A/N: I always liked the idea of an omniscient character, but I never got around to writing one in my stories. This one-shot was pretty much an excuse to create Ouroboros, and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.
Placing a single rose at the foot of his grave, Rachel vaguely registered the shadow that fell across the tombstone, one she knew to be Dick's.
"It's my fault," she said quietly.
"No, no it's not," he responded firmly, placing a hand on Rachel's slender shoulder, "no one could have helped him…we all knew it."
"But I could've closed the wound," Rachel could feel the familiar chill of guilt run through her as she recalled her own horrible failure. She had let panic cloud her mind that night, allowed her emotions to take control…and Garfield had paid for it.
"And what about the blood? Could you have given him that?"
"No," Rachel muttered, her voice cracking, "but I…I should've done something. All I did was...Christ I didn't do anything."
Standing, she tucked an errant strand of violet hair behind her ear.
"If...if it's alright with you, I'd like to be alone." She said.
"Rachel – " he began to protest.
"Dick," Rachel cut him off. He fell silent, taken aback by the use of his name. "Please."
"...we'll be waiting," the soft rustle of grass announced Dick's footsteps, growing fainter in the dead silence.
Beast Boy's gone.
Nothing. Rachel frowned. Why didn't she cry for him? Mourn for him as the others did? She felt sadness, but compared to Dick and the rest, it was a pitifully small amount. Could she not accept the fact? Fail to comprehend the magnitude of her own statement? No. Rachel shook her head, she understood. Garfield, her teammate, her friend was dead. Resting eternally in the earth deep beneath her. But the fact failed to affect her.
Garfield's gone.
Nothing.
"What's wrong with me?"
Sliding back with their customary hiss, the doors let a flood of artificial light spill into the dark evening. Rachel stepped inside, a wave of warmth washing over her numbed extremities
Predictably, the others sat silently, all eyes on her. Victor in particular seemed intent on Rachel, his natural eye moving analytically over her face. She forced her legs to a faster pace. It was late, and dealing with her teammates was something she was not in the mood to do.
Starfire moved first. Her face was etched with concern. "Friend Rachel I – "
And she certainly did not need pity. Rachel broke into a brisk stride, disappearing down the hall.
"It's alright, Star," Dick consoled the alien, "she just needs time."
Rachel shivered, pulling her cloak tighter around her slight frame. It was a poor shield against the bitter rain pouring down from the cloud obscured sky. She watched white foam spring up from the blackened waters crashing against the rocks. She shut her eyes, listening to the steady roar. It was relaxing, more calming than the damnable silence she normally sought in her many hours of solitary meditation.
A fond smile twitched the corners of her lips.
Meditation that Beast Boy and his ceaseless antics had always ruined.
Rachel sighed as she opened her eyes, turning them to the gray clouds.
"Come back."
"Oh, I'm afraid that's animpossibility, Rachel."
She jumped, her head swiveling to stare at the man at her side. He was a tall, gangling adult dressed in a handsome black suit, a smile adorning his sharply angular face. Despite the sheets of rain hammering down, he remained dry, the droplets somehow failing to connect.
"What are you doing here?" Rachel snapped, obviously startled.
"Talking to you, of course." she flinched, his voice was comprised of a multitude of others. An imperceivable number of men and women speaking in perfect synchronization.
"How do you know my name?" Rachel demanded. Her voice wavered, the monotone she maintained so well inexplicably failing before the strange man.
He chuckled.
"I know everything, Rachel." One voice, strong and collected prevailed over the others, reducing them to a background noise.
"How did you get up here?" Rachel steadied herself, forcing her eyes to meet his. They resembled broken glass, her reflection made countless by the multiple fractures.
"Questions," he shook his head, a sigh escaping his lips, "it's all they have."
"How did you get up here?" She repeated forcefully.
"I," he stepped towards Rachel. His walk was impossibly smooth, almost seeming to glide across the roof. "Have come to see you."
"And how do you know me?"
"Again, I know everything about you." He smiled. the expression lacked malevolence but failed to convey a sense of warmth. "Garfield too."
Rachel's temper instantly flared, her eyes darkening warningly.
"Leave."
"Hiding from the others," he moved closer, "why? They want to help."
"Leave, now." Raven snarled, black energy streaming from her hands.
"Or?" He inquired calmly.
