Author's Notes:

I was hoping to do two things in this chapter. First, make it less dark than the previous, and second, to explain most of the stuff that I hinted at in the first one. I half-managed, half-failed in both, but I'm still fairly happy with the result. Of course, the final judge of that will be you, so don't be shy and drop off a review!

2. Home, Sweet Home

"You don't need to hide it, Rae. I love you like this just as I loved you before."

"It does not… bother you?" Her voice was soft, raspy, stumbling, as if she hadn't used it for a long time and she needed to get accustomed to speaking again.

"It does bother me. It's tearing me apart, Rae. But not because of how you look."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her gently to the couch, making her sit, then lowering himself beside her. He took her limp left hand in both of his. "Can you feel it?"

She shook her head slowly.

"No. The nerves have been… destroyed. There is no feeling where the scar… goes. It is just flesh. Someone else's."

He looked up into her eye, then reached and took her face in his hands tenderly and tried to kiss her. She pulled back and turned away. He could smell anger suddenly boiling in her, brought up by shame and regret.

"Don't pity me, Garfield!" she hissed softly but piercingly.

His teeth ground against each other as he tried to keep the rage at her words down. Again he gripped her shoulders and turned her towards him. She tried to resist, but his strength vastly overmatched hers.

She's weakened, he thought pointlessly. She hasn't been training. I wouldn't be able to turn her around like this two years ago.

"Pity? Is that what you think I feel for you?" His voice rose in volume as the control over his fury started to slip. "Are you telling me you never felt what you mean to me? That you can't feel it now?" he snarled at her, finally clamping his mouth shut and clenching his jaw to keep back more of the angry words that hissed and bubbled in his throat, fighting the urge to spit them at her like acid, to have them burn and bite and hurt her.

Her head hunched between her shoulders. The smell of anguish and shame and regret and hopelessness was strong on her, every component exquisitely defined, sharp as a blade, burning like the caress of a nettle against his soul. His eyes widened as he understood, his voice questioning softly, afraid of the answer, even though he knew it already.

"You… you can't. Not any more. Is that it? Is that what happened to you?"

She clasped her left hand in her right, her eyes avoiding him, looking ahead, unfocused. Her mouth opened as she squeezed the words out.

"It's… gone. All of it. My power, my empathy… It's all gone. Even…"

She choked on the last word, tried to speak again but couldn't. She gasped for breath, then closed her mouth and looked down at her right hand as it dug its nails into the unfeeling piece of meat and bone under it.

"Even our bond" he finished for her. She nodded, still unable to speak.

Again he cupped her chin and turned her head to look into her eye.

"We'll fix it, Rae. All of it. You and me, together. I promise."

Tears flooded her good eye but she couldn't look down. She shifted her gaze from one of his eyes to the other and back again, opening her mouth to ask him, but unable to do so. Her hand went up and touched his cheek. She nodded, still looking at him. She took a deep breath and finally found her voice.

"You promise?"

"I promise, love."

She sighed heavily as if deeply relieved. He embraced her and she allowed herself to melt into his arms, like so many times before, so long ago. To drown in his love and forget about everything else except the beating of his heart and the feeling of his arms around her.

He held her for a while, letting her drink in his love, kissing her hair, whispering comforting and meaningless things to her, knowing that she did not listen to the words but to the sound, the soft, soothing drone of his voice that both calmed her soul and made her heart flutter.

He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers gently. She did not pull back this time. He looked at her.

"Let's get you home."

They waited silently for Cyborg to arrive. She nestled in his arms, the feeling of contentment and calm almost painful, the rediscovered small pleasure she once took for granted now poignantly intense. She didn't dare to move or speak, afraid that it would wake her up, make her lose it all again, return her to the dark nightmare that she lived through during the last two years.

"Two years, two months and thirteen days" she whispered to herself.

He heard it but remained silent, reacting only by pulling her closer and tightening his grip on her.

Cyborg didn't bother with knocking. Luckily, the door was unlocked, otherwise he would've just brushed it aside in a shower of wood splinters as he strode in.

"Where is she?" he demanded as soon as he entered. "Yo! Greenbean! Where are you?"

"Living room!" replied Changeling, even though Cyborg's massive bulk was already heaving into view.

"Where is she?" Cyborg repeated. "Is she all right? What happened? Why –" he cut himself off as his eyes fell on her and her state became clear to him. He inhaled sharply before managing to control himself.

"Did you bring one of her cloaks?" Changeling asked, annoyed at his friend but realizing the reaction was only natural, and probably milder than his own.

"Sure. Here." He offered the cloak he brought to Changeling and turned around, suddenly very interested in examining the small apartment. Garfield sighed, threw the cloak around Raven's shoulders and clasped it around her neck, then lifted the hood over her head. Her eye gave him a grateful look.

