A/N: I'm so sorry that this took like millennium to post. I kinda got stuck on whether or not I should keep a very sensitive piece of dialogue, but after discussing it with some of my friends, decided to keep it since I've never really pulled punches before. With that being said there is a section that holds some explicate language so you have been warned. I also wanna thank my friend Johny Scigulinsky (whose an awesome composer. So you guys should go check out his score for Nightwing the Series, it's great.) for editing this chapter for me :) Also, please thank one of the guest users for reminding me in a very flatteringway to update :) Thanks guest user, I needed that kick in the ass :) Please leave a review my lovelies or message me, I always love hearing from you guys 3

With Love- Ophelia

Chapter 21

Silent All These Years

"Years go by
Will I still be waiting
For somebody else to understand
Years go by
If I'm stripped of my beauty
And the orange clouds
Raining in head
Years go by
Will I choke on my tears
Till finally there is nothing left
One more casualty
You know we're too easy Easy Easy"

-Tori Amos

Robin entered the hospital lobby with an air of frustration wrapped tightly around him. He'd left Bruce outside, reluctant to look back at him, feeling little regard for his mentor's pride.

Still, he knew he had to calm down, his present state being quite overwhelming and hard to contain. But it seemed his anger was too big a muse to ignore. He stepped into the elevator and leaned against the wall with discontent. He just wanted to let his knees buckle and fall weak with fury beneath him. He'd been containing so much raw, unbearable emotion that it began to wear thin on him, making it hard to breath. But still he stood tall, keeping his head high and placing his mask on as to not show anyone how deep his cracks ran. Breaking could wait.

The door slid shut and for the moment Robin was alone. Free of Bruce and his overbearing nature, harping at him to make the right decisions, but more importantly he was free of Eric.

'I can't believe that guy,' Robin thought bitterly, 'how selfish can he possibly be?'

He shook his head in disapproval at the young man's conduct. He'd shamelessly broken Raven's heart and unknowingly driven her away from him and he'd never forgive him for that. Robin never told her how jealous he was and in truth, he'd never admitted it to himself, but he was.

However, what frustrated him to no end was Eric's self-seeking insistence to see her. He had no right to and as far as Robin was concerned it would be destructive to allow.

"Like hell he is, over my dead body," he spat rabidly under his breath to no audience.

However, within moments the elevator door slid open and Robin soon noticed a familiar face appear from behind it.

"Hey Dr. Graves," he said voidly, the man looking surprised to see him.

"Hello Richard, you here for Raven?" the doctor asked pushing the button for his desired floor.

Robin nodded, clearly tied up in his head. The door closed and the slight jolt of the elevator could be felt beneath them. The atmosphere grew awkward as Robin stared lifelessly at the door, his chill nearly making the doctor cold by association.

"Richard, are you all right? You seem very overwhelmed," Dr. Graves said inquisitively.

"I'm fine, I'm just tired is all," Robin replied trying to brush the question off.

The doctor looked at him skeptically, though he could see the boy truly was exhausted, but there was more to it than that. "You know Richard, we have a support group for people in your situation. If you're interested I can get you some information?"

Robin crossed his arms and shook his head at the doctor's clinical nature, "I don't think talking to a bunch of strangers will help."

"Well, you should probably talk to someone," Dr. Graves added as the door slowly opened for his floor, "it's not healthy to keep yourself so locked up."

Robin looked up with a defeated looked, knowing the young doctor was right and for a moment forgot himself. "I know, usually I'd talk to Raven about things like this, but… I can't burden her with my problems, not now."

Dr. Graves felt his empathy bend at the statement, seeing just how much Robin was hurting. The experience had begun to wear thin on him like it did most people at the forefront.

"You can talk to me," he said before leaving the elevator.

Robin creased his brow in apprehension, taken off guard, "What?"

"Listen Richard, I understand what you're going through and even though I can't treat you. I can still council you and make a recommendation for a therapist if you think you need one."

Robin didn't say anything for a moment, too wrapped up in his nature not to trust outsiders with personal matters. Still, he was grateful to Dr. Graves for the offer, knowing he didn't have to.

"I don't think I need a therapist," Robin finally replied.

