A/N: Please enjoy this dancing bear.

(8)

"They have many names, many identities. Some call them 'ghost', but this is not accurate. What is a ghost in this world is no more than the lingering spectral imprint of memory and emotion left behind when a soul departs. But that is not what they are. They are shadows, the devourers of these ghosts. What they are is not fully understood. Who they are is the wrong question to ask. We call them Faal Vopraan; The Unresting.

"There is one they go to. A human, usually. Sometimes they choose a Child of Pahmonah, often they do not. We call them Vuldein; Dark Keeper. We do not know why Faal Vopraan gather in the shadow of these chosen individuals and perhaps it is better that we do not speculate. If you wish to save the land you once called home, journey north and seek out the present Vuldein. A guide will join you along the way. But first, sit with me a while. Let us speak of less troubling things so the night holds fewer fears."

~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs.

(O)

Chapter 37 – Home

He hadn't gotten the tube out soon enough.

Codeine. He knew what that was, didn't he? Usually it was taken orally and with tablets but Cyborg had made up some kind of solution drip for it so he could get a constant feed to keep the pain down. And he knew it was keeping the pain down because he had machines meant to scan the brain for that kind of activity. Apparently Cyborg was used to his patients insisting they were fine and didn't trust them at their word.

But now he was dealing with a different kind of pain.

Addiction.

You wouldn't think one day would be enough but it was. He'd known it would be and that was, primarily, why he had fought so hard against the opiate. He hated it. He hated this thirst, this craving for a thing he did not need. A thing that would destroy even a dragon if allowed.

Addiction…it reminded him too much of Blood Magic.

And there was pain. Constant pain. A hunger that whispered to him 'just one drop. No one would miss just one drop. Just a cut, easily healed, easily recovered. No one will miss it, and it could be from anyone. No one need know.' but it would not stop with one drop. The thirst would not be satisfied with one drop. His body would want more and would scream for it. Then, when he gave in, again and again, the pain would progress until addiction consumed him entirely.

He needed a distraction, and a powerful one. It wasn't just the drugs now but that blasted magic! 'Hate' was not a strong enough word. 'Loathe' was a bit better. Once was all it took and now it would hover over him for the rest of his existence. But he could fight it. He knew well how to fight it. If worst came to worst there was a method of relief called the Oroborous.

Humans saw the Oroborous as a symbol of eternity or something like that. Dragons had a very different meaning for that symbol. The method named after it was, more or less, the only way to truly wean yourself off of Blood Magic. But it was like a nicotine patch and could become addictive in its own right. Best not to if he could help it.

He just needed a distraction. That was all. Something to focus his thoughts on so he could forget this craving.

After a few minutes thinking he got up and went over to the desk where he and Rorek had hidden the book they were working on as well as the extra papers for their drafts. Between the two of them they knew hundreds of stories and poems and they had written down quite a few. However, neither he nor Rorek had ever thought to compose something original.

He decided to try it out. Now…what did he want to write? Hmmm…a poem, he decided. So, what should he write his poem about?

Well, that was obvious enough. All he had to do now was figure out what he wanted the poem to actually say and he was half way there.

There was a knock on the door.

It wasn't that late. Admittedly Rorek was already asleep and so were the kids, but that didn't mean everyone else was as well. Even so he decided to swiftly return the papers and pencils to the desk drawer and close it as silently as he could before he crossed to the door and opened it.

It was Raven.

He smiled at her and was only too pleased to see her blush and avert her eyes. Shy and nervous. That was a good sign. It meant she had something to be shy and nervous about.

He was wearing his pants and shirt because some of the withdraw had given him mild chills. He kind of wished he'd taken his shirt off, though. Unlike Rorek, he had no problem showing off. To him the scars were a symbol of what they had survived. Like trophies. He felt no shame from them at all and he liked the way Raven couldn't seem to stop herself from staring when she thought he wasn't paying attention. But if he decided to take his shirt off now it would make her uncomfortable and she might leave.

This was the first time they'd been alone together for a while. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he knew Raven. Words that would make most other women swoon and flush would close her up and cause her to draw back in defense against this unfamiliar territory. He had to be careful.

"Hey," he began in a normal voice, "Can't sleep again?" he managed to stop himself just in time before he asked, 'want a back massage?'

