A/N: Love hearing your thoughts! *grins evilly* Enjoy~
"And here I thought you had changed!" she screamed, jumping away from his side, breaking the somber mood.
Stunned and without the mask to guise his expression, his mouth parted slightly in astonishment. The left brow tugged up at the deformed lid, stretching the ghastly scars.
She stomped for a few feet but then whisked around to look at him, her fists shaking madly as she tried to hold them still at her distended sides. Slade noticed a faint aura of shadow rise from her shoulders-her magic reacting to her anger.
"But you're still a complete psycho!" she yelled, red fury coloring her cheeks.
Voices in his head turned to shrieks.
Kill. Kill. Kill.
Cocking his head, cracking his neck, he fidgeted and dug his nails into the concrete. Restraining his hand was growing exponentially more difficult.
Now she was pacing, little zaps and streaks of black power shooting off her. She wasn't moving very fast and occasionally had to stop, screwing her face up in a fit of pain. Nonetheless she refused to rest, refused to be anywhere near him.
"I thought I was being generous," he hissed between his clenched teeth.
At that she scoffed curtly and let her cloak hide her from his sight, but left her hood off.
"Right because threatening suicide is so 'generous'," she spat back. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't see through that?"
He had worried that she would react this way. Some things never changed.
Sighing he stood up, the metal interlaced into his clothes glittered as the starlight bounced off it. She watched him carefully, anxious that he'd jump off and end it all right here.
When he began to approach her, she held out the palm of her hand.
"Stop," she threatened, face cold. "Don't come near me, Slade."
Halting but not giving in, he stood with arms crossed, his face a mixture of amusement and irritation.
"I don't think you understand..." he tried to protest.
"Oh c'mon!" she growled. "Let's stop the bull shit. I'm not falling for it again."
Unperturbed and lifting a hand to his skeletal jaw, he pondered that last remark.
"Again?" he murmured, chewing on it. "What do you mean 'again'?"
Flustering, chest puffing, she yowled in annoyance.
"I didn't mean anything!" she defended, perhaps a bit too animatedly.
Predictable Raven, he could have kissed her for it. Whenever she let her emotions out, especially frustration, she always revealed too much for her own good.
"No," he maintained calmly, eye sharp. "You distinctly said 'again'. You do feel something for me...or did."
Like a fish out of water, her mouth gawked open, her dark indigo eyes widening. There was no reasoning with him! How could one silly word draw such a conclusion? She wanted to tear her hair out.
Icing on top, he gave her a cocky, gaudy smirk.
That's it!
In a rash second, she slammed him against the concrete rim that went around the skyscraper with a shadowy hand, holding him down.
Grunting, he had supposed he might have deserved that. Yet his temper couldn't be lighter even as his head began to hang over the edge. It was something, she felt something.
Even if it was ire, he'd take it.
"You...must...really..." he choked out against the crushing force. "...like me..."
Walking slowly toward him, she curled a lip, leering at his stubborn arrogance.
"I. Don't. Love. You." she snarled. "I never will. Get that through your fucking skull."
It was clear she was suffocating him, and so she quieted her mind and the outlash reigned itself in, returning to her. They both panted, each breath taken by the tickling breeze. Let free, he rubbed his neck.
"Who said anything about love?" he coughed out, gulping in air.
Moaning, she shook her head, feeling her long hair brush against her covered shoulders and back. Would he ever give it up?
"One more word about it and I'll separate your stupid head from your stupid shoulders," she threatened darkly.
He held his hands up like a caught delinquent, but remained blase to her reaction. It would be easy for him to walk to ledge and make her spit out the words he wanted to hear. But that was not the purpose of this. He did not say those words to blackmail her, but to make her see, make her understand.
And how else could he do so but in a very Slade-esc way?
