My Life

Chapter Eleven: Phenomenon

This is impossibly, unbelievably wrong.

How so?

Well, for one thing, Mom isn't the girlfriend type. At all. I mean, as long as I've known her, she's never been in a relationship with anybody.

Who's to say she couldn't have one in her past? As far as you know, this mystery man could quite possibly be –

Don't say it.

I'm just suggesting that –

I know what you're suggesting, and I don't want to hear it. Can't you see I'm in shock? I need a moment to absorb all of this. To say it makes it all the more …

Real? True?

No. Terrifying.

Why would you be afraid of your –

Don't –

– father?

Oh, God. See? See what you did? You had to go and say it, didn't you? Now I can't stop shaking.

Relax, Remi. Open your mind up a little and you'll understand –

Will you just shut up for one stinking second and let me think? Geez.

As you can probably tell by now, I wasn't exactly in a listening mood. Sitting in the fetal position by the foot of my bed, rocking gently back and forth with the photograph in hand and looking at it with a gaze as wide and frightful as a deer in headlights, I was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Well, who wouldn't be if you found what I just found? Learned what I just learned? All these years, and not once have I received a clue as to who my – well, you know – might possibly be. And now, all of a sudden, a possible key to open all the locked doors and unleash all the answers to my many questions just happens to find its way into my world.

And here I am, holding it like it was a bomb about to explode.

For the past twenty minutes, I've been staring at it, observing every tiny detail and storing it into my brain for Knowledge to scan over. So far, I've ascertained quite a lot of new information.

The Raven in the picture is certainly my mother, only younger. I can do the math, too. This picture was taken roughly around the year before I was born. My mom at the time of my birth was twenty-one years old.

She had flat, violet hair just above her shoulders – longer than it is today, but shorter than my own style. Something caught my attention, and my gaze trailed to her forehead. A tiny red diamond-shaped mark was in the dead center of her forehead, perfectly placed and absolutely symmetrical. With that touch, she didn't quite look like my mother. She looked like a stranger from India. However, her eyes were the same as they are now, even if her features were more defined. She had curves then that she no longer has now. And her skin was as ashen as ever.

After a long time looking Mom over, I reluctantly decided to move on to the unidentified man. And what I saw left me more than surprised.

Originally I thought, back in that old and abandoned bedroom of Hell, it was a trick in the lighting reflecting the color of the walls onto the photograph. But then I came to realize that it was no trick. The man's flesh was green. I can't really explain it any better than that, but what first seemed like an interesting tan was now defined as a bizarre and unfeasible skin tone.

Pretty soon, I realized that not only was his skin green, but also his hair … and his eyes, too. Though squinted from the strength of his laughing smile, I could still see the shades of emerald circling his dark pupils. And his hair, a complete spiked disaster, was a deep forest. What was that in his mouth? A … fang? Suddenly, I couldn't help but notice that his canines, both top and bottom, were exceedingly sharper than normal.

Okay. Did my mother date an alien or something? No offense to Starfire and her kind, but seriously. A green guy? How in the heck did she find any interest in him?

Slowly … very slowly … the panic began to ebb out of my system. I even felt like smiling as I recognized one big, important factor in all of this:

If this BB fellow was indeed my … gulp … dad, then why, may I inquire, am I not green as well? In fact, I don't have a single thing in common with him! Not one! My hair is dark and silky straight, not a green, sloppy mess. My eyes are blue-violet, like my mother's, and my skin is a soft, pale tone. It contrasted greatly with BB's deep grassy hue.

I started to compare every little detail of his with mine, and a surge of relief continually washed over me with each and every one. His nose was wide with big nostrils; mine was sleek and narrow. His eyebrows were rather bushy; mine were neat and slender. Even his fingers were shaped differently than my own.

His ears were … pointy? Wha…? Could this guy get any weirder? First he's green, than he's toothy, and now he's elf-eared, too? What in the world could his power have possibly been? He must've been good if he was a member of the original Teen Titans, or they wouldn't have let him join, right?

God, this was getting uber confusing. Yes, I said uber.