"Um…no…actually I just wanted to thank you for the gems." she answered, forcing herself to look back up at him.

"You're welcome."

"And making that necklace of all the leftover shards for Melvin was very sweet."

His face fell. "She wasn't supposed to show you that." he stated.

"She didn't. I saw you hand it to her." she told him.

"Oh…Well that was from both of us. Rorek and I, I mean. I made sure she knew that."

"Oh, good. Um…I was going to tell Rorek thank you but I think he's asleep."

"Yes, he is."

"Ah…"

She seemed to be steeling herself to say something, and whatever it was had her very nervous. The blush was coming back. He liked it when she blushed, and not just because of how attractive it looked with a bit of color in her pale porcelain cheeks. If only there was a way to bleach that gray hue out.

"Would you like to come in?" he asked. "We haven't sat down and just talked for some time."

She looked tempted, but shook her head. "Probably need to get some sleep…we'll be getting up early tomorrow." she said.

"Right…"

Another awkward pause. He could sense her trying to work up the nerve for what she wanted to say, but he wasn't sure how to encourage her to come out and say it. It was a bit strange. Raven was reserved by nature but he was quite sure she was making the effort to be more outspoken these days. She usually was with him; she had no problem expressing herself when she was annoyed.

"Well…goodni—" he began, hoping to prompt her into whatever it was she wanted to say. It sort of worked. She grabbed him by the shirt and kissed him.

As kisses went it wasn't exactly earth-shattering; she did little more than gently press her lips to his with all the familiarity of someone who knew the mechanics but whose actual experience was limited to 'what I read in a book somewhere'. It was nothing like the one The Other had given Rorek; all raw instinct and self-assured dominance. Not that he was surprised. But it was a kiss from Raven. There was that tingle of power he and Rorek always experienced whenever they touched her skin-to-skin. Only it was magnified into a veritable shock of electricity by such intimate contact and it made his head spin.

She had obviously intended it to be little more than a peck. After less than two seconds she was already drawing away with the air of a frightened doe. But he was too quick for her. Before she could actually pull away he had an arm around her waist and he was pulling her into his room, determined to show her what a real kiss was like. She let out a small squeak of surprise. He let the door close itself behind her and then he pressed her up against it.

"I only—" she began, her eyes wide and uncertain.

"Like this, dii aazvah Ruvaak." he purred, one arm holding her against him, the other's hand cupping her cheek. He gave her a long, languid kiss, his lips massaging hers slowly and tenderly as he took his time tasting her and experiencing the thrill of that power; a taste of lightening in his head and throughout his body. She made a small, involuntary sound – like a whimper or a groan – and melted into his arms.

By the time he pulled back her cheeks were a most attractive shade of pink, her lips were dark with the extra blood being worked through them, and there was a dream-like glaze in her eyes. He fixed this image firmly into his memory and stroked her cheek. He held her like that for a few seconds and then, reluctantly, he released her.

"Goodnight, Ruvaak." he murmured, letting the door open behind her.

"G-goodnight." she responded, all but stumbling back out. He watched her make her way back to her room just to make sure she did get back to her room and then slipped back into his own, feeling very pleased with himself.

He sat down, pulled out his paper, and began to compose.

(O)

Rumor had had time to spread in Raven's absence and Azarath (or, at least, the Citadel of Azar) was definitely expecting her back. There wasn't a party or anything, but the Citadel was getting pretty excited all things considered.

"Whoa…this place is huge!" Red X exclaimed.

"You'd better be on your best behavior." Raven warned.

"Everyone's looking at you. Popular much?" X teased.

"No just well-known." and carrying a cuddly Teether who was ready for a nap. That was going to give the rumor mill, such as it was, a lot of fun.

They were being escorted to a spare dormitory when they passed by one of the Citadel's large clocks just as someone began screaming and wailing on it with a poker. The Titans, all save Raven, stared.

"Must be two seconds off." Raven mused. "Is Astrid an acolyte now?" she asked their escort.

Eudeal sighed. "A grandmaster, actually." she admitted with some reluctance. "Don't ask how it happened. We don't know."

"Um, translation? Some people are approaching her with nets. Is that normal?" Nightwing asked.

