Author's Note: Hellooooo everybody! Thank you so much for reading, favoriting, following, and leaving such wonderful reviews. It's been a little over a month since I've updated, and this could've been out much sooner but I had this strange bout of... not necessarily writer's block, but this overflow of ideas I struggled finding the words for. I tend to write in as little as one sitting and just let the ideas flow out of me naturally.
Anyways, I just want to put a disclaimer here: this chapter contains mentions of violence, blood, and death. I also want to remind y'all that this story contains strong language and mature/sexual themes that will develop soon. We're just past the first part of the story, guys, and I really hope you're enjoying the ride. I have too much fun putting these poor babies through so much pain.
Also, if you have any thoughts, opinions, a desire for any sort of discourse, come talk to me on tumblr! marzannaruza
Don't be shy! I'm so happy you're here with me.
For a second, he thinks he's back home.
It's not like he isn't used to it. To seeing it. To detaching himself from it. To the smell of it, thickly distinct and lingering long after he's walked away.
No, it's not like he's never been face-to-face with death itself. Especially on this side of the country.
The petty crime rates have steadily dropped since the Titans came around here. So have homicides. Back in Gotham, this would be a damn near impossible feat.
He's definitely not in Gotham anymore.
But for a second, just a split second — when he turns the corner, and his eyes land on that dark pool of blood, and the body it came from, and the moon shining nice and bright over it all, he's back there.
He's as emotionless as ever.
Someone gags beside him. He crouches down, searching for any wounds, until the body twitches.
"Call an ambulance."
"On it."
It's all too familiar.
Whoever shot the man on the ground didn't make sure they were dead. He's seen this happen a few times before — not all head shots were fatal.
Unless you're a professional.
All he knows for sure is that this man is in pain he can't take the time to imagine.
They got here before the police. That's the case more often than not, but they'll run their own investigation.
Something's off. Something he can't quite place.
A small hand touches his shoulder.
"Pick up anything?"
"Yeah. This guy isn't much of a saint."
He frowns. "What about whoever shot him?"
"Can't see or feel clearly. It's like something is blocking me from it."
"Funny. I've got the same feeling."
"Robin…"
He stands up, and her hand slides down to his arm. Whatever comfort she tries to give doesn't reach him.
"Whatever you're trying to do, don't bother." It takes the rest of his self control to firmly grab her wrist and place it back to her side instead of ripping it away.
"I know how you get. We all do —"
"When was the last time we've come across a homicide? Or, in this case, an attempted one? Hm? An execution style, point-blank murder?"
He's sneering now, blood heating up in the way it hasn't for so long.
"A long time."
"Exactly," he barks.
"Calm down."
Her voice grounds him, but not enough to apologize.
"Whatever," he huffs, smart enough to hold himself back.
"Cops are here. Ambulance is on their way."
"About time," he grumbles. "Let's go."
"Oh thank god."
She hasn't spoken since they left, not a single word. She hasn't spoken to him in days either. As he walks back to his bike, the red and blue lights flashing, coming closer, he sees her from the corner of his eye.
Looking at something from a distance. Staring ahead. Raven comes to her side and touches her shoulder the way she touched his.
She doesn't turn. Her lips move in a whisper.
She looks so pretty mouthing his name.
His voice still wraps around her and seeps into her skin, the sin it is.
Gravelling and potent, mocking yet kind. It rings in her head even now, nearly a month later. She wishes she did not crave more. To be so compelled by a stranger, it frightened her. He was sudden, with a dimpled smile and a veiled agenda. Whatever desires that conjured in her under his gaze could only be stifled by her fear.
He laid himself down in her mind weeks ago, and he has yet to leave. It is uncomfortable, truly. She knows so little about him, yet his words continued to burn themselves into her brain, impossible to forget. It must have been that smile, she thinks to herself often and regrettably, and pushes it down, down, down.
The way he looked at her made her legs shake, made her stomach flutter. It felt dangerous to be so close to him, despite the fact that he did nothing to harm her. He looked dangerous. But perhaps, that is how he wished to look. Still, he made her feel weak, dizzy. Made her skin tingle in a way she had never felt before. It was torturous, just as much as it was pleasurable.
That, she finds, is unfortunate.
How loathsome was he, how tantalizing? Like he has everything she has been missing all this time.
She should have remained wary, cold. But he began to feel warm. And once it spread onto her, she had to leave. The only problem is, a part of her wants to go back.
To Jason. To speak to him. To ask, to know: why is it that you found me worthy enough to save?
No. No, she cannot think that way. As if she had no value, as if shame did not haunt her right after every thought of him.
This has been her cycle: getting lost in the same daydreams, feeling the undeniable pull to find it all again, and then the crashing down in which she realizes once more just how irrational she has become.
Everything continues to echo inside of her endlessly.
X'hal, she misses her best friend. But she made the right choice, did she not? She is sound, she is justified, she is…
She slumps down onto her bed with a huff.
