C L A S H . O F . W I L L S

a chaptered story by insensato

disclaimer: teen titans will never be mine for the taking

some of you might think that the story might be moving fast and i'm sorry for that and i'll try to correct it.. this is what happens when you get the urge to just write at like 5 in the morning lol. also i tried to get more into rachel's past so you understand more about her.. dunno if it's confusing or helpful but here goes!

Screaming interrupted her already fitful sleep and she tried to drown it out by burying her head under the thin cheap pillow. It did no good, she knew it was pointless, but she was bone tired, she craved sleep, she needed sleep--

The screaming continued, tortured shrieks emanating from the room next to hers.

With a final grunt, she pulled off the blanket and stalked towards his room. She groped blindly for the switch and within seconds, her fingers hit paydirt.

Momentarily the screaming stopped when he was assailed by the light that emanated from the one 60-watt bulb hanging from the center of the room.

She went over to the ten-year-old boy's side, and shook him awake. "Brian? Brian, you okay?"

He groaned, mumbled something she couldn't hear. His eyes began to flutter as he sat up. "Mom? Dad?" His voice was weak, quavery.

"Brian..." She bit her lip. This was the tenth straight night his screaming woke her up. Ever since they moved here to Gotham eight months ago, eight months after that fatal night, Brian Roth had seemed fine. Normal, happy even. And then suddenly, a little over a week ago, nightmares began haunting him, chasing after him. "Brian, you know they're in a better place. And so are we."

She quieted, seeing his blank violet eyes. The tears began to fall from her own, and she didn't have the energy to fist them away.

"Brian, we'll be okay, I promise we'll be okay." She held her frail little brother in her arms, rocking him slowly on the cheap cot. "We'll be okay, we'll be better than okay."

Her tears mingled with his, and Rachel didn't have the heart to tell him that "Big boys don't cry."

Rachel sighed as she capped the pen after having written another full report. Seventh one in three days. Four back-to-back pages of her precise, small handwriting. It was inconceivable to her why the supervisors preferred her to handwrite the reports, computers were so much more convenient for both sides.

She glanced over at the time and wondered if Brian'd take her call. Lately he got annoyed whenever she called to check up on him, telling her that she didn't need to bother him whenever he didn't come home to visit. Personally she didn't think that hercalling twice a week was such a hassle but decided against arguing with him. Never mind the fact that it was her who was paying his cell phone bills, and putting him through college at Gotham State University, home of the Wolverines. Go Gotham State U.

She herself had been a product of the school, mainly for its price tag. She couldn't afford the academically superior University of Gotham, with acost four times that of its state counterpart. Not like the two schools were far apart, U. of Gotham just happened to be in a nicer part of town.

Sometimes she wondered what had gotten her into forensics. She'd always thought she'd be a literature major, but books didn't pay the bills. A random job information session had led her into the field, along with the enthusiastic recommendation by her academic advisor--not that she believed the shit Marcella Perelli spouted. That woman was more concerned with how luscious her lips looked to any person with a dick hanging between their legs than what her students wanted to do.

Rachel had to admit though that the field didn't exactly not suit her. She had her independence, she could actually use her brain to conjure up possibilities and motives, the work, while it could be unsettling, was methodical and to the point. She hated deviating. Except in literature, where she could spend hours talking over every possible angle in a book. Once again though, literature did not pay for the water bill. Besides, she had a brother to put through school, though she wondered as to what he'd do. He'd been crabby when she pressed him for more information regarding his major.

"Ah it'd be good to be nineteen again," she mused out loud to herself as she put away the reports.

"That so?"

Oh no, not him again. I don't need to deal with his ego trip tonight. "Shouldn't you be out hitting the bars?" She asked scathingly. "Picking up women for a tumble in bed?" Why couldn't he get the hint to leave her alone? Every time they met, they exchanged a heated conversation full of barbs. She didn't understand why he liked to do this, perhaps he had nothing better to do during breaks than pick on the localinvestigator who happened to be very busy and wasn't in the mood for idiotic banter.

Richard chuckled. "You pegging me as a womanizer?"

"No you idiot, I'm pegging you as a sheep." Of course I'm pegging you as a womanizer, just look at you. You walk like you're the shit of town and I've seen all those women eying you. Even that stupid blonde twit who came in to report herchihuahua missing and stood there for a full ten minutes gaping at you before realizing that Frankel was waiting to file a missing animal report. She really didn't feel liketrading insults with him, she was beginning to develop a headache and all she wanted to do was go back to her cruddy apartment and eat a cruddy meal of instant noodles because she hadn't had time to buy groceries.

He looked affronted. "What makes you think of a sheep?"