Rachel reached out towards the strange man, fully intent on sending him on his way. He remained firmly set on the ground, untouched by the usual black aura.
What?
"I am here to help you." Raven found her eyes locked with Ouroboros's. Her anger ebbed, the wreathes of energy encasing her hands dispersing.
"How did you – "
"Rachel?" An enormous hand weighed heavily on her shoulder.
The sorceress turned sharply to find Victor looking down at her, concern written across his face.
"Rae are..." he glanced past Rachel, "are you ok?"
She followed his gaze, drawing a sharp breath. The lanky man was gone.
"What did you see?" Rachel asked, her eyes fixed on the spot the man had been seconds before.
"Rae, maybe you should come in." Victor said gently, gesturing towards the rooftop exit. "It's rainin' pretty – "
"What did you see?" Rachel repeated sharply.
A moment of silence.
"You were talkin' to somethin'," Victor answered cautiously.
"Could you see it?"
A bolt of lightning tore jaggedly through the night sky, followed closely by a roaring explosion of thunder.
"No."
"Damn it, Victor!"
Falling onto the edge of her bed, Rachel buried her face into her hands, a long breath escaping through the cracks between her fingers. She felt a considerable weight sink the bed as he joined her.
"I'm not seeing a fucking shrink. I'm not crazy. I'm not."
"I didn't say you were." Victor proceeded with caution, well aware of Rachel's volatile state. "But maybe – maybe Gar's death is harder than you thought it would be."
A true friendship had not begun to form between the two until late last year. After she had helped him rebuild the T-car after it's 'incident' with Overload, things had escalated. Rachel found Victor's loud, sometimes over-enthusiastic nature to be an almost polar opposite to her own personality, and that contrast held a certain charm for the sorceress. A charm that had made an undeniably powerful bond over time.
"I don't need to cope with anything." Rachel replied her proud streak taking hold. "I can accept the fact that Garfield's dead. Simple as that."
"I wish I could." Victor replied quietly. "I'm going to see Dr. Richfield tomorrow."
"Oh..." Guilt churned her stomach. It was no secret that Garfield had been his best friend. "Victor, I didn't mean – "
"No, it's cool."
A few, uneasy moments passed in silence as Rachel chided herself. Victor was her friend, possibly her closest. And his suggestion (undesirable as it was) had only the best intentions in mind.
"You know I'm not crazy, right?"
"Sometimes I wonder." Victor chuckled.
Rachel socked his arm lightly. "Seriously."
"You're the most stable person I've ever met." Victor fixed her with a stern look. "But that don't mean you're above this."
Rachel sighed. "...alright, I'll come. But only because you want me to."
"Then you should get some sleep." Victor stood, glancing at the digital clock by her bedside as he headed out the door. "We leave at eight."
The door slid shut, plunging Rachel's room back into the dark. She pulled the sheets over her, nestling her head into the pillow.
"Sleep..." she stared blankly at the ceiling, barely discernible in the black.
"If I can."
Rachel stumbled into the kitchen, squinting against the blinding light streaming through the windows.
"Mornin' sunshine." Victor waved his spoon at a bleary eyed Rachel, a smirk creeping over his lips. "Sleep well?"
"What's it look like?" she shot back half-heartedly, collapsing into a chair. She put her arms on the table, head cradled in the nook of her elbow.
She lifted her head just long enough to survey the room. "The lovers still sleeping, I take it?"
"Mmmhmm." Victor replied through a mouthful of cereal. "That wasn't cool last night. Kori just wanted to help."
A vexed groan escaped Rachel's lips.
"That's all Kori ever wants to do."
"And that's a bad thing how?"
"She's my friend, but it's annoying." the half-demon said coolly. "I'll apologize later."
"And she'll accept, no matter how fake your shit is." Victor took his empty bowl to the sink.
"Terrible, isn't it?" Rachel pulled the sleeve of her sweatshirt back, checking her watch. "Come on, we better get going."
"Right behind ya." Victor followed the sorceress to the elevator.
"Garage." Rachel said clearly. The lift complied, sliding its doors shut as the enclosed space was lowered to the ground floor.
The floor jolted slightly as the elevator came to a stop, the doors retracting. Immediately the potent stench of motor oil and gas washed over the pair. Rachel's eyes narrowed in disgust, putting a hand over her nose.
"How do you stand it in here?"
"Eh," Victor shrugged, walking towards the T-Car, "you get used to it."
