One week passed.
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Five hundred channels, and in them all Dick Greyson could find only two things on TV as he idly channel-surfed.
The first was static of course. Because of the raising of the darkshield, no outside signal could reach Jump City.
And the other, was news reports. Detailing the ensuing carnage and chaos as Tartarus began a wave of destruction, flattening out all opposition. Police headquarters had been blown sky high, and most of it's officers rounded up and hauled away to wind up in the same jail the Titans had formerly occupied. Blackfire and Deathfang were loose destroying buildings and attacking people, respectively, and no one was able to hold them off. They did as they pleased. Malchior had done much the same, but had quickly grown bored of such things. Of Blood and the Ravager, no sign had been seen since the beginning of the week, when they'd sent up the darkshield.
The former Boy Wonder sat alone in his apartment. The apartment was still more or less in pristine condition, but it's occupant sure as hell wasn't. A simply routine had been established since he'd returned here a week ago. Wake-up, stare, eat, stare some more, eat again, stare, sleep. It never changed in the past six and a half days. And as a result he'd grown filthy and scraggy in appearance. His black spikes were now flowing down around his shoulders in an untidy mess and he had the faintest hint of a five o'clock shadow on his lower face.
So he stared at the wall. He stared at the television, blank or static or filled with news reports. And he wallowed in self-pity, feeling great personal blame for everything that was happening to Jump City. It was his doing that had created the Ravager, it was his failure to stop her that had allowed Tartarus to run free. And he couldn't do anything about it.
He'd been like this all week.
People need you, Robin, came a voice, echoing in the back of his mind. He turned off the television, but otherwise ignored it.
I'm not Robin anymore. Robin died with the Teen Titans, he thought bitterly.
I warned you it would be hard. You wouldn't listen. Do you now intend to quit?
"Yes," he replied, now aloud.
The voice wasn't unfamiliar to him, after all. He recognized it the instant it echoed in the back of his head. The voice of his mentor. The man who had taken him in after he'd lost his parents, the man who had raised him, trained him, been like a father to him. Even if sometimes he had been a hard, overbearing and very strict father.
The voice of Batman.
You wanted to try this on your own, Robin.
"... and look where it got me."
There is more to this than meets the eye. You know that. You can sense there is something wrong about all this.
"What's wrong is that I failed," he spat bitterly.
You didn't fail! Don't take that attitude with me, Dick. I know you too well.
To that, he could offer no possible reply. Batman did know him too well. And since he essentially talking to himself (and he didn't even want to think about that right now) it could be argued that he knew himself too well also.
You know something is wrong here. With the Ravager. And even if it wasn't, are you going to let her and the rest hurt people? People like a certain nine-year-old boy?
"... I can't do anything," muttered Robin weakly. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes.
Yes, you can. You can start by stop moping about and do something.
"But... what? I can't fight Tartarus. They have me totally outmatched."
Is that any reason not to fight? Just because you think you can't win? Never stopped you before.
"But..."
I can't help you with this one. This is your choice. But I think you already made the right choice and don't realize it.
"What do you mean?" Now he was really confused.
You left it under your bed.
And in that instant, Robin remembered. The remote dropped from his numb fingers as it all came flashing back. He climbed off the sofa and over to the small bed, reaching underneath it... there... a hidden loose floorboard. And beneath it a small box he quickly brought out and tore open, revealing it's contents.
A black spandex costume, complete with a new mask and a blue bird-like emblem on the chest.
The costume of Nightwing. He remembered. He'd left it here. After what Starfire had told him about the future, he'd made it himself, rather liking the sound of the name Nightwing and the look of the costume, but he'd left if here, not entirely certain if he was ready to wear it. And perhaps even a little fearful that putting it on would lead to the future that Starfire had described... a bleak and desolate city, cold and empty, with the Titans disbanded.
But the Titans had disbanded.
The city was bleak and cold.
Was Starfire's future coming true?