They rose together and stepped towards the half-metal giant. Raven's hand poked shyly from her cloak and touched Cyborg's arm.

"It's good to see you again, Victor."

He turned to her, his human eye moist. His metallic paw squeezed her shoulder gently.

"Good to see y'all, too, little sis" he replied, his voice tight.

"I'll take Rae to the T-Car" Changeling said. "Can you pick that guy up and bring him with us?"

"Sure" Cyborg replied, turning to the comatose cripple. He studied the man's features for a second, then looked sharply at Changeling. Garfield just nodded slightly. Cyborg sighed and bent to pick up the wheelchair together with the patient.

"Let's go."

Raven lay naked in the machine's cocoon while the medical scanner explored her body. Changeling watched her face through a small window, making sure that she could see him and draw comfort from the fact that he was there beside her. Cyborg watched the results of the scan with a scowl. He operated a few controls and typed several commands into the console.

"Just one more check and we're finished" he said soothingly.

Changeling nodded, not lifting his gaze from Raven's eye. It watched him almost desperately, unreasoning fear shining in it. He leaned closer to the small window and whispered, making sure she could interpret the movement of his lips.

"It's OK, Rae. We're almost finished."

She blinked slowly to show she understood him and the fear in her eye subsided a little. After a few minutes, Cyborg rose from the console and went to a computer terminal, his back to them.

"Done. Get her out of there and put some clothes on her."

"Thanks, Chrome Dome!"

Cyborg closed his eyes at the words. It had been more than two years since Changeling used any of the many taunting nicknames they had for each other. He was pulling out of his depression. But Raven's state… He shuddered.

Garfield helped Raven out of the cocoon, his face studiously expressionless as he saw again the full extent of the damage that she had suffered. He helped her put on her leotard and her soft boots, then clasped her cloak around her shoulders and lifted the hood over her head. Her fingers went through his hair, then pulled him gently towards her. She kissed him lightly and quickly turned away, fighting the urge to kiss him passionately, desperately, hungrily, forcing her feelings and her needs down. His arm went around her shoulders and he guided her gently out towards her room.

"Can you put her in bed and come by later to help me out, Evergreen?" Cyborg's voice startled him.

The idea of letting her out of his sight for even a minute was almost unbearable, but he heard the note of imperiousness and urgency in Cyborg's voice. He nodded again and walked with Raven as she limped to her room.

He chuckled silently as he helped her get into bed. She felt his shoulders shake and asked "What?"

He grinned at her. "To think I was helping you dress two minutes ago, just to take your clothes off again!"

Suddenly he was aware of a deeper, muskier scent enveloping him, of her heart beating faster and her breath quickening. His reaction was immediate and instinctive; his hand moved caressingly over her, feeling the muscles under her skin tremble at his touch. But a note of fear mingled with the musk and her hand closed over his.

"Gar, please… not now."

He looked at her, his eyes darkening, his nostrils flaring as he took in her scent.

"Raven…"

She turned and slid under the blanket, hiding from him. He sat beside her on the bed, his hand touching the scar on her face. She flinched.

"I want you, Rae. With the scar, without the scar, it's all the same to me. I don't care what's outside. What I love is deeper than that."

"Gar, I… Please be patient with me" she said, took his hand and placed it on her cheek.

He bent over and kissed her lightly. "I always am, love."

She nodded her acknowledgment. He smiled at her, rose and left her room.

"What is it, Vic?" he asked quietly, not aware that he fell into first names again. But Cyborg did not miss it.

Sometimes it's more difficult to hide things from him than it was from her, he thought.

"There's a problem, Gar."

"I realized that. What did you find?"

"Sit" Cyborg waved at a chair. "Look." He pointed at the large screen in the infirmary where the images from the scan were displayed.

"I'm not a doctor, Vic. What is it?" Changeling frowned, feeling uncomfortable with Cyborg's apparent evasiveness.

Cyborg got up and pointed to several internal organs.

"Pancreas. Spleen. Left kidney. Left lung. All cut to ribbons. Plus, her cardiovascular system has suffered an enormous stress. And… the heart."

Changeling watched him silently, a frown frozen on his face.

Cyborg sighed. There was no way of being gentle with it. "Gar, I don't know what happened, but the wounds were deadly. She was not healed, she was patched up. Chewing gum and duct tape job. It won't hold."

"Won't hold?" It was both a statement and a question, asked in a quiet, controlled voice.

"The organs aren't working properly" Cyborg answered, not daring to look at his friend. "They will break apart and shut down soon. There's nothing that can be done. The damage is simply too extensive."

Garfield's eyes glowed, but his breathing never changed. His voice was still low and controlled as he asked.

"How long?"

"I'm… not sure."