"So, this doctor," the sorceress reached for the passenger seat door. Knowing all too well no one sat behind the wheel of Victor's 'baby' but him. "How much he charge?"
Silence. Rachel looked up, the mechanical giant stood stock still, his eyes frozen on something in the back row of seats. She followed his gaze, her heart skipping a beat. A hand-held game system, one she recognized as Garfield's.
"Victor?" Rachel said cautiously.
His massive hand drew away from the door. "Maybe...maybe we should just take your car."
Next to the T-Car sat Rachel's personal vehicle, built by Victor as a sixteenth birthday present. Sleek and elegant, the black automobile was truly impressive in both appearance and performance. She frowned, he had to beat this, and running from Garfield's belongings was not the way to go about it. Part of her wanted to refuse, to make him get into the car.
"Sure, Vic." and the rest of her didn't.
"Miss Roth? The doctor will see you now." The plump woman at the front desk gestured towards the door to her left, giving Rachel a kindly smile.
The sorceress rose from her seat, giving a quiet 'thank you' as she pulled open the door stepping inside.
Rachel found herself in a dim room dominated by the theme of wood furnishings. She eyed the fireplace warily, spouts of orange-red stemming from the stack of kindling. Her eyes flicked upwards, frowning. No lights.
"Have a seat, Rachel." She jumped, turning quickly. The faint outline of a man was barely distinguishable in the shadows. "On the couch, please."
Rachel complied, seating herself. She watched the man step forward, the shadows slowly recessing as the flickering light crawled over his form. A sharp breath punctuated the silence, her eyes meeting his own.
They were fractured.
"Why couldn't Victor see you?"
"Because I chose not to be seen." was the simple reply. Rachel found these obvious, unhelpful answers irritating. Her mind worked furiously, attempting to find anything to suggest that the being before her did not exist.
"They all thought they were crazy to."He seemed to know her thoughts. "Don't worry, you're perfectly sane."
"Meaning you're real?"
"I'm afraid certain rules of existence do not apply. But all in all, I think so."
"Then, what exactly are you?" Rachel questioned, forcing herself to ignore just how strange her current situation was.
"What would you believe?"
"I'm not ready to make assumptions yet."
"Then simply know that I am a...guide."
He frowned at Rachel's lack of response.
"If it comforts you, name me. I know how your people love to indulge in labels."
"Alright...Ouroboros." The term seemed to fit. "What do you want with me?"
"As I have already said. I am a guide."
"I don't suppose you could be more specific?"
"Why?" Ouroboros held his hand level with his eyes. "Watching you figure it out is so much more fun." He snapped his fingers, the noise it produced echoing deafeningly into the church rafters. Rachel blinked.
Church?
"How – "
"To be perfectly honest," Alpah interrupted, "over the centuries I have become very, very tired of being asked that."
Rachel turned in a slow circle, taking in the large structure. Panes of stain glass stood out against the dull stone walls, the light streaming through casting rainbow hues across the ground. A long row of pews lined either side of the carpeted aisle. A scattered few peppered the benches, heads bowed in prayer.
"Tell me, are you a religious woman, Rachel?"
"No." the answer carried a slight edge.
"I find it fascinating." Ouroboros gazed at the crucifix fixed to the wall opposite of the front doors. So that all who entered would see the enormous symbol. "It is almost inspiring, to see so many people united under a single belief."
"Of course," he added, "it is also very sad. That they must look to a higher power to guide them, to give them a sense of purpose."
"You can't tell if there is a God, right?" Rachel asked.
"Why would you want to know?"
"If I'm right, then I'm right. But If I'm wrong..." A ghost of a smirk tugged at her lips. "I might as well join the masses. Eternal paradise is a pretty good deal."
"You sound scornful." Ouroboros's voice was light, almost mocking. "You're not prejudiced against religion, are you?"
"Faith is one thing." Rachel's eyes lighted on a stain glass depiction of the Virgin Mary. "But some take it too far."
"All too true." Ouroboros replied pleasantly.
A few moments passed in silence.
"It's real pretty," Rachel commented dryly, "You bring me here for a reason?"
"Tell me, what do you see?" Ouroboros asked.
"A church." Rachel replied bluntly.
"Maybe you should look harder." He pointed a long finger towards the front pew in the left row. Rachel instantly recognized the black hair.