"I didn't say you did, but if you feel you need one I can help you find one," Dr. Graves reasoned wisely and walked to the door. "What you are feeling is perfectly normal and there is no shame in admitting that you don't know how to handle it."

Dr. Graves looked back at Robin as he glanced at the wall for a moment. The doctor shrugged and turn from him, exiting the elevator.

Robin looked up just as the door was closing and with a change of heart burst forward and stopped it.

"Dr. Graves, wait."

He turned to the elevator to see the young man now in the doorway.

"Do you have an opening tomorrow?" Robin asked warily.

The doctor nodded as he said, "How's 3?"

"I'll take it."

"Good, see you then Richard," Dr. Graves said with an approving nod and walked away.

Robin watched the elevator door close, leaving him alone in the empty chamber, part of him regretting his decision. He knew he'd sleep very little that night, but for now there was another matter at hand. Within minutes he'd be in her presence and there was little to be done to hide his current thoughts and most bitter of feelings.

'But she shouldn't have to deal with this,' he thought looking vacantly at the wall. 'Just cause I'm having a bad day doesn't mean that I can bring this to her.'

The door opened, revealing the hall that would lead him to the security desk. He stepped out trying his best to leave the weight of his empathy behind. He didn't want her to feel it, he didn't want her to worry or think about what other people wanted. He just wanted her to think about what was best for her, but for Raven sometimes that was just too much to ask. Whether Raven wanted to admit it or not, her nature was and always would be wrapped up in the well-being of others. And that's why Robin truly couldn't allow Eric to see Raven.

Journal Entry #20: Silent all these years

There's something about the power of words that most people take for granted. Whether it's simply telling someone how we feel or speaking the most difficult of truths, it's our words that people remember. In the depths of their meaning, words can write us poetic stories of both truth and deception. But it's one's inability to truly hear them that astonishes me most. Think about it, when was the last time you truly listen to a song and took in exactly what the artist was trying to tell you. Do you even know how?

It's not just the words we choose, but the manner in which we speak them that makes them meaningful. Every inflection, every smile or slight hint of anger can change the sweetest compliment into a bitter insult. It amazes me how little people truly hear one another and how many don't even have a voice.

Today I began thinking about my own voice and how it's been years since I've truly heard it. I know that sounds pretty odd, but it's honestly the truth. Over the years I've constantly been repeating what I've been told or what I thought I was supposed to say. But for the first time in years, I heard myself, and I think I can finally say the things I thought I never could.

Shortly after Bruce left, Richard came to visit me again and I could immediately tell that something was bothering him. (Well, more than usual) As he sat down I could see that he didn't want to be around me. His posture was stiff and rigid, more than usual. There was a clear discomfort in his eyes and I could see in their cloudy depths that there was something dragging him down.

"Bad day Boy Blunder?"

He looked at me with a crassness that only showed itself when he truly felt demolished, "You have no idea Rae," he sighed.

"You wanna talk about it?" I asked closing my journal to give him my undivided attention.

He looked at me with dejection and I could tell that whatever had happened in the last 24 hours had taken its toll out on him. Sadly, the last few weeks hadn't been the kindest and I wasn't surprised to see everything finally catching up with him. I just wished I wasn't the core of it.

"No, it's not about me," but it was, "I just want you to get better is all."

He was telling the truth. He really wanted nothing more than for me to get better and live as close to a normal life as I could muster, but I wanted him to be better too. Richard would never admit it, but this whole episode had made him depressed and forced him to face things he'd never thought he'd have to. His view of the world was now altered—darker. For him once again the world had ended and, I know lonely that can be.

"I know you want the best for me Richard, but has it ever occurred to you that maybe I want the best for you too?"

He gave me a crude look, as though it were an odd concept. He'd spent so much time worrying about me that he never really stopped to think that maybe I worried about him too.

"I really don't want you to worry about me Rae, at least not right now," he replied as though he'd failed me.

I shook my head at him and leaned forward, "So this is what it feels like to be on this side of the table."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He leaned back as insult mildly dripped from his words and grew bitter from the bite of heavy truth.

"Do you really have to ask that question?" I replied sarcastically. Sometimes Richard can be so clueless.

His eyes smiled with irony as he spoke, "Well, you don't always tell me everything."