An abrupt, loud noise made me jump halfway to the clouds, but then I realized someone was knocking at my door. "Who is it?" I demanded, my voice clearly uninviting. I kind of wanted a little more alone time. The last thing I needed was a curious visitor.

"Get your ass out here, new girl. I don't have all day."

Oh … no … Please, Lord, anybody but her. Why? Why did she have to come right now? Right when I was exposed?

"What do you want, Jory?" I challenged.

"What do you think, dipstick?" the girl snarled. She was in a bad mood, and for some reason I felt responsible for causing it. "Nightwing and Raven are back and they're discussing what happened down at the warehouse. Now hurry up so I don't miss anything important!"

Instantly, I scrambled down to the floor and raced over to my wardrobe. Pulling out a shoebox, I dumped the contents that were already inside onto my floor and softly placed the frame inside. Then I slid it under my bed and dashed back across the room. Taking a moment to fix my hair and face, I opened the door.

Jory was scowling at me. And not in the playful "You-Are-So-Late-Oh-My-Gawd" manner. It was the "Waste-One-More-Second-Of-My-Time-And-I'm-Gonna-Kick-Your-Ass" type of scowl. I ignored her and started down the hallway towards the main room.

"What the Hell took you so long?" Jory bitched, striding next to me. Her feet were practically stomping into the ground with irritation. "I was waiting out there for, like, forever and you just come strolling out like you own the place."

I said nothing, hoping she would just drop it and fly ahead of me. She'd probably get to the briefing faster that way. But she wouldn't leave me alone. Not today.

"God, you're slow. I can't believe I had to come and fetch you like some sort of dog. You aren't worth everyone's time, and yet you seem to be getting everyone's attention, you know that? Well, newsflash! I don't like it one bit."

Like I care what you think.

"And now I'm going to miss out on what happened with the investigation. Nightwing never sent me out on a patrol before, just 'cause I'm fourteen and 'too vulnerable.'" She made air quotes with her fingers and her voice went all high and whiny, probably referring to Starfire. Suddenly, I felt extreme respect for the Tamaranian; the fact that she can even put up with this nightmarish daughter of hers just makes her all the more stronger.

"It's 'too dangerous' for someone as young as me. The disastrous trio of dumbasses get to go out, though, and Greg even got to fight some guy robbing a store! Sure, he got praise then, but just wait and see. I'll be better than him, and his smug little sidekick. Then, Syrus will finally notice me, and my mom will stop being so stupid and…"

She stopped. Hallelujah! She finally realized that she was rambling!

Apparently, she had said too much, more than she meant to, and now she looked angry with herself. Angry and threatened, perhaps with the suspicion that I might relay all of this to Greg or Nightwing, maybe even Syrus. Who knows? Maybe I will.

She stepped in front of me, and I halted.

"Speak one word of what I just said to anyone…" Jory left the threat open, to let me imagine what she could possibly do to me in an act of vengeance. Her eyes were like her name – blue fire – and the deepest of snarls was forming around her lips. She was a predator, and I was the prey.

Suddenly, I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

"Gee, Jory. I didn't realize we were in the 'sharing secrets' stage of our relationship. I'm touched." I smirked sardonically, flicking my all-too-innocent-looking eyes up from my shoes to her face. In a split second, I had gone from defense to offense, a switch I rarely made. And something in my cold, hard gaze must have stirred a tiny ounce of alarm in Jory. She hesitated, taken aback by my sudden sentiment.

"I don't think you quite fully understand, new girl," she muttered through gritted teeth. I could tell she was having a hard time controlling her temper.

"I understand fine, thank you very much," I retorted, "And let me get one thing straight with you, now that we're on such wonderful terms with each other." I took a step closer, right in her face. Our fists, both hers and mine, clenched unconsciously. I wanted to say so much to her right at this very moment. I wanted to tell her that Syrus thinks she's a pain in the ass, and that her mother shouldn't waste her time on her but does so anyway out of love. But most of all, I wanted to scream out the fact that she was being an annoying, pesky little Miss Complains-A-Lot! Errgh!

I paused, contemplating, then let out three short words with more loathing, more disgust, than I've ever said before:

"I. Don't. Care."

