why is it when i'm at my busiest with end of term exams , presentataions, lab reports work and other such things that i've finally found the time to finish this? maybe it's the motivation to procrastinate when the last thing i want to do is revise. well anyway, whatever the reason i've finished this mini story, i don't thing i'll be doing anything like it again because fitting chapters around and in episodes didn't quite work, at not as more than a one shot. i'd like to do a full story of my own and i've got some ideas just not exactly the time to do it, though if i do something i'm far to stubborn to let it go unfinished. okay, this is the epilogueand is set after the last episode of The End and marks a change in Raven.


Epilogue

Everyone is asleep and their tranquillity pervades the tower like a gentle perfume, like a ghost it whispers to me of their dreams and like smoke entwines around my fingers. I'm standing barefooted on the very edge of the roof letting my toes curl over the stone, I'm not afraid I could just float away as if a breath exhaled from sleeping lips. I can't sleep which is why it's all I can think of, that, and the nightmare that came true. But that's all it is now: a nightmare, and when the world wakes to the morning chorus all the people will remember of Trigon will be as intangible as a nightmare. But I'll know and the titans will know and it is all I can do on this warm and pleasant night that comes after a storm is to not let the horrors of the day invade their dreams.

It's about three in the morning, the witching hour, and for those who have the power to see it an extra octave of colour sweeps over this time zone of the Earth. It's nothing unusual, it's just a concentrated band of magic that follows 3am around the world; it's a segment of the Earth's magical field. I guess it's quite beautiful but I've never really considered it in that way before. I read a book about it once when I first saw it and realised that the others couldn't, apparently its source lives out of sync with this reality's space-time schematics. I remember talking to Robin about it about it when he noticed that something seemed to amplify my powers at 3 am and considering crime doesn't always sleep it didn't take him long to figure out a connection. He doesn't like not knowing how things work, at first I think he mistrusted my magic, but at least without mistrusting me. I sensed this in him.

He never lost his faith in me, none of them did and because of them everything is back to normal: so why do I feel as if it were completely different at the same time? Or perhaps it's just me that's changed, I keep going it over and over in my head; my father; the prophecy; the battle and what Robin said to me earlier: "...you've got your hold life ahead of you. You can decide your own destiny." He's right; I'm just finding it difficult to take in, like experiencing taste for the first time. My life was supposed to end at sixteen and because of my father's influence over me and the nature of my powers I never really let it begin-

By the power of Azar! I almost had what Beast Boy refers to as a crisis, Cyborg just crept up behind me, and I didn't even hear the roof door open.

"Cyborg, you startled me."

"Sorry, I thought you heard me coming it's not like I'm the lightest on my toes. Beside you could've fooled me girl, you didn't even flinch when I put my hand on your shoulder. Don't give me that look: still hiding from everyone?"

"I'm not hiding up here. I couldn't sleep. I was thinking. What's your excuse?" I'm not irritated I just don't need people to worry or fuss over me.

"No excuse. My batteries are all charged up and I went for a midnight kitchen raid," he held up his sandwich as evidence, "salami, pastrami, three other –ami's, cheese (Swiss and grilled)," to emphasise the cheesy goodness he waggles his eyebrow at me, "bacon, egg, mustard, mayonnaise and chilli sauce, I think there might even be some lettuce hiding in there somewhere. Want some? No? Anyway you left the roof door open and a draught were coming down."

"I have nothing to hide from, except maybe your sandwich." I sit down and let my bare legs dangle over the edge of the tower, the air is still and only a murmur arises from the city, Cyborg hunkers down beside me and I find my broken solitude is not entirely unwelcomed. "Thanks."

"No probs, you look like you need to talk to someone."

"I mean thank you for everything you and the others have done for me... and not just for the past couple of days."

"Come on Raven, you don't have to thank us, what else could we have done? Given up?"

A comfortable silence sweeps across us both for a short while; I'm surprised when it's me that breaks it.

"For a moment I did... What does that say about me?"

"That you're more human than you give yourself credit for. What do you want me to say? That everyone makes mistakes, that none of us are perfect? You all ready now this, but we're not everyone and our mistakes come with some heavy repercussions-"

"I destroyed the world." I look out across the bay that was nothing but fire a short while ago. Looking at it now it barely seems real anymore.

"And nothing I can say can make you feel better or even worse about it. Are you seeking to balance out what you've done? How many times do you feel you need to save the world to settle your score? I didn't think you believed in karma."