The questions come to her at night. The fears come alive at night, they always do.
Physically, she has recovered fully. While her powers have not been completely restored, they were now stronger than before. Whatever illness she suffered remained a mystery to her. Still, her energy faltered, and she ran out of it a little too quickly for her liking. Any battles they've had in the last month were exhausting, but she was able to pull through. She was checked on weekly, and found to be relatively healthy, save for her lower weight.
Coincidentally, (or perhaps not so) she felt her strength returning the day after the Fourth of July.
The day after she cut herself off from him. However little she managed.
The burden that lifted off her that day was small, but a relief. Her interactions with him from then on were curt and polite without a hint of the resentment she truly feels towards him. He tries to smile at her, even tries to touch her here and there, little innocuous touches that just did not hold the sincerity they once did. His attempts only result in awkwardness. At any given opportunity, she goes away from him, and he does not follow.
It hurts her to do so. It physically pains her to withdraw herself from him. It takes just about all of her willpower to hold herself back from approaching him, to tell him everything she has been feeling. It runs and spins through her head at any given moment she is not preoccupied. Although he has pushed her away, and created this rift between them in the first place, she still wants nothing more than to close it. Above all else, he is her bestest friend. Or, perhaps, was.
How could she leave the rest of the pieces to break when he has been by her side through it all? The guilt ripples through her everytime he looks at her when he thinks she does not know, when he walks into the room and gives her this… this look. How could she hurt him back? How could she let go, at least try to?
The answers ache in her chest.
How much more could she possibly wait, with the exhaustion eating her alive?
How pathetic of her.
How selfish.
How necessary.
Is love not meant to be unconditional? Resilient? Able to withstand even the most turbulent of emotions and times? Is it possible that she loves herself more? Or, perhaps, a strange thought to consider: she does not love him at all.
What an awful thing. A world where she does not love the one person who helped her the most.
Home made her believe love was endless; Earth shattered that thought with its bare hands. It almost feels like she has nothing left.
"What purpose does this hold?" she whispers to the ceiling, and none of the walls talk.
He rolls his eyes when someone knocks on his door.
"I'm working," he shouts, but they just keep fucking knocking. It's, like, one in the fucking morning. Whoever it is behind that door, is testing his patience.
He sucks his teeth as it gets more rapid and finally opens that damn door.
He doesn't expect to see tears.
"Robin," she sobs, wrapping her arms around herself.
"Raven, what the hell happened?" he says, wide-eyed, ready to panic. He pushes her gently into his room with a hand on her back.
Does he hug her? Does he hold her? Pat her back? Her head? Stay silent and hope for the best?
She continues to sob, body shaking under her cloak. God, he hasn't seen her like this in a long time.
"Did you have a n-nightmare?" he stutters, awkwardly rubbing her back, and it only does a whole lot of nothing.
"Y-y-you…" she sucks in a breath, fresh tears pouring down her cheeks, "You're making me…"
Was this about his attitude from before? He made Raven cry like this? He wants to kick his own ass right now, if he didn't already.
"Is this about before?" he says so low, and it gets quiet so suddenly that he doesn't even let himself breathe.
How many more people is he going to hurt?
She squeezes her eyes shut and sighs deeply, like she's trying to release every emotion she has in that single breath. He can only stare at her, stock still. Afraid to move.
When is it all going to stop?
"I'm sorry, just give me a minute." Her voice is calm, even. Forced. He nods his head. "Give me a minute…" she says again, breathless.
Every possible reason she could be crying is flying through his head right now. Sometimes, he really lives up to his name, alright. The poor girl's probably fed up with all his shit and is one fuck-up away from leaving the team. He wouldn't blame her. If there's anything that he's learned in the past month, it's that he's a real fuck-up.
"Relax, it's not what you think."
Then what is it?
"Oh," is all he can say.
She sits on the floor and gets into her meditative position, breathing deeply, evenly. His stomach twists with each second that passes by. And a lot of them pass by. He wants to throw up.
"Okay. Sorry about that."
That doesn't take the weight off his chest.
"It's okay." He clears his throat.
"Sit," she quietly demands, and that is exactly what he does.
When she looks into his eyes, they're cracked and glassy and he's even more frozen than before.
"Robin." His heart sinks to his gut.
"What is it?"
"You're driving me… crazy."
"Huh?"
She pulls her lips into a frown. "Your emotions. They're all over the place. I can't even hear myself think."
"Oh."
"And you're not the only one."
"...Oh."
"Listen to me. I don't know much about what happened between you and Starfire," he can't stop himself from cringing at her name, "or what's going on now. All I know is that it's too much. Not only for you, not only for her, but for me."
Oh.
"I haven't had the… best handle on myself lately. Just… all these things are happening, and… you guys aren't helping. You can't forget, I feel it all. Especially the pain. And it's just… it's too much for me. So please."
"I'm sorry," he whispers.
"Just please. Fix this. Fix this before it gets worse. Before I lose my grip."
