Hey. I'm sort of pressed for time, so I'll make this quick. I've been a bad girl and not updated for a while…more like, over a month…and I've even posted a fic for ANOTHER show while you were all patiently waiting for this chapter. Sorry – you know how those nagging ideas are. But if any of you watch Full Metal Alchemist, I did post a one-shot a couple of weeks ago. Check it out if you're interested.

I was going to try and focus on the Titans this chapter, and how their dynamics have changed, but that turned out boring. So, this chapter is a little different, because it's entirely from the POV of this story's antagonists. I was inspired by one of my favorite X-Files episodes of all time, "Hungry." I liver symbol Rob Roberts.

DISCLAIMER: Do I need to say it? I don't own Teen Titans, or Porphyria's Lover by Robert Browning (lines from the poem are bolded). I own James, and nothing else of importance. Oh, and the T-Blades. I totally own the T-Blades.

Porphyria

Chapter Nine – Lying

He could sit and watch her all day. James loved everything about this Lucy – her quiet footsteps, her wide, innocent, violet eyes, and her silence. She would listen, utterly enraptured in the tales James wove.

It was a relief to finally find a new Lucy that would actually hear him out. Usually they fought, or even screamed – they were never quiet until the end. But compared to the still silence of those blank-eyed, failed Lucy's, this one's silence was a blessing. She was reasonable and receptive, two of the old Lucy's better qualities.

James tried not to think about the old Lucy too much nowadays, but sometimes he just couldn't help it. He'd hoped to carve a perfect replica of his Lucy with this one, but even she was falling short. Granted, she was as close as he could ever expect to get, but sometimes he felt cheated. He'd wanted it all – laugh, smile, mannerisms – but no matter how much he taught her, there were just some things he couldn't mold. He resolved to try harder.

Shards of sunlight cut through the kitchen bay window, surrounding this Lucy with a heavenly aura. Quietly he stepped up behind her, and gently, tenderly he caressed the side of her face, and then embraced her.

"That moment, she was mine, mine, fair," he whispered softly, brushing a kiss against her cheek. A sigh escaped her lips, barely audible. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she breathed, pulling away.

James wrapped his hand around her wrist, and she paused. "Lucy."

"It's just…" Sighing, she turned and stared out into the garden. "I'm never going to remember, am I?"

Biting his lip, James pulled her close again. "No, Lucy, I don't think you will. But don't worry, my love," he assured her. "We'll make new memories, you won't need the old ones anymore."

She stared up into his eyes, frowning. "I don't even know who I am, James," she whispered.

James took a step back from her. "You're Lucy Kove." Anger rose in his chest. "You don't believe me?"

"I never said that!"

"Then take my word for it." James fought to control his temper and keep his tone even. "You are Lucy Kove, and you don't need your memories."

Lucy's eyes narrowed. "Why don't you want me to remember?"

There was no right answer to that one. He couldn't tell her the truth. She couldn't know that she wouldn't remember him, that the first time she'd met him was when she'd woken two months ago, that he was lying every time he called her Lucy. How could he explain that things were better this way? He loved her, unlike those faces from her past. They'd let her go, but James would never do that. His Lucy was everything to him, and if he had to lie to keep it that way…well, at least she had his love.

She was still waiting, a mingled look of hurt and confusion and anger splayed across her features. "Why, James?"

"Because….because they'll hurt you," he murmured finally. "You weren't happy before, Lucy, unless you were with me. Your life was full of pain and sorrow – and now you've got the chance to start over, without the grief and the heartache. I don't want you to be sad anymore, Lucy. I love you too much for that."

And it wasn't a lie, not really. Lucy had fallen still, and James waited with bated breath for her reaction.

"I'm sorry," she said finally. "I know you're just trying to help. But it's hard sometimes, you have to understand that."

"I know." He took her hand and squeezed it gently. "But you have to let me help you, alright?"

Lucy nodded, and James reached for the bottle of pills on the counter. He couldn't read her expression as he placed the orange pill in her hand, but he knew deep down she hated the medication. Still, she took it faithfully, and there was nothing else he could ask for. As long as the pills were working, Lucy was his.

In a few moments, Lucy had calmed and quieted, the last remnants of her anger evaporated. James smiled.

"I've got something to show you," he said suddenly, taking her hand and pulling her from the kitchen – she followed obediently. They entered the foyer and climbed the main stairs, turned down a few hallways and stopped before and upstairs broom closet. Lucy watched, obviously puzzled, as James pulled the door open, pushed aside a vacuum and a few dusters, and stepped inside. His hand instinctively found a small niche in the wall, and he slid the wall sideways, revealing a dark stairway.