"Dick?" Walking swiftly down the aisle, Rachel stopped a respectable distance away. Watching her teammate pray silently.
"He can't see us." Ouroboros explained. "Human perception is so simple to manipulate."
"I'd almost forgotten." Rachel said quietly. "He never goes to church. Not even on Sundays."
"Ah...the day of rest." Ouroboros mused. "So, what could make our Mr. Grayson come to church two days prior to the Sabbath?"
Rachel felt a surge of annoyance. He knew the answer as well, perhaps better than she did.
"Garfield."
"Precisely!" Ouroboros stepped onto a pew, elevating himself. "Do you see now? The problem I have come to correct?"
"Religion?" Rachel guessed hopefully.
"Mortals." The entity muttered. "Very well."
Another snap.
The silence of the church was broken by loud, uncontrolled sobbing. The enormous stone replaced by smaller, more colorful walls. Her senses registered the dots of silver scattered across a black ceiling, creating a convincing night sky. The walls were a sunset, splashed with varying shades of orange, separated from the dark above by a rough line.
"Terra's room." Rachel breathed. She traced the mournful noise, finding Kori huddled against the wall, emerald eyes glistening with tears. The sorceress noted the picture clutched tightly in Starfire's hands. The team grinned from behind the frame, Terra's arm slung across Garfield's neck. The teen seemed genuinely happy, a satisfied smile adorning her bruised, battered features.
"Her first fight." Rachel recalled softly. "As a Titan."
"Kori has drawn connections between Terra's and Garfield's death." Ouroboros crouched down by the alien's side. "These distinctions, while illogical are not wholly unfounded, they were close."
His eyes flickered over Rachel.
"So very close."
"I was a stupid girl with a crush." The sorceress replied coolly. "So save it."
"Of course," Ouroboros brushed past Rachel, his cold breath fluttering over her ear, "my mistake."
"Why am I here?" The half-demon found herself unable to tear her eyes away from Kori, recalling guiltily the previous night.
He chuckled dryly. "Miss Anders mourns the loss of her friend, using tears as a form of release. Mr. Grayson finds solace in God, using his faith to guide him through. And Mr. Stone, as you already know, is seeing Dr. Richfield, a professional who can listen to his troubles."
"They're ways to cope." Rachel said blankly. "So?"
"Your friends have ways to deal with Garfield's death. Personal methods that can siphon the pain of losing a loved one. Where as you," Ouroboros turned, gesturing towards his subject. "choose to push him from your thoughts."
Rachel tensed visibly.
"You're wrong."
"Child, I am never wrong." He said pityingly. "The convenience of fallibility is beyond me. Like it or not, you must come to terms with Garfield's demise."
"How?" Rachel demanded.
"Close your eyes."
"What?"
"Close your eyes." Ouroboros repeated forcefully.
Rachel did as she was bid.
Jolting, she snapped her eyes open, tense and alert.
"Woah, now," Victor took his eyes off the road, chancing a look at the passenger's seat, "take it easy."
The demon recognized her surroundings quickly, her panic subsiding.
"How long have I been out?" She ran a hand over her face, slumping against the headrest.
"Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes." Victor estimated. "You were asleep in the waitin' room. I had to carry you to the car."
"Told you I didn't get any sleep last night." Rachel grumbled. "How'd the session go?"
A moment's silence.
"It was okay.." He replied. "I...I feel better. Like the load on my chest got a bit lighter."
"Good to hear."
"Why'd you jump like that?" Victor asked, eager for a change of subject. "Bad dream?"
Rachel reseted her head against the window pane, watching the road blur past. Ouroboros wanted her to come to terms, to cope. And she didn't know how.
"Something like that."
A new storm crashed down on the city. Fat drops of rain pounding down from the swollen, blackened clouds. Rachel raked her hand through soaked hair, the downpour had cleared the streets of any late night stragglers. Just as well. She wasn't sure she wanted anyone to see her stumbling through the rain in the early AM hours. Her legs moved on their own, dragging her unwillingly into the heart of the city.
LEAVE ME ALONE!
Rachel came to a shaky, unpleasant stop, barely registering the powerful mentality resonating behind her.
"It has been a week." Ouroboros's voice carried subtle anger. "And you have not done as I instructed."
"I..." Rachel's voice failed her. There was something new to Ouroboros, something fierce, hungry. "I don't know how."