There was no change in the tone or the volume of Changeling's voice, but for some reason it now carried a dangerous note.

"How long, Victor?"

"Six months. A year, tops."

Changeling's eyes flicked from Cyborg's eye to the scan image, then back.

"Transplant?"

"She wouldn't survive it."

"Stem cells?"

Cyborg just shook his head. Changeling got up and walked over to the screen, stared at it.

"There must be something."

"There's nothing medical science can do in such a case, Gar. I'm… sorry."

Garfield turned slowly and faced Cyborg. His eyes were expressionless.

"I made her a promise, Victor. I promised that I will fix it. I intend to keep that promise. Whatever it takes."

"Gar, there's just no –"

Changeling moved closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. His eyes were still devoid of any expression, but for the first time in his life Cyborg was afraid of his best friend.

"Anything, Victor. If I have to go down into Hell and drag Lucifer up here by his horns, I'll do it."

Cyborg swallowed. "The only thing I can think of is her own healing trance. She was able to regenerate tissue with it before. Why she can't do it now, I don't know."

"I do" Changeling said softly. "Whatever happened… whatever gave her those wounds also took away her power."

"I… see. What happened, Gar? Did she tell you anything?"

"No. We didn't have much time to speak."

Cyborg looked concernedly at his friend. "Gar, we'll have to ask her. We have to get it out of her. For her sake."

Changeling passed his hand in front of his eyes, suddenly exhausted. "I know, Vic. I realize that. It may be our only chance to… help her."

They both stood silently for a few moments, their thoughts troubled. Cyborg broke the silence.

"You do understand that she knows this already?"

Changeling was surprised at himself. The effort it took to maintain a calm voice was monumental, but he somehow managed it.

"I… am aware of that. She is a healer. She must have known all this time."

Cyborg nodded. He was finding it difficult to breathe. Strange, he thought, considering that I have no lungs and that my breathing apparatus is completely artificial. He groped desperately for something to say.

"That guy looks awfully like…"

"In her own words, it's what's left of her father."

Cyborg nodded, realizing he was already expecting a similar answer. "He's safe for now. I'll place him in maximum security just in case."

Changeling lifted his head, a suspicion forming in his mind, the glow in his eyes deadly.

"What is his status?"

"He lost his right arm at the shoulder and the left leg at the hip, but both wounds have been expertly closed and there is no other damage. Except to his mind."

"Is he comatose?"

"No. His mind is gone. Completely and utterly gone. There are no higher brain activities. He does not even have the intelligence to chew if you put food into his mouth. He has to be fed liquids; at least he will swallow, but that's a reflex, not a brain function. Everything that's not life support has been erased. Obliterated."

"She did it" Garfield voiced what both of them suspected.

"And he wounded her" Cyborg agreed.

Silence fell again between them. This time Garfield broke it. His voice was tight and brittle.

"His wounds were… expertly treated?"

"Yes. I've seldom seen such good surgery work."

"It wasn't surgery."

Cyborg's human eye narrowed. "You mean she…"

"She defeated him and healed him, and then used the last of what remained of her power to patch herself up."

"Gar, we don't know that –"

"By God, Raven, WHY?" Changeling shouted as he smashed his fist into the wall, buckling the armored paneling, leaving a bloody trail on the torn metal. He collapsed to the floor, whimpering, not even feeling the pain from his broken hand. It could not compare to the agony in his soul.

Cyborg strode over and helped him up, guiding him over to the infirmary bed and making him sit there. He started treating the broken wrist and crushed fingers, already swelling with a greenish-purple color. He applied anesthetic and antiseptic, felt expertly for the broken ends of the bones and started splinting each to keep them immobilized while they healed. Changeling was quiet all the time, staring at the far wall, the only visible sign of his turmoil the silent tears that slowly rolled down his cheeks.

Cyborg worked quickly and efficiently. The hand was soon wrapped in a plaster cast and slung to rest over Changeling's chest.

"Go get some sleep, Pea Soup. You need it. Tomorrow we'll talk to her."

Garfield took a deep breath, burying his pain, knowing that it would not help him now. He smiled at Cyborg, fist-bumped him with his good hand and rose. "You're right, Rust Brain. I'll be with Rae. See ya tomorrow morning."

As he was about to leave the infirmary, he turned again to Cyborg and spoke, a wistful grin on his face.

"Listen, Bolt Bucket… Can you do me a favor?"

"Waffles for breakfast tomorrow? You didn't have to ask!"

"Just make sure mine are non-dairy!"

Cyborg grinned back. "Leave the cookin' to Ole Uncle Cy. Y'all jus' go an' take care of mah little sis, and of yerself, ya hear?"

Changeling wanted to reply, but his throat was too dry and too tight. He just nodded and walked to her room.