Robin fearfully slammed the lid of the box back down. No. He couldn't do this. He couldn't stop it, any of it. He had to put the costume back and continue on as if nothing had happened. Continue... to sit around and sink into depression and self-loathing. And he was on the verge of doing so.
But this time it wasn't Batman who stopped him. It was something else. Something he'd seen a million times over the past few days, but hadn't truly noticed. It was an object sitting on the counter, one of Robin's few truly treasured possessions in this world. It was, in retrospect, a good thing he'd had the foresight to move it to his apartment rather than leave it in Titan's Tower, as it likely would've been destroyed. Perhaps he'd even suspected such would happen, which was why it was here.
It was a stern-faced warrior figurine a foot or so high, not unlike an ancient Aztec figurine. A warrior dressed in ancient and ornate Tamaranian battle-robes and bearing a long-haired, dark-eyed look. It was intricately designed, not nearly as old as the figure depicted therein. It had taken lasers to make such precise cuts. Risholfor. A Tamaranian folk hero from the Legend of Dariand'r. One of Starfire's favorite stories. She'd given the figure to Robin during a Christmas a few years back, a good luck charm supposedly among the Tamaranians. It brought luck to warriors and heroes. It was one of his most treasured possessions.
Starfire...
Idly he glanced over at the box resting on his bed again.
"I've been afraid so long of what might come," he thought, reaching down and lifting the lid once more. "I've been afraid of stepping out of your shadow," he added, glancing meaningfully around. There was no question who he was referring to. "I kept the old name, I kept the old costume... it was like I was ready to give in every day. To go back. I've been afraid for too long. I will not live in your shadow, and I will not live in the shadow of fear any longer," he added with conviction.
He tossed the lid aside, then reached within the box and drew out the mask, sliding it into place over his features. Then he lifted up his new costume, noticing as he did so there came the clink and clatter of metal below. He must've stored some weapons with it as well, so long ago it seemed to him. Good, he was going to need them all.
"I -am- the shadow."
But then a thought occurred to him. Something about his conversation. Something was wrong with the Ravager. Something didn't add up. But maybe he knew where to get some answers. Batman hadn't just trained him how to fight, after all. Dropping his uniform for now, letting the mask rest on his features, he made his way over to his computer and typed in some information, accessing his back-up Titan files that he'd stored here. Again, in case of the unforeseen.
Hesitantly, he moved the mouse over the appropriate file, and clicked on it.
It was labeled 'Terra.'
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External Power Supply Low
"So this is how it ends, huh?" muttered Cyborg. "Never thought this would be how I go. I kinda pictured something more epic. But... I guess this was inevitable. Nobody lives forever."
External Power Supply Spent. Commencing Automatic Shutdown
Cyborg's left eye powered down and went black, at the same time his right one closed for what may have been the last time. Not technically dead, he certainly would be soon, for without power to feed his circuitry sooner or later his organic parts would wither and die. Then of course, his inorganic parts would be useless. It was a delicate balance that allowed for the mechanized man to live.
Cyborg drifted away from consciousness... and remembered...
"Son," said his father, appearing in his field of vision. He looked dreadfully pale, and his hands jittered nervously.
"Dad... what happened? Where's mom?" he asked, suddenly fearful. He felt weird. Like he wasn't entirely there. Painkillers, he realized. Frowning, he tried to move his body but found he couldn't.
"Vic... there's been an accident. The... oh god, you mother didn't even see the maniac coming... there was no way... she..."
"What happened dad? Where's mom? Is she alright!" asked Victor, becoming increasingly fearful. What had happened! And why couldn't he move?
"Victor relax please... I'm removing the restraints. Please calm down," said his father, moving out of his line of view again. And again, Victor tried to follow him but his left eye wasn't cooperating. Why wouldn't it open?
And then he could see.