"Because I worry about how it will affect you, Bird Boy." I raised an eyebrow and cracked a smile.

Richard just rolled his eyes at being called Bird Boy, "Well, it only makes me worry about you more."

"Oh, does it now? Well, maybe you should tell me what's destroying your soul." I was patronizing him now, and I could tell he wasn't fond of my tone, mostly because he knew I was right. "Ya know, if this is gonna be a one sided conversation, you can just leave."

I could tell this statement made him a little angry, but I honestly didn't care. If he was going to act like a child then I was more than happy to treat him like one.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No, I really don't, but I also don't want you to sit here and pretend that everything is alright when it's clearly not," I replied. "That sort of thing might work with Star, but you know it won't work on me."

He shot me a look of resentment and I could hear the vulgar thought he'd never dare let passed his lips.

"That was a low blow Rae."

"I could have hit you lower," I replied and I could have, but hurting him was not my intention.

"So you're just gonna kick me when I'm down too?"

"Only if you want me to."

Sometimes there is a sadistic nature to our fights, not because we want to hurt each other, but because we are the only two people who can understand such things and why they need to be said. I like to think it's because we know each other in a way that no one else can and we know just how far to push one another. But as much as we truly care about each other, we have a tendency to act like a car crash.

"So I take it Star is a part of the problem?"

He crossed his arms and looked at me mockingly, "Yeah, and by the way, pretending never worked with Star either," he replied bitterly, "but I wished it did."

He was right, Kory may have had some language and social barriers, but she never had any emotional ones. However, that was also her downfall, at least when it came to her relationship with Richard.

"She doesn't understand that in your own way you're trying to protect her?"

He nodded though I could tell it was deeper than that.

"Yeah, she just doesn't understand that there are some things she'll never understand about me and I honestly don't want her to."

I can understand this need. It's a need to preserve what he loves about her and he feels that if he tells her just how deep his darkness runs he'll poison her. I know this because I feel the same way about him.

"So I'm assuming that your little conversation, or lack thereof, was about me?" I asked letting go of any caution that may have stopped me.

He nodded, but said nothing.

"Ok, so what did she say that metaphorically kicked where it hurts?"

He closed his eyes in frustration, his posture growing rigid as he said, "I told her that I didn't know what to say, ya' know about all this, and she told me that I never did."

"Ouch," I replied, "she might as well have kicked you," and I honestly meant that.

Richard is the kind of man that can physically take a hit, but not a verse. He was literally trained to handle physical pain, but he was never taught to deal with the emotional kind. That's why we understand each other so well; we both had emotionally fucked up childhoods. Yay us (sarcasm, insert eye roll here).

"Yeah, if she'd punched me in the mouth I would have considered it kind," he finally said. "There's just so much I can't even bring myself to say and things I don't even know how to explain. And I can't even remotely get her to see that."

"I understand," I sighed.

Richard cracked a weak smile, "I know you do… and that's why I worry."

"Yeah, but I know I can't fix you."

He looked at me surprised, as though I'd just spoken the most honest of truths, "I don't wanna fix you Raven. I just want you to be happy. You deserve that."

I leaned toward him again, trying to feel if he really meant those words subconsciously, "You're right. You don't think I need to be fixed, you just wanna save me."

Richard didn't say anything, he just looked away from me as though he could just shut off our bond (like he actually could?)

"Or maybe it's deeper than your hero complex, maybe—"

"Raven, can you just stop," he snapped, reaching his breaking point, but immediately replied with an apologetic look, "Rae I'm sorry… I… I didn't—"

"I know," I said cutting him off. "I shouldn't have pushed you."

He looked away from me again—only a glance, "I shouldn't have pushed you either."

I looked up at him a moment, slightly puzzled, "Pushed me?" I questioned, trying to delve deeper into his empathy. "Oh… that."

His eyes fell at the sound of my voice as it finally broke away from its crass monotone. For a moment neither one of us knew what to say. We hadn't discussed what happened that night and I could tell neither one of us really wanted to. I know I didn't.

"Richard," I finally said, "you did push me, but you didn't push me to do that. I was just waiting for the right moment to fall. It's not your fault," and I meant those word with everything in my being, but I could tell he couldn't accept that.

"And I didn't catch you."

