A/N:

You guys are so supportive and so patient. Thanks for waiting, and for the love. I hope you enjoy this next chapter, my friends, and that your days go well!

12. Demon Inside

"i know i
should crumble
for better reasons
but have you seen
that boy he brings
the sun to its
knees every
night"

- rupi kaur, milk and honey

When Raven opened her eyes, instead of seeing the familiar ceiling of X's mediocre apartment, she was greeted by a gray smokiness; it looked as if she was trapped in a moving watercolor painting. She sat up on cool tile in an incomplete hallway. It seemed to stretch on endlessly with an infinite amount of doors in front and behind her, each of various designs and colors. There was a buzz of noises from each door, voices and sounds she didn't recognize.

Raven stood up, taking in her surroundings. There wasn't any particular sign that let her know which direction was right, so she just picked the direction she faced when she had first sat up.

She had taken several steps when a door with a crystal knob caught her eye. She looked around as she stepped forward, but there was no security, no omen to warn her otherwise. Pressing her ear against the smooth wood, she heard boyish giggles and muffled whispers.

Raven turned the knob slowly, pausing, waiting. Nothing happened; no repercussion, so she pushed it opened and peeked through.

It was a room swept in the dim light of the waning moon. Raven could make out four bunk beds, totaling eight beds, but one was missing a body. In the bottom second bed was a small mountain made of think blankets. There was a flashlight turned on beneath it, illuminating two tiny bodies. One was reading from a book aloud, softly and slowly, tasting new syllables, and the other asked questions and tried to quiet his laugh.

There were several Shh!'s from some of the other boys, ungracefully woken up due to a loud snort. Then, she closed the door and leaned her forehead against it.

Memories, she realized. These were memories, but they weren't hers.

"X's…?" she murmured.

It made sense. Her soul had connected to his, but who's to say it wasn't a two way street? The real question was: why was she there?

Raven stood in the hall amongst the low croon of the past, but there was no one there. She tried to think back to what she was doing before she had arrived, but she could only vaguely recall bits and pieces: her mother, her father, Azarath and the monks… And X. Had he been there? But how? Why?

So, then, what was this? Had she entered his mind in response or, perhaps, had his soul invaded?

"Hello?" Raven called out, but the confused greeting danced down the hall without a response.

She didn't know what she was supposed to do. Her only option was to hope that something would happen, either by walking endlessly down the corridor or explore the variety of doors.

At the thought, the heaviness of the situation finally dropped on her.

If these were doors that led to his memories, it'd be safe to assume that there were secrets here as well — secrets to his identity maybe.

Secrets for Robin.

Wait.

Shouldn't she give him the same respect and privacy she gave to her friends when it came to her empath abilities? There was that time she had wandered through Robin's nightmares; when she had realized, she had loyally turned her mind's eye away — because it was the right thing to do, because she wouldn't want others digging up her hidden skeletons. Then, there was also the risk of getting swept up in the other's emotions, powerful because it was his domain.

Upon reminding herself that he was a criminal, she had to wonder if the same rules applied.

Shouldn't she want to find out his identity? There was the risk of getting swept up, of course, but wasn't that a risk she should take? A risk Robin would want her to take? Even if X had saved her so many times, he was still on the wrong side of the law.

Many times? She couldn't remember any specifics, but the thought felt right.

If she couldn't open doors, though, and all she could do was walk and call out for help, when would she leave? Behind her was the same infinite space as was in front of her, and the areas between the doors were smoky, the floor fading out to nothingness. Raven wasn't too interested in being caught in the oblivion of his mind.

"Just…walk, I guess," she mumbled to herself.

The doors she passed by were all different. No two had the same color, pattern, engravings, or even design, and they all whispered different things, held different secrets. She didn't know how much time had passed, knowing only that the temptation grew with each step and mysterious sound. When she heard girlish laughter behind a pink door, she couldn't resist any further and decided it'd be okay to at least press her ear to it.

"Tell me you love me."

"Okay. I love me."

"Be serious!"

"I am. I love me very much."

Raven pulled away from the laughter. The male voice was young, but it sounded familiar. She didn't know why.

As she continued her walk, another door caught her eye: it was light blue with horses etched into the corners. There was no knob; she'd probably have to push it open.

Raven placed her hand against it, wavering. She shouldn't be opening doors, she told herself. As an empath, there were unwritten rules she needed to follow; there were moral obligations, personal mottos, boundaries…

She bit her lip and pushed it open.