Her jaw nearly dropped to the floor, and I stepped around her to continue down the corridor. For once my head was held high, my gaze dead straight ahead. Victory music was practically ringing in my ears, and I couldn't help but smirk. Take that, you conniving, controlling bitch.

I could feel Knowledge ready to reprimand me, so I quickly shut it out of my mind before it got the chance. I didn't expect it to actually work, but somehow I managed to put up an invisible wall between my emotion and myself, locking it out – for the moment, at least. Huh. I didn't think that was possible, but apparently it was. Now my mood lifted even more. I wasn't thinking of the photograph, or about the training I'll have to endure in a short while. My mind was free! No more annoying voice causing me paranoia! And Jory … the look on her face!

Priceless.

I didn't hear her following me. Then again, I might not be able to. Jory could fly, after all.

But she didn't come after me, because I entered the main room unescorted. That's when I found myself in the company of five other people. My mother was standing with perfect posture at the end of the beautiful mahogany dining table, talking quietly with Starfire. Darien, Syrus, and Greg were chatting on the red sofa, all of them seeming pretty serious. Nightwing and Cyborg were nowhere in sight. Five pairs of eyes turned to stare at me upon my arrival.

But my eyes were on Mom. She looked completely different from the woman who sat and drank tea with me this morning. Her easy, soft-fitted white shirt and dress pants were traded in for more of a theatrical appeal, one I never would have imagined her wearing until today. Suddenly, she looked extremelysimilar to a certain girl in a certain picture.

A very dark blue cloak settled over her shoulders, flowing down to a flat stop just above her ankles - she sported black leather boots, as far as I could tell. The hood was up, concealing almost all of her face from sight, shrouding it in the shadows. She technically wasn't facing me, rather turned away from me, so I couldn't see the rest of her outfit. Taking her entire figure in, I realized she reminded me of a monk, someone at the head of a religious sect.

The memory of my mother's old bedroom flashed to the front of my mind. The sharp designs, the creepy dolls, the strange, paranormal items I saw on her shelves … and now this. Was Mom really … a Goth?

A bit ironic, considering my nickname. But I still couldn't accept it.

Mom. A Goth. An Emo. A Freak with a capital F.

Well.

"Remi, glad you could make it!" Darien announced, breaking through my reverie. It was evident sarcasm, because I had obviously missed the entire meeting. I shrugged, acting like I didn't care when really my curiosity was flaring.

I met all five of their gazes, and saw something different in each one. Starfire looked rather upset over something – was there an accident during the investigation? Did Nightwing get hurt? Nah, that couldn't be it. There would have been an emergency alarm or something. Mom didn't appear ruffled, but she didn't look reassured either. She had taken on her emotionless façade again. Greg looked worried, his perfect red eyes fixed on his mother. Syrus was the complete opposite, looking more animated than I've ever seen him be – excited, even. And Darien was just … Darien. He didn't appear affected by whatever was happening.

Trying to seem nonchalant, I approached the guys and took a seat next to Greg, folding my hands in my lap.

"Hello," I said, and Greg looked at me as if he just realized I existed. "Mind if I ask what I missed?"

"Where's Jory?" Darien replied, ignoring my words. It was kind of annoying, so I shot the boy a mean glare.

"I don't know," I answered.

"Why?" Syrus sneered.

I turned my cold stare on him. "Because she left without saying good-bye," I retorted tersely. "Now will my question be answered or not?"

"What was your question?" Greg asked truthfully, and my stomach fell into a pit. One day's passed, and already I'm becoming invisible. Well, at least invisibility is better than a big fat "BULLY ME" sign on my back.

"What. Did. I. Miss?" I repeated, losing my patience. "Something obviously happened while I was in my room, so please. Divulge."

"Oh. Well, you'll never guess what Nightwing found at the warehouse!" exclaimed Darien, but Greg unexpectedly shushed him. I saw him glance at Starfire, who looked more anxious than ever, and now I had to know.

"What?" I prompted when he didn't continue right away.

Darien lowered his voice and said, "There certainly was a huge hole in the roof of the building, I'll tell you that. And at first, there was no sign that pointed towards it not begin caused by lightning."