I bit my lip at his stubbornness; he really did blame himself, though I did not, in any way, hold him responsible for what I did.

"It was my decision, and I would have made it at some point, there was nothing you could have done to stop me… So stop blaming yourself."

He sighed, but it brought him little relief, his mind was racing with so many emotions I nearly lost my own.

"And you wonder why I'm always trying to save you."

"But you can't save me Richard, because this time, I need to save myself."

He looked at me in a way he'd never looked at me before. Like it was the first time he'd ever heard me. And in a way, it was the first time I'd heard myself.

It was like I'd finally said the words that we both needed to hear, like my voice actually mattered and what I said actually meant something. For years I've always felt my words were empty or at least not entirely full. There has always been some part of them that was influenced by the words of another and never entirely my own.

I can remember times where I've tried so hard for people to hear me, but my voice only got lost among the sound of many. As though the world was just one giant cacophony and within it I was too small a voice to be heard[J10] . But now it was like everything went silent, as though no one else's voice mattered but mine, and the one person I really wanted to hear me, could.

Richard remained silent, as though his own voice was lost to him and he now stood where I had only had moments before. It wasn't that he didn't listen, he did, but his voice was always the one to prevail. However, I could tell that this place was nothing new for him, it was just new to me, and I think that frightened him.

"If I can't save you then what am I supposed to do?"

That was a good question. It seemed we were both a little out of our element. "I don't know, maybe you could just keep the light on?"

He looked up at me, recalling our passed conversation, "Ok then, I will. I'll always be here if you need help finding your way back home."

I smiled at him and reached my hand out to his, "That's what I'm counting on, Bird Boy."

He finally smiled, letting go of some of his frustration. I felt that he understood me and that he respected my need to hold myself accountable, but deep down, he still couldn't get past his own guilt. But there is really only so much I can do and say to alleviate that pain, I just hope he knows he doesn't have to endure it alone.

"Ya' know Richard, I'm not the only one who needs to learn to save themselves," I said still holding his hand.

He pulled back a bit, once again thrown off guard by my words. He was clearly bothered by this notion (though I'm not entirely sure why) but I think it had something to do with his sense of agency. Most of his life has been spent worrying about others and saving them from not just mad men, but themselves. Even when it came to his relationship with Bruce, it was clear that Bruce bestowed in him the ability to save others, but failed to show him how to save himself (which is honestly for the better. I'm not entirely sold that even Bruce knows how to do that).

Truth be told, the thing that has been saving Richard is that he knows how to fall and get back up again. And if it were not for his resilience, he probably would have crashed and burned up a long time ago.

"Honestly, I think it's just easier to save other people," he finally replied, his voice bleeding with truth and sarcasm. "It's just an easier clean up."

I honestly couldn't have agreed more, but I'm learning that just because it's easier, doesn't mean that it will help stop the bleeding. Sometimes all you're really doing is putting a Band-Aid on a bullet hole.

"You're right. It is easier to let someone ride in on their white horse and save you, or in your case, be the one doing the saving, but if the enemy is yourself, then you'll just need to be saved again. And there's really only one person who is capable of doing that and well, it's not the person showing up on a white horse now is it?"

"So I guess you gotta get your own horse?" He cracked a half-smile and ran his thumb over my knuckles passively.

There was an acceptance, but also an unwillingness that clung to his words. Saving me was a part of our connection, it was a part of us, but it can't be that way forever. If I continue to sink, I'll drown like I always do, and one day, the prince won't make it in time. And last I checked, you can't save Sleeping Beauty if she's dead.

"I do…" I sighed. "But just because I get my own, doesn't mean I won't need you anymore."

"You'll just need me less," Richard said trying to hide the slight air of defeat.

"No," I corrected, "I'll just need you in a different way. I'm just not sure how yet."

It was the truth. I'll always need Richard in some way. He understands me in a way that no one else can and there are things that I can't bring myself to say that I don't have to say to him. It's hard to explain, but even when I learn to catch myself and prevent my sinking, I'll still want him there, I just won't rely on him to catch me. I'll still need someone who has my best interest at heart and I'll still need someone to lean on if and when the world becomes too heavy to carry. That's what friendship is for. No matter how strong we are we still bend, that's life, but learning not to break, that's on me.