His vision was perfectly clear. And not just clear. Better, improved. He could see every single detail in the far wall, could see every hair on his father's head, could even zoom in and watch a fly at the far end of the room. And all of it was being fed directly into his brain.
This didn't reassure him. It only freaked him out more. Outside, there was a crash of thunder, and Victor saw a brief flash of light in the room, coming from the windows not in his range of vision.
"Dad?" he asked, his voice quivering fearfully. "What happened?"
"Your mother... didn't make it," he replied after a moment's hesitation, the sorrow of his voice striking Victor full in the gut, but strangely enough he took it in stride. He normally would've felt fearful, maybe even nauseous, but he couldn't feel anything right now.
"I couldn't save her... but I couldn't let you die too, Victor. So... I had to take some... unusual measures."
"What... what kind of measures?" asked Victor fearfully.
"I... I shouldn't... you just woke up..."
"What sort of measures!" roared Victor, standing up at last. He heard an odd clunk as his feet hit the ground, but didn't think of it. Didn't pay attention to it. He was glaring down at his father, demanding to know what was happening. Hesitantly, the elder Stone pointed a trembling finger, directing Victor's gaze to a mirror occupying the far wall. Victor turned, looked...
... and saw himself.
Normally the memory brought a sense of loathing and maybe even a little hatred in it. Hatred for his father, for not letting him die. Hatred for himself, for being inhuman. Never again to know the true touch of the wind on half his face, of sweat along his chest. Never again to be able to feel the touch of anything with his hands beyond that of a vague computerized simulation. Never again to be viewed as normal, to be anything but a freak of science.
But not this time. This time he saw it through eyes cleared by maturity and wisdom of age, and he saw his father not as a monster but as a man trying to save his son. And he'd done so. His father's love had saved him. Just as the love of his friends and family had saved him countless times before.
Spirit.
The thing that made him who he was. The thing that couldn't be duplicated, couldn't be broken, couldn't be replaced.
His red eye flickered. And then grew fully bright and powered as his other eye reluctantly opened alongside it. He knew, he was awake... he was alive!
"Hey buddy... how's it going?" Cyborg sat up, his optical sensors spotting them instantly. Two of them. Two friends. Good, dear friends of Cyborg's, whom truthfully he hadn't seen in years.
Fixit truthfully hadn't changed, his impressive silver and black visage was the same as it had been upon their first fateful meeting. But perhaps in the last few years his features had softened, been tempered by a humanity that even Fixit had been unaware of... until Cyborg had shown it to him. Spike, beside him, didn't look all that good himself, pale and pasty-skinned still living among machines as he did, but there was a quiet, happy air around him as well. He'd found a home where he could be appreciated for his talents as a mechanic, and not serve under an abusive master.
"I have power..." said Cyborg, in disbelief. "I'm back but... but how...?"
"We heard about what happened to the Titans," said Spike. "We stopped by the Tower to help rebuild, figured we owed you guys a thing or two. But when we got there all we found was you, so we hauled you back here for repairs. Fixit here hooked you up with the juice."
"But..." interrupted Fixit, holding up a power cord. "I had not yet completed the circuit. There was no way for the power to reach Cyborg." That was quite a shocker to all of them. How could it have happened? How could Cyborg re-boot with no power? Spike and Cyborg were both stumped. Surprisingly, the answer came from Fixit, the least human of the three of them.
"It would seem there are some things that science still cannot explain," he intoned in his monotone yet not uncaring voice.
"Wow," said Spike in awe. "So it was... a miracle? What'd it feel like?" he asked Cyborg.
"Oh man it was weird," recounted Cyborg, suddenly very serious. "Zero's and one's everywhere! And I think I saw a two in there!"
Silence followed for perhaps a split second as that sunk in. Cyborg's serious look turned into a grin.
It was quickly followed by a burst of laughter from Spike and Cyborg, who never failed to appreciate that joke. Fixit, predictably, didn't get it. Then of course, the time for jokes were over, as Fixit and Spike did what they did best. Take what was broken, and repair it.
