Raventhedarkgoddess: I haven't done Rae/Cy in a while and it's bugging me... This might be crap, but I feel like writing it. Enjoy if at all possible. I do not own TT or My Immortal by Evanesence.
My Immortal
I'm so tired of being here.
Supressed by all my childish fears.
And if you have to leave,
I wish that you would just leave.
Cause your presence still lingers here.
And it won't leave me alone.
These wounds won't seem to heal.
This pain is just too real.
There's just too much that time cannot erase.
The shadow fell across the ground in a long pattern. Even though there was a human figure there, or at leasta part-human figure, there may as well have been no one. The light struck each object it so gently brushed against, including the tree who's shadow he leaned in,but never him: The light was gone from his life, and so, instead, he moved back, further and further into the darkness the shadows offered to him.
His eyes were fixed on the tiny marble headstone before him, the name emblased and surrounded by the flowers of it's fans, of it's many admirers who had been filing past the tower everyday to the small overlook, the rocky ledge where she was buried, to pay their respects to the fallen hero, as he had heard her called so many times before.
But she was more than a fallen hero to him. She always had been and always would be. He could see the footprints of the onlookers, of the outsiders, around her grave, making a mud path in a continuous straight line where they had been. Until they had left again, that is. They all went away again and left Raven Roth's sad grave overlooking the lake to it's own device.
Just more proof that they had never known her or they, like him, would have stayed away in fear and grief and sorrow. He had not been able to go with Robin and the others to the funeral: Instead he had hid in his room and cried as many tears as only having one eye would permit him to cry. Even after that, though, his heart had been broken and bleeding as an open wound in his chest.
There was no wound, though. Only the battle scar of a broken heart, a heart he knew that he could never get rid of. One shot at love was one shot, and somehow, even as he had lay there in his abstract form of denial, locked away from his love's gravesite, he had just known in his heart that one shot was being buried,made to rest forever.
He knew now that he was alone, but the painful feelings were all under his surface, waiting to come back and haunt him. He didn't even know what he was waiting for, and at once he felt like a foolish child: Did he expect an apparitation, a ghost? Did he expect Raven to pop out of the ground, embrace him, and tell him she wasn't dead, had only been waiting for him, only been sleeping to surprise him?
Even after four months, his colored skin flushed hot with embarressment at what he was doing here, watching a grave in the middle of the night, and he wondered whether he should just go home and forget the whole stupid thing now, forget his feelings. But his feelings kept him there, the devotion of love and of a lingering presence that wouldn't leave him alone.
The presence of wounds that, once in place, had no way of ever healing and would leave him in pain forever. Even after four months, there were still unshed tears and childish hope, hope that he had been clinging to forever now.
Hope that, even as he crouched in the shadows, he would hold onto no matter what.
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears.
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears.
And I held your hand through all of these years.
But you still have all of me.
You used to captivate me by your resonating light.
But now I'm bound by the life you left behind.
Your face it haunts my once pleasent dreams.
Your voice has chased away all of the sanity in me.
These wounds won't seem to heal.
This pain is just too real.
There's just too much that time cannot erase.
He could remember her, her warm scent coming to him and her arms around him, her violet eyes taking him in and whispering that it would all be alright, that he could rest if he wanted to, if he needed to fall against her with no sense of time he was more than welcome to. I'll protect you, he had told him time and time again.
And now they were closed, closed forever, unable to tell him anything. The very thought alone was enough to send him rather over the edge, but instead he moved his arms so that he was holding tight to the tree trunk, not letting go, steadying himself. Something within him did not want to let go, was refusing to let go of the only thing that was now keeping him stable.
The same way his heart refused to let go of the only person who had ever shown him any kind of caring, regardless of who he was or what he looked like. Of course, there had been those nights where she hated not him, but herself, and had cried into his shoulder, dodging the plateglass and objects and ignoring how hard it was for her to cry, to let out her feelings with no real regards to her limitations.
She was one of the only people he knew who could truly relate to his limitations, both phyically and emotionly.
He had been her comfort on those nights, those nights when he himself sometimesfelt like breaking down and crying until they were both better, free of the hate and pain of the world. Sometimes she would scream, words of anguish. And then she would always look up to see if he was still there or if he, like everyone else, was afraid, afraid of her and the pain in her life that she had tried to get rid of by confiding in him.
After those outbursts, she would hold his hand and cling to him for hours, although no one else could really see it as 'clinging'. They saw it as her sign of affection, as her way of caring about him.
Now his head swam with thoughts, and he almost expected her to show up and set her arms around his shoulder, expected her eyes to lock with his in a bekconing call of 'come home.' He almost expected her to come for him, but, once again, blushed at the very thought of anyone coming for him, now or ever.
He also blushed at the thought of ever really having a home again when he drove the others away, hiding from their company and instead seaking out the warmth of his room, the protection of his own room. He almost didn't know why he loved to be alone so much, but it helped him to spend time with both his life and the life that had been left behind.
Raven's life almost seemed to go on through him, her songs his songs and her very heart his heart.
He sometimes dreamed about her, her cloak going around and around in circles, her hood hiding all but her eyes, eyes that were filled with anger, mistrust, and hate. "Why did you let me go like that? Why did you let me die?" But, should he open his mouth to speak, she would start to fall away from him, and when he fell silent, she would become even angrier and further verbally insulting. Sometimes he felt as if his very sanity would leave him before the dawn ever broke. All he had wanted was to protect her, to love her and save her...
And then the dawn would break over his face, and he would tell himself what a stupid thing that was to believe, tell himself he was tormenting himself for nothing. But still there would be that hateful voice and the twisted anguished face in his mind, and he could not make it go away, no matter how much he wanted to.
He sighed and took a step forward: One foot in front of the other, nice and easy, just the way he liked it. He had to make it, part of him knew what he needed to do, to make amends with Raven and tell her how sorry she was.
For a second, he almost forgot exactly how crazy he felt. He just needed to let it flow out, to let himself be known by the voices in the dark that would somehow, some way, provide him with all the comfort he needed.
When you cired I'd wipe away all of your tears.
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears.
And I've held your hand through all of these years.
But you still have all of me
I'e tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone.
But though you're still with me.
I've been alone all alone.
When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears.
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears.
And I've held your hand through all of these years.
But you still have all of me.
But you still have...
All of me.
"Rae... Rae... I didn't mean this, I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I didn't mean for you to fall like that... When you moved up to protect me, I didn't know you were going to die... If I had known, you'd still be here." His human eye clouded with tears, pain, and emotion, emotion that reminded him of Raven.
He fell down, his body next to her grave, his head laying on the cold, cold marble. Cold as death, he would have assumed, had he not been so wrapped up in his heated confessional. "I miss you so much, and everything in you is still with me..." He looked over at the flowers there, flowers sent to comfort her.
He was the one who truly needed the comfort but chose to brush this away as a thought that he could care less if it existed or fell away, fell into the empty void of unwanted thoughts forever and ever, away from him.
As far away as it could ever get.
He had so much more to say, but it all came falling out with his next three words: "I love you." He stood, pain written over his face, and prepared to leave.
He could still feel her presence in his heart and knew that he would never truly stop missing her, that a part of her was always with him.
His name should have been on a tombstone next to hers. She held all of him, had been buried with all of him.
They were both immortal, immortal in each other. And so, both Victor Stone and Raven Roth, Cyborg and Raven, would live on in the hearts and minds of all those that knew them in both heaven and hell, those who loved and hated them.
Immortal.
(end)