"So we have to learn to see each other differently I guess," Richard said scratching his fingernail down my ring finger.

"Yeah, I can't be your damsel and you can't be my prince," I smiled, let out a slight laugh.

"I guess we don't live in a Disney Movie after all," he joked, his cynicism a little raw from his spite.

I rolled my eyes as images of voiceless princesses filled my head, "That we certainly don't. Our reality is a little more realistic."

I smiled at him and for a moment, I knew that we were on the right track again. It would take some work and getting used to, but I'm confident that we can both learn to be who we need to be, not who we think we need to be.

I looked over at Nora sitting by herself on the couch. She had a vacant look in her eyes, one that made her soft face look hardened and distant. She'd never learned to save herself, she just kept jumping back into the ocean. Hoping some man would come along and be her prince, but they never were. In the end all they ever did was let her sink deeper by taking away her ability to see herself as anything more than a commodity. But that's also her fault for letting that happen.

Nora was told that men would fix all her problems. That she should marry and let some man take care of her, especially because her career had an expiration date. But nobody cared to tell her that the prince isn't coming. At least not until Jack showed up.

"Hello Violet," Jack said taking a seat at the head of the table, "Dick Head," he nodded to Richard as I tried not to laugh.

Richard shook his head in defeat, accepting that he would never win against Jack's vulgarity, "Nice to see you too, Jack Off."

Jack let a wide smile stretch across his face, "Ah… I like this guy, I've heard it before, but that's a bloody good one mate," Jack said as though proud he'd made Richard stoop to his level. "This one's a keeper, Vi."

"Yeah… he's grown on me… kinda like a parasitic twin," I said throwing in some much needed wit.

"That's really nice, Rae," Richard said with a sarcastic smile which I gladly returned.

"I fuck'n love this girl, she's a trip." Jack leaned back and crossed his arms, the smell of his last cigarette still faint on his breath. "So Dick, what brings you to the local loony bin on this fine afternoon?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

Jack laughed as though the question was too obvious, "It looks like you're depressed. But hey, don't take my word for it, I've only lived with depression for at least 15 years or so—something like that." He smiled giving no thought about his lifted filter. "But seriously mate, you come like every day. Why?"

"Because I'm trying to be supportive," Richard replied a little vexed by the Australian's presence.

"Oh in that case let me applaud you," he said patronizingly. "You're a regular Mike Hunt now aren't ya mate."

Richard looked at him a little off-put, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means whatever you think it does, Dick."

Richard looked at me as I glanced away, knowing Jack's pseudonym wasn't much of a compliment.

"So Jack is there a reason you're harassing my friend?" I asked realizing that I should probably intervene.

"No, not really," he replied. "I'm just bored, plus Nora won't fucking talk to me."

"Why?"

"Probably because I told her she was a dumb cunt." The word left his lips with little more than a second thought as he uses this term for pretty much everything to the point I'm not even offended by it any more.

"Yeah that's not really something you say to a woman," I replied.

I may have become numb to its shocking effects, but understandably most people aren't, including Richard, who was about 7 shades of shocked.

"Well someone had to tell her, she obviously wasn't getting the bloody hint now was she." Jack's voice was oddly righteous as though he were performing some sort of public service.

"You really shouldn't have called her that," Richard added, finally able to overcome his disgust.

"Hey Dick Head, fuck off," Jack snapped, "It's a perfectly good word, a once very popular word may I add. It was used by both Shakespeare and Chaucer. I don't know why it even has so much shock value, we live in a world where you can find the most horrendous porn on the Internet while Dance Moms pimps out their kids like fuck'n prostatots , yet I use the word cunt and everyone loses their fucking shit? It's profanity that has over 800 years of history, so calm the fuck down and stop being a sucha dumb cunt."

Richard looked at me obviously offended, and who wouldn't be, but in truth Jack had a point. Not a very good point, but a point.

"Well Shakespeare was a fan of the word, and it was a commonly used during the middle ages and oddly enough its origin leads back to Africa where it refers to the word "kunta" which ironically means queen," I rambled as though I were the fucking Oxford Dictionary.