"But then Nightwing found a piece of weird-looking metal in the debris," Syrus punched in, "He didn't think it was a match to the rest of the melted metal from the roof."

"So there's only one other explanation." Darien paused, as if to build suspense. All it did was make me angry.

"Something had to have crashed into the warehouse!" clarified Syrus, "It makes perfect sense!"

"Sure, it makes sense," I said sarcastically, "Because tiny pieces of weird metal fall from the sky during thunderstorms quite often these days."

"You have no idea," Darien uttered, smirking knowingly. He crossed his arms and nodded. "Yep. Something definitely fell from the sky, and I'm betting whatever it was waited until the perfect moment to make its entrance. Think about it." His eyes went alight as he conveyed. "We all heard cracks last night, but nobody claims to have seen lightning – and lighting makes thunder! So something else must have made that noise. Something else must have struck the warehouse and left its mark."

I thought about it, like he said. And the more I did, the more I was caught between rational and irrational reasons. Sure, if something fell and caused that rumbling in the sky, that would explain a whole lot. But to be logical, what in the heck would fall from the sky in the first place?

"You said that … whatever fell had 'waited' until the precise moment?" I pressed, raising an eyebrow with skepticism. "How could something 'wait' to fall?"

"There's more life out there than humans and Tamaranians, Remi," Syrus scoffed. "It was probably another alien ship making a journey to Earth as inconspicuously as possible. What better time to do it than during a large storm?"

Well, when you put it that way…

"So, what's Nightwing going to do about it?" I questioned, "Where is he now?"

"He's in his lab with Cyborg, doing some tests to try and figure out what the heck the metal alloy is," Darien answered. "Once they know that, they'll take the next step and try to find whoever doesn't belong out there. We don't yet know if they're a danger to Earth or not. This might turn into an alien invasion."

"An alien invasion?" I mocked, "Isn't that a bit farfetched, Darien?"

"Not in my books, nope."

I fell silent, and surprisingly so did the others. It was then I realized Greg hadn't said a single word into this conversation, and he was still watching his mother. I turned my attention on Starfire as well, observing the increase in her stress level. She was constantly pulling her fingers through her red-ginger hair, and I saw her biting her lip. My mother was still talking to her.

"What's the matter with Starfire?" I inquired, hoping I wouldn't strike a nerve with Greg.

He sighed drearily, turning to look at me. I saw confusion, and even sadness, mixed in his eyes. His black brows knitted together in a face of worry. "I'm … not really sure. She's been like this ever since Nightwing showed her the metal, but she won't speak a word as to what's bothering her."

"Do you think she recognized it?" I suggested. "Maybe she knows who came down from the stars."

"Raven's trying to get some answers out of her," Greg explained, "But no luck so far. I've never seen her like this before."

I looked at him then, and was suddenly caught up in his gaze. It entrapped me, and for a moment I couldn't look away. "Well, if it's any condolence, I've never seen my mother dressed like that before."

He grinned, making my stomach flutter, and I quickly looked away before a blush crept up on me. I couldn't go red in the face twice in a row while he's around, or he might get the wrong idea.

Oh my God, gasped Knowledge, putting me on the alert.

What? I asked hastily. What is it? What's wrong?

Nothing's wrong, Remi! This is great news!

Tell me! I don't like being left in the dark, and you know that.

There was a pause of sheer doom, and then:

You like Greg.

My mouth threatened to drop open, but I quickly caught myself before I looked like a complete fool. WHAT?

You liiiike him. You wanna kiiiiiiss him.

Are you insane? Do you think I'm stupid enough to fall for your antics? I do not like Greg! I mentally crossed my arms like a stubborn child.

Knowledge sighed, and I imagined it shaking its head back and forth. I know you better than you know you, Remi. And trust me on this. You. Like. Greg.

Don't make me block you from my mind again.

Greeeeg and Reeeeemi, sitting in a treeeeee… It started to sing, and I became furious.

Knowledge… I threatened, scowling on both the outside and the inside.