It was rather tame compared to his usual methods, he had thought. He was not one to bring a dozen roses or spell out cheesy love letters in the sky. He may be trying to squelch the monstrous voice in his head, but these things did not happen over night or even throughout lifetimes. Hell, all this patience was a first for him.
From the moment he made his decision not to kill her, not to continue the repetitive cycle of catch and release, he knew that this new, weird, nonsensical change would be a process.
One he may never achieve. It was a risk well worth taking, if he didn't have to be a slave to the monitors, an outsider doomed to stare in through the window for the rest of his life. How weak it made him feel to be caught between human and creature. It was a constant choice, never ending twilight.
If it continued, there would be nothing human about him left. All would become night, one with no moon or light, a free-falling void.
He had already begun to feel its effects. Taking his flesh and blood had not been enough to quiet the voices, the memories that haunted and wailed.
Perhaps it would be freeing to completely eradicate the good in him, or maybe he was only fastening on a new set of chains.
With her, he would never have to hide, she would free him. She had seen his worst, and not even close to his best. In fact, she had been the direct recipient of the former, and still managed to hold decent conversation.
This was why it had to be her and no one else. If anyone could handle him, it was Raven.
"Whatever you say," he eventually replied, lowering his arms.
Awkward seconds passed, she did not want to run off because...
Well the reasoning remained to be seen. If he was still intent on suicide, then she would watch him for a bit, try to see if he actually meant it or not. Although a rational part of her said that either way she was in no way liable for his reckless actions, it didn't seem right to dash off.
Moreover, the question of her future lingered. Did he really mean it when he offered her freedom from his presence? Or was it only part of a ploy to catch her attention? To distract her from the things at hand?
Slade was not done deliberating, but he waited for her to get a grip as well as collect his own thoughts. As fun as it was to annoy her, he did not particularly enjoy being strangled. In her state, she was clearly less apprehensive about wielding her power.
The chilling air began to cool her down. He was still staring.
"So," he said. "Are you ready to chat like a big girl?"
Unclenching and clenching her hands, she gave no answer. She wondered what she could say that would make him go away, some magical syllable and then he would fade, vanishing.
"Apparently not," he chuckled, his frail tenor chiming.
A sudden courage invigorated her. Fear would not rule her this time. If this was to end, she would be blunt. He was only too happy to reciprocate.
"I think you mistake basic human morals for affection," she barked out, expression passive.
Mulling his answer, he pondered just what he wanted to disclose and what to keep a mystery.
"Perhaps," he concurred. "But believe it or not, Raven, I have not always been as you see me. I had friends and family once. Many people have shown me 'basic human morals', as you so delicately put it. Does this mean I have affection, dare I say love, for each of them? Of course not."
It did surprise her though. It was foolish to think he had popped up, fully mature, and was committing crime from day one. She tried to picture a young Slade. Two eyes, a mischievous smile, small and clumsy.
Chewing her cheek, she wondered how to counter this new information. The more he revealed, the more the pale blue eye flickered, lightening.
"Then you mistake it for some sort of psychotic high?" she brainstormed, twirling her wrist as she thought it out.
He frowned. She thought so low of him. The beast in his head was strong, but he liked to think he was more than just a sociopath. Or was trying to be, at least, though he may be giving a poor first showing.
"If I did everything for the sake of my own pleasure which, I admit, I do quite often, then you would most likely be dead. To be honest, it's taking a great deal of restraint right now."
She shivered. He was not helping his case, she mused.
"That's supposed to make me feel better?"
He did not laugh but looked at her gravely. Honesty was a difficult thing to swallow, much less vomit out.
"No. It isn't," his mouth a hard line, a strand of onyx hair trickling over his gaze. "But it is supposed to enlighten."
An answer tugged at her mind, but she feigned a quizzical facade, blocking the thought from emerging.
"What do you mean?"
Ignoring her confusion, he saw through her semblance. He answered her with another cryptic clue, it was the only way she would come to accept the correct conclusion. Alice had to choose to jump down the hole.