Inside were two little boys, one with fiery red hair whose back was to her, and in front of him was a crying blonde, his hands pressed against his eyes to try and block the flow of tears.

The blonde stammered out a sentence, but it was an incoherent, stuttering mess. Seconds later, he took a deep, shaky breath and tried again.

"I — I heard M-Mrs. Li say t-that they w-w-we-were g-g-oing to t-take you away," he sobbed.

"Because I hurt Mr. Daniel?" the redhead asked.

The blonde nodded.

"But he made Molly cry," the redhead said firmly.

"N-no one believes us," the other whispered. His wails slowed into hiccups and heaving. The silence between them seemed to have settled there with intentions of permanency, and Raven was about to close the door when the redhead dropped his head.

"Then," the redhead muttered, "should I cry, too?" His shoulders sagged and he brought his hands up to his face. Slowly, he began to tremble, and the act brought fresh tears to his friend.

"Please don't leave me, Jay."

"I don't know if I have a choice, Pete."

Raven closed the door, breathing out shakily against the horses.

Azarath Metrion Zinthos, she chanted. The emotions were starting to flood her dangerously. Resisting had been harder than she had initially thought; she wondered if it was because they were connected by their souls. If she lost herself to his past, she wouldn't be able to sever the bond and return. She needed to be firm in herself if she wanted to continue opening doors, she thought to herself.

Raven gathered herself with a few more seconds of chanting. Then, she continued down the hall, pressing her ear against doors that caught her attention. One door was silent, refusing to give up its secrets. When she had gripped the metal knob, it shocked her into jumping back; she decided against trying again. Another door gave her muted sobbing, and her chest ached at the sincerity of the misery. She was too afraid to look inside, scared that she wouldn't be able to resist the emotional tug. Maybe the connection between their souls was stronger than she had first believed; maybe his domain was too powerful. Or maybe it was something else…? Something sweet, something worse.

She shook her head of the strange thoughts and pressed her ear against a green door — loud panting — and then against a gray one — heavy rains.

Further up was a white door with red flowers. Raven turned the knob: the redhead was older, a man now. His hair had been vibrant and bright as a child, but age had deepened and darkened it.

He was pinning down a young woman with long, brown locks. Her blue dress was dirtied and ripped, and Raven's stomach churned at the thought of him having done that to her. She reminded herself that she had opened the book to the middle of the chapter; there were parts to the story that she didn't know. It was possible that she was misunderstanding the scenario. He wouldn't do something like that, not even in his pre-Red-X days. She ignored the nagging thought that she shouldn't care, that Robin wouldn't put it above the X to do such a thing.

Suddenly, he pulled a knife from his belt and pressed it against the woman's throat, drawing a thin line of blood. Raven cringed, hoping she wasn't about to be proven wrong.

"Are you going to kill me?" the girl asked. Her voice was soft, but Raven could hear the strength in it.

"Yes," he replied coolly.

"Can't you let me go?"

He seemed to mull it over before answering, "There are worse things than death."

Raven held onto the door, pulling it closer. She felt invasive, dirty. These were moments he treasured, moments he missed, moments he was ashamed of, moments he regretted. She shouldn't be going through these doors, flipping through the pages of his books as if she was privy to the information, as if it were a library and she was allowed to check in and out freely.

"Will you kiss me first?" the girl whispered.

"You want to die with such a cheap thing on your mind?"

"Is it cheap to want human touch before I go?"

This wasn't fair to him. Raven closed the door. This time, she walked with the purpose of blocking out all the noise, all of his dreams and griefs. She ignored the names that whispered out to her, the laughter — sometimes, those were the worst memories to watch. It'd be never-ending if she kept opening doors; the goal was to get out, not linger about looking for obscure clues.

Raven forced her eyes ahead and picked up speed. Maybe there was an end of the hall — it didn't seem particularly chronologically placed, but perhaps, up ahead, she might catch up with the present. As long as she didn't go through any more rooms, anything sounded doable. Raven wasn't afraid of getting trapped in the halls; the more likely horror was getting caught in the need to open doors, or even the deadly desire of entering the rooms.

"Goddammit Raven!"

At the sound of her name, Raven stopped. The door was marked with the silhouette of a bird and a room number.

She clenched her hands — No. She had told herself she wouldn't open any more doors.

There were explosions and shrieks. She heard her name being shouted along swears several more times and felt her will waver.

Why was she so weak? There was no reason for her to go through his memories.

But… Was there reason for him to be calling her name?