K-I-S-S-I-N-

Finish that line and so help me I will bang my head against a wall until you shut up. You wouldn't want me to hurt myself, now would you, smart-ass?

No reply. Good. I'm glad I knocked some sense into that annoying voice of mine, because no matter what devilish scandal it may think up, I do not like Greg. Not like that. I don't have the luxury of carrying those type of emotions, believe me. It's impossible.

"Remi, are you okay?" Darien asked, and instantly I snapped out of it to see myself cross-armed and scowling at … nothing in particular. "You look like you were trying to set the floor on fire with your eyes," he laughed.

I stood, exasperated and suddenly disliking my desire to look Greg directly in the eye. What the Hell was going on today?

I wanted to go back to my room for the rest of the day and just relax, maybe stare at the picture some more, but I didn't get far when the doors opened. Nightwing entered, followed by Cyborg and – believe it or not – Jory. Everyone turned to look at them while the pumpkin-haired girl shot me a quick, malice-filled glare.

I officially made an enemy for life with that one.

"What did you find out?" Raven asked, her voice interested. She lifted partially gloved hands to remove her hood, and I was unsurprised to see the same red diamond mark on her forehead. Only I realized now that it wasn't a mark, but a tiny gem attached to her skin.

"Inconclusive," Nightwing sighed, clearly aggravated.

Cyborg shook his bionic head from side to side and muttered, "My tests should've been able to identify the alloy!"

"Maybe it's a metal we haven't come across yet?" suggested Greg.

"Maybe … it's not a metal at all?" Syrus added, sounding stupid. I scoffed, regretting it instantly – eight heads turned towards me expectantly.

"If it's not a metal, what else could it be?" I said, filling the sudden quiet.

"Maybe a meteor rock?" Jory recommended, coming to Syrus's side as suspected. "Or a type of stone?"

"Okay, you guys are just pulling crap out of a hat now," Darien barked. He turned to his adoptive father. "Maybe we should run the tests again, just to be sure?"

"I already ran them twice. Nothing." Cyborg looked just about ready to kick a hole in the wall. A rather big hole.

"Could I see it again, please?"

I was surprised to hear Starfire's voice so quiet, like she was in a weak and shaken state of mind. Nightwing, his face softening, nodded and pulled out of his silver utility belt a small piece of something twisted and deformed, singed at the edges like it was ripped from something much bigger. He walked over and held it out for his wife to get a good look at.

"It looks like Iron," Jory whispered, coming up next to her father to peer closer at the object. I walked closer, too.

Starfire lifted her slender, elegant hands and swept her fingers over the metal, touching it as gently as a feather. As she stared, her emerald eyes slowly began to widen; pretty soon, they were ready to pop out of her head, and her lower lip was trembling.

"Starfire…?" Nightwing asked, and his voice was laced with worry. He set a hand on her shoulder, and instantly her eyes snapped to his face. Now her hands were trembling.

"It's…" she whispered, barely audible. Now everyone was freaking out – what was making her act this way? Was she afraid?

Mom suddenly raised her hand and placed it on Starfire's right temple. I took a step forward, curious and worried all at once. The others began to crowd around as well. My mother's eyes glowed a pure white, and her lips barely moved as she mumbled three unfamiliar words.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos."

Immediately, Starfire ceased in her quivers, and her eyes returned to normal. She sighed and turned to her friend, smiling slightly. "Thank you, Raven," she said, and as Mom's eyes faded to normality again, I was more confused than ever.

"What did you just do?" I asked my mom.

"Her fear was overwhelming. Any longer, and she could have had a mental breakdown." Mom placed her raised hand on the Tamaranian's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "I simply helped her calm down by taking away the panic."

"You can do that?"

She nodded.

"Good thinking," Nightwing conceded, and then to his wife he said, "What is it, Starfire? You obviously know something about the metal."

"Yes," the woman nodded. She briefly looked around, at the crowd of people surrounding her. She leaned in closer to Nightwing's ear, as if it would help muffle their conversation. "I'm not sure I should say in front of the children. It's about … that."

Nightwing darkened with recognition, and after a few moments of pondering, he suddenly turned to Cyborg. "Take the metal back to the lab and secure it safely," he ordered, giving the half-robot the chunk. Cyborg took it and left without a word. When the doors closed behind him, the Titan leader turned to us.