I could tell Richard still found it distasteful and to be honest if I didn't know Jack I would have too, but Jack uses the word "cunt" so liberally that it's honestly lost its bite. Not to mention that as much as it sounds like he's belittling Nora, he's really not. It's just his way of saying, "what you're doing is foolish, you need to stop." Now you're probably wondering why he can't just say that, well the answer is simple, Jack's a dumb cunt.

"So you're not offended?" Richard asked as though my chastity had been somehow compromised, or something like that.

I leaned back and pressed my lips together, "No. I mean it's basically the equivalent of dick…"

I bit my lip and shrugged as Richard rolled his eyes in disdain. Jack began to laugh, enjoying the expression my leader was creating.

"So Jack, why did you say that to her in the first place?" I asked trying to move that gem of a conversation forward.

Jack's face took on a more seriously look, furrowing his brow in what appeared to be dismay, "Well while you were talking to that rich guy earlier, I saw Nora trying to use the phone," Jack said recalling the details. "So me being well… me, I decided to grace her with my presence. However when I got over there I noticed she was looking threw an old address book." Jack paused as a little anger filled his eyes.

"So?"

"She was calling her cunt of an ex-boyfriend," Jack said a little over zealous, "You know, one who cheated on her with a model, an actress, a bloody stripper, and oh yeah with that much younger dancer, the one who hasn't even come to visit her once, unlike Dick Head here," Jack added throwing a hand in Richard's direction.

I know the feeling of being alone, so I know there is nothing worse. There's an emptiness to it that can only come from thinking that nobody hears you and that if you were to vanish, no one in the world would notice you're gone. I know that's how Nora feels and I know that's why she's willing to make excuses for the man she wishes would love her, but how much of yourself are you will to give up?

"So what'd you do?"

"I reminded her that if she called that fuck'n asshole that all she would be doing is allow the cycle to continue and that nothing would ever change."

I was actually genuinely shocked at that response given Jack's lack of tact. "What'd she say?"

"She said that maybe he deserved another chance?" Jack replied in a mocking tone. "So I told her she was a dumb cunt." He crossed his arms and leaned back as though his actions justified his words of choice. And honestly I'm inclined to agree.

I would not have used that terminology, but I would have called her out on her actions. However I'm sure she wouldn't have listen to me or heard what she wanted to hear . Unfortunately, the word "cunt" is pretty much the only word left in the English language that still holds any real shock value, but that also makes it really hard to ignore.

"So did she call him?"

"No she didn't." Jack replied, his arms still firmly crossed.

"I guess she got the point, maybe there's hope after all?"

I looked at Richard who at this point seemed to have found some very dark amusement in the colorful conversation. However, he still didn't condone the use of the word or its modern day meaning, but I think that's to be expected.

"You should really apologize to her and explain to her what you actually meant." He said, though it was more out of regret than morality, deep down I know he felt he had no right to talk.

Jack looked back at Richard, leaving his judgment aside, "You're right, I should."

I don't know who was more surprised, me or Richard.

"Seriously?" Richard asked waiting for some sort of back handed compliment to be thrown his way, but to both our surprise, one never came.

"Yeah," Jack replied looking over at Nora who was wading in her self-pity, "I guess I forget how much words can actually hurt a person even if you don't mean for them to hurt. I just wanted her to hear me before she made the same mistake that got her here in the first place."

Jack's thoughts (for what they were) were actually kind of touching, though I was also I little disturbed by them. (It's not every day Jack admits he was wrong and acknowledges his lack of tact.) But still there was something about his moment of self-reflection that made me think that if he could accept the error of his ways, then so could I.

"I can't believe you of all people are taking my advice," Richard said with a genuine look of shock.

"Well, every dumb cunt has a moment and this is yours, Dick Head."

"Well that didn't last long," I finally said almost relieved. I was honestly beginning to think that Richard broke Jack.

Soon after this lovely conversation had come to a much needed end, Richard decided to head home. This was probably one of his shorter visits, but I knew he just needed some time to himself.

"You sure you're ready to head back?" I asked as he stood up.

He shrugged with a little apprehension, his thoughts tangled in possible outcomes. "Well as long as I don't have another conversation that ends with me getting my ego kicked, then I should be fine."

I frowned a little, though he'd said it with humor I knew he was simply trying to mask his true feeling with it.

"Rae, I'll be fine. I've made it this far."

