hand," the minister continued, ominous voice echoing throughout the empty room.

The groom's mouth contorted into a grotesque smile and he yanked the bride's arm toward him, snapping the manacle around her wrist. She whimpered, but said nothing.

"You may kiss the bride."

The groom removed his hat, flames licking up from where hair should've been, and he leaned forward to kiss his bride.

As soon as the veil was out of her face, Garth felt nauseated. Her ashen skin was marred and blackened, cut up and bleeding in several places. She raised her hand to wipe her face and her entire arm came away bloody, blackening as the affliction spread.

But the groom still leaned closer, kissing her anyway, and Garth realized what was happening. Her skin started to darken and bubble, but she wrapped her arms around him, hands boiling where they touched his hair.

"Stop!" Garth yelled, running in slow motion. "You're burning her!"

The air was acrid with burning flesh and he could suddenly hear screaming, a horrible shriek of pain and terror. His own face started to burn; he covered it with his hands, making them catch fire. He felt his skin bubbling, the flesh on his fingers boiling off until he could see the muscles under them. Something black was moving through his muscles, worms digging toward the surface, burning as they crawled up his charred arm.

"Stop!" he shouted, but the scene blurred and the only thing he could see was the fire, and then a tan face smirked back at him, green eyes and voice familiar.

"What can I say?" the groom said, and it suddenly hit Garth that it was Roy—a burning, detested Roy that was spreading the fire and causing pain to a bride who must've been Ra—

Garth hit the carpet of his bedroom and shot upright, blinking and confused. Breathing heavily, he looked around, the dim light of the fishtanks glowing enough to see that the room was empty—no fire, no couple, no reason to be as covered in sweat as he was.

And then the door slid open, a coughing, hunched figure in the doorway, sleepy eyes surveying the darkness.

"What are you yelling about?" Roy wondered, turning on the light as he stepped through the doorway. He coughed again and sniffed. "Bad dream make you fall outta bed, Fishface?"

Garth adjusted himself on the carpet, clawing through the blankets until he got his legs free. "It was nothing," he finally answered, settling on the edge of the mattress with as much dignity as possible. "Might I ask what you're doing near my room?"

Garth could've sworn he saw the archer blush, but it was a passing fact—any tinge of pink was overpowered by pallid hues. Maybe it was the lighting, but Roy looked sickly; leaning forward where he sat, the Atlantean saw a glimmer of sweat coating Roy's entire face.

Another cough started off the archer's explanation. "Bee said you have the over-the-counter medicine in your bathroom—the ones we had to move out of the Infirmary 'cause it was too cluttered."

Roy could see a smirk forming on his teammate's face, but apparently Aqualad valued health over being right—he had meandered to the bathroom, and from the slamming of the cabinets, Roy figured he was looking for medications.

"Before I gloat and say 'I told you so,' what would you like?" Garth asked from through the door.

"What is this, a restaurant?"

A mess of black hair poked out around the doorframe; the Atlantean's expression was one of exasperation. "What're your symptoms?"

Roy considered for a moment before speaking; in the pause, he took the liberty of collapsing onto the mattress. "Bee said I had a fever… my head feels thick, my throat hurts, the area behind my eyes aches… Is 'feels like shit' a symptom?"

Garth chuckled wearily, emerging with a pair of pills and a paper cup of water. "Take these, and get out of my room."

Question: What's not going to be in the next chapter? A) Bed-related awkwardness, B) blankets and tea, C) Karen bee-ing sneaky, D) Starfire buying porn or E) naked Aqualad (mm-mm)?

(…bad pun…)