This chapter is sort of random and out there, but it came to me as I tried to sleep, and I prayed that I would remember it in the morning and I did, and I wrote, and it felt so good. And I felt so alive. And I missed the reviews and I felt I could still salvage this story, as stupid and plot-less as it is.

Chapter 10:

"Raven!" He ran over to me, as I collapsed to my knees. The little girl, too, collapsed, weak from her close encounter with death.

"I'm fine, take the little girl. I'm just really tired." And he complied. He lifted the petite form into his strong arms and carried her to the ambulance. I watched as he handed the small girl into the hands of one of the ambulatory workers.

And then everything went black.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Darkness.

Grayness.

White.

Color.

My eyes flickered before fully opening.

It took me a moment to absorb my surroundings. Okay, I'm lying on my back. I'm staring up at open sky. It's dark—night. The stars. They're visible and so…peaceful. The ground feels bumpy, but so cool to the touch. My empathy kicked in and I realized I'm not alone. The team, Robin is here, too.

"Such a nice view." His voice doesn't startle me, but it surprised me. I turned my head to face his profile.

"Yeah. It is." And his face turned to meet mine. And the corners of my mouth lifted up.

And so does his.

"Robin, you look good tonight." And all in the world is right again.

And we both turned our heads back to stare at the celestial work of art above us.

"Robin, why are we lying in the middle of the street?"

"After we fixed some of the stuff, we were too tired to go back home. In any case, how're you feeling?"

"I'm fine, thanks." A pause as I tried to straighten my thoughts into coherency. "Robin, where is the little girl now?"

"You mean the girl you rescued from the building? She's in the closest hospital. Jump City Hospital. She's in critical condition."

"Oh.

"Robin, can we visit her?"

He turned his head to look at me, a look of curiosity apparent on his face. Thankfully, he didn't say anything about it.

"Sure."

I walked into the white hospital room labeled 241. I strode over to the only occupied cot. I stood at the foot of the bed silently asking the girl for permission. Her deep eyes studied me and I took the liberty of examining her as well. I had never really seen what she looked like—I had been too preoccupied trying to lift her from that pile of rubble.

I carefully scrutinized the small girl. Her deep brown irises had a goldish tint to them, and they were dotted with small golden specks. Her pupils, contracted from the bright florescent bulb, regarded me slowly and carefully. Our eyes locked for a brief moment before we each continued scrutinizing the other. Her hair, carefully shampooed since—yesterday, was it?—cascaded down, tumbling over her shoulders and rested neatly on her plushy hospital pillow. Her skin was a creamy white, and that, too, seemed to glow of gold. The starchy white blanket covered her form from the waist down, crinkling and crumpling with the shape of her body. Her hands lay gently folded in her lap. Even bumped and bruised and bandaged up, she radiated beauty.

Our eyes met again, and they seemed to nod, beckoning me to her side with serenity. I strode over to her bedside, suddenly self-conscious of my gait. I balanced myself, walking neither too quickly, nor too slowly.

I pulled down my hood the way one would remove their hat towards a superior. I felt like a college student waiting to be interviewed.

My eyes wandered over to the empty beds, set up with emergency supplies, and I wondered why the little girl's bedside table lay empty and neglected. My eyes then traveled to the sign outside her open door, reading "Critical Care Unit" in big black caps. I was in the right place, but then—

"My name is Lluvia."

"Huh—what?"

"Lluvia. It means rain in Spanish."

"Oh. I see. I'm Raven."

"I know. You're a Teen Titan. Everybody knows."

"Oh. Right."

I cold silence befell us, and I suddenly realized we were what we were.

Strangers.

I shuddered.

"It's nice to meet you, Lluvia."

"Ditto."

Yeah, ditto.

"I know what you're thinking, Raven."

'Yeah, ditto' ?

"I guess you're an empath, too, then."

"You're not good with jokes, Raven."

"I know; I don't smile much, really."

"I guess the tabloids aren't all wrong, then."

"Yeah…tabloids."