"What is this?" Lucy questioned, but James only grinned.

"Come on." He led her through the closet and into the stairway. It was pitch black, but James had the path memorized – he carefully maneuvered through two flights of random twists and turns, and eventually stopped outside an oak door. If it hadn't been so dark, they would have been able to see the carvings etched into the walls and on the doors, similar to those all over the rest of the house, and the story's climax.

"Are you ready?" James asked in an excited whisper. He didn't wait for an answer, but swung the door open and let the brilliant light from outside pour in.

James and the first Lucy had discovered the balcony one rainy morning of their youth, and never told a soul. It was nestled away on the back of the fourth story, visible from the outside if anyone had ever bothered to look for it. It was small, maybe four paces long and five wide, and covered by a small overhang of the roof. The only furniture was a worn wicker table and two chairs – the set had been there prior to James and the first Lucy's discovery, but neither could ever figure out just who'd put it there. As for the railing – ivy had crept up and grown over it, but if it had been moved aside, much as James had done years earlier, more carvings would have been revealed, the end of the story the house told.

At first, Lucy was silent as she took it all in. Finally, she took a few steps forward and paused at the balcony.

"It's beautiful," she finally managed. "Look at the view." She gestured out to the forest, just now warming in the morning sun. The garden was just visible to her right, and the vast field was laid out before her.

James stepped up beside her and leaned on the rail. "It's yours."

"What?"

"We used to come up here all the time when we were children," he explained. "No one else ever knew about it. Now, it's your balcony, and you can come here anytime you're tired of sorting things out, and take a break for a little while. Up here, problems just seem to sort themselves out."

To his surprise, Lucy threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Aside from the occasional hand squeeze, this Lucy wasn't much of one to outwardly show affection. Quickly, James overcame the initial shock and hugged her back.

"Thank you," she said earnestly, still in his embrace.

"Of course, my darling Porphyria." He leaned in and kissed her gently.

"James," Lucy asked once they had broken apart, and he had headed for the doorway. "What happens in the poem? To Porphyria, I mean?"

With a crooked smile, James turned back to face his Lucy. "It's a happy ending, I promise. She and her lover are together…forever."

Destruction.

That was just about the only thing that ever ran through the creature's mind, if one could call it that. The barest flicker of recognition was about the limits of its awareness. Mostly, it just rampaged through the city, smashing, crashing, ripping, breaking, tearing.

Killing.

It hadn't killed at first – no, at first all it had done was obliterate a few buildings, maybe throw a few cars, send a couple of people off screaming. But the kills had started on the fourth attack – it had been a young woman, who'd been too busy crying for help to move from the street. One inky black tentacle had shot out and snatched her – a moment later her blood stained the street red, running in rivulets to the feet of her would-be saviors. They'd come easily after that, and the creature had taken to killing a least a few people with every attack. But after just a week or so of that, there seemed to be less of them in the street.

There were four who never left – the ones that were always in the way, whom he could never seem to kill. Not that it didn't hurt them – they'd carried the red-haired girl off once, and the green one always took a beating, yet still managed an attack. He was easily the peskiest of the bunch.

But today, he would die – if the creature knew anything behind those empty black eyes, that was it.

The rest had fallen – the mechanical one was struggling to his feet in the background, but he'd never make it in time. Now it was just the creature and its green nemesis. The latter was a tiger, crouched and ready to pounce, despite the futility. He knew the attack was hopeless, he knew he wouldn't come out of it alive, but the green one didn't seem to care.

He struck, and the creature devoured him.

TBC

Grrr….I hate this chapter…mostly because it was hard to write, and you guys have been waiting so long, and it's really short. But I did like writing parts of it, especially the last bit…it's hard to write from James's POV for so long. And Raven's tough too…I'm trying to make her into an entirely new person, all the while retaining at least a few of her old habits…but even those are fading, because of James's influence. So, yeah, emotional trauma and all that fun stuff. Man, these poor Titans will need so much therapy after I'm through with them – this is waaaaaay beyond Dr. Phil. Ah well, I wanted to introduce the balcony.

And, as for the ending…well, next chapter I'm gonna go back and explain things from the Titans POV. So…action…and blood. Yes, blood. You've been forewarned.

Well, bye then, and please review!

Child of a Pineapple