"Well, what do you think you're all doing?" he questioned, crossing his arms. I raised an eyebrow while the others exchanged befuddled looks. "Don't you have a training session to get on?" he prompted.

I groaned inwardly. Great. This day went from scary to interesting and back to scary. Even more, I wouldn't find out what the heck Starfire was talking about! Mom came up and speedily began to usher us towards the elevator, where I really felt like running away and never coming back.

Could it get any worse?

The staff came down fast, and I held in a squeal as my eyes shut closed. Prepared to feel pain cracking through my skull, I was surprised when it didn't arrive. A couple seconds passed before I risked peeking out, and I saw the end of the red-painted rod mere inches from the top of my head.

"What did I just say, Remi?" Nightwing queried, and I sighed while Darien pulled back his staff.

"Try to block it," I repeated, angry with myself for – one, looking like an idiot in front of everyone who's opinions matter – two, knowing absolutely nothing about martial arts to begin with – and three, thinking I could actually survive my first training session.

I shook my head and gripped my staff tighter, until my pale knuckles turned white. "You might as well send me home now, Nightwing," I mumbled, "I'm never gonna get this."

"Aw, don't get down, Remi!" Darien reassured to no prevail, "You just need to practice. Nobody believes you to get it on the first day."

"Thanks for the moral support."

"You just have to build up your strength," Nightwing added.

"But I'm not the physical type," I argued, "I suck at sports, let alone sparring."

"That doesn't matter," Nightwing said confidently from the side of the platform. "Anyone can learn this if they put effort into it."

"Yeah," Darien cheered, "So c'mon, girl! Let's see some E for Effort! Bring it!"

"E for Effort?" I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah! You know, like a cheerleader."

"Do I look like a cheerleader to you?"

"Well…"

"Less chattin', more whackin'!" I heard Jory yell from her seat on the benches.

I took a deep breath and ungracefully fell into the starting stance, the first thing Nightwing taught. Darien mimicked me. We were positioned on opposite sides of large rectangular platform in the southern section of the training area, which happens to be on the opposite bank of the beach. This island just kept on surprising me.

Mom and Starfire stood behind a long control panel to my left, watching intently. Starfire seemed to have brightened considerably since last I saw her – she was smiling and getting into the training whole-heartedly. And she had changed her clothes, too, sporting what I assumed was her hero costume. A light lavender shirt flowed over her top half, leaving open the space around her stomach. A skirt of identical color and material came down to above her knees, and she wore high boots with the same color but a darker shade. Unusual gray and green braces covered her arms up to her elbows, and something similar to it wrapped around her neck and chest; I guess it's something of Tamaranian fashion. Her luscious hair flowed around her shoulders like an Amazon lady's, not that I knew what that meant.

There were short bleachers on the side where Nightwing was standing, but they were barely filled with Greg, Syrus, and Jory's presences. Everyone was watching attentively, like they were waiting for me to mess up again.

I gulped nervously.

"Go!" Nightwing shouted, and I held up my staff defensively. Darien crouched down, like an animal about to pounce, and then launched a quick jab forward. He was told to go extremely easy on me, but if this was easy, than I'd never make it alive.

I dodged this time, forgetting once again that the goal was to block the attack. I'm better at dodging, anyway – it's my forte. And this time, Nightwing didn't interrupt, but instead gave me a couple tips.

"Watch your footwork. You don't want to trip over your own toes."

I took a step to the left just as Darien leapt at me, coming down with his rod near the place where my right foot had been a moment ago. Already I was breathing heavily, even if we'd barely begun.

"Don't let him on your weak side. He'll just take advantage of that."

What the hell is my weak side? I snarled, but had no time to voice it as the kid made another swipe at me. I ducked, leaning on my staff for support while I regained my balance. But Darien wouldn't have that. He swiftly spun around and whammed the top of my staff so hard it flew from my hands, and I fell on my butt.

"Damn it," I mumbled, scowling up at the smug guy in front of me.