"It's nothing like that"

"Then why do you do it Raven? Why do you save people, fight bad guys, and risk your life. You don't do it for the thrills, the congratulations, the moral obligation or even a search for redemption, you do it for the same reasons we all became heroes: simply that we are compelled." His argument is back up with a flourished sandwich, something that can't be ignored, especially when accompanied with kamikaze bacon.

"I'm not a hero, not like you."

"You saved the world today, six and a half billion people not including all of what could be hanging around out there that Trigon wanted to get his claws on, your action speaks louder than your heritage. You don't need anyone to tell you what you already know, you know who you are."

"Yeah I guess. So what now?"

"Dunno. Whatever you want." After a thoughtful pause between us Cyborg tears back into his sandwich, if only knowing what you wanted was as clear as a not-so-simple sandwich.

We chat for a while about other things, mundane things and it is pleasant to do so even if it's just to appreciate the luxury of being able to concern about the small things again. The world is safe for the time being; there is still half a tub of caramel waffle swirl ice cream in the freezer; and because humanity wasn't wiped out I'll get to see the season finale of 'Gossip Girl', secretly of course.

I told Robin that I needed to meditate thoroughly to adjust magically to what happened whilst everyone is training. I thing he described it as a power upgrade, I guess it is I do feel stronger and more acutely attuned to the world. I wasn't technically lying I will need to meditate more I just spent the morning doing it on the roof after Cyborg left. I need the time while everyone is busy training to search for some civilian clothes and I realised this morning that I don't actually have any besides from a prototype Teen Titans t-shirt that some company tried to get us to sign to, and somehow going around with 'Teen Titan' plastered across my chest defeats the point of me trying to find something 'plain clothes'. I feel bad searching in the others' rooms, I'd usually ask, but this is personal. Um... like a small emotional step towards becoming my own person, I might be excited if I knew how to be. I guess I can work on that too, though, baby steps Raven, let's not get ahead of myself.

Let's see, Starfire would be the obvious choice but despite her glee in shopping she doesn't own many clothes; she says that the materials of Earth people's clothes are simply not durable enough for crime fighting. Though she does own a lot of hats and hair 'ornaments', and even if I could squeeze into the prom dress she got I don't think that it screams inconspicuous either.

Robin's almost as bad despite having a secret identity he's done his best to be only Robin, The Boy Wonder Young Hero extraordinaire! He tries so hard, when is he going to give himself a break? Oh yeah, that's right: it's Robin, so never. I don't think his tux will suit me either. Maybe the mask would help?

Cyborg actually has the perfect item just ten sizes too big: a simple discreet grey hoodie... that reaches past me knees. He occasionally walks around Jump City in a hoodie and jeans when he doesn't want to be noticed too much, we all have those days I usually spend them in my room though. Cyborg doesn't really like being cooped up even when he wants to be alone; he always has to be doing something.

Beast Boy: I never thought you'd be my last hope, especially with fashion. I also never thought I'd be going into his room by choice. What was that? I don't think I'm alone in here, I can only pray to Azar that that noise was Silkie. Well at least I don't have to look very hard because everything is on the floor. Hawaiian shirt? Clashes with my hair. Green Peace save the whales t-shirt? Nothing against saving whales but I think that shirt has been making friends with the Stank Ball. Superman shirt? Wait, what's this? Perfect: non-descript navy hoodie that doesn't smell like feet, Raven, you have hit the jackpot in the crystal maze of fashion death traps. Thankfully I don't have to raid for trousers I can use my winter leggings and as if by magic I can transfer myself into a relatively normal completely human teenager and be back before the others finish training. Hopefully.

Donnie harrumphed and rapped across the counter with his pen for umpteenth time that morning with the only response from his boss being to ruffle his newspaper as he turned the page. He sat on the stool with one leg loosely crossed over the other and the tabloid held towards his face so that Donnie couldn't see his expression. The mannerism usually only presented itself when either he had had a fight with his wife or when Donnie had done something drastically wrong, Donnie knew that Greg's wife was currently visiting her sister in Metropolis so he suspected the latter. Donnie hated these days especially compared to the normal ones when they held a satisfying rapport which could be vital when business was slow. He shifted on his own stool and stared at the seemingly frozen clock on the wall, after what felt like an hour but was actually a relative five seconds Donnie let his forehead flop against the surface of the counter.