I looked up at him as my expression lightened, the weight of my concern beginning to pull less. It was funny how much he'd grown since I'd first met him all those years ago on that Jump City street. We were the same height then which made eye contact hard to avoid on many occasions. (Maybe that's why he knew he could trust me?) He was so much taller than me now, making it so I had to look up at him to meet his gaze. He was broader now too and far broader than my memory recalled, I guess I hadn't noticed till then.

"You know I meant what I said right? That I want the best for you just as much as you want it for me," I said as he looked down at me.

He ran his fingers through my hair and pushed some free strands off of my face, "I know Rae, but I need you to worry about yourself, I can handle me."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

He laughed a little, though I was serious. Richard and I have one thing in common that the other Titans don't—we're our own worst enemies.

"Rae," he said his voice flooded with vulnerability, "in the end I'll be fine, but I need you to get better."

I could feel how much he meant that, and I wanted nothing more than to deliver on that wish, but deep down part of me was afraid that I wouldn't. Then what would he do?

"I'm sorry," was all I could say as a feeling of loneliness began to claw at me.

"Don't be, you have nothing to apologies for."

I looked up at him, his guilt genuine as it burned in his eyes.

"I'm sorry for what I said about… your parents."

His eyes fell to the floor, the moment hitting him hard as it surfaced from the depths he'd buried it beneath.

Richard finally looked up at me once again—malice not present in his eyes. He'd always tried to be brave for me, acting as though what I'd said didn't hurt that night, but it did.

"You weren't wrong." There was a shattered quality to his words as though just the thought brought him right back to that horrible place—I know it did.

"I know, and I'm sorry I used that against you… you trusted me not too," I said meagerly.

"Yeah well, you trusted me too, and I hurt you just as much as you hurt me."

I sat down, the conversation leaving me with little energy to stand, "But you weren't trying to hurt me."

His brow knitted itself as his gaze fell from my direction, "That doesn't change the fact that I did."

"No, but the fact I wanted to hurt you does."

He didn't say anything, he just looked at me crudely as though he knew what he wanted to say, but just couldn't bring himself to. I knew part of him wanted to scream at me for what I'd just said and another wanted to walk away and never looked back, but neither part of him acted.

I wanted to apologize, but couldn't. I couldn't apologize for something that was the truth. I may not have wanted to hurt him now, but I wanted to then and I sadly succeeded in that. He may have violated my trust and pushed me over my boundaries, but that doesn't pardon my actions and it certainly doesn't warrant what I said to him.

"I know you wanted to hurt me then," Richard finally said.

I looked up at him, his face a bit softer, but still conflicted as he continued, "But I know you don't feel that way anymore, you were just trying to push me away… kind of like you're trying to do now."

"Of course part of me is trying to push you away, look at where I am?" I said feeling deluded. "I've been here for almost 3 weeks and I have no idea when I'm getting out. I'm tired of you seeing me like this—like I'm crazy."

"Raven you are crazy," Richard said bluntly, kneeling down in front of me, "but we all are."

I could feel my inquiry pulling at my brow as he finished his statement,

"You, me, Vic, Kory, Gar, we're all fucking nuts in one way or another. I mean, Kory's nursing an addiction to mustard, Vic's in love with his car, Gar thinks he's actually funny, and I'm an ex-circus freak with a G.E.D. and a semi-chronic case of excessive compulsive disorder," he huffed and took a deep. "None of us are prefect Rae, and none of us expect you to be."

I couldn't speak, all I could do was smile at the thought that in hindsight I really wasn't alone. I burst forward and threw my arms around Richard as a few tears tried to breech my eyes.

"Thank you," I whispered in his ear, settling my chin on his shoulder.

I felt a smile play across his lips as his arms wrapped around me tightly. I could see Nora from over his shoulder, looking over at me, her dark green eyes holding true to their color. She wanted what I had, even if it wasn't the perfect fairytale every little girl was underhandedly promised. She still couldn't find her voice, it was still lost among everyone else's and would be for as long as she refuses to find it.

I know that life is never going to be easy, but at least I know that I won't be alone it in it, and I'm grateful for that. However, I still have to learn to come to peace with what I've done and everything I can't change. But I can at least speak the truth now, and that's something I haven't been able to do in years.