Cyborg held up a hand to stop them. "Wait," he said. "Look guys, I appreciate what you're doing, but I'm wondering if I can ask one small favor from you."
They exchanged glances. "Small favor?"
"Think of it as... a special project. I got the gear, it's in a crate in a warehouse near the junkyard," sitting up as power flowed into his body from the now connected power cord. "All I need are two good mechanics."
"It would seem you have found them," stated Fixit. "When shall we begin?"
"Now."
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"Good morning friend Beastboy!" said the puppet Cyborg, his wood and tin appendages waving animatedly as he 'walked' over to where the puppet of Beastboy awkwardly jangled on his strings. "I am most hungry for the slain flesh of boars, please, have we any to ingest?"
"Dude Cyborg!" replied the puppet Beastboy, waving his arms in an overly exaggerated manner. "I am only an eater of tofu, for I find the slaying of animals offensive!"
"But I do so enjoy the taste!" replied the wood and tin counterpart.
"Please, you should not fight," said Starfire, dropping both the puppet's strings to gently push them away from one another. "Now please, surely there is something we can all enjoy... like my homemade glork?" she asked with a big, overly happy smile on her face, holding up a tray of the same.
Predictably, neither puppet responded. But Starfire took this as an affirmative and began to heartily shovel her glork (which closely resembled a cross between ice cream and sushi) into the tiny mouths of her new friends. She politely waited until they were done then devoured the rest herself, of course.
All the while, Silkie watched from nearby.
His mistress was slowly loosing her tenuous grasp on reality, as if playing with dolls wasn't enough of an indication. She was also a complete mess, her hair was frizzled and sticky with grime from long days and nights without washing or hair products, her clothes were torn and ripped at the corners and edges and splattered with fungi and algae, the only foods she could procure on Blackrock island. And beyond that, her eyes held a shine that could only have come from an inner madness. Her smiles were too wide. Too... forced.
Deep inside, she knew she'd lost it all. She'd lost her home world, her family, her new home, her friends, and even the only person she'd ever truly loved.
Oh nonsense! she thought to herself, giving a giddy little giggle. There is home! she thought, pointing out a 'T' shape carved into the rocks where she slept. And here are all my wonderful friends, she thought, admiring the dolls strewn about on the floor.
"And there is Tamaran," she said aloud, pointing it out. Or rather, pointing out a rock outcropping that had a circle with a landmass resembling Tamaran carved into it. "Oh I simply must visit it has been... so long since last I did," she thought aloud to herself.
Four hours.
Starfire bid farewell to her four puppet friends and floated over towards the rock, picking up the final puppet in her collection. It closely resembled her, but the reddish locks had been torn from their roots and hurled into the sea, replaced by dark as pitch seaweed so that the doll of Starfire now resembled...
"Sister dearest!" cried Starfire, hugging the doll to her chest. "It has been so long, you are doing well?"
She made it so the doll nodded.
"Glorious!"
So it had been the whole week. Starfire would visit her sister Blackfire on Tamaran, watch as Cyborg and BB argued over tofu and meat, watched as Cyborg and Robin battled one another at games on a controller (not attached to anything else, of course) or even Raven, who sat by the side and offered up her quips about the idiotic antics of her roommates. And each day, Starfire slipped further and further away from reality. Night and day blurred together in her mind, when she was hungry she ate, when she was thirsty she drank (salt water, which was fortunately less poisonous to Tamaranians than a human) when she was tired she slept.
Thus, mid-way through the day, she fell asleep in mid-training session with Robin, curling up on the ground and rested her head on the wooden puppet, which normally would've hurt even the tough-skinned Tamaranian. But in her mind, she was curled up on Robin's chest, inhaling the soft and not unpleasant scent of sweat after a hard training session.
However, when she was awoke, she found herself alone.