Greg snapped his paper shut and very deliberately and slowing folded and placed in next to his fallen assistant.

"Call it my acute sense of perception but something tells me that you are bored." Donnie jerked his face up from the counter an inch and took in the mild countenance of his apparently not agitated boss.

"You're not mad at me?"

"No, why have you done something that I should be mad at you for?" Greg swiped the pen out of Donnie's hand and flipped the paper over and proceeded to consider the jumbo crossword.

"No but you don't usually do the whole surly paper reading thing unless I've done something."

"Donnie I'm only going to say this once but if you start talking like my wife, bless her, then I will send you off to visit her sister. Beside I was reading an article about that strange eclipse that happened." Greg started to chew on the end of his pen for a moment before writing the word 'fastidious' in the white boxes provided.

"So has the press managed to shed any light on why the whole world went dark and everybody seemed to have lost two days of their life? Three across is 'Pérez' by the way."

"Not really, says it was probably aliens, Justice League has nothing, or at least nothing they want to share. Knew I shouldn't have gone for the New Frontier for anything readable but I prefer their crossword... six letters, another word for phenomenon:"

"Um... wonder?"

" Last letter 'l'." Donnie scratched at the stubble on his chin and began subconsciously tapping away at the counter again; damn he wished a customer would show... maybe they could think of the word. He glanced at the clock: noon! Finally his saviour had come and he could quell his boredom by fetching some lunch.

"So I was thinking that I should go and get us some lunch. How about the sandwich deli on fourth?"

He waited for a reply as Greg inked in a few more words and was reduced to staring at the clock every few seconds again.

"Again? We had that yesterday."

"Raoul makes good sandwiches."

"That he does, but this wouldn't have anything to do with the new girl he's got working on the till, she's about your age." He didn't need to look up from the paper to know that his assistant had just flushed a particular, or in fact a fastidious, shade of red.

"Is she? I can't say I've really noticed." Greg chuckled slightly to himself but nonetheless unlocked the cash register and flicked through the notes inside there wasn't much but he found a twenty dollar bill at the bottom and handed it over.

"I'll have a salad and don't give me that look you know I've been told to watch my cholesterol and just remember that I'm not paying you to flirt."

Donnie rolled his eyes as he tucked in his t-shirt and clattered out the door, as he went a girl of about 5ft 3 entered in a blue hooded jumper with the hood pulled up covering most of her face. She walked like a shadow with her hands hidden in her front pocket. Obviously too young to be in here, Greg thought and he was about to ask for some ID when the girl tilted her head to look at him. He saw a flash of two large eyes such a strange shade of blue that he would say that they were violet and whilst gazing felt a wind of serenity encompass him. A sense of trust filled him and he thought himself foolish for thinking of doubting the girl's age. He ran his hands over his forearms in a nervous gesture and tried to gather himself, thinking himself rude he went to offer the girl a seat. She shoved a piece of paper at him in a single swift movement.

"I'd like this one, can you neaten it up a bit I don't really draw."

Greg scrutinised the drawing and though a little rough around the edges found it a pleasing design. He smoothed it out on his desk behind the counter and made quick work at fine tuning a picture, as his pencil swept across a fresh page he tried to strike up a conversation with the girl.

"It'll cost you a bit extra, a redesign."

"That's not a problem."

"Your first tattoo?"

"Yes"

"Any reason for the choice?"

"It felt right."

Greg nodded but felt uncomfortable under her gaze, there was something odd about her but he couldn't determine what. Was it the way she didn't appear to move not even to breathe or her curt droll voice, no, it was the way she looked at you without blinking. It was as if she could see into his head or read his soul or something, not that he was into that mystic mumbo jumbo, but well these days weird things happened. Despite his misgivings something was telling him that this person was harmless so he tried shrugging off his prejudice and focused instead on the drawing beneath his hands.

It wasn't long before he was finished and he showed the girl into the back and started to prepare the needles, the whole design was to be done in black so he was ready quickly with a last ping of a clean pair of latex gloves. She wanted the tattoo on the base of her back, quite a common place for a tattoo on women but it often looked good hence its popularity.