"Can you just go?"

Richard put his hands up in defense. "Hey, hey, I'm just trying to be civil here."

She rolled her eyes. "For god's sake, I'm busy and I have somewhere to go." Can't you get the message or are you really blind?

"You didn't look busy," he pointed out, "you were just sitting there in the chair daydreaming. Boyfriend?"

"I do not have to explain myself to the likes of you," she snapped. How dare he insinuate I sit there and dream about stupid things like stupid men like stupid boyfriends. That asshole. "The lab's closed anyway, how did you get in?"

"Last time I checked, the lab was in the back of the station?" He said with a glint in his eye.

She growled as she stood up. Richard took a step back as she stormed toward him and swung a left arm out, and then grinned as her hand yanked off the black cardigan hanging from the hooks next to him. "Just go!"

"Why should I?" He asked, grinning as all of his six feet one inch frame stood over her.

"Because I have very important places to be!" She snapped back as she poked him in the chest.

Richard smiled as he pointed out, "But I'm not in your way."

Rachel grit her teeth. She couldn't believe the sassiness of him. This guy, an idiot who acted like a five-year-old, was a detective? A detective Andrew had assigned to a high-profile murder case? The world really was ending faster than she thought. "Well you are now," she snapped and shoved him as she flicked off the lights. She would've slammed the door shut behind her, but the fool was still in the room and consequently it wouldn't have provided her with the sense of satisfaction she craved. Whatever, he wasn't her problem. She had a styrofoam bowl of ramen and an empty apartment to look forward to.

"Night Andrew, I'll see you tomorrow," she called out as she put her card back into its proper slot.

Andrew looked up from his paperwork and smiled. "Good night Rachel, be careful okay?"

"It's eight o'clock Andrew, I'll be fine."

"What with the rash of robberies and our friend on the go, I wouldn't be so sure to say that. Be careful," he said again, eying her. "You know Gotham's not as safe as it used to be."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Andrew, I can take care of myself. I'm not four years old."

"Don't worry, I can drive her home," Richard offered. "I was about to punch out."

"No thanks," Rachel said and hastily left without another glance.

"She's got an independent streak in her, that Rachel. Sometimes, I'm really worried about her." Andrew commented as he stapled some papers together.

Richard stared curiously at him. "Why? She looks like she can take care of herself."

Andrew shook his head. "I couldn't tell you, it'd be an invasion of privacy on her behalf. Believe me, if she wants you to know, she'll let you know." He fixed the detective with a stern glare. "By the way, Bruce has told me about your philandering ways, and I don't mean to offend, but please don't count her as one of your next conquests. She's like a daughter to me to me and though we try not to let our feelings direct our actions, it'd be very difficult to cooperate on a case if I find out you've hurt her. You understand?"

The twenty-six-year-old groaned. Once again Bruce had taken creative liberties when speaking to his contacts. "Bruce likes to exaggerate sometimes, Andrew. I'm not a playboy and never intend to be one."

"Alright but please, stay away from Rachel."

"What makes you say that? I would never hurt her."

The chief snorted. "You've only known each other for two weeks and already we can feel the sexual tension surrounding you two. It's thick enough to be sliced like a cake."

"Sexual tension?" He gaped and could have sworn his jaw hit the floor in shock. It was quite embarassing to hear his boss talking about this.

"That's right. I'm not joking about this Richard. This is an extremely important matter--"

"I'm only trying to get to know her better, and it seems humor's the only way--"

"Yeah yeah. I'm serious though Richard. Don't. You got that?"

Richard nodded his head stiffly. "Got it chief." But deep down inside he knew he'd be disobeying the chief's orders. He didn't know why, but something about Rachel Roth drew him to her, like the proverbial moth to the light. It wasn't her appearance--though her sultry violet eyes, sleek raven-black hair, silky porcelain skin and slender frame did things to him that only a cold shower in his penthouse apartment could relieve--it was her sharp personality and this sense of ethereal vulnerability. He didn't only feel a need to protect her in his arms, but to hold her, love her... Christ where was he going with this? He'd only known the woman for several weeks and already he was feeling the pangs of a romance of sorts. This had never happened with his ex-girlfriends.

"Alright then. I'll see you tomorrow. Good night and you be careful too."

"Hey Brian, it's me again. I just wanted to know how you were doing, because you never called back. Well hope everything's ok... bye." She snapped shut her small silver cellphone and set it on the table with a sigh. She truly worried about her little brother, even though he wasn't little anymore. While he didn't exactly tower over her dimunitive height of five feet two, he was half a foot taller than her, and that was more than enough.