Well, alone in that she still had all of her dolls, her friends the Titans and her sister Blackfire... but the only real living companion of Starfire had somehow vanished.
Silkie was missing.
"Silkie?" she called out, cupping her hands to either side of her mouth to project her voice. "Silkie! Where are you!"
Starfire gave a muffled gasp into her hands when she finally found him. At least, she could only presume it was Silkie, for she couldn't find her pet larva at all. But she did find, on the very edge of Blackrock island, a cocoon of lavender and silver threads nestled into a corner of the rocks. It certainly looked big enough to fit little Silkie, and it almost put Starfire in a mind of her own transformation, years ago.
Hesitantly, she approached the cocoon, placing a hand on it. It was warm, and she could feel it beat like a human or Tamaranian's heart. "Silkie? But how... you haven't changed at all the past year or so. And I didn't bring any Tamaranian food from the Tower... er... I mean home," she added a little too quickly, jabbing her finger at the rock meant to represent her home. "Why is this happening?"
She dare not open the cocoon and find out for herself. She didn't know nearly enough about Silkie's anatomy or life-cycle to attempt such a thing. She could very well kill him.
And she'd lose another friend...
Angrily she blinked away the tears threatening to come to her eyes.
"No, Silkie... uhm... please come out."
And then it happened. Seemingly all at once. Starfire was nearly knocked back by pure shock alone as the cocoon's surface rippled and bubbled like a balloon with too much air, and then burst apart, revealing what lay inside. A pair of hot pink butterfly wings swept out, sweeping through the air as Silkie emerged from her cocoon, beating her wings and hovering a few feet above both the discarded remains and Starfire herself, who could do little else but peer up at her beloved pet in awe.
It was beautiful.
"Silkie?"
The creature that had once been Silkie peered down at it's former mistress, and despite it's transformation still seemed to remember her, for it gently hovered in closer to nuzzle it's antennae against her cheek, as it'd often done as a smaller, flightless creature.
"Silkie... you are... alright... I was so worried."
Silkie somehow managed to smile at her. Difficult, considering it's lack of facial features, but it managed none-the-less. Or perhaps Starfire could sense it's soul, see how it still loved her and was, in it's own way, thanking her for all she'd done for it. In return, it left her with a gift, as it spread it's wings wide and flew away. Starfire, tempted to pursue, jumped up and hovered, but abruptly saw that it was meant to be. She'd raised Silkie and, like a parent, now had to see it leave. Tears flowed freely from her eyes now, but they were not tears of sorrow. They were tears of joy.
And so Starfire watched until Silkie was long gone, vanishing onto the horizon (not entirely sure where he would go, with the darkshield still up) and turned back to survey her temporary home. And for the first time she could see it clearly. Whether losing Silkie had snapped her out of her depression, or whether Silkie had somehow cleared her mind, she could now see the island clearly. Dirty dolls, broken rocks, food and the like strewn everywhere. It was a mess. Nor was it her home. Neither of them. Her first home was gone. But her second...
Was not lost just yet.
She made her way back up to the cave where she'd been sleeping, drawing out a chest that contained all of her treasured belongings, where previously the dolls had resided. She opened it, and very reluctantly put them inside. She couldn't delude herself any longer. She needed to face reality. She needed to accept that life held both joy and pain.
But for now, she was done with pain.
She placed the dolls and the like inside, on one half of the chest, and reached inside for something else. She hadn't felt worthy before. She still wasn't sure if she was worthy. Not of these. Technically the relics were now hers, since Galifore was no more and Blackfire had been banished. But still, these were relics the likes of which had not been worn in three millennia.
But she'd sacrificed too much to let Tartarus and her sister win.
Courage, Love, and Friendship.
These would be her weapons.