She stands to leave, and he's dumbfounded.
"I…"
At the doorway, she turns back.
She says it so quietly he doesn't know if it's real.
"She loves you, Robin. Too much."
The bile rises in his throat.
He waits for her in the same place they first met.
Something pulls her out into the night air, and she's drifting again, hoping to find what she should not be looking for.
"Hey, princess. Looking for me?"
It turns out that he is not so far away. Or at least not far away from where she found him before.
"Greetings, Jason," she smiles, and X'hal, does he smile back.
"What's up, gorgeous?"
Gorgeous? Her?
She immediately blushes and tucks her hair behind her ear, looking down at her feet. He dares to step closer. A part of her appreciates his fast pace, despite how dizzy it make her.
He places a finger underneath her chin, and with a gentle push, he lifts her eyes to his, still masked. He's just a dream, isn't he? He must be, no one could adorn such a smile like that, slightly crooked but absolutely charming. When he retracts his finger from her skin, it tingles.
"What is the 'up?'" she replies quietly, tapping her index fingers together. His laugh sends a rush down her spine.
"Nothing much. You need something? Looks like you're searching for something… or maybe someone."
"I uh… I was searching for some… peace and quiet?"
She was not behaving this way the last time she saw him — why is she now?
He laughs again and she believes she knows the reason.
"Did I see you earlier tonight, Kori? Or was I just seeing things?"
The sound of her name twists her stomachs into knots.
She takes her bottom lip between her teeth. "I think you may have."
"I'm glad I caught you. It's been awhile, hasn't it?"
"Yeah," she sighs dreamily, twisting the ends of her hair. Just what was he doing to her, speaking so sweetly and kindly?
He takes just a step closer. "You know, Kori, I…" he trails off, biting his lip, and she has to refrain herself from staring. Something about him… intrigued her in such a way that she was ready to fall backwards any second. He chuckles lightly, cheeks dimpling. "I haven't really stopped thinking about you."
She holds her breath.
"Sorry if that's too forward, I know we kinda just met but," he begins, rubbing the back of his neck, and it almost looks familiar, "but I'd really like it if we could, y'know… talk."
"Talk about what?" she says, unmoving.
"Nothing specific, just… talking to talk. Like, y'know…"
"...Friends?"
"Yeah," he huffs, "friends."
"And why should I be your friend, Jason?"
A blush creeps up his neck, and she cannot help but giggle.
"I am merely joking, Jason. Your proposal is quite… refreshing."
"Refreshing? How so?"
"I appreciate your forwardness."
He raises a dark, thick brow, almost hidden beneath his streak of white hair. Just the way he looks is… how can she say it in English?
Alluring.
"I take it it's something you're not used to?"
"In terms of battle, of course."
"In other ways?"
She shakes her head.
"Well, Koriand'r," she feels her name run down her back again, "now we've got something to talk about, don't we?"
He holds out his hand for her to take. She lays her palm on top of his.
Another sleepless night comes past, and he knows that she wasn't in the tower for who the fuck knows how long because he sees her through the window.
He's been trained to question everything, and she was never an exception. Something was off. He could see her beaming in front of the rising sun, and he can't really stop himself. His chest heaves.
He doesn't know what's going on anymore. Maybe he never really did. It's been four hours since Raven spoke to him, and it's all he could think about — he just doesn't know how to fix it. He doesn't know what to say to her without it coming out wrong. His feet move before his mind catches up, though, and then he's outside her door and knocking.
He's just worried. He's just concerned. He's the leader, he has the right to know what's going on with her.
Doesn't he?
It takes a minute too long for her to open her door.
She looks so shocked when she does, like he ripped her out of a good, good dream.
"Robin," she breathes, trying to mask the guilt that's written all over her face, "is everything the okay?"
"Where were you?"
"W-what?"
"Where. Were. You?"
She gulps. He wants to scream.
"I was here, Robin. Why are you asking?" He sees her fingers trembling. She crosses her arms behind her back to cover them.
"I just saw you out the window," he says gruffly. "Do I need to find out the hard way?"
"I could not fall asleep, so I went outside for fresh air. Is this not allowed?" she says, regaining her composure and pinching her brows together.
She loves you, Robin.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I am the 'sure,'" she responds, but it almost sounds like a bite.
"Alright. Sorry."
Without a word, she closes the door.
Too much.
She loves him, his ass.
She had stayed out much later than intended.
Truthfully, she is not sure what she had intended in the first place.
Jason, she found, is funny. Funny in a way she's never known. Funny in a way that she couldn't stop laughing, that made her feel as what she's heard described as "high."
And X'hal, he smells glorious.
He made her forget every single problem she has. He even made her forget her heartache, if only for a moment.
It all came crashing down the moment she opened her door, just a few minutes ago.
She slides down the door and stays there, trying to settle her heart before it beats out of her chest.
He saw me. I did not even think of the possibility.
The pain rushes back to her body, as if her medicine had worn out. She already misses the numbness.