"That's Astrid. Her internal clock measures time by the millisecond and is more accurate than any machine. Usually they let her adjust the master clock every morning and afternoon because she goes crazy when they're more than one second off. She must have gotten busy with something." Raven mused.

"So she attacks the clock with a poker? I thought you people were all pacifists." Red X said.

"Yes, but that means something a bit different in Azarath. Besides, no one's perfect." Raven answered.

Their dormitory was small and didn't have quite enough rooms but that was fine. It was serviceable and at least they were allowed to stay together rather than being separated by gender as Raven had half expected. The twins were agreeing to bunk together, the kids were all used to sharing beds, and X would have taken the common room couch anyway. So that took care of that.

"Well, obviously we're welcome here. They're assuming we're here to spend the night." Raven mused.

Another round of bickering broke out between the twins. Who was surprised?

"You had her all of yesterday! It is my turn!"

"Since when were we taking turns? You don't even like kids."

"That is not true!"

"And anyway, she likes me more."

"How come they're fighting over Melvin?" Timmy demanded with a pout.

"Because she's the girl." Raven answered. "Boys fight over girls."

"Why?"

"You'll figure it out when you get older."

Marlen Zanith asked them to meet him in a little-used dojo since his office wouldn't be nearly big enough for a visit. Raven knew the way so they didn't need an escort. But their party was pretty big and so it took them some time to get around. Especially since not all of them can fly.

"Is everyone superpowered here?" Nightwing asked, riding on a disk of Raven's spellfire.

"No, psychically or magically powered. Both of which can be achieved by anyone with enough training and effort." Raven answered.

The central column of the citadel was the largest open space in the building and was, more or less, the main elevator. It just didn't have an actual elevator. It saw quite a lot of air traffic, though. Monks and sorcerers were flying every which way. There were collisions, but that was a fact of the airway. Mostly when two or more people hit one another they all said 'sorry', rearranged themselves, and kept going. Most everyone gave the Titan party a respectful berth, though. So there wasn't a whole lot of knocking around for them.

The dojos were all on the bottom level and the numbered dojos (those that didn't get actual names) were all down one hallway and in a large spacious cavern filled with what looked, from the outside, to be small huts. On the inside, however…

"Whoa! How did we get outside?-!" Beast Boy exclaimed.

Marlen Zanith, who had been waiting for them, chuckled. "Merely an illusion. A good one, but an illusion nonetheless. Try get past the tree line and your nose will tell you the truth of the matter."

"Why? Because they don't smell like trees?"

"No, because the nose is usually the first part of you to smack into a wall you can't see." Zanith answered. "Come, let's sit down. The grass is soft to provide unstable footing for field training and, fortunately, a fake landscape tends to lack bugs."

"WHEEEE!"

"Melvin! Timmy! Don't try to climb the trees, they're not real!" Raven called.

"Okay!"

"If I had known you were bringing young ones along I'd have picked one that did have trees." Zanith said, cocking his head at Teether, who was struggling out of Raven's arms so he could join in the fun. She set him down and let him go, all thoughts of a nap forgotten.

"Sorry about that but we couldn't leave them in the tower." Raven said.

"Or anywhere else." Nightwing added. "Marlen Zanith, right? Pleased to meet you. I'm Nightwing." he said, holding out his hand.

"Who was once Robin, correct? Ah good. So…that would make you Starfire, Beast Boy,"

"Beast Man now."

"Ah, of course. Beast Man, Cyborg, I have already met the one of you,"

"Ha ha." said the twins in unison. That made Raven snicker.

"But I do not know who you are."

"Take a guess." Red X said, spreading his hands out.

"That's Red X. He's sort of..." Nightwing began, and had no idea how to finish.

"The reluctant Brother Blood." Malchior filled in.

"DUDE!-!-! NOT COOL MAN!" Red X exploded.

Zanith's eyes went wide. "You are Brother Blood?" he asked slowly.

"No." Red X answered, his mask's eyes narrowed into a glare directed at Malchior. "There's a certain rite you have to do to actually become Brother Blood. I haven't done it and I never will. Not Brother Blood. Got it?"

"Certainly. Any particular reason for your reluctance?" Zanith asked.

"Dude? Are you seriously asking me that?" X demanded. "This is Azarath, right?"