"Duality, Raven. You know something about that."
It could not be tucked under the covers, she knew exactly what he was talking about. Although her entire person rejected his actions, his life, it did not turn its back on his soul. The dichotomy of good and evil that haunted both their lives. If anything, she was his light and he was her dark.
Past, present, and future had been a game between white and black, yin and yang, Jekyll and Hyde. It wasn't a hard thing to envision, he obviously thought that together they could balance one another's dueling sides.
What he had done to her was unforgivable, but it was understandable. Surely she would be doing the same thing had she taken more after her father. Realizing this, she gave another shudder. How close was she to the edge?
A jolt of pity rocked through her. No matter how hard she tried, the more she figured out his enigma, the more she empathized. The games he played, the front he put up was just that: A veneer. An ugly, sickening one, but a pretense nonetheless.
Were her heroics just the same?
Remembering how Beast Boy reacted around Slade sprung up in her thoughts. It was if the kid couldn't stop himself from fighting the villain. It was simply the order of things, he did not quarrel with this tightrope act, with his place in the world, there was no evil within him to knock him off his game. There might have been occasional chaos, there was the animal trying to break free, but it did not carry the same weight. There was no prophecy, destiny, or anything tied to someone else's fate and plan.
Emotions did not destroy his equilibrium. Ripping Slade open had been the first time she saw him lose it. It was more of a testament to his goodness than anything else. Even a saint would have been justified in his malicious anger toward the masked man.
To her, it felt like she was constantly fighting against such malevolent desires. A sliver of goodness always managed to stop her in time, but the void was right there waiting for her to slip and fall.
"Think of him."
Dazed, she snapped out of her brooding and peered up. He had moved closer, only a few feet away. She had not noticed. Lost in thought as she was she did not sense his nearing presence. Did not recognize his familiar gait.
The cogs in her head were turning, this was easy to see, he had to grease the wheels.
Motioning to her stomach, he took another small step. Raven remained unaware, trapped in her back-and-forth.
"Do you want him to be just as confused as you?" he asked, metal boot taking one more stride.
The way he said it was not meant to criticize. It was a fair question. There was no stopping this inevitability. The child was coming, and it was practically certain that he would take after her.
No, she couldn't do this alone. It had taken a wise mother and a team of monks to raise her. The weight on her shoulders grew heavier, she was still so young. So raw.
Did this mean she would have let Slade help her? No.
They may be from the same cloth, but he was stained and tattered. How could that possibly help? There was no doubting his intensity, his intentions which may have been true but were not needed, she decided.
Inexperienced, yes, but she had the wisdom of her team, friends who would help her. Where did this leave the villain?
She was not sure.
Her demonic personality suggested that she let him wither and die. That she shrug callously as he threw himself off rooftops or ate the barrel of a gun. In fact, it reveled in the hope that she could watch these things unfold. If what he said was true, how fun would it be to hasten the process?
The red cloak in her soul grinned wolfishly.
It had a point.
But it was outnumbered and outvoted. Too many angels, too much of a conscience. What a hypocrite she would be, too. For she had defended him, preserved his existence against her team's wishes. And now she would let him ruin her sacrifice? Make her guilty for the sin of omission?
It was still unclear if he truly intended to act upon his words. Maybe she would put him to the test, feign disinterest.
He would never buy it, she countered. He had already seen her explosive reaction. Switching gears this quick was laughably see-through.
Again she kicked herself for letting him foul the waters of her integrity.
A rather risky idea had cropped up in him. No doubt any sympathy the girl miraculously had was being gambled. Nevertheless, he had to try, had to make her see the vision in his mind. He had her attention, he needed to punch his point through. Once an opinion was set it did not budge in him, this one more so than any other he had before.
Perhaps it wasn't love, perhaps it wasn't even anything close to it. Maybe it was lust or the appetites of the soul rearing their ugly heads; however, there was one thing that was chiseled in stone, unquestioned.
