Disclaimer: don't own teen titans of any sort
Review if you have time! Thank you!
Waste Not, Want Not
Chapter 2: Rendezvous
Raven desperately hoped Malchior was in one of his obsessive modes. His were such that they reminded her of a certain fearless leader of what was once a group of super powered teens and as such, often consumed him. That was what she wanted, what she needed to get out without a severe interrogation this night that could potentially end up with her not leaving at all. A creak of a door eliminated those hopes.
Drat, she frowned to herself as she felt his presence move beside her. Without turning around, Raven unknowingly let Malchior know she was aware of him; her shoulders tensed visibly, back going rigid.
"Relax Raven," he all but purred in her ear. She flinched away. A melodramatic sigh brushed against her neck as he lazily swept away a section of her hair to reveal the fair and unblemished skin of her nape. "Still angry, darling?" his voice lilted in such a way that made her seethe on the edge of exploding when she felt his lips press against the side of her neck. It was a gentle kiss, a lover's kiss, t he kind of kiss that once, years ago, she might have wanted from him.
Of course, that too had been a deception and it wasn't lost on Raven that what he did now was nothing short of manipulation.
"Don't touch me," she spat and moved quickly away from the desk she had previously sat at, adding with superb malice, "I hear it's both unwise and rather vulgar for a worker to become involved with her 'boss'." The last word was an inciting entendre understood only by the two in the room.
The ice white eyes remained vexingly cool, placid, unmoved by her well aimed barb.
"Uh-uh, my bird, remember our deal," and the way he said it made it come out a sort of whispered threat as he approached her once again and Raven—to what would have been the shock of anyone who once knew her—did not slap him when he traced a tapered finger, a sorcerer's finger, along her jaw very slowly, very sensuously.
Very dangerously.
"That's a good girl," he murmured as, satisfied, he took a step back; he was smart enough to understand the use of personal space with someone like Raven and more than that, wise enough to use it rather than corner her further. He turned his back to her, gathering a couple books under his arm as if nothing had happened at all and walked with a long stride to the door of the shop. "I've business to attend. Lock the door behind me," he said airily and out he went.
"With pleasure," Raven scowled, rubbing her skin where he had touched with disgust. Soap simply would not do any good and at least the friction, though it made her flesh burn somewhat uncomfortably, gave her the feeling of his insidious behavior being purged from her, even if it was all a farce to make her feel better. At least it worked, sort of. Cautiously, she waited...
Five minutes, ten, twenty...
When it seemed he really would be out for a good portion of the night, Raven grabbed the book with the address of where to meet and exited the shop, locking it behind herself as she made haste through the streets on foot. Part of the Hellish bargain she'd agreed to, the admirable sorceress had given up her powers, her abilities, all of it. Sometimes she suspected some of her empathic abilities still lingered, but it could also be chalked up to extremely keen observation, which was not beyond her.
She arrived at the streets to see Richard Grayson leaning on a lamppost, the very picture of a super sleuth from an old detective movie in chipped sepia tone. His black hair was a little messy and his eyes were unreadable, but not cold. Breath catching, she approached him as if she were afraid he would disappear, or, more likely, make an excuse about having to leave and rush off to save someone from a robbery or the like. And she was afraid. Very.
It had been two years since Raven Roth had gotten he chance to see the once Boy Wonder again and it scared her to think that even this might not be any more real than a limpid daydream of hers.
Not that she daydreamed much.
"Hey, I thought you might not come," his voice interrupted her thoughts long enough for her to realize she'd stopped walking toward him and now he faced her, a confident smile on his unfairly handsome features. Whether that handsomeness was unfair to the rest of men because they had to compete with it or only to her because she was subject to it, Raven wasn't entirely squared upon, but let it go, scrambling for an excuse of her own.
"I'm sorry. I know I'm late, I um..." she faltered. What she couldn't say, was the truth: I got held up by my insane boss who happens to be a powerful sorcerer you once encountered because I let him out of a book and now he's back and has me under a binding contract. Sorry. No, that probably wouldn't go over well since the whole idea of it was that Robin—no, Richard—didn't know a thing about her and as such would have no reason to believe anything so fantastical, as far as she knew. Add the fact that Malchior would know the instant she spoke of the spell and that sealed it. Instead of the truth, Raven simply said, "I got lost."
Okay, that was stupid. Of all the things...
He laughed at her, to her combined relief and hurt.