Rachel was sitting on a chair by the small folding table, her elbows resting against the plastic surface. She wondered what Brian was doing, but decided better against calling him again. He already didn't like it the few times she called to check up on him and she was afraid if she tried again, he'd be completely put off. All she could do was sit and hope that he was fine. He always knew how to avoid trouble, and she hoped the exorbitant social scene at Gotham State University wouldn't overwhelm him.

A wave of buried memories surfaced and she blanched, recalling the filthy hands that had groped her ass. Four years ago, and she could still feel the disgust that ran through her as she whirled around and delivered a head-turning slap to the perpetrator's cheek. She remembered the only boyfriend she had, who once stuck his tongue into her mouth and tried to get her to have sex with him in the backseat of a car. Needless to say that relationship didn't last long, and from that moment on, she was officially turned off by males. Not that she was lesbian. After those disgustingly horrifying experiences, she simply didn't care for companionship of any sort from the opposite sex, nor companionship in general. College life was utterly lonely, but she had met one girl, Tara Markov, who despite her shortcomings, proved to be a good friend. She had also met a young man by the name of Victor Stone through that career placement program, but their relationship was strictly on the level of siblings. He taught her to cook and even basic tinkering around with cars.

She realized she hadn't spoken to either in well over two years. Some kind of friend she was. After they had all graduated, they simply drifted apart. Victor and Tara had called occasionally, and Rachel realized sadly that it was her fault she hadn't spoken to either in ages. Their phonecalls had been painfully short, punctuated with her silence or monosyllabic responses. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out she wasn't talking. Perhaps she should try reconnecting with them. It would be worth a try to get rid of this invasive sense of loneliness that dogged her each day.

Rachel scrolled through her phonebook directory and pressed dial when she reached Tara's number. She prayed it still worked.

After four rings, the call connected. "Hello, this is Tara." A warm voice, though still familiar, said.

She gulped. "Tara?" She berated herself for how vulnerable and pathetic she sounded, alone in her $850-a-month cramped two-bedroom flat. Brian and she had moved to a slightly better neighborhood after one too many robberies occurred nearby their old apartment. He didn't think there was a point in getting a two-bedroom apartment because he would be going to college in a few years and he didn't want to condone his sister sleeping in the den but she refused and insisted he deserved his own room and the accompanying peace that came with knowing she had a room too. She had been seeking out a two-bedroom apartment in the hopes that it signified to Brian to commute but he had wanted the full college experience.

"Who's this?"

"This is Rachel, Rachel Roth.. I uhm, knew you from college?"

"Oh my gosh, Rachel? I haven't talked to you in years! How are you? Where are you living now, what are you doing, are you married, where's Brian going--" The questions were pouring out from her like she was a faucet that hadn't been turned on in years.

Rachel had to smile for old times sake. Tara's voice didn't sound vastly different, though it had developed a slightly deeper and mature tone to it. "I'm fine. I'm still living in Gotham, I'm a forensic investigator, no I'm not married and Brian's also at Gotham State. How are you after all these years?"

"Damn it Rachel, you wouldn't believe me if I said so but I'm married to Garfield Logan. Yeah, you're probably shocked, I never would have guessed it either but we just crossed paths one day and from that moment on it was pure bliss. Oh I tried sending you an invitation to the weddingbut I guess I sent it to the wrong address and you never got it. Not like you would've missed much anyway--it was a very small wedding but still really special and memorable. Can you believe that Gar's a comedian at the Gotham Bay? We were so happy when he got the news, it was wonderful, like his dream come true!"

"A belated congratulations. I'm sorry I wasn't there--"

"Let's not ruin this with your apologies okay? Gosh I'm so thrilled to finally be talking to you, it's been ages really, do you know Victor's the head chef at Le Cordon Bleu? Oh, speaking of which, he's invited Gar and I to this fundraising banquet for Gotham's hospitals that the restaurant's holding for this Saturday evening and you just have to come!"

Rachel smiled. "Thanks but no thanks Tara, I really appreciate the offer though."

"No ifs, ands or buts! You are definitely coming! I don't care if you don't have anything to wear! Okay well maybe I do just a teensy bit but don't worry. We can meet for lunch one day and then you can come over to my house and try something on--ah sorry Gar's on the other line, mind if I call you back later?"

"It's alright. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay, good night, oh and by the way, Victor's changed numbers and all so I'll give you his new contact information next time 'cause I really have to go, sorry and good night Rachel. It was really nice talking to you again! Bye!"

She felt slightly better after that warm exchange. It was refreshing to know that Tara and her were still on a good note. She felt honored that Tara had invited her to such a prestigious event, but the event was also a fundraiser of sorts and while she could probably scrounge up the minimum $500 needed to maintain graces for attending, it would be awkward tagging alongside a couple. There was also the less important fact that she had nothing to wear.