"Try again," offered Nightwing, and he was surprisingly patient with me. I looked at him questioningly, and he added, "I've been through this before, trust me. Syrus was harder to teach this to than you are. I could've taught a dog how to fly before he finally got the hang of it."

"I heard that!" the water-controller shouted from his seat, and I smirked with gratitude at my teacher.

Darien helped me up and gave me back my staff. From there on out, we worked on defense mainly, practicing until the sun began to lower itself in the horizon. I'll spare you the gory details, but let's just say I fell on my ass, dropped my staff, and even hit myself in the head more times than I could count before I managed to block one attack. And I got so embarrassed when Starfire burst out in applause when that happened.

A couple hours of tiring, sweat-breaking practice later, Nightwing smiled and suggested that we stop for the day.

"No, wait," I said, startled by my own words. "I think I'm getting the hang of it, really." I looked between him and Darien, reading the surprise on their faces. "Let's work on offense."

Wow. I think the summer heat is getting to me, because … I can't believe I just said that!

There was a brief moment of hesitation where Darien asked, "Are you sure, Remi? Can you even stand properly?"

"I'm fine," I snapped, "I just … want to know all the basics now while I'm here, I guess."

"Well, if you're up to it," alleged Nightwing, "We can give you a couple more rounds. Darien, show her some attack moves."

After a short demonstration by my sparring buddy – including a move where you crouch down and swing your staff at the opponent's legs and a fascinating style of thrusts and slams – we began again. This time, I was determined not to look stupid or silly or inevitably hopeless. I would try harder than I've ever tried before, and blah blah blah… oh, let's get it over with.

Out of the freaking blue, I got an idea. Anger always gave me energy, so what if I thought about things I hated, things that made me absolutely furious? Maybe that would give me some stamina to keep going, to give my all? I looked at my opponent, trying to imagine him as someone I truly and unfathomably detested. Two faces popped up in my head, so I picked one – Lexis. And just like that, I was fighting her instead of Darien.

"Go!"

I came at him first, no hesitation in my moves. He blocked a hard prod, but I didn't stop there. I came spinning around, bringing my staff along with me, and aimed to knock his block off. He ducked just in time, probably surprised by my unexpected change in attitude.

All those memories of Lexis and her gang bullying me at school were suddenly flashing before my eyes. I was six, and she shoved me into the sandbox. I was nine, and she stole my lunch. I was eleven, and she gave me my first black eye. I was fourteen, and she pushed me down a flight of stairs.

I was sixteen, and she cornered me in a construction site, stabbed me through the stomach, left me to die…

Without realizing it, I had unleashed Hell on Darien. He didn't even see it coming, but one after another my attacks came, giving no warning. A slam to the right, barely blocked. A swing at the legs, dodged. A spinning thrust at the left, missed by mere inches.

Somehow, we ended up in a staff lock, pressing the rods against each other with all our force. He had the advantage – he was physically stronger than me, no doubt. But my anger was fueling me, and with a silent grunt I released my pressure and glided to the right. Darien stepped forward to catch his balance, but I stuck my foot out just in time to catch him around the ankle. He stumbled onto his hands and knees.

I thought I had him, but before I could pin him down he somersaulted forward and out of my reach. He turned, panting, a wide grin on his face. The grin was probably at how much I had just accomplished in an incredibly short time, but I didn't see it that way.

He was taunting me. He was telling me he was better, that he could always come out on top. I practically gritted my teeth, and my grip on the staff clenched even tighter. If it were a wooden stick, it would've snapped by now.

There was a moment of suspension that felt like it lasted for centuries, and then Darien let out a battle cry and leapt at me. That's right, he leapt, a head-on hurdle forward. He was still too far away to possibly tackle me to the ground, but as I soon discovered, that wasn't his intent.

Spinning his staff expertly within his palms, Darien used one end of the rod to support himself while he flipped up and over the other. Basically, it looked like he was doing one of those poll-vaulting exercises that you always see in the Olympics, and he was shockingly good at it. A second later, he was on his feet, standing no more than a yard away from me.