And she had found clues, small ones, important ones, ones that could help the team and Robin —

Stop it.

It was wrong. She wouldn't participate anymore. Raven took a stubborn step forward, denying the gravity of the door. When she raised her eyes down the hall, she saw a figure.

She hesitated, wariness reminding her that there could be traps everywhere, even in the depths of his mind, but she thought she heard his voice and her body pulsed in time to the notes. It was better than peering into another room, so she broke into a run toward the figure.

As she neared, she saw that it was X. He was faced away from her and out of uniform, but it was him. She knew it — not in the way one knows when they trust their gut, but in the way one knows the rays of the sun even with their eyes averted, the way an old friend could spot a silhouette in the crowd and immediately know whose heart it was.

Why did she know him like this?

"X," she greeted.

He didn't move; his head tilted upward, staring at something in his mind that she couldn't see.

"Hey," Raven called again. She took a hesitant step forward, unsure if she could touch him, if it would trigger something bad. "X," she said, licking her lips, "turn around."

X chuckled bitterly. "Are you thinking of your duty, even now?"

Her face was burning with guilt. She didn't know why. "No, I was just…"

"Raven — I think I could love you."

The words took her by surprise, and the way he said it, so softly, so gently, a delicate thought he wasn't ready to let go of — it made her stomach churn warmly.

"Do you think you could?" he asked. "¿Podrías, amor?"

There was a rush of energy behind her, and Raven turned just in time to see a red cloak and a flash of deep purple hair — Rage. The more sinister part of her walked past and then twisted around to smile at Raven.

"We could," Rage said. "I can."

Raven turned cold, reaching out to her other part. "No, don't — wait!"

But Rage ignored her and stepped in front of him. She gripped his neck; he was trembling.

Rage pulled his face closer to hers, purposely pressing her lips against his ears to whisper something Raven couldn't hear, all the while keeping eye contact with Raven defiantly. Then, as if whatever she said had alleviated his sunken shoulders, he hooked his hands beneath her thighs and hoisted her up to his level. Toned, pale legs tightened around his waist, helping to support her weight against him, and then they were kissing and X was sighing in foreign languages. Her hands — my hands — were locked in his hair and he was moaning her name — my name — and everything was wrong, everything was wrong, it shouldn't be like this.

Rage pulled away abruptly to sneer at Raven. "Red," she told her, but Raven didn't understand.

"Red," Rage said again, and in response he kissed down her jaw, down her neck, and then she was chanting it like a spell.

The floor cracked and Raven fell into the darkness below. The shadows stretched like hands, long fingers pulling her down. He had turned when she fell — familiar, golden eyes.

Raven didn't know how long she had been falling in the darkness, not knowing which way was up while she flipped through the air. Eventually, she landed into water, enveloped in its cool embrace. She swam upward and broke through the surface, heaving for air, and then wading to its edge, gripping hard rock.

It looked as if she had landed in a natural pool that had developed in a cavern. High above her was a hole where moonlight filtered through.

She pulled herself out, looking around. There didn't seem to be anyone there with her. Was this X's memory? It wasn't one of her own.

The cavern was dimly lit. The moonlight only reached the water, its light reflecting weakly on the walls. Raven heard the low hum of machinery before she saw its blinking lights in the darkness. As her senses focused, she could see the faint outlines of a table.

A few lamps lit up as Raven stepped into the workspace, illuminating some objects and steps. She dried suddenly, but the strange workings of magic and souls and mental spaces did not surprise her.

As Raven looked around, she thought that the place felt familiar, despite the fact that she had never been there before. Perhaps she had visited in dreams, in another life.

The workspace looked more technological and human, rather than cavernous like her pool entrance. One wall was a computer screen; the keyboard stretching its length, but there were no discernible buttons. On another wall were filing cabinets, and above it hung photos taken at awkward angles, hiding faces or showing parts of the chin or nose without ever fully revealing the subject.

In the center was a round table with maps; in the center, pinning the sheets, was a knife with a red hilt. Nearby was a large, free-standing cork board; there were hazy photos and newspaper clippings fastened to it.

Raven stepped forward and looked over the maps, all of Jump City. There were a few areas circled, but the sticky notes beside them were written in a code she didn't recognize.

A hand gripped her wrist suddenly. Raven jerked away, jumping back, but the one who greeted her was the worried face of Robin, masked even in his dreams.

"Raven!" He grabbed her wrist again and pulled her into a tight hug.

She was slow to react and silent in shock.