"Yes, I am simply curious as to why you, personally, do not wish to become the supreme master of one of the most dangerous cults on earth." Zanith explained.

"You want a list? First off: It's too much work."

"Saw that coming." Nightwing muttered.

"Secondly: I don't like that Blood Magic stuff. Thirdly: My mother's a psychopathic control freak who talks to herself in the mirror and calls herself 'darling', no joke. Fourthly: I don't like being told what to do or what to be. Fifthly: Trigon looks like freaking Satan—"

"Actually, the idea of Satan having hooves and horns was invited by the Christians as a means of frightening various pagans away from worshiping their horned deities. The resemblance of these deities to Scath may or may not be pure coincidence. All the same, it would be more accurate to say that modern representations of Satan resemble Scath, not the other way around." Raven pointed out.

Red X drew a big 'W' in the air, "What-EVER." he drawled out in an attempt to fully express how much he didn't care. "Point is, I want to be who I want to be and that is not Brother Blood. So I'm just going to hide out until you all get rid of them for good and just live out my own life. Sound good to you?"

"Quite good. If you are willing to provide us with some information." Zanith answered.

"I'll tell you everything I know, gramps. Including the color of Mother Mayhem's lace nighties."

"That's something I highly doubt we'll need to—"

"Pale blue."

"I didn't need to know that." Zanith turned to Raven. "And the children who are currently orbiting us with enthusiastic velocity?"

"Melvin, Timmy, and Teether are super heroes. They're also mine, legally anyway. They were targeted by the Church of Blood so I was hoping they could stay here, at least for now." she answered.

"Of course, Raven. Though they will be expected to train and help with chores. Also there's schooling to consider."

"Good. Watch out for Melvin, though. She's too smart for her age."

Zanith snorted at this. "So were you."

"Hey, about this training…" Nightwing came in.

(O)

This wasn't a dojo so much as a gym. It was wide-spread, communal, had multiple arenas with multiple landscapes, and there was always some practical lesson going on somewhere that anyone could join in, provided you were wearing a practice gi.

Azarath's culture was made up of bits and pieces borrowed from all over Earth.

Cyborg didn't really need a gi but he put one on anyway 'cause he liked the way it looked. Rorek had to be bullied into his by way of constant teasing from his brother, and Nightwing was asked to remove his mask, which he refused to do. Raven had to explain that they wouldn't get it off him with a crowbar and it would be best not to make an issue of it. That didn't mean Rorek could get away with his scarf, though. The scarf could prove to be cumbersome. The mask would not.

Red X was just going to hang back and watch.

Several sparing sessions stopped when the Titans entered and much whispering started up. Not to be at all dithered or intimidated, Nightwing walked right up to two monks who were frozen in the act of artfully wailing on each other and said, brightly, "Hey, mind if I join? I'll fight the loser so I don't get beaten quite so bad."

Raven hid a smile. She wasn't the only one who had matured. Some years ago Nightwing would have come out with something far too cocky and self-assured. On the other hand…

Raven waited until Nightwing was actually in the arena with one of the trainees before finishing that thought. It would have been right, though. Psychic power and clear heads were all well and good, but you needed to have had far more than four years of training before it could match Nightwing's skill and real-world experience. It was clear in the first five seconds that his opponent was greatly outmatched. When the Trainee monk had been thrown out of the ring he got unsteadily to his feet and grinned at Nightwing. "I think you're overestimating the prowess of a Trainee. You want to fight a Career monk if you're looking for a challenge." he said.

One such Career leapt into the ring with a bright, eager smile. That fight lasted a bit longer, but Nightwing had yet to break into a sweat. Oh the monks might be able to break cinder blocks with their fists and feet, but that didn't help you much against someone who frequently got the better of people who were bigger, stronger, had odd powers, and attacked him on a weekly basis. Sheer experience, honed instinct, and sharp reflexes were dominating the psychic advantages that the Monks of Azarath were so proud of. You weren't allowed to use levitation in these arenas, after all. They were specifically for martial arts and nothing else.