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The wind rustled through the branches of the woodland trees. With them came a myriad of other, lesser sounds. Birds chirping, water pouring down a waterfall a distance off, and... there... the softer sounds of his prey, the deer. Gracefully the hunter leapt forward, grabbed the tree branch at the next tree and flipped gracefully up and over, landing on the soles of his bare feet, hands gripping the edges, legs bent. He moved in complete silence. The deer below him didn't hear so much as his foot scratch against the bark as it continued to quietly chew its grassy meal.
"I'm sorry," the hunter whispered.
Beastboy moved swiftly and silently. The deer died likewise.
Physically hauling the body proved little problem for the young metamorph. Though heavy, the greatest problem was the beast's mass and size making it awkward. He solved that by lashing a crude leather rope around its legs and dragging it behind him. Back to the cave he now called home.
He and Raven had been the only Titans who had stuck together after the break-up of the team, but they'd gone into hiding in the woods far from the main part of Jump City to avoid everyone. Most especially Tartarus. Malchior and Brother Blood, in particular, seemed rather interested in recapturing Raven for their own nefarious schemes, and Beastboy had no intention of letting that happen. So they'd stayed out of sight in a small mine on the edge of the city. Originally, a company had been trying to mine for precious stones beneath the earth but it had been shut down years ago, and now was overcome with foliage. Still, neither Titan was anxious to test how sturdy the beams were, and thus did not explore deeper into the mine than necessary to keep a roof over their heads. Beastboy hunted for food, Raven helped prepare it.
He did not enjoy this. But Raven and he needed to eat, and the nearest supermarket was in the city, far away.
So he had to kill to survive. This was not even the uninvolved killing that he associated with fast food chains and meat restaurants, where the cows were killed miles away and out of reach, by other people, and simply served to him. No, the blood was on his clothes and on his fangs and claws. He was responsible.
It was necessary, for his survival.
And hers.
Beastboy suddenly stopped as a low growl interrupted his thoughts of self-loathing, and he dropped the deer carcass behind him. A wolf stood before him. A big one, probably female, though he couldn't tell from a casual glance. It snarled darkly at him. Almost instinctively he assumed the form of a much larger, shaggy green bear. Not to fight, but hopefully the wolf would be scared off by his superior size.
But to his surprise, the wolf didn't back down. The hackles on it's back rose and it digs its claws into the ground more deeply, growling up at Beastboy.
That's weird... why would it fight? It knows it can't win...
And then he saw them.
Just a short distance behind the wolf in a burrow under a small hill, their heads poking out. Another wolf about the size of the first and two much smaller, less furry ones. Beastboy didn't need to be an animal expert to know they were a family.
It was protecting those it cared about.
Beastboy immediately backed down, assuming a much smaller, less threatening form (his own) and grabbed the carcass of the deer, making his way around the small den of wolves. The encounter had been a brief one... but it had confirmed what Beastboy had been considering the past few days.
He was happy now, with Raven. He didn't deny that. And she was happier than he'd ever seen her. Ever. But if Tartarus kept doing what they were doing it wouldn't last, someone would come across them. And he'd die, in all likelihood, and he didn't even want to think about what would happen to Raven. No one may've cared about a green-skinned shapeshifter, but the daughter of the ultimate demon? Yes, there would be interest there. Scientific and magical alike. They'd want to tear her apart and see what made her tick, down to her DNA.
He wouldn't let that happen.
So by the time he arrived back at their makeshift home, he'd made a decision. Did he think he could win? Hell no. But he had to fight anyway. He had to protect Raven. And everybody else. He had a gift. He needed to choose how to use it, just like those of Tartarus had.
Beastboy was going to make the right choice.
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What did it feel like, to be at once empty and scared, and yet at the same time, so utterly content that time could freeze and you would be the happiest person alive?
Well that more or less described Raven at this particular moment.
Raven sighed and rolled onto her back, still feeling the tingling after-effects of her coupling with Beastboy. They'd made love again only an hour ago... then Beastboy had left to go fight Tartarus. She'd wanted so very badly to come along, to try and help, but without her full power she would've only been a burden on him, or so she thought. So she'd reluctantly listened when he'd asked her to remain behind.