She sat hunched on the edge of the padded table with her hooded jumper pushed up a little and gathered in her hands around her waist. Her skin was an unusual pallor like unprinted newspaper, he half expected her to crumble away under the needle. But she didn't, she didn't even move, not a flinch; she didn't clench her fingers or anything. She sat perfectly still with her eyes half lidded staring dully at the floor below that her shoes didn't come close to touching. A lot of people react differently to getting a tattoo but in Greg's twenty years of experience everybody at least reacted, whether they put on a brave face or squirmed gritting their teeth. He felt like he was tattooing a manikin or worse: a corpse, he frowned at his morbid imagination; maybe she just froze up at the sight of the needle. Stranger things have happened.

"You okay? The pain isn't too much?"

"Hmm? Pain? No it is fine." That same blasé tone; like a complete indifference to her own physical self. Greg decided that it would be better if he finished the tattoo in silence without concentrating too much on the girl. So instead he focused solely on the image that he was creating pretending that he was working on a blank canvas.

He must be straining his eyes: he could have sworn that the tattoo just moved slightly, he was almost done and something strange was definitely going on. The black ink had taken on an iridescent quality it looked like it was coming off of the girl's skin instead of the needle, like sweat. There must be something wrong with his vision: it kept flickering but he couldn't tear his gaze from it, nor would his hand obey him.

The tattoo was a rune-like bird in flight, a simple design but the more he stared his brow prickled and he felt as if the bird was the only real thing in the room. It now seemed to float hazily just a fraction above her pale gleaming skin waiting impatiently for him to finish so it could flick its wings. When it was complete control returned to Greg's hands as he wiped the residue of ink away. Taking a deep breath and rubbing at his eyes the walls of the room sharpened and became less dark again. The girl had gotten up and was now standing by the cash register, Greg moved like a possessed zombie taking the money from her who then signed a receipt but Greg, feeling foggy was disinclined to talk to the girl; in fact he wanted her out of his shop as quickly as possible.

When she did leave he tried to take a moment to gather himself and mull over what had exactly happened but every time he tried to recall a detail about the girl or the strange nature of the tattoo it was as useless as carrying water in your hands: it would just slip through. His frowning brow creasing reverie was broken by the jingle of the door as Donnie returned with lunch in a paper bag.

"What on Earth took you so long?"

"What do you mean? I was only ten minutes, look at the clock." The clock read ten past twelve and Greg found himself lost again as Donnie unloaded the contents of lunch onto the counter.

"But the girl that came in, she must have been here for over an hour."

"What girl?" Donnie paused between mouthfuls of his sandwich just registering the bemused and helpless expression on his boss's face thinking that it reminded him of child who'd just seen a magic trick for the first time.

"She came in as you were leaving. She was...short? Wearing um something blue. Ergh I can't remember." He rubbed at his eyes again, frustrated and confused.

"There wasn't anyone as I left. Are you sure? Are you alright?"

"Yes I'm sure, and I'm fine." An idea came to him and he unlocked the cash register and pulled out the money she had paid with along with the receipt, "there look she paid and signed and everything."

"What was her name? Is it legible?" Donnie lent over the counter to read it accidently squeezing mustard out of his sandwich onto the newspaper which had been folded and left by the till.

"Yeah it says 'Raven'."

Got sick of writing in first person, don't think i'll be doing that again, so the tattoo part i though would be interesting to try from an outsiders view. a lot of folks in the fandom will already know that in the comics Raven got a tattoo in vol 3 of the current teen titan's series (beast boys and girls) that showed up once and was never seen again. i just though it was a nice idea of Raven showing ownership of her own body now that she isn't the portal anymore. the 'Gossip Girl' comment is reference to the new Titans serieas that has all the old crew in it and Raven's deepest darkest secret is that she 'watches Gossip Girl religiously.' i don't know if it's a real show or a take on Gilmore Girls because of copy right laws but who knows because i recently read 'agent orange' which is part of the blackest night build up and Hal Jordan thinks that the keeper of the orange lantern reminds him of gonzo from the muppets.

what else? oh yeah, it was cheeky of me to slip a tiny Watchmen quote, thankyou Rorschach, who when asked why he does what he does (hero/anarchist) he says that they do it simply because they are compelled, or something of that nature i can't be bothered to find the actual words.

to the bb/rae or rob/rae fans out there who were dissappionted that it was cyborg on the roof with Raven, it was purely friendship and Cyborg doesn't get nearly as much love in fanfictions as he should, so yes i could have had some romantic fluff or some sisterly bonding with starfire but i took the sandwich route with my buddy Cyborg.

a huge thank you to anyone who managed to read this far. please review as it would be good to hear what anyone thinks now that i'n finished, even if it's bad.

xxx