"Understandable, humanity can comprehend little. But you have not made an attempt."
"Then tell me. Tell me how."
"Accept his death. Come to terms."
"I'm trying damn it!" Rachel rounded on Ouroboros. "It doesn't work like that for me!"
The entity inclined his head slightly.
"I know."
"Then how!" Rachel was tired. She was tired of Ouroboros, and she just wanted him to go away. Reaching out, she grabbed a handful of shirt, drawing him in. "You're my guide damn it! Tell me!"
She let go.
Rachel let go as fast as she could, scrambling madly backwards. Ouroboros had changed. If only for that split second, something horrifying had flashed into view. She tripped clumsily over her own feet, the grotesque image burned into her vision.
"Do nottouch me." Ouroboros's voice was hideous, grating into her ears like fingernails against a chalkboard. "Do not ever touch me."
Fear, more intense than she had ever felt. It racked her body, paralyzing her. She wanted to run, to get away from what that thing was. But she couldn't, whether it was shock or Ouroboros's will, she stayed rooted to the ground, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath.
"Just like a human, you want solution but you do not equate. You strive for answers, but you do not ask questions." Ouroboros's voice continued to grow in volume, slowly approaching a deafening roar. "Fine, mortal. I will give you what you want."
Rachel could swear her ears were bleeding, Ouroboros raised his hand in a familiar motion.
"NO! NO WAIT!" There was nothing the sorceress wanted more than to stop what was about to happen.
Ouroboros smiled. It was crooked, warped.
"Destination without journey! Result without effort!"
Not a snap. Screams, millions of them.
The rain was gone, replaced by the stale smell of rust. The darkness was heavy, oppressive, lessened by a single bulb trailing from a length of wire. The scrap metal cast shadows over the walls, the angular pieces forming jagged, uneven teeth.
Rachel's fingers tightened around the pistol in her hand, unexplained tears streaming down her face.
"COME OUT!" She found herself screaming. "COME OUT YOU SICK FUCK!" Mingled with her fury was fear, confusion. She didn't know why she was here, no explanation for the anger burning inside of her.
One thing was unsettlingly clear: bloodlust.
Laughter. It echoed through the darkened building. The sound was diseased, harboring no mirth.
"You're here! You're finally here!" The tone was gleeful, ecstatic. "I knew you would come!"
Suddenly, everything clicked. The firearm in her hand, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, they connected.
"I've waited for so long!" The voice raised in pitch, sounding almost hysterical.
Revenge.
"I can finally play with you!"
Come to terms.
Barreling from the shadows, Saenni was on Rachel before she could react. Her head jerked back, spots of light exploding into existence as he cracked a bony elbow across her face. Rachel lost her footing, tumbling backwards onto the concrete floor.
"You're mine! All mine!" Pinning her effectively, Saenni brandished a rusted knife. A desperate hunger danced in his bloodshot eyes, drool dribbling from his lips as he stabbed downwards.
The blow had been hard enough to disorient Rachel, her powers weren't responding. Reaching out, she caught her attacker's wrist, halting the blade a hair's-breadth from her heart.
I'm going to die. The panicked thought raced through her mind. Saenni was proving stronger, the knife's point gradually inching closer. She struggled against his other hand, an iron grip rendering her pistol useless.
I'm going to die. The knife brushed against her skin.
I'm going to die. The reddish-brown point sunk into her flesh at an agonizingly slow pace.
I'm going to die. The blade punched through her heart. Rachel's released Saenni, her hand falling limply into the blood pooling on her chest.
Rachel's sight was recessing, eaten away by the enclosing darkness. The strange man in the suit standing over them remained clear, seeming to glow against the dimming world. Hope sparked in the sorceress, Ouroboros, he could help her, he could do anything.
Stop him. Rachel pleaded. Please.
I will not. Ouroboros's voice was back to its smooth, collected tone. This is something you must do.
I can't. Rachel was cold, her blood's precious warmth fading. Not by myself.
No. The faintest trace of a frown passed Ouroboros's lips. Not by yourself.
The realization hit Rachel like a freight. She wasn't alone. She had never been alone.
"Gone! Gone! All gone!" Saenni cackled. "Just like the green – " he froze, his vision fixated on Rachel's eyes.
She had four.
"No." Rachel's voice was a feral growl. "Never alone."