Cyborg, who wasn't all that interested in watching Nightwing show off, wandered over to the strength-training area. Starfire had been asked if she'd like to spar by a Trainee, who was relieved to hear her martial arts were a bit lacking and was only too eager to offer her pointers. Beast Boy was attempting to get the attention of a few girls, but most of them were swooning over the twins from a shy distance. The twins were watching Nightwing with some intensity. And Raven found herself wandering over to where a net free Grandmaster Astrid was beating the crap out of a reinforced punching bag that had a cardboard clock face on the top.

She wasn't sure why she was being drawn over here. Perhaps it was because Astrid had been one of the few people in her childhood who hadn't been at all worried about Raven's lineage and treated her exactly the same as she treated everyone else. This was not, Raven now knew, because Astrid understood that who you were wasn't dictated by what your father was. This was because Astrid was one of those people who had trouble taking much of an interest in anything outside their own private worlds. Raven's heritage hadn't meant much to her because she simply didn't pay enough attention to anything that didn't involve clocks, time, or numbers. Raven was quite sure that the only reason she took an interest in martial arts was to study the ways in which so much activity could be crammed into just a few seconds.

Watching Astrid wailing on that punching back for a few seconds and Raven realized the reason why she had become a Grandmaster.

Astrid was warping time. Raven wasn't sure how. Actually she wasn't even sure how she knew that in the first place. All she could really see was the woman's feet and fists going at speeds that no mortal should be able to achieve (unless you were Flash or Kid Flash) and moving around the punching bag so swiftly that her bare feet were leaving odd marks in the grassy terrain.

"Gets you the first time you see it, doesn't it?" said a Trainee at Raven's elbow. "I heard that the other Grandmasters can't seem to figure out how she's doing that, even after she's explained it."

Raven nodded to confirm that she'd heard but she couldn't take her eyes off Astrid. She was mildly aware of the Trainee going somewhere else (apparently this was a common sight) but Raven was utterly fascinated.

Astrid didn't stop until the punching bag ripped open. After that she seemed to sort of wind back down in some way. Only then did she notice her audience. She blinked at Raven. "Um…"

"Grandmaster Astrid? I'm Raven. Do you remember me?" she asked.

Astrid brightened. "You're that girl who accidentally destroyed the old clock, right? Could you do it again? I'm sure I could do a better job but they won't even let me try! Honestly, am I the only one bothered by the fact that it loses .0543 seconds a day? Apparently!" she huffed.

Figures that was what Astrid would remember about her.

"I've sort of got too much control over my powers now to accidentally destroy anything these days." Raven admitted.

"Oh…oh well. Maybe someone else will come along. Um…" Astrid's expression glazed over as it tended to do whenever the conversation seemed to be sidling away from time or numbers. She put a hand to her belt and whipped out a bundle of cards which she riffled through desperately until she found the appropriate one. She brightened, read it carefully, then put the cards back. "How Have You Been?" she asked, the words coming out like someone chiseling them out of rock.

Raven couldn't help the smile. "Fine. How has your research been coming along?"

Focus snapped back. "Terrible!" she gushed out. "I'm a Grandmaster and still no one takes me seriously! I have been studying the mystery of the restoration after Scath was defeated by the Teen Titans – oh that was you, wasn't it? Anyway, no one knows why, after everything was destroyed, it all came back when he was gone. Except me, but not even Patriarch Zanith believes me! Well…some of the mages believe me…but I'm sure they're only saying that to humor me!"

"Really? How do you believe it happened?" Raven asked, wondering what she was getting herself into.

"Well!" Astrid took a deep breath and started talking. Fast. "Time stopped, actually stopped. No more time at all, anywhere. Throughout the entire universe and all its connecting realms. But duration continued, and it was in this dimension of duration, though not time, where everything was destroyed. Everyone turned to stone and everything going up in great big balls of fire and lava. Time, as a dimension, was simply cut out and replaced with a faux time, a sort of winding time that Scath and the Titans made use of to continue, well, being and doing stuff. So when Scath was defeated this faux time went away and was replaced by actual time in which everything was back to normal and only a few bits and pieces of evidence remained. That's why nothing stayed destroyed! The dimension in which it was all still whole was stopped, cut out, and put off to the side. Right? But the people I tell all this to come back and say, 'But Astrid, you're always telling us that stopping time is only possible if you don't mind exploding into a thousand pieces. How could the Titans have done anything with time stopped?' and they just don't understand that the two instances are completely different! All I do is stretch time to get more out of it. Stopping time with this method would mean I'd turn into geography. But to a being like Scath, who can stand outside time and make it do tricks, it's completely different. Admittedly I'm still a bit confused as to how the Titans managed to do the same trick as Scath but they did and they probably don't know how but I'm thinking they somehow managed to grab hold of some of Scath's power or that Raven had some of Scath's power which she gave to them and that was how they did it. Oh, hang on, you're Raven, right? Right! Do you know how you did it?"

