Death Defied By Will
Disclaimer: Exactly what it implies. I am disclaiming Teen Titans. Mostly because I don't own Teen Titans. And partly because I don't want to get sued.
Author's Note:This is a little different from what I usually write, but I had fun with it. I should have been working on Polaris instead or maybe even that RobTerra sequel to Who I Am that I promised, but inspiration hit and I just went with it. Expect an update for Polaris soon. Please read and review! I love hearing from you! (And no flaming on the pairing, okay?) Otherwise, feel free saying whatever.
Death defied by will
Like a drug that doesn't kill…
She embodied death. She was the last gasp for air, the epitaph on the gravestone, the spirit that flew from the great beyond to collect the deceased souls on earth. She was dark and gloomy and pessimistic. She offered no hopes or promises. Everything about her was shrouded in mystery. She was the Grim Reaper. She was death walking in human form.
And yet, she utterly refused to die.
He watched her in battle, flying in graceful arcs to avoid the blast of a cannon or weaving together a dark spell to counter the approach of a bright pink flame of magic. She avoided punches with surprising ease and effortlessly dodged an onslaught of karate kicks.
She blocked blows that could have meant death with a casual flick of her wrist.
He admired her and feared her all at the same time. She was beautiful, no doubt, but she was also dry and cutting. She didn't give breaks, she didn't go easy. A person had to strive to be the best he could be around her, because she would accept nothing less.
Some might find this snobbish, others could find it a reason to resent her, even hate her. But he knew there was more to it than that. She escaped the clutches of death that were constantly reaching for her everyday, without rest. Out of his entire team, he would have to say that she was the most vulnerable to dying, but only because she was already just half-alive as it was.
But for a person that lived such a half-life, she fought brilliantly.
She gave the best she had all day everyday, and that was why she expected the same courtesy from others.
He was more than willing to bend to her will.
He was constantly pushing himself to be better in her eyes. He was always training, always strategizing, always keeping tabs on potential danger. He strived and reached and stretched until he nearly broke to be worthy in her eyes. Because she had more than earned her place in his.
"Raven," he whispered in his sleep.
His dreams were consumed with shadows that scared children at night and bleak winter days where the wind blew shards of ice in his face and those haunting purple eyes that peered out from beneath a hood. That was her. When she manifested herself in his sleep, he would toss and turn and thrash about violently. One time, he had even ended up with a black eye. She was locked doors and endless running and silent yells. She was the type of dream that chilled a person to his core and sent him running for the comforting arms of his mother, no matter how old he was.
"Raven," he whispered.
Her name lingered on his lips till the morning, where he was sure to shoot straight up in bed, gasping for air for at least a few minutes afterwards as he tried in vain to convince himself that everything was okay. That was how it always was.
From there, her aura would twirl around him for the rest of the day. She was the kind of cold that was impossible to shiver away. He never remembered the exact details of his dreams, but the feeling that remained, the uneasiness, the tension, told him all he needed to know.
She had a way of getting under his skin like that.
"Great, Robin, more yelling will definitely stop all the yelling," she said sarcastically.
She was shrewd and sharp. She dispensed biting remarks freely, the kind that felt like needle pinpricks on his skin. But, God, his name sounded so beautiful falling from her lips.
She didn't even realize how perfect she was.
If she was the Angel of Death, he could almost be content with the idea of his passing. She would whisk him away to some far off land where they would face his fate together. It really wasn't hard to picture her in this state, he mused, with feathery black wings, the kind that looked so fragile they could break at the slightest wind but really would be more than able to hold up in the middle of a tornado.
He couldn't stop imagining how stunning she would look with those black wings. He was tempted to ask Cyborg if manufacturing something like this would have been possible. But then, she glided back into the room, and he froze, discarding the idea instantly.
She didn't need gossamer wings to make her stunning. The real version of her was even more perfect than his imagination. He knew he could stay up for nights and never capture the exact sharpness of her hair falling across her chin, or the silvery tone of her skin, or the poise that accompanied her even while she slept.
"Something wrong?" she asked, raising a sculpted brow.
