Day 4

Talents

He found her sitting on the front porch, her legs crossed underneath herself, head bowed as she examined the cuff of a pant leg she held close to her face. It was early morning and the first chance he'd had to speak to her privately since he arrived for his visit two days ago.

"Raven, I'd like to be frank with you." It was best to get right to the point. The house was full to overflowing and an interruption could occur at any time.

"Alright," she muttered, not looking up from the pants she studied. "To be honest though, going from Dick to Frank seems like a lateral move." Her voice was as monotone as ever and he huffed as he sat down beside her in a wicker chair.

"Garfield is rubbing off on you," Richard Grayson told her, his dark eyebrow lifting when her mouth quirked into a slight smile. Her lips even parted the tiniest bit, contemplating a comeback, before they closed again. Had she honestly considered making a dirty joke? This conversation was long overdue if she had sunk to that level. "What are you doing?"

"Timmy's pants are a little too long. Rita showed me how to . . ."

"No, I mean . . . why are you here?"

"I was planning on enjoying the sun in peace before it got too hot. It's been uncomfortably humid by the time . . ."

"Raven, you're wasting your talents," he said it bluntly and the empath raised her head to look at him for the first time.

"What exactly do you mean by that, Richard?"

"You are one of the most powerful being in the universe. The whole of existence! But you're sitting here, with a needle and thread, altering a pair of pants."

"And?" Raven looked back at the boy's dress pants, beginning to work again.

"You could be out there saving the world."

"Is the world ending at the moment?" It was a valid question, but Dick made a frustrated sound.

"You know what I mean. I don't understand why you're squandering your life, your incredible gifts! What happened that you decided to give up and hide in the middle of nowhere, playing happy housewife?" The man threw his hands in the air, his blue eyes opening wide as if in an attempt to see the perceived malady that had afflicted her. Slowly his hands settled back in his lap, but Raven did not look up from the pants. She didn't say anything for nearly five minutes, finishing her work. Slowly the empath folded the pants and sat them on the little table beside her.

"The things you perceive as gifts, are actually curses. They stunted me, they tainted me. I was able to shape all that brokenness into something good and I'm thankful for my time with the Titans. It taught me a tremendous amount about who I actually am. The circumstance of my birth . . . my existence is the furthest thing from ordinary. But tell me why that has to equate that I spend the whole of that existence being extraordinary."

"Because, Raven . . . because you are extraordinary and you have a duty to . . ."

"By that logic you wouldn't be allowed to call yourself a hero. You're clever and fast and well trained . . . but you aren't exactly supernatural, are you, Dick?"

"I choose . . ," he began hotly, only to be interrupted.

"Exactly. You choose this life. You pursue it. You're invested in it. It's who you really are at the core of your soul. Fighting crime, being that voice in the night for justice, that's your talent, there's no doubt about that."

"It's yours too, Raven."

"No. I learned to do it because it was better than waiting for my darkness to consume me. I put the expected amount of effort in and no more. It was never, not for a moment, my passion. I felt obligated, a penance for the crime I was certain I would commit in the future."

"The fact that you overcame Trigon just shows how talented you really are. You have to see that what you're doing here is . . ."

"What I see, Richard, is a man that dares to come into my house and tell me that my husband and my children are a waste of my time!" Heat simmered in her eyes now and he had to force himself to remain seated, his expression calm.

"I just wanted to encourage you. Justice League is wanting to add more female members and I can't think of anyone better . . ."

"I don't care if the League is going to consist only of women from now on. My life choices are my own. I'm not using this lifestyle as a crutch or a convenient hiding place. I love Gar. I love the kids and more impressively, they love me. Maybe that's my talent, being somehow endearing enough that people love me, despite what I am." Her anger had wilted into something far more somber and she stood.

"You are very . . ." Richard began, but she walked back into the house, slamming the door behind her.

"What happened?" Gar asked, leaning heavily against the kitchen counter.

"What? Nothing. I'm just cleaning." Raven looked over her shoulder briefly before focusing again on her task.

"You're organizing an already organized pantry, Rae. You're angry cleaning."

"I don't do that."

"Yeah, you do. And you're doin' it like crazy right now. So . . . what happened?"

"Noth . . ."

"It's Saturday. I have nothing better to do than bug you all day, so you might as well tell me now. Save both of us from unnecessary irritation."

"Dick was talking about the League."

"When isn't he talking about it? Ever since Cy got in it's like an obsession."

"He was talking about me joining the Justice League." She turned to face the changeling, pushing her hair out of her face.

"Oh." Silence hung in the air for a moment as Gar processed the information. "Do you want to join?"

"No," she answered truthfully. "He said . . . he said that I'm wasting my talents."

"Wasting? That's crazy. You use your talents every day." He pushed himself away from the counter, lightly draping his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into a loose hug. "You have one heck of a talent for keeping this family on track. It would be total chaos around here without you. That's what you do, Rae. You make sense out of chaos. You fit together broken fragments and make them one awesome whole. You do it with yourself, you do it with the household. You make me feel whole, Raven. You take my broken, jumbly mess and somehow all the pieces fit."

"You're sweet when you want to be, Garfield." Her arms wrapped around his neck in a hug and he chuckled.

"Maybe that's my talent."

"No, I think your talent is . . ." she lifted herself onto her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, the skin on his cheeks turning a muddy brown as he blushed.