"You don't need to make excuses, Miss..." It was his turn to falter and Raven thought she detected a slight flush on his cheeks.
"Raven, and no 'Miss' please. I'm not quite so refined," her gaze was admirably steady.
"Right, Raven. Sorry about that. I couldn't seem to remember your name," his blue eyes were apologetic in every way. You wouldn't, that's the idea, Raven thought sadly but her expression was one of pure composure. "Usually I'm better at this...I don't think I've ever forgotten someone's name in such a short time," he mused more to himself than his company.
"Well, as memorable as that makes me sound, don't sweat it," hear pokerfaced voice must have unnerved him because his eyes became downcast. Raven amended smoothly, "I mean, it's okay, I can't seem to remember yours either oddly enough!" Her tenor was unusually upbeat to cover up her entirely downbeat feeling and though she lied through her teeth, she knew it would enhance the pretense of being a stranger, well for her anyway.
For him it was not pretense at all. To him, she was a perfect stranger.
Swallowing painfully, Raven forced a sheepish laugh. This was a great deal more difficult than she had expected it to be and she wished she had meditated beforehand to calm her escalating nerves.
"Richard," he provided and offered her his hand as he said, "I know a place we can talk in more private settings." Her amethyst eyes looked at his hand as if it were a foreign object. "Come on, your boss isn't here. Trust me," he winked at her in a friendly manner reminiscent of the cocky caped traffic light she had once depended on.
"Fine, but if it's a coffeehouse, my trust will be withdrawn immediately," Raven deadpanned, a shadow of her former self shining through against all odds. Even this small similarity in tone was a risk but as she accepted his hand and was led through a series of lesser known streets, she found she cared just a smidgeon less than before.
-----------------------------------------------
She sat there, suspecting her companion of knowing more than he let on as she stirred her green tea, more to distract herself than to dissolve the half teaspoon of sugar she had added ten minutes ago.
He sat there, observing her with muted interest. Why had he even asked her out here in the first place? Star was his girlfriend; clearly her boss thought of her as more than a friend to him; they didn't know each other. What had been his purpose? After sharing a lengthy silence, Richard decided the quiet would get him no answers.
"So, Raven, what is it you do?" he asked conversationally.
"I work in a bookstore," she replied flatly.
"I gathered as much. Anything else?" the blue eyed wonder continued doggedly.
"No."
Right then.
Repressing a sigh, he leaned on the table casually, one hand supporting his chin in a thinking posture. "Does your boss always treat you so badly?" He wasn't certain where this question came from except that maybe some part of him that ran around as Nightwing felt a protective nature for the girl. He figured it as a superhero complex of paranoia.
"No," she said, softer this time. Sometimes he's worse, she thought sadly but did not speak it. Inserting a polite cough, she tried valiantly to return his favor of courtesy by saying, "Um, what do you do?"
"Business," Richard said with a terseness that made Raven think he must mean he actually worked for Wayne Enterprises now. Not surprising, she also understood the double entendre he didn't mean to insinuate. Nightwing had business of course too, if of a different sort and with a different suit.
"Why did you ask me out here?" she inquired, finally exasperated with their inability to keep a steady conversational flow. His eyes seemed to measure her, studying her, taking in the elegant curve of her neck and the depthless quality of her twilight eyes before he answered with noticeable care.
"To be honest, I'm not sure," he said with an unsettling quietness.
"Oh," was her answer.
"Are you sure we haven't met before?" Richard pressed.
"Yes, quite," Raven nodded with more emphasis than she'd had all evening. What could the blue eyes do but believe her?
Well, they could just disbelieve her, and they did but he said nothing along those lines. Instead...
"I'd like to get to know you," he told her, smiling.
"I don't know," Raven began, Malchior looming in the darkest corners of her mind with his white silver eyes of omniscience. Richard tilted his head to the side, a little curious about her reservations. "He would not allow it."
"Your boss?" Richard just barely kept the venom out of his voice.
"His name is Malchior, and yes, him," Raven affirmed.
"I don't care," was the simple reply, full of truth and stubbornness, just like old times. Then his eyes clouded slightly. "Unless you don't want to," he added gently. "I know that to you I'm nothing but a stranger with a penchant for poetry."
How wrong he was, and how she wanted to tell him...but she didn't.
"It's not that I don't want to; I just can't," her tone was admirable in its evenness, no wavers to betray her rolling emotions.
There was an unmeasured pause.