"It's not you're fault, Raven. Things like this happen all over the world and there's no one to help them there."

"I know, Lluvia, but—"

"No, Raven, you don't know."

I was startled by her sudden outburst, but it didn't get past my indifferent demeanor. So she continued.

"Few people do. It's good that you feel sorry—you should."

At this, my eyes widened just a bit.

"But don't feel sorry that I got hurt. Don't even feel bad that this had to happen. Because it did. It did have to happen. Because of the world we live in, it had to happen. Don't feel sorry that people like Slade and Plasmus have to live. Don't feel regretful that people like you, and I, and Robin and Beast Boy and Starfire and Cyborg and all other good or innocent people can't always live the lives they deserve.

"Because the bad things make the other things seem good. And the good things seem bad.

"If someone lived a perfect life where everything always went according to plan and nothing ever went wrong, they wouldn't have anything to feel happy for. If someone led a life where nothing went right, where when some danger was lurking in every crack of every sidewalk pavement, they wouldn't have anything to feel sorrow for. But if someone lived a roller coaster life, then they could feel bad, and they could feel happy, and sometimes just plain indifferent.

"It's like…it's like hitting yourself with a ruler in the same spot on your arm, minute after minute, after minute. After hitting yourself so many times, your body gets used to it; you don't feel anything about it. It doesn't make a difference anymore. But if you hit yourself over and over, let it heal, and then a month later started hitting yourself again, it would hurt.

"That's what I mean, Raven. That's what I truly believe."

"Lluvia, I—I don't know what to say."

"I don't pick any favorites in the Teen Titans. I admire all of you in your own way.

I admire your hidden openness. How you're so hard to figure out, yet so obvious, an open book. You don't try to hide your thoughts, and you support your individuality.

I admire Robin because he thinks he has no weakness, but it's that strength that makes him weak. It's rather amusing to see him pretend that he's invincible. But what I admire most about him is that you can actually believe him when he says it. Not the kind of believing where you're just trying to hide the inevitable—I mean the real kind of believing.

Who I admire most, though, are people like Starfire and Beast Boy and Cyborg. They have such positive outlooks on life. They've been through a lot, too, Raven. Many people have. And yet…and yet they're so open to new ideas, so responsive to their search for happiness. In their blatant obviousness, they are hidden and ruffled, veiling their own dark pasts."

"But don't feel bad, Raven. They are like that, because they have nothing to fear of themselves. Well, not much.

But you do and—"

I struggled against my tears as I saw her choke and wheeze and gag and gasp and crash and burn as she coughed and coughed and coughed.

And then came the blood.

Oh, so much blood came spilling from her mouth. Pouring and pouring and raining bloody, red rain from her paled face.

And then I knew why she had no emergency gear.

There was nothing left to do.

Her tiny fists pounded repeatedly on the assistance button, and I sat there, struck dumb in horror as I watched her pull the covers closer around her and she knew and I knew and the nurse and doctor that ran into the room knew there was nothing to do.

The doctor did the only thing to be done. He filled a needle with a sleeping mixture, as any oral pills were out of the question.

And as the girl fell asleep in her anesthetic state, still coughing up a fountain of blood, I lifted her up from the bed, and the nurse solemnly dialed the cremation service.

Hanging up the phone, she filled another syringe with a clear, yet goldish liquid, and getting a slow but firm nod from the doctor next to her, she injected the frail girl with the concoction, her tears dotting my arms.

And I held that small girl in my arms and I watched as her breathing slowed, and her chest stopped moving up and down, up and down, and her blood kept spilling from her mouth and onto my hands but I didn't care as I hugged her tightly to my chest.

The blood.

Spilling.

Like a fountain, the blood.

Red rain.

Rain.

Lluvia.

Blood.

The blood.

Her blood.

Her last blood.

Pale skin.

Jutting bones.

Cold skin.

So, so cold.

And red.

With her blood.

Cold and red and raining.

And,

Death.

I'm actually satisfied with this chapter. It feels good to be back again, though I doubt it will last long. But please. Review.