Although, in truth, she wasn't quite as powerless as all that.
She'd found out an interesting fact regarding that. It seemed not all of her magic had been stolen along with Anger. Her other emotions still held a spark of power on their own as well. Still, even with all her years of training and studying, without her chakram to focus it and Anger's raw power to fuel it she could conjure up only the smallest of magical powers.
Still, better than nothing.
Raven had been happy this week. It was so utterly delightful. No longer could Anger come between them. Raven was finally free to fully experience joy. And maybe, she thought, finally, it was time she let someone else out of the cage of her mind. Literally. Because Raven was happy now. Really, truly, happy. And she didn't want it to end. Nor did she want it to end for anyone else. Especially Beastboy.
Reluctantly sitting up and shaking off the warm feelings running through herself, Raven decided to make her way deeper into the mines. She wanted to be surrounded by darkness. It was comforting, in it's own way. It felt natural, for her. Darkness was a part of her, and she'd come to accept that long ago. But darkness was not evil. It was what hid within the darkness that was evil. Still, she did not have the vision of an owl or a cat to guide her like Beastboy, so she held aloft her hand and conjured a tiny flame into it. It took a good chunk of her concentration but it allowed her a chance to see where she was going.
As she made her way deeper into the caverns, past some crumbling wooden bars and into the darkest, deepest part of the cavern, a glint of light reflected off the flame, and curious, Raven moved closer to see what it was.
It was a gem. Seems the miners had missed it.
But more importantly, it was a ruby quartz. Just the sort she needed. But... how... the odds must have been...
Hesitantly Raven reached out and pried the stone loose, expecting it to turn out to be nothing more than a shiny rock when properly viewed in the light. But it wasn't. It was exactly the sort of stone she needed, almost as if it had been cut and placed into the stone just for her to find. But how...?
Lavender shaded eyes were cast towards the ceiling, and past that the sky. She had never been a particularly religious person (having a demon for a father tended to kill that sort of thing in you, no matter how good you were) but now she could not help but wonder. Was this divine intervention? If so why not send a horde of angels to destroy Tartarus and simply be done with it? she thought, on the verge of feeling irritated. But she couldn't. Anger was gone. She was still just as empty as ever, despite Beastboy's caring for her.
"I suppose I shouldn't care how this came into my hand," she intoned softly. "Only that is has."
Gently, she placed the stone into her forehead and pushed it down with her fingers, surprised to see that it fit.
Perfectly. It felt just like her old stone.
And, more importantly, it worked just like her old stone. With only a small thought she illuminated the tunnel with tiny flames like torches along the walls, and could feel the spiritual power of her emotions coursing through her again. Her power, while still greatly diminished, was hers again to mold and shape as she pleased.
All the more reason to open this one last cage, she thought. This one last prison.
Sitting down on the ground, Raven crossed her legs as if deep in meditation, and allowed herself to reach deep inside of her mind. Her mirror would have aided her considerably, but she would have to do without it. However, she was able to find this particular part of her mind with little trouble
None of the others new about this emotion. Raven had carefully kept her knowledge secret from the others, especially Anger. Not even Happy knew about this particular emotion, Raven kept her hidden in the very back of her mind, careful to nurture her and protect her, ready her for the day she might be able to come out and be expressed. Today was that day. Raven opened the white crystal doors and beheld a room of reflective surfaces. Inside, just beyond the doors, another Raven stood, cloaked like her counterpart, but in the purest of whites.
Her name was Hope.
And in the real world, Raven's cloak shifted, taking on a new hue and coloration, as her eyes opened. And she smiled.
