Why oh why are the dividers still not working? Is it just my computer? Sorry, that's just a smal bit of my OCD coming through. It isn't diagnosed but it is definately there. Yeah. Sorry, my brain and my fingers aren't connected this fine morning. There is just something unnatural about being up before the sun. Please, if you enjoy what you see; tell me about it. If you see something that you don't think too highly of, and are brave enough; say something. See you next Wednesday.

Disclaimer: Balkoth does not own Teen Titans. Do not sue me. That would be a colossal waste of my time and yours. Balkoth enjoys writing and is borrowing the characters from the Teen Titans to dangle his feet in the water.

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Human Chemistry

Richard and Rachel walked in comfortable silence down the beaten dirt path. The leafless tress surrounded them on all sides while stars winked at them from above. The discarded leaves littered the ground, crunching under their feet. Richard and Rachel had just had dinner and watched a movie. Now, they were just walking through the woods with the stars and moon serving as their only source of light.

Personally, Richard enjoyed their second date a little more than the first. They'd gone roller-skating three nights ago and Richard had looked and felt like a pigeon with a broken foot. If he hadn't caught the way Rachel had looked at him, it would have been thoroughly embarrassing. Even when Rachel seemed to find it endearing, it was embarrassing. At least when he was using his own two feet there was less chance that he'd crash into somebody.

Garfield had not made any of this easy. The guy had always been trying to set Richard up in the past but now that Richard was dating; Richard was beginning to think it had only been so that Garfield could bother him. When Richard told Garfield how Rachel had responded to his first invitation, Garfield had disclosed that there were contracts being set up for the artifacts by a cult called The Brother's Blood.

The artifacts were part of a set. The final piece was just as old and seemingly unimportant as the first two. Four days ago, they'd learned that. A pillar with steps, a blood red gem, and a clawed hand. When they were all put together, they formed a creepy centerpiece. Three parts, three heists, one last chance to catch The Raven. The Raven was still a mystery. Garfield was willing to bet dollars to doughnuts that The Raven was a member of The Brother's Blood. Richard wasn't sure about that.

Garfield was currently digging through his sources at Moe's to find anything else about The Brother's Blood, The Raven, or ancient artifacts that nobody cared about. While Garfield was doing that, Richard was on a date.

Richard wasn't a hundred percent there. "Hello? Dick, are you still with me?" Rachel sighed quietly as she dragged Richard out of his head. She'd had reservations about accepting Richard's invitations. He was a private investigator and she was a part time thief. But Rachel wouldn't be a thief forever and she really enjoyed Richard's company. In a strange sort of way, they could speak without speaking. Rachel just felt drawn to Richard. They could understand each other.

"Yes," Richard shook his head to dispel the wisps of fog that were swarming his vision from the sides and working their way inward. "Sorry about that, Rachel," Richard said.

"It isn't a problem. I understand what its like to enjoy thinking. What were you thinking about?"

Richard enjoyed Rachel's company. Even if a relationship didn't work out – which none of them ever really had – he wanted to be Rachel's friend. She was a stimulating conversationalist and a sharp mind.

"I was just thinking about a lead that Gar and I picked up earlier today. I can worry about it later, though. You weren't done telling me about how your day has been."

Rachel didn't smile – that was a rare treat, but the currents in her eyes flashed with emotion. Richard thought it was happiness, amusement, and something else just below the surface that called to him. "You were listening?" She didn't doubt him; she was just surprised.

"I was multitasking," Richard shrugged. "You just got done telling me about Jessie's emotional breakdown over breaking up with her boyfriend?"

Rachel kept walking in a content manner. A gust of chill night air barreled down the path, sending dead foliage into a temporary vortex before they floated back to the ground. Richard braced himself for the onslaught whiled Rachel just continued smoothly. The air rammed into the pair and Richard suddenly wished he'd stolen Garfield's windbreaker when he wasn't looking.

Initially, the cold broke over Richard's body with no effect. Quickly, it started to seep through his clothes. It stared with his nose and fingers but soon burrowed into the folds of his sweater and shirt to bite, without mercy, into his flesh.

Richard sucked in a rattling breath. "How does that not bother you?"

"I was born in Alaska," Rachel responded while tucking a loose strand of her black tress behind her ear. "I spent a few years up there and then moved to California with my mom. Compared to an Alaskan winter, this is paradise," Rachel responded lightly. Richard nodded in her direction.

"So, Dick," Rachel asked after the wind finally stopped its assault on their bones, "tell me a little about your case."

"It really isn't as interesting as I make it seem. I just get a little involved in my work. Really, you weren't finished."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Dick, I've told you about my business, Jessie's breakdown, snippets of my childhood, and Taloose camping out on the fire escape. I feel like I'm talking too much. What's going on with you?"

