She had locked herself into the bathroom again. It was the fourth time in the last week, but she no longer cared. She was sitting on the lid of the toilet seat, knees drawn up against her naked chest. She was tracing a scar that ran up the length of her calf. The skin was tough and puckered, a slightly darker gray than the rest of her skin. Raven couldn't remember where the scar had come from. Some battle at some point, most likely. It marred her alabaster skin – a crack in the marble of a Greek statue.

If she looked up, she could see her reflection in the mirror over the sink. She didn't want to look, but did anyway. Beneath her large, indigo eyes were dark gray half-circles. Her hair fell lankly on either side of her face – it needed a wash. Her cheeks were almost colorless, and slightly sunken in. She was exhausted, and it showed.

Raven looked back down. There was another scar on her knee. It was smaller, more of a faint line than anything. She ran her fingernail across it. One would think that she wouldn't have scars, what with her healing powers, but she was truly unable to get rid of them. She could staunch the blood flow, could take some of the pain away, but scars remained.

She unfolded her legs, letting them touch the floor. Slowly, she stood. Her entire body from the waist up was visible in the mirror. She began the same ritual she had performed the last three times she had locked herself away. Raven touched her fingertips to each and every scar on her form; from the one that nicked her left hip to a longer one just beneath her collarbone. Some were small and white, barely visible. Others were rough and dark, stretching angrily over her skin.

"Ugly," she heard herself whisper, her index finger tracing a line at the base of her chin. "Disfigured." Tears silently dripped down her cheeks. Her lip trembled, and she bit down on it. Raven saw herself as a ragged, used up doll. One that had been sewn back together one too many times. What was the point of healing an injury if it was just going to leave hideous reminders of her pain?

Normally, Raven wouldn't be so worried over her flesh. Everyone had scars. Not as much as her, probably, but still. No, she was upset because she had recently had a reminder of why she hated her looks. Especially her scars.

They had just taken down the HIVE Five again. As the disorganized group was led away in handcuffs, some previously terrorized citizens came rushing up to thank the Titans. Raven, who was in an unnaturally good mood, took down her hood. A few preteen boys hanging at the back of the group immediately turned their attention to her, pointing and whispering among themselves. Raven started to feel slightly uneasy as two of the boys approached her.

"Uh, can I take a picture with you?" The first boy asked. He had a shock of bright orange hair and freckles. He reminded Raven of Kid Flash.

Raven was about to refuse, but saw Robin out of the corner of her eye. The Boy Wonder had his head cocked toward her, one eyebrow raised expectantly. She could practically hear his voice in her