Rachel went to her closet and needed to take only a quick cursory look to know she had no dresses of any sort. Much of her wardrobe was composed of her work clothing in neutral colors like black and violet and white and the occasional neutral--black slacks, blouses, a few sweaters, and lab coats. She had some more casual clothing, but she rarely wore them and they had been impulse buys when the department store had a clearance sale last season. She hadn't found an occasion to wear them save til almost a month ago when she was going to take a brief vacation to neighboring Jump City just to get away from things. How she found the money in her stretched-tight budget to manage, she never knew, but there was enough of a surplus to warrant a little get-away that she desperately needed.

Living in Gotham could be suffocating sometimes. Her life was dictated by routine. She worked in the lab six days a week, and on Sundays, the day she was off, she stayed home reading a book and catching up on the neglected chores. She had tried vainly to get together with her brother to hang out for half a day but he always refused. She didn't want to push him away so she didn't press the issue.

With a sigh, Rachel threw out the styrofoam bowl and washed the fork. It was a little after ten and she bet almost everyone her age was out right now, partying or drinking or whatever. No one would be home alone, eating a dinner of ramen and sleeping when the night was still young. But this was her life, and she was doomed to live the routine through.

The inviting aromas of take-out assaulted Rachel's nose and her stomach growled in protest to the meager peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich it had digested an hour ago. The rich buttery smell of the chicken alfredo continued to permeate her lab, despite the fact that it was in the very back of the station and the communal lunch room was by the front. What torture.

She strode over to the door and was about to shut it to prevent further drifting of the wonderful smell when that insufferable detective popped his head in. "Hey, did you order anything?" He asked with his trademark grin.

"No and I'm busy." She made to shut the door but Richard stepped fully inside.

"You sure? 'cause there's an extra order of lasagna and no one seems to be claiming it..."

She glared at him. "Are you suggesting I'm forgetful enough to not remember if I ordered something?"

He shrugged carelessly. "People get wrapped up in work."

"I didn't order. Goodbye."

He refused to leave and dangled the bag in front of her. "If no one's claiming it, you should take it. Mario's is to die for."

"That's wonderful to know but I already ate."

"Sure you're not hungry? This stuff is too good to pass up..."

She growled, "What part of I'm not hungry do you not understand? Or perhaps your ears are chock full of earwax that they can't hear a thing. Perhaps you'd like me to take a hairpin and shove it down your canals to clear it out."

"Aw I was just offering you an extra order."

"No thanks!" She nearly shrieked and shoved him out the door before slamming it shut and locking it. He was unbelievably irritating, was he so stupid as to not get the hint that she wanted to be left alone?

Richard remained on the other side of the door, still holding the extra order that he had requested for her. He knew she didn't eat much, if she even ate at all, and judging from her appearance and manner, had a tight budget to work with. Her clothes, though respectable and nice, were somewhat shabby and beginning to show their age. Her shoes were solid but cheap as was her bag. He knew that an investigator's starting salary wasn't much, especially if she was affiliated with a local police station. No matter how good she was, as Andrew praised, excellent work wasn't well rewarded in a public service especially if one worked in a career that dealt withbeing in thebackground.

However a salary for someone like her should've more than covered the basics. Maybe she wouldn't get to splurge like some of his female friends, who didn't bat an eye at the prospect of dropping $600 for a pair of uncomfortable stilettos, but she should have enough to pay the bills and have a little pocket money. Enough to get nicer clothes and shoes. Obviously a big chunk of her salary was going someplace to something she deemed more important than herself and he was determined to find out. He wasn't a detective for nothing.

iris night: wow thanks...im flattered that you would put this as one of your favorite stories when it sucks compared to some really good ones out there

angst equinox: this is au... so raven has a brother

esmeralda: like i said, i looked up the terms and i'm still not sure what the term is.. so i'll stick to calling raven a forensic patholigst right now. if i find out what the term is i'll correct it

raerobxsansesshyfan: thanks a lot and i will try to update as much as i can

tecna: thanks, once again im flattered you think this is really cool

i haven't started writing the third chapter yet but it will prolly involve several meetings between richard and rachel hehehe... imagine a situation where he finds out where she lives and drops by for a visit ;)
also i know i haven't mentioned the killer at all in this chapter, but don't worry guys, he'll come out next chapter all right. i'll also be introducing probably another character from the cast.. and maybe, just maybe i'll get to that fundraiser... though you probably will all know that rachel will go with a date. who wants to guess who's her date lol?


thanks again for reading and please review, it's good to know that peopel are actually reading this!