"Well," Richard fished for something, compelled by Rachel's eyes. He'd been right when he'd though that he'd get lost or drown in her eyes. The violet was never the same color, darkening and flaring with the surrounding light or with Rachel's internal landscape. There was just a connection when Richard looked into Rachel's eyes. "Gar and I didn't get off on the best foot. You wouldn't know it by looking now, but we did not get along when we first met."

"He and I got paired up in Gotham City by the Chief of Police. You may or may not have heard mention on the news about a guy named Drake Moxley. He was a big gangster a few years back. Vice, black-market firearms, drive-by shootings, prostitution, jury tampering; Moxley did everything that has ever been determined illegal. A reporter friend of mine printed him as the Al Capone of the twentieth century."

The two continued along the path, the only sounds were Richard's voice and the crunch of leaves beneath their feet. "Gar didn't want to take anything seriously and we were dealing with murders who would shoot us and dump our bodies down sewer drains without losing any sleep. I guess if you asked Gar, he'd tell you that I was taking everything way too seriously. We ended up getting Moxley arrested. The last I heard, he's still swearing to kill us. He lost all of his power and influence because of us."

Rachel was slightly confused by what she had just heard. She hadn't spent all that much time around both Richard and Garfield, but they seemed to get along very well. "So, what made you and Gar finally work so well together?"

"We always worked well together," Richard corrected. "He thinks one way and I think another. Between the two of us, we touch on about everything. We have different work ethics though. Not only are our approaches different, but we also focus on different areas. The reason we got off to such a rocky start was that we both were trying to take charge. It took us a while to decide we were equal." Richard laughed as a slide show of images flashed through his mind.

"And the case you're working on now?" Rachel pressed. Richard noticed she was massaging her left wrist again.

"We're basically in a race, strange as that may seem. Have you seen any of the articles on The Raven?" Rachel froze temporarily. Richard didn't notice.

"I've heard of him," Rachel said slowly. "You're helping the police catch that guy?" Rachel put her hands in her pockets, maybe against the cold, Richard thought. That didn't add up. It hadn't bothered her earlier. The truth was that Rachel had noticed her nervous twitching and was trying to stop.

"The Raven's a woman," Richard corrected without thinking. A very attractive one, at that. That was a thought Richard decided to keep to himself.

"Okay, so what about something other than work?" Rachel tried to change the subject. Richard bit.

"That would require us to go way back," Richard drew out 'way', almost as if by drawing out the word he was dragging himself into the past. Or perhaps dragging the past to him. Richard shifted through his memories and almost decided that he'd rather not get into them. Still, Rachel had been so honest and open with him. "I became a private consultant in Gotham City straight out of high school," Richard ran a hand through his shaggy bangs and settled for rubbing the back of his neck. "I took a few online college courses when I had the time, but in Gotham there's always a need for good police and smart detectives."

Rachel nodded as she stepped over a root that was resting under the carpet of leaves. "Why didn't you go to college? Couldn't you have done more with a full education?"

"Maybe," Richard shrugged, "but I doubt it. I needed to get to work as soon as possible. You've obviously never been to Gotham City. It's nice enough during the day but at night the doors and windows had better be locked."

Rachel took her hands back out of her pockets and let them swing loosely by her side. "That's what the police force is for though," she pointed out. There was something Richard was leaving out. Rachel knew it and Richard knew she knew.

"The Gotham City Police is a big group. Just like every big city's police force there is a shadier element under the civic duty – corruption, bribery, racism. Drake Moxley was huge. There were wiretaps all over the place, his house and suspected business front were always under observation. Everybody knew that he was a mob leader. The only reason he never got caught was that he had so many police in his pocket or on his payroll."

Rachel slowed down a little and let her hand swing into Richard's. It was only a brief touch but Richard caught her hand and they continued walking. "You knew somebody like that," Rachel whispered while giving Richard's hand a comforting squeeze.

Richard didn't speak for a moment. "My mom and I were very close," he said slowly, as if the words pained him. "My dad was a police officer back in Gotham City. A crooked cop," Richard's free hand clenched into a tight fist and his knuckles turned white. "He killed her. Not directly but if it weren't for him, she wouldn't have killed herself. We hadn't gotten along before that but…" Richard stopped and reigned in the emotions. He'd only really talked about this with Garfield.

"After, you barely spoke?" Rachel asked softly. There was a certain understanding in her voice. A tone or word, maybe even a feeling, which made Richard feel like Rachel knew exactly what it was like to lose a loved one.

"Yeah. It was because of my dad that I didn't go to college. I wanted to make him and every other person like him pay – immediately. Immoral people who got rich and fat by letting murderers roam freely. Cowards without the guts to stand up for what is right. Dad hated private investigators. That was the main reason I became one."

Richard and Rachel continued in silence for the rest of the walk. A silent understanding between them. Richard thought it felt good. This kind of connection was something he hadn't experienced since his mother's death.

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Next Update: Wednesday, September 13, 2006

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