"I'll walk you back," he said and raised his hand for the check.
-----------------------------------------------
Richard did his best not to let his wondering eyes pry at the woman beside him, but he could not help himself. Maybe it was just her beauty, her lustrous beauty. Maybe it was the enigma that shrouded her like a scarf made of silk shadows, made of questions. Maybe...maybe it was something else. This evening had not gone as he had hoped; he had not gotten the answers he had wanted. Of course, he couldn't ask those questions that had plagued him all the last night as he flew the city as Nightwing: who are you? Why do I think I know you even when you insist otherwise? What are you hiding?
Why are you hiding...from me?
Where did that come from? Pausing, he shut his eyes and absently rubbed the bridge of his nose, oblivious to the curious stare of amethyst directed at him.
"You okay?" she asked softly and like her voice, rain started to patter down, softly. Eyes open now, he offered her a smile.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said and then, "Do you want me to walk you home? It is late." The rain got harder as soon as he said this and the dark of the city was impenetrable.
But the dark had never scared Raven before.
"No thanks. It's best I go back alone," she said. "Thanks for the tea," and she walked away from him, feet sloshing in the puddles of the sidewalk's curve.
Raven cursed like a sailor. The rain just kept getting worse and the cold was seeping into her skin unpleasantly, like a sickness. If she had her abilities still it would have been the simplest matter of teleportation.
But she didn't have her powers.
So jostled by the pelting rain, she was caught unawares as a hand shoved her roughly to the side, causing her to fall ungracefully to the soaking concrete.
"Hey pretty lady, why you out so late all by your little self?" a somewhat dirty man approached the sprawled girl. Gathering herself back up off the ground as well as her wits, she scowled, unafraid.
"Going home," she said and turned on her heel, hard only to come face to face with another sickening sneer.
"Going where?" the eyes laughed unkindly at her and Raven could not help but notice that somehow she had been surrounded by a rather unfriendly gang of...whoever. She backed up until she was pressed against the side of the building. In the past, these guys would have been minced meat for shadows and demons...but this was the present and, presently, Raven was powerless. She brought her arms up to block them out and clamped her eyes shut, anticipating the worst and trying to think of escapes. A thud followed by a groan was heard and she cracked an eye open. The others had parted as their leader had fallen to the puddles, a huddled mass at the feet of a man with a mask...one painfully familiar man.
Robin...
No, Nightwing, she corrected herself.
"Nowhere with you," his voice was impassive as night itself as with a fluid and martial grace he disposed of the rest of the thugs. Done, he turned to Raven.
"Thanks," she said and began to walk away. Footsteps followed her own. She turned. "What?" She wanted to get away from him, away from Robin, or Richard, or Nightwing or whatever else he called himself. She had spent too much time with him already and it was not doing anything for her peace of mind.
"I'm escorting you," still impassive, it was all but a demand.
"I'll be fine, thanks," she repeated.
"Obviously not," he replied flatly.
Opting to ignore him, she made her way back to the bookstore without further mishap. She was not surprised to hear a sudden rush of wind three feet away and then silence before she entered the bookshop. Her ears tuned in for the echo of feet on city roof tops and she wasn't sure whether she was making it up in her head from experience of really hearing him as he all but flew away.
"But really," she whispered, seemingly to no one, "You're still doing the superhero thing Robin? I expected no less." A sigh escaped her and she unlocked the door, trying not to make any noise that might alert Malchior—if he was even home yet—of her late arrival. As she made it inside, she bit back a curse as she dripped profusely on the front carpet, hoping, as she went to her room, that it would dry by morning.
She didn't feel or see the sparkling blue eyes behind a white-eyed mask, gazing at her in soft question from the rooftop above.
-----------------------------------------------
Richard Grayson landed on his balcony and slid open the door with practiced ease and silence and quickly disrobed, exchanging his Nightwing cover for normal clothes. He was soaked to the bone and needed desperately to take a shower, to get a little sleep before the day truly began...he needed to do many things.
But one thing nagged at his mind.
That girl, that Raven had distinctly said something and then 'Robin'. He hadn't been certain of all she said so he might have been adding it up to nothing, but the sleuth in him would not have any of that. His detective tendencies refused to believe a recent person he'd rescued would utter that long unused name for no reason.
He needed to find out that reason.
And stepping into the heat of the shower, he resolved to do so, only then realizing that as usual, he had forgotten to take his mask of first.
what say you, readers? shall I keep going?