Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, etc. However, this storyline is mine, so no stealing!!!
Chapter Eleven
The team had been surprisingly understanding of what Patrick had done. Or at least, they didn't dwell on the issue for long. It didn't seem like that big of a deal to Robin, probably because when telling the story, Raven had left out some information. The rest of the team, the ones that had not been hardened to seeing death, often gave him odd looks when they passed him in the hallways. The kind of look that expressed their slight distrust of him.
Patrick himself seemed to have gotten over the incident rather quickly. He'd often be found lounging around the house, trying desperately to occupy himself. There had been very little to do, it seemed the big time criminals were taking a break as Christmas approached. There was little to do other than staring blankly out the enormous windows of the tower, watching the yuletide snow fall heavily.
It was a particularly boring, yet relaxing day in the Tower. Patrick had just come in from playing around in the snow with Cyborg and Beast Boy and was completely soaked to the core, but content that he had won the snowball war. He walked into his room and changed, flash drying his snow clothes with a mere wave of his hand and a burst of intense heat. They were now steaming with warmth, too hot to wear inside. He came out with his usual attire, the hooded sweater still on, even in the extremely warm Tower.
The rest of the team came in after Patrick.
"I see, you just had to claim your chair," Beast Boy said smiling, morphing into a dog and shaking all the water out of his fur, soaking the rest of the team in the process.
Patrick smirked and looked out the window.
"It's still coming down pretty hard," he said smiling at them. This was the time of year Patrick loved most. This and fall. The weather was always so relaxing to watch, even in the most devastating blizzard.
Raven pulled her cloak ends in front of her and ringed them out, giving Beast Boy a moderately annoyed look when she heard the water dripping off the fabric.
All the team except Beast Boy and Cyborg went back to their room to dry off. Those two inseparable friends sat on the couch and instantly turned on the game console. It was a racing game, Patrick's least favorite type. Yet, he still watched in interest because of his extreme boredom.
"You want next round?" Cyborg offered.
Patrick shook his head and continued to watch.
Cyborg shrugged, the whole time never taking his eyes away from the screen. He was winning.
By this time the girls and Robin returned from their rooms, all dry. Starfire's hair was all that was wet.
Raven sat down and opened a book. Some sort of old leather book, the kind she was always observed reading. Starfire and Robin both sat on the couch to watch Beast Boy and Cyborg play their game.
"Raven, join the party," Patrick said smiling, looking over to the woman in black.
She lowered her book just enough to make eye contact with Patrick. They were full of every possible way of saying no. Patrick got the picture.
The sun was beginning to set. It had been a short day, mostly because the team had only been up since one PM. Cyborg and Beast Boy's game had turned into several rounds, each one louder than the previous.
"Dude, that's fifty three out of one hundred," Cyborg finally said with a yawn of boredom, "Face it, I won."
Beast Boy let out a whine, but it went unanswered. He was actually getting bored too.
Patrick suddenly got up from his chair and walked out of the room, his expression had changed just as sudden. He seemed so upset about something. No one seemed to notice that he had left, except Raven who he had passed by on the way out. She easily sensed something was wrong, but made no move to ask Patrick what was going on. She merely got over the cold shiver she felt run down her spine as he passed and continued to read her book.
By the time the Titans had decided to retire, Patrick had still not resurfaced from the hidden confines of his room. Most of the team ignored this suspecting that he just went to bed early. Raven was the only one who knew something was wrong, but she had been too caught up in her book to go check. Not that she really would have otherwise; she tended to let others keep their own business private.
She was the last one out of the living room, intent on finishing her book before she went to bed. It was finally closed well past four in the morning. She rose from her chair and picked up her book, holding it to her chest as she walked, almost as if she was embracing it, perhaps thanking it for the enjoyment. She walked slowly to her room, passing many of the other teammates' rooms as she did.
She came to stop at Patrick's door. In her dazed state, she had her mind completely open to the world, a veritable receiver of all the emotions of every person within a few yards. She felt him; it was a torrent of uncontrollable emotions. She felt it, his pain. Her face turned from a contented half smile to a frown. Reaching forward, she gently knocked on the door.
"Patrick?" she called out silently, "are you alright?"
Inside the room, Raven heard the sound of Patrick getting out of his bed and cursing as he stumbled over something that managed to make a loud clatter. Finally, after about thirty seconds, Patrick answered the door.
"Yea?" he asked, his door partly open.
"Is something the matter?" she asked.
"What? Yeah, I'm fine." He placed his arm on the doorframe to lean on it. He was in his sleep pants and hooded sweater, more than he usually slept in.
"Patrick, you're bleeding," Raven said pointing to the cuff of his right arm. His thick red blood was dripping slowly from his clothing.
Patrick looked over to it. "Oh, that," he said, "it's nothing, just a little cut."
"It's bleeding pretty badly."
"I'm fine Raven."
"No you're not," she said frankly, pointing to the pool of blood that was quickly forming on the floor. Her voice was void of all emotion, just a frank evaluation of Patrick's blood loss.
"Really Raven, I'm fine." Patrick pulled his arm from the doorframe and out of sight in his dark room.
"Let me look at it," she said, "I can heal it."
"No, it's fine."
"Patrick it's a bad wound. You can't go to sleep with it bleeding like this."
Patrick sighed and put his right arm out to her, wrist up. He began to roll up the sleeve. On his wrist were several red slashes along the width of his wrist, all of them bleeding profusely. Below them were several closed wounds, which had been inflicted recently and only just stopped bleeding.
"Patrick… why?"
"Fifty three. Fifty-three slashes for fifty-three people," Patrick said. This was his way to remember what he had done, to ensure he never did something like it ever again. "This is how I never forget."
Raven stared at him for a moment. His voice sounded different. It was pained; she could hear all his guilt. "I'm going to stop the bleeding."
Patrick nodded and Raven focused her healing powers on the bleeding cuts on his wrist. They closed and stopped bleeding, but as they healed before his eyes, something remained. The scars, all fifty-three of them; they would stay there forever on his wrist, a monument of what he had done.