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Author's Notes:
Nightwing of course we all remember from 'How Long is Forever.' The figurine of Risholfor comes from 'Blackout' (to again shamelessly plug my own stories) but the original Legend of Dariand'r is Happy-Raven's creation from her story 'It's Relative.' The zero's, one's and two joke comes word-for-word from Futurama, and is particularly ironic being told to Spike, for his voice actor (John DiMaggio) does Bender in Futurama. I'm fully aware Silkie is a moth larva, not a butterfly, but as it's DNA was royally messed up by Tamaranian food and Killer Moth's tampering, I'd say that gives me more than enough free reign to exercise creative license. Plus, it looks nicer. Beastboy's remark about a gift and choices comes from his conversation with Thunder during 'Forces of Nature.' Raven's new chakra gem was not placed their by accident (or divine forces), I have a reason for that, but it shall only be revealed later. Hope comes primarily from my Halloween story 'Awakening of Evil' and is my own theory based on the animated Raven's powers and emotions. I suppose she's something of an OC. Next time: The Titans are back, but Tartarus is hardly done just yet. And even though they've found their own reasons to fight, can they be reunited as a team?
Scathac's Warrior: Angst and drama are so much fun to write, and I'm glad you enjoy the BBRae moment, I'd been wanting to do that for ages.
Ray1: Jinx will make another appearance at the very, very end of the story, with no more involvement in the actual plot.
Yomiori-Wolfdemon: It is a little funny, but sad at the same time to see Starfire like that. I'm glad you've enjoyed the Beastboy and Raven seen, and I'll make you a deal. If you take Beastboy, I call dibs on Raven, deal? Heh.
Pnaixrose: 'sokay, we all have our stupid real life obligations to deal with. At least you've been reviewing on a fairly consistent basis.
Finn Mac Cool: A grammatical error on my part. They happen because I think I'm typing in something I'm not, and word won't catch it. Apologies. I vastly enjoyed writing that line in chapter eleven too. I do tend to use a more serious style for my Titan stories, but you'll no doubt notice in my previous ones I tend to use the words "if they had been an animated cartoon character" and something silly afterwards. Something for both types of readers. I'm fairly sure this story is already AU… but damnit, I'm gonna finish it. Glad you're enjoying the angst and sap. Hope you're ready for more.
TDG3RD: Yup, that's it in a nutshell. Cruel, aren't I?
Comet-hime: After all this you still don't believe? Blasphemous! Or are you still holding out hopes for Raven-Starfire? Hehehe. Glad you're enjoying the angst and drama and romance and all of it.
Todd fan: Every emotion but humor it seems, but thank you.
Anwen: Yes, yes they do. Skip it! After all my hard work! Don't worry it's not in the story it's by request only, as I said. You won't have to read it.
Blackbird: Looney as a tune. Cute. And yeah, but BB and Rae's happiness is only temporary right now, it might not last. Don't worry though, I never have sad endings to my stories.
RavenGarfield 4ever: Oh very well, here you go. Latest chapter, BB and Rae are both restored and happy and Tartarus is about to get trounced. Happy?
ViciousAssassin: How wonderful to know my story has not degraded, as I feared it would, into a stereotypical Titans get beat up but then save the day story. Your words comfort me. And I am glad you enjoyed my lemon. I so rarely write those anymore but I do take pride in them.
Piccolo999: I confess I've only recently been interested in the New Teen Titan comics, and then only as a comparison between them and the animated series. Some aspects (Superboy springs instantly to mind) I still don't care for. You didn't like Blood? I admit he wasn't quite as fearsome as his comic counterpart or as Slade, but he was creepy in his own twisted way. He wanted to eliminate free will, after all. Season Four (Yes, Trigon!) does indeed look like it'll be very powerful.
BolenPUCR: Things didn't look too good, but now hopefully things are starting to take a turn for the better.
Seth Turtle: OOC-ness? Where! I hate OOC-ness! And yes, a bit of Rogue did influence the portrayal of Raven in the previous chapter. And perhaps in upcoming chapters. Still, who better to compare her to? I know my writing of Beastboy and Raven will do no justice to yours, but I hope I can come close, at least.