Her head was spinning. She wasn't entirely sure she caught all of that, or if she'd be able to understand it even if she had. "Um…no…I don't." she admitted.

"That's a shame. Have you been able to do it again?" Astrid asked.

Raven opened her mouth to say 'no', and then paused. "Actually…I can stop time. I'm not sure how, and I can't seem to do it at will, but I have done it before…at least three times now, though there might have been more."

Astrid looked like Christmas had come early. Actually, no, if Christmas had come early she'd go crazy because it wasn't happening at its proper time. She did look like she'd just been given the best present in the world. Unfortunately for her when she started talking she did so at a speed you could normally only achieve with a recording device and an audio manipulation program. This time Raven couldn't catch any of her words. "Grandmaster Astrid, you need to slow down! I can't understand you!" Raven exclaimed.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. "Come and see!" said an excited voice. "One of the Acolytes has challenged Nightwing!"

There were 7 levels that the Monks had. There was Initiate, Novice, Trainee, Full Monk (Also called 'Career' because anyone who achieved this level and continued to train was aiming to make a career out of it), Acolyte, Master, and Grandmaster. It was a lot harder to go from Career to Acolyte than it was to get from Trainee to Full Monk. The expectations were much higher, and it wasn't just about being able to beat up someone in a ring either.

Raven recognized the one who had challenged Nightwing. Anyone would. Nine years ago he'd been a Trainee. But then, Nine years ago Astrid had been a Career. The fact that she'd been elevated from Career to Grandmaster in that short amount of time had to be some sort of record.

His name was Damien Crux, grandson of Matriarch Lucrita Crux who had passed away some time before Azar's death. The Azarathian social ladder wasn't nearly as stringent or as clear-cut as the ones on Earth tended to be, but if this were Earth then Damien would probably be something like a prince. Or, at the very least, a spoiled rich kid. He wasn't spoiled, though. Azarathian society was such that paupers sat with princes, learned the same lessons, and achieved the same recognition for the same tasks. The social ladder wasn't so much a ladder as a mixing bowl. So the fact that the Crux family had a lot of money wasn't why Damien was well-known. He was well-known because he was dedicated, hard-working, took his training and studies seriously, and had been able to defeat most Acolytes in combat in his early days as a Career.

Oh, yeah, and he was also handsome.

Long black hair pulled back into a tight braid, his fair skin had the slightest of tans, his face was clean of hair due to his youth and the fact that Azarathian boys don't grow beards until around the age of 68 (which would be around 30 or so, give or take, with Earth's growth rate). His eyes were almond-shaped, reminiscent of some oriental bloodline, but were a deep, vivid blue.

His face was set and emotionless as he crouched before Nightwing in a simple, basic battle stance. But Nightwing was smiling. He was excited. This was very likely the real reason he wanted to come to Azarath.

"You'll go easy on me, right?" he asked.

"After what I have seen, I will not have to." Damien returned.

The crowd that had gathered were whispering excitedly to one another. Raven could feel the tension and excitement, particularly from Trainees and Novices who neither had the ability to hide their emotions nor knew that they needed to. Maybe they didn't, not anymore. There were so many unfamiliar faces here. Azarath had not stood still in her absence, that was certain.

Raven managed to wade through the crowd to where the twins were still standing. "This one's different." Malchior said by way of a greeting.

"He's an Acolyte. There are much higher standards for Acolytes than Careers." Raven explained.

Rorek shook his head. "Nightwing just defeated an Acolyte before this one showed up. It was not an easy victory by any means, but he was the clear victor. This is not the same. I am loath to say it, but I am pretty sure Nightwing is outmatched."