He shook his head quickly. Nothing wrong. No. Besides the fact that her standing there was sending all his senses into overdrive, and he wanted to reach out for her so bad even though enough experiences with her told him that she would only elude his grasp.
She fixed a shrewd glare on him, and Robin was once again reminded of the powers she possessed as he avoided her eyes. Her mental abilities could be matched against his and win. Easily. The only reason she wasn't leader was because she wasn't interested in being in charge of other people. She only concerned herself with how she fought.
Robin found himself letting her get away with certain liberties, flying out of directed formations, just because she was so good at what she did. She held immense power that he could only begin to comprehend. And this was only because she had allowed him to see almost everything about her in one staggering mind-meld.
Before, he had only had a slight idea that her dark power may have exceeded that of Cyborg's sonic cannon or Starfire's green star-bolts. Now, he knew better. He knew she could level a small country if she unleashed herself even halfway.
But the only thing that outshone her power was her control. She was the definition of self-control.
"Why did the aardvark cross the road?" Beast Boy challenged, grinning.
"To beat up the idiot telling jokes about him," Raven said dryly, sending everyone else into hysterics without even cracking a smile. She rarely smiled, and Robin was almost glad for it. The repercussions it had on his heart when she did nearly killed him every time.
"Why are you doing that?" Raven demanded, snapping him from daydreams of mourners laughing and sinners redeemed.
"What?" he asked.
She glared. "Staring."
"I'm not," he defended himself.
"You are," she replied testily. "Stop it."
"Training is tonight at six," he said, abruptly changing the subject.
She went along with it. "Okay."
He couldn't help himself. "Do you want to go get some practice in with me?"
"Practice for training," she said doubtfully.
"I need to beat Cyborg this week," Robin explained hastily. "He's been showing me up these past couple weeks."
"You always win," Raven said.
"I know, but it's not as easy as it used to be. Anything longer than five minutes is a disgrace. Last week, it took me five minutes and thirty-two seconds. Thirty-two seconds. It was humiliating." Sad as it was, he was actually serious.
Raven rolled her eyes. "You are the most obsessive, competitive, fanatical person I've ever had the displeasure of meeting."
"Does that mean you'll do it?" Robin asked.
"What do you think?" she retorted rudely before walking out of the room.
Robin blinked. She should have come with a warning. Cruel rejections and abrupt exits were her trademarks.
He wondered if there was ever a time she didn't have her guard up against the world. Even child Raven had a hard time trusting. The world had been catching fire around them, and still she had refused to grab hold of his hand.
Raven was all about shying away from human contact. Robin sometimes feared that if he were to ever try to reach for her, she would slip through his fingers like air. If it hadn't been for the one time she had surprised him, threw her arms around his neck and held on as if she never wanted to let go, he might have actually believed she was as intangible as the shadow she left on the wall.
Of course, it had taken the world's end, literally, for Raven to prove her own humanity.
All it had taken was a split-second glimpse, and Robin had been hooked. It didn't matter that she had discarded the pure white cloak for her familiar blue one. It didn't matter that her hair didn't cascade down her back in soft curls anymore. It didn't matter that she was translucent once again, leaving him with only whispers of fingers clutching his back and a heart beating wildly against his. He knew she was capable of touching and being touched, and this was enough.
This would always be enough.
He didn't know if he could call it love, but it was something close. It was beautiful and frightening all at the same time. She was beautiful and frightening all at the same time. She refused to divulge much information about herself, but he watched her often and had come to his own conclusions.
She was the girl who embodied death. She was the last gasp for air, the epitaph on the gravestone, the spirit that flew from the great beyond to collect the deceased souls on earth. She was dark and gloomy and pessimistic. She offered no hopes or promises. Everything about her was shrouded in mystery. She was the Grim Reaper. She was death walking in human form.
And yet, she utterly refused to die.
Notes and Other References…
1. All quotes in italics are from episodes. Specifically, "How Long is Forever?" and "Aftershock pt. 1."
2. The italics at the beginning are lyrics from the Eagle Eye Cherry song "Death Defied By Will."
3. Come on, guys, review! Let me know what you thought.