How long had it been since she had seen Robin or any of her other friends? This wasn't even a real, physical meeting, and yet the reassured feeling of a friend was refreshing, though it was quickly weighed down by the time and distance. She returned the tight grip, holding him close. There were so many things she needed to tell him, and then, she realized, there were just as many that she couldn't.

Finally, Raven pulled back and said, "Good to see you again, Boy Wonder," in her usual monotonous drawl, but there was a small smile on her lips. She had almost slipped up and called him Boy Blunder, but she ignored the flash of gold eyes and mechanical snickering in her ear and focused on her friend.

Robin's serious demeanor immediately took over; he frowned and gripped her shoulders. "I've been trying to reach you for weeks," he told her. "You haven't been responding. What's going on? What's happened? Where the hell are you?"

His voice was laced with concern and conspiracies, barely giving her time to formulate an answer — or an excuse.

"It was Red-X, wasn't it," he growled.

"How did you know?" Raven asked carefully, not wanting to show any incriminating emotions.

Were there incriminating emotions to show?

"He stole a book on demons," he informed her. Robin walked around her to the cork board; several of the pictures that were once blurry focused into images of Red-X on a rooftop, and then of him falling over the edge with a green blast. "Fought him several weeks ago." Robin whipped back to her. "Are you being held hostage?"

"No," she said. "No, I'm…"

Why was she tiptoeing around?

She was deciding what information to give, how to frame it, what not to say — but what for? Hadn't she decided that whatever information she had found would be used to help bring him to justice?

No, another part whispered, that particular argument had not been resolved.

Robin, taking her hesitation and silence for something else, something more horrifying, narrowed his eyes darkly and muttered, "I'll kill him. Whatever he's doing to you — whatever he's done — I'll give it back tenfold."

The room darkened until all that was left was the light above the circular table. Raven had almost forgotten: he had a little monster in him, too.

"It's not like that," she said, shaking her head. "He hasn't done anything; he saved me, actually."

"Saved you? What are you talking about? Raven, that's what we're trying to do. He's tricking you; he's the one who put you in danger in the first place."

At his tone, she took a closer look at him. There was exhaustion in the lines of his face, an anger in the way he was holding himself, in the hard way he clutched the cork board.

She felt anxious suddenly. Memories of late nights bent over papers and maps in the light of a glowing screen flickered through her head — his memories. Insomnia and frustration seeped into her. She closed her eyes against the flow of his pulsing emotions.

He dropped his voice. "Raven..."

In the air, she could taste the bittersweetness of worry and the spiced flare of hatred.

"Stop," she muttered, holding onto her head. "Wait."

She pulled back into her mind, trying to center herself and reinforce her defenses against the oncoming emotions. In response, the two of them were pulled into her domain, the cave melting to reveal gray skies and stone arches.

Robin looked around at the change. They were on a floating slab; on either side were large arches, and in the center was a great, leafless tree. His attention honed in on something. She followed his gaze: a black door. He had never been there before, so he wouldn't know, but she frowned. The door didn't belong to her.

X's...?

There was movement in the trees.

They looked up to the source: it was the four-eyed Rage on a thick branch, her leg hanging over it sensually.

"Why did you bring him here?" Rage asked accusingly.

"I didn't," Raven said.

Rage sneered at her, as if there was something she knew that Raven didn't.

"Who are you talking to?" Robin asked. "The bird?"

"…A part of me," she said. Raven glanced to him. He couldn't see her true form, nor could he hear her — Rage's doing, maybe.

"Why don't you tell him?" Rage curled her upper lip at him. "She's talking to her demon half, boy."

"Don't call him that," she snapped, but Robin only looked between the two in confusion, only hearing half of the conversation.

Then, in frustration, he grabbed Raven's arms and demanded, "Tell me where you are. We'll come save you."

"She doesn't need saving, boy."

"Shut up," Raven hissed.

"What?" Robin asked.

"No, not you —" She shook her head, brushing off his grip. "Just…forget it. I'm coming back soon," she said. It wasn't the complete truth, but it wasn't a true lie. She should be going back to T-Tower pretty soon; she just didn't know when.

"You're going to escape?" he asked.

"I'm…"

"Are you going to tell him?" Rage growled.

"I'm working on it," Raven answered finally.

Robin eyed her strangely, but not suspiciously, and that only made her feel ill. He couldn't believe that it was in her to keep such secrets from him, and yet, there she was, giving him half-truths even though she didn't know what for and what made them secrets. He looked to Rage in the tree, unable to see the condescending glare.