A blast of black energy sent Saenni hurtling back, his body cracking brutally against the floor. The crazed boy sprang to his feet, his warped mind working furiously to comprehend what stood before him. Rachel's multiple eyes glowed a red malevolence, dark energy billowing from her form as she approached.
"No!" Saennni shook his head violently. "No! No! No! No! No! I killed you! You're dead!" The wound – his eye gave an involuntary twitch, it was gone. Saenni's legs went numb, he looked down, finding them encased by black.
"Wrong."
His screams did little to quiet the sickening noise of separating flesh. Saenni crumpled to the ground, his body convulsing under the excruciating pain.
"That's it." Rachel's mouth, impossibly wide, spread into a hideous grin. Her victim's legs fell lifeless to the floor, pooling in their own blood. The beast in her had taken full reign, the demons she had strived for so long to restrain let loose. They wanted revenge, retribution for Garfield.
"Make as much noise as you want."
"N-no! No!"
Another anguished cry. Saenni's left arm hung useless by bare threads of skin. Rachel drew closer.
"Don't! Get away!"
Another scream, the loudest yet. Bones escaped his right arm, tearing through muscle and flesh. She was so close.
"STOP! STOP IT!"
Rachel looked down on Saenni's mangled form with vicious satisfaction.
"You dropped this."
His eyes widened, fixated on Rachel's hand. A knife, his knife. Mad as he was, Saenni comprehended hatred, understood cruelty. It was all he had left, kindness, compassion, love, it had vanished with his sanity. That knowledge was all he needed, he knew what came next.
Saenni's destroyed body rose under Rachel's manipulation, floating grotesquely.
"No one will miss you." She laughed unsteadily, raising the knife. It was stained with blood, his blood. She would wash it, cleanse it with a fresh coat of red.
The blade tore through Saenni's flesh, biting into his neck. She drew the edge across his neck, the cut was malicious, deep enough to kill, shallow enough to be slow. Blood escaped through the opening, spurting across Rachel's unflinching face.
"No one will find you."
Rachel stood silently, staring at the tombstone.
Why?
The sorrow, however minute, was still there. It should've been gone, the weight lifted. But the same sinking feeling resided in her stomach, just as, or perhaps worse than before. It brought the question of ethics into play.
Had she been right? A life was a life. And there was no end to justify the means. Nothing had changed, save her hands, forever branded with Saenni's blood.
"Why?" He was there, she knew it.
"Are you directing the question to me?" A familiar voice.
"Why don't I feel...compensated?"
Rachel felt a shudder reverberate through the air. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this."
"You said I would – "
"I know what I said," Ouroboros said, a little too quickly. "You were supposed to wait, without my guidance."
"For how long?" Rachel asked hoarsely.
"...months."
"But I didn't wait. I got angry," Her hands clenched.
"And I sped time's flow, sent you to Saenni."
"I killed him." Rachel reasoned. "I was – "
"No." Ouroboros said sharply. "You weren't ready. Those months you should've spent alone, they would have been...agony. Until your sanity became temporarily...warped."
"And my revenge?"
"It would have tasted so sweet."
"Then why didn't you let me continue?"
"Things had already taken an...unexpected turn," Ouroboros explained regretfully. "You had left the path I intended, long before I had perceived."
"I thought you were infallible."
"I am." Rachel frowned, Ouroboros felt doubtful, unsure. "I am."
"Leave."
"He loved you."
"Leave, now." Ouroboros was already gone. His lack of presence leaving a strangely empty space in the air.
Bitter tears trailed down Rachel's cheeks. She had been cheated. Out of vengeance, out of redemption. The righteous satisfaction that should've been was mere guilt. Ouroboros was right, she hadn't been ready, not to kill. She raised her head, reading for the first time his tombstone.
Garfield Logan
Life Can Only Be Understood Backwards; But It Must Be Lived Forwards.
Rachel smiled dryly, it was a favorite quote of his, almost a creed he lived by, to press on. Maybe...maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. She turned, slowly, almost painfully, putting her back to Garfield's grave. And she walked. Away from Garfield, the Tower, everything. There was nothing left for her here, nothing more she wanted. Rachel just wanted to forget.
He loved me.
A/N: Did you feel that? That icky chopped together, unsmooth flow that made you piece everything together? If you did then I win at creating said effect! If you didn't then it's your own damn fault, not mine (obviously). What'd you think? Leave me your opinion in a review.