No one, not her, not his son, would leave him again. Not while he lived.
The original scheme had changed. The child was no longer enough to sate him, his loneliness.
With one more step he would be in range.
Too late, she saw him creeping up, his face tranquil like a martyr before the chopping block.
He's lost it. She concluded grimly.
"What are yo-?"
The question died on her lips. Not because of fear, but because an intruder was latched onto them.
Against the harvest moon, atop the city, the world, his glacial, pastel mouth snagged hers.
With a guttural, astonished sound, she gave a hard push immediately, but found his resolve to be like gravity.
Nonetheless what struck her was that it was so different than the first one, it wasn't even a contest. The former had been sickening, immoral, and a thousand other terrible words, indescribable in its wrongness. It had been filled with a wounded, piercing pain. A creature trying to act human in all the worst ways as it defiled another of its kind. It was a tearing down, an unwelcome peeling away.
This kiss was forced upon but not grotesque or evil in intention. It was a last hope, a death-bed baptism, last call, last chance. And although she had been stunned-still, petrified, his plea did not fall on deaf ears. Gentle and searching, attempting to discover his other side, she could not help but reach out, to answer him.
It was like a rabid dog was whimpering up at her. It may be dangerous, it could bite her. In fact, it already had multiple times, but taking a shotgun to it was too heart wrenching, asked too much of her. Because it was once innocent and untainted, it hadn't asked for its condition.
The scars remained, she was covered in them, and the culprit was him. Yet, there was no doubt he had matching abrasions, things she probably would never know, things that were just as unspeakable as hers.
Like his mask, the man beneath was split down the center.
He was right, who knew better about duality than her?
The choice he made to corrupt her may not have been as simple as a shared evil, but a shared conflict with darkness.
She leaned into him unwittingly, trying to warm the face of the devil.
How could she deny him redemption? It had been given to her and she had to pass it on, even if it meant that she suffered more because of it. That was the right thing to do.
Wasn't it?
War erupted in both of them, silent angels and demons up in arms, divided by the action.
The ball was in her court. He was leaving his fate up to her.
Leave and perpetuate the cycle of villain and superhero, abandon him to his vices.
Stay and go into the unknown, with no promise of sanctification.
She wanted a third option, to have it both ways. Help him from afar. Maybe she could. Plans began forming.
She would stay with the team, he would hide out, she could visit, she could counsel, double-life. Was it fair to him? Did it matter? He was never fair to her. But an eye for an eye blinded everything.
Calling herself a hero was easy, living it was the challenge. Isn't this what she was supposed to do? Stop crime and suffering? Even if it was unconventional, wasn't she destroying it at the source?
Not to mention there was no avoiding him. He had linked them. Impossible to separate, impossible to ignore. Their child would be the archetype, she would see the father in him, see his features, his personality. Even if Slade left the picture, his signature remained.
Despite this, the struggle did not surface. Each of their eyes were closed, and the expressions which had been chaotic were now serene, the rippling stilled for a single moment.
Pasts hazy and pure impulse taking over, their embrace deepened: her fingers digging into his hair and his arms wrapped protectively around her. It was a strange scene, one unforeseen like a glitch in the system. It was the epitome of gray, the perfect mixture of black and white. It was not right, it was not wrong. It just was.
"Traitor!" a voice screamed in the night.
Slade hastily pulled away, severing the connection, and immediately shoved his mask on. The once peaceful blue eye darkened to obsidian and became deadly, lethal, as it narrowed at its target. Raven was light-headed, things were spiraling out of control. No decisions had been made, she had not wanted this!
Too fast, too fast! she screamed in her brain.
But it happened, her rationale countered.
"What's going on?" she blubbered out, cradling her face, knees weak, head throbbing.
Slade tenderly grabbed her upper arm and pulled her behind him, never breaking eye contact with the enemy.
Robin charged.