Suddenly, time felt like it was moving in slow motion. I saw Darien turn around, saw him drag the staff through the air, saw him aiming a swipe at my ribcage. And yet, it was all happening so slowly, like I was moving faster than everything else. I was in control, now.

Without thinking – hell, without even realizing what I was doing – I snapped up my staff and easily blocked the hit. Then, swinging the opposite end up swifter than I expected, I caught him by sheer surprise and smacked him in the face. He gasped, stumbling backwards and dropping his staff, continuing to fall backwards on his bum. Darien's hands were already cupped around his nose before the full force of what I'd just done hit me like a dart to the forehead.

I dropped my staff, barely hearing it clatter to the platform below. Eyes wide with guilt, I took a step back, a hand coming to cover my slightly agape mouth. "Oh, my God…" I whispered, my heart pounding not from the adrenaline rush, but from knowing that I had … hurt someone. I had hurt Darien, who was nothing but nice to me ever since I arrived here.

What the Hell was the matter with me?

"Dare, you okay?" Greg bellowed, jumping up from his seat and running towards the platform. Syrus and Jory were right behind him, and I saw Nightwing start to climb up the shallow side. But I still beat all of them there.

I knelt by Darien, who was now laying on his back but still conscious, and started to ramble. "I'm so sorry! … I didn't mean to! … I don't know what came over me! … Stupid pole is too long… Shouldn't have done this… I can't believe myself…"

Darien stopped me by smiling, and he pulled away one of his hands cupping his face to give me a thumbs-up, telling me it was okay. It was then I saw his nose was bleeding.

It wasn't just bleeding. It was broken.

"You broke his nose!" Jory gasped disbelievingly. A mere moment ago she had flown over to Darien's other side and was now standing over the both of us.

"How did you manage that?" Greg whispered, startling me by coming up from behind. He went around and helped his friend up at the shoulders, so now he was sitting up.

I didn't respond, but only watched in horror as even more blood began to gush out. His face was like a freaking waterfall of gore! It disgusted me, and yet I didn't have the guts to look away. After all, I was the one who caused it.

"Dude, look at all the blood!" Syrus cackled; his lip rose in a weird smirk-grimace.

"That's perfectly normal for a head wound," Nightwing assured, coming up in front of Darien and gingerly pulling the teen's hands away from his face. The guy looked like something out of a horror movie, making me gasp again.

"'S nuffin," he murmured, looking at me with eyes that were practically begging me not to blame myself. "It dudn' eben hurd." (Translation: It's doesn't even hurt.) But that point flew out the window when Nightwing touched his nose near the place where it broke, and he winced away from the contact.

The guilt washed over me like a rain in a storm, and I just wanted him to be okay. It was my fault he got hurt, my fault he was even sparring in the first place. So he shouldn't have to pay for my damn idiocy! Why can't he just … go numb, or something? That way, he wouldn't feel the pain.

That's all I wanted for him – his pain to go away.

"Remi…" Greg mumbled, his musical voice catching my attention. "Your hand…"

I looked down, and to my utter amazement my left hand was glowing. Like, glowing! A pulsing white light seeped from my skin, shining like a star, and completely taking me off-guard. And yet … somehow I knew what I was supposed to do. I don't know what made me do it, what compelled me, but without a single word spoken I raised my hand to Darien's face. His chocolate eyes widened in concern, but he didn't move away from my approach.

My fingers softly touched the bloodied skin, feeling the broken bone beneath without adding any pressure. Then I closed my eyes, and let the energy flow. Slowly, but not vainly, the time stretched on.

Until snap!

I felt it beneath my hand before I heard it – the sound of Darien's nose coming back together.

The sound of my healing powers at work once again.

A/N – Okay. So, I didn't get around to writing often these days, and I'm not really sure how long I've kept all you readers waiting. I can only say two words that could possibly excuse my tardy behavior:

Writer'sblock.

I hope you liked the chapter, at least. And really, people! I lose the will the write as well as the will to live when I don't get reviews! Maybe if I put it in all caps, you'll notice it better…

REVIEW! PWETTY PWEASE, REVIEW! FOR GOD'S SAKE, MY LIFE COULD DEPEND ON IT!

There.

- random -

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