The tears from her good eye dripped slowly over the bridge of her nose and over the unfeeling, crumpled flesh of the scar to fall on the bed linen, leaving a dark, expanding stain.

Why, Gar? Why did you have to find me and see me like this?

She squeezed her eye shut, but the tears still flowed.

Only a few more months and I would've been gone. You would remember me as I was. Beautiful. Happy. Loving. Not a twisted, scarred wreck. Not a… a hideous monster. A freak.

She buried her face in the pillow, trying in vain to find surcease.

He said… he still loved me.

A snarl tore itself out of her throat.

Don't be an idiot, Raven. It's been two years. He got over you a long time ago.

I never got over him…

You were alone. You were caring for the fleshy prison that was once your father. You knew that he was alive, with our friends, in the Tower. They surely helped him get over it.

He said he didn't… care… about it. That he…

By Azar, Raven, how can he not care? The sight of you is loathsome! Sickening! It's repulsive even to yourself, how can it not be revolting to him?

My empathy is gone… I am not used to reading people's emotions from their body language. I can't be certain if what he feels for me is still love or just… pity. Pity for a… wounded friend. For a freak.

The first of many sobs shook her.

Even if he really loves me still, I can't do this to him. I won't last much longer. A few months more, and then…

Somehow the thought was comforting. It promised the end to the suffering, the stop to the torture, the drowning of the pain. It offered sweet, forgetful oblivion.

Victor will see it. He will know, and he will tell him. And then he will also suffer as he sees me… go, not being able to do anything.

Because there is nothing that can be done. I know it. I felt it as I tried to heal myself. My power poured out of me, just like my blood. I had to use one to stop the other. There was no other way.

And now I have doubled his suffering.

She tried to calm down, for a moment toying with the idea of meditating. But she was too tired and her emotions were pulling her in too many directions. She would not be able to focus and find her center. Instead, she called on her years of conditioning and slowly, ever so slowly pushed her feelings back. But as her anguish and sorrow diminished, other feelings sneaked in to replace them, barely noticed at first.

I was… happy. Truly, completely, unashamedly happy. It was all your doing, Gar. You made me feel, you made me live, you made me sense what I was denying myself all my life.

Azar, how I wish to kiss you… to feel your hands and your lips, to embrace you and forget myself in your arms, to feel your warmth beside me and your scent around me…

As always, thinking about him brought her calm. The fingers on her good hand twitched slightly as she imagined them going through his hair, touching his face, holding his hand.

The hand suddenly clenched into a fist.

I have to leave. Escape. Run away. I can't do this to him. I can't make him suffer just so I can feel a bit better for a few months more.

Her mind made up, she rose from the bed with some difficulty and limped to her closet.

I'll take a few changes of clothes. I don't need anything else.

She opened the closet and started selecting the few things she wanted to take, carrying them single-handed one by one to the bed. She would stuff them later into a bag, steal the T-Car and lose herself among the millions of inhabitants of the city. Not even his sense of smell would be able to find her again.

She started sifting through the cloaks, trying to pick one. To anybody else, with the possible exception of Starfire, all her cloaks looked exactly the same. But she knew the subtle differences. Her hand closed over one, a smile lifting the unscarred side of her mouth as she remembered.

She was wearing that cloak one day when Garfield was feeling lazy – well, lazier than usual – so he decided to morph into a small chinchilla and curl up in her hood to doze there while she carried him around. She thought it adorable and bore him with a small, happy smile on her lips, but neither of them realized that they were going to get much more than what they had bargained for.

For some three hours his extremely sensitive sense of smell was completely immersed in the intimate scent of her hair pervading the hood. The moment she walked into her room he jumped out, morphed back into himself and was all over her, overwhelming her with the power of his desire and the passion of his kisses.

We never even made it to the bed…

Making her mind up, she removed the cloak from the hanger. A small flash of white drew her attention. She tossed the cloak carelessly on the bed and parted the other cloaks to reveal what she had glimpsed.

Her hand grasped the soft fabric and pulled it towards her. Her knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor, her arm tightening around it, her sobs starting again, her soul overwhelmed by unbearable pain and longing. She rocked herself, crying and hugging it tightly with her good arm, her head dropping down to bury itself in it. But it didn't last long. She was completely exhausted and sleep stole quickly over her, leaving her breathing softly, still clutching it, her head pillowed on it.

The soft sound of the door opening and closing did not wake her. Garfield padded in, soundless as a cat, careful not to disturb her. For an instant he stood petrified, seeing that the bed was empty. He looked around, searching anxiously for her, until he saw her crumpled form on the floor. Relief washed over him as his ears and nose told him that she was sleeping peacefully, but they could not explain why her arm was curled in a death grip around a large, ugly, white felt chicken.