"Rae…you're…not being your usual self," Robin said quietly. "…There's something you're not telling me."

She didn't know how to respond.

"We've been worried," he whispered. "Raven, I…" Hesitantly, he reached out to grasp her hand.

At his touch, she felt the return of the anxiety, the sleepless nights, the anger, the guilt. He blamed himself. It had been his call, that night, his plan. He thought it was his fault.

"I'm okay," Raven insisted. "I'm… I'm in a coma. I've been coming in and out, but my body is healing."

He nodded, listening to the bare-skeleton facts without realizing anything. What was she doing?

"I'm not sure where I am," she continued, ignoring Rage's sounds of disdain and disapproval. "I haven't been able to really see anything, but I feel stronger every day. I should be able to come home soon."

"Good." Robin smiled in relief. "Then, you might be able to capture him when you come to — but only if you're up to it. If not, I want you home immediately. We can regroup and get him together."

She nodded, hoping that this would be enough to satisfy him until she could figure out an actual course of action.

Robin looked at her suddenly, his face lighting up. "Maybe," he started, "maybe I can find you." At her expression, he elaborated, "We're connected — so maybe I can see things through your eyes, like that one time you saw Slade through mine."

Rage looked at her in fury. "You wouldn't," she hissed.

"It's better if we know where you are. We can meet up; we can surround his lair; you can come back sooner, safer."

His grip on her hand tightened.

"It's worth a try," Robin urged. Before she could say anything, he grabbed her other hand and leaned closer, closing his eyes with knitted brows.

The effect was immediate. Raven felt his mind probing hers, his soul looking for access, confused as to why she was hesitating, why she had walls up. Rage snarled from where she stood in the tree, looking ready to jump down and slit throats.

Raven winced at the feeling of someone trying to enter; she had never been on this side before, always having been the one to probe and invade. She instinctively jerked away, but he held on securely.

She felt her memories unlocking; images were being pulled from her mind: there was Van Gogh on a lap, and then Dracula soaring through the air. As Robin's mind moved past them, the thin connection to her physical body strengthened and thickened, glowing with invasion.

She tried to open her mouth, tried to tell him to wait, to stop, that she had it under control, but then he was fully in her head and she was seeing things, too — bookshelves and knickknacks, bare walls and blankets.

The TV was on. Someone was whistling — No! No!

Logically, she understood this was the best way to find Red-X's identity. This next step made sense; it was sneaky and necessary, resourceful. It was an opportunity to take advantage of, but panic still filled her.

Crumbled walls began to rebuild; fear made the connection jerky. She felt Robin wondering why wouldn't give him free reign. In her head, she heard him murmuring that it'd be okay, that he wouldn't open things she didn't want to, that he missed her and only wanted her back, only wanted to help.

But she wasn't afraid of him opening up her secrets.

Robin's forehead touched hers.

"I think I see something," she heard Robin say.

The images twitched and blurred with static.

She felt fingers in her hair — they felt fingers in her hair. There was a flash of dark skin; three moles on the back of a neck; soft murmuring — "Hurry up, pajarita," — and then Rage suddenly emerged from a dark swirl beneath them, pushing Robin back forcefully as she stood aggressively between them.

The connection was broken when they were no longer touching. Robin jumped to his feet, thinking there was an attack, but upon seeing Rage as her true self rather than a bird — and the fact that she was Raven's replication with four eyes — he took a defensive step backward.

Rage's eyes glowed from dim red to a fuming crimson. The air began to crackle. He gave one bewildered look to Raven before he was blasted off the ground with magic, pushed out of her mind by a snarling Rage.

She turned to Raven next and bared her fanged teeth. "You're weak," she accused, and then Raven was suddenly thrown back by the same magic.

Raven fell over the edge into the darkness with a scream. Shadowy hands looped around her again as the light was taken from her eyes.

Then there was nothing, only silence, only the cold.

For a horrifying second, she thought that Rage had sacrificed them all, that by pushing her off while she was still connected to X's mind meant that now she was trapped in limbo, in the space between consciousness and memories, between her shadow and his self.

Then — a low rumble of energy, a hushed crooning of life. Warmth slowly returned to her body, trickling in through her toes and fingertips.

There was a presence, one whose aura she recognized, one that relaxed her.

The whistling was back, slowly fading to a soft humming, lulling her into peace; and then Raven heard it again, timid and tender and so unexpected.

"Hurry up, pajarita."

A/N:

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