It was soon apparent that Damien's intention had not been to defeat Nightwing, however. He had known, just as Malchior and Rorek did, that Nightwing would have lost. Instead he was giving Nightwing exactly what the crime-fighter had come here for: A lesson. He wasn't shouting out instructions. Any tips and tricks he could give verbally Nightwing already knew. Instead they were just sparring, and the many times Damien could have knocked Nightwing out of the ring he didn't.

Raven wondered if she'd ever actually watched Damien fight like this before now. She doubted it. She and Damien had never really had much to do with one another. They just sort of knew of the other. To be honest, most of the faces she recognized and the names she remembered were people she'd known of, not really known. Even the sorcerers tended to keep their distance.

He was very graceful. He made the most complicated of moves look utterly effortless. She wondered how potent his psychic powers had become, and then wondered why she was wondering. She'd never thought of herself as the nostalgic type. Perhaps it was that, even if certain parts of one's life hadn't been very happy, such memories were still part of you; still made up a bit of who you were.

Most of the crowd dispersed when they realized this wasn't an actual battle, but it didn't go on for much longer. Nightwing was running low on stamina and needed a rest. So eventually they called a stop and shook hands. Then Damien turned to the twins. "What about either of you?" he asked, inviting them into the ring with a hand.

"We are magic-users, Serrah. Not martial artists. We would not be much of a challenge in such conditions." Rorek said, holding a hand up.

"I see. Pity. Although, to be honest I feel the arcane arts have more to offer." he said, approaching them. "It is the work of the sorcerers that keeps our society fed and watered, for all the field agents boast. But my mother wished for me to become a monk instead." he confessed.

"You're pretty good at it, though." Nightwing offered.

"Perhaps. But up until now combat capabilities have only been of use to those few chosen to walk the overworld. And even then such a thing has become less and less of a necessity. Tell me, where did you gain such skills? I've often been led to believe that the martial arts have declined in favor of mechanical weaponry."

"You've got to have a serious edge if you want to be a superhero without any actual powers." Nightwing answered. "I've had several masters over the years. And they're getting pretty hard to find, let me tell you."

"All humans possess powers beyond those that the average Earth individual displays. It is simply a matter of knowing how to unlock them and train them." Damien explained. He then nodded to Raven. "I almost didn't recognize you, Raven. You used to keep your hair very short, as I recall."

"Overworld influences. Mostly Starfire." Raven answered, pointing over to where the Tamaranian was cheerfully overpowering Trainee after Trainee, none of whom seemed to be able to get around the fact that she was just too much stronger than they were for their slight skill advantage to do them much good. Starfire's hair was gleaming in the magically generated sunlight.

"You two know one another?" Nightwing asked.

"You are going to be hard-pressed to find anyone on Azarath who doesn't know Raven Roth. But we have had a few personal encounters. Training sessions and what-not." He turned to her. "So, what was it like being a 9-year-straight field agent?" he asked.

"I'm just here for a visit, Damien. I'm not here to stay. Earth is my home now." she told him.

"Ah. I suppose that is what I get for giving the rumor mill too much credit." he mused.

Well this didn't feel incredibly awkward at all. Sure, let's pretend we were actually somewhat friendly so the fact that everyone was scared of her when she was younger doesn't come up in the conversation.

She could have hugged Nightwing for changing the subject.

"Well, I'm done for the day." Nightwing said. "Let's see what the others are up to."

(8)

A/N: So…um…there's not going to be a Squares update this weekend. And that's partly because I just flat out don't have any new ideas and partly because I didn't get NEARLY as much writing done during the week as I thought I would because I made the mistake of sticking my Diablo III disc into my computer and now I can't seem to get off. Don't worry! All I need is a little self-control and some way of getting my drive back so I don't get too far behind and run out of my drafts/buffer chapters. :D

Coming up in the next chapter:
If she's anything like ours he's going to need a cast-iron frying pan.

Looks like school's back, which sucks real bad. Means I'll have to deal with the stupid school zones on my way to work again. Grumble, grumble, gripe, gripe…AND NO ONE'S ALOWED TO SAY THAT I GET IT EASY SINCE I DON'T ACTUALLY HAVE TO GO BACK TO SCHOOL MYSELF BECAUSE, GUESS WHAT, YOU DON'T GET A SUMMER BREAK WHEN YOU'RE WORKING FULL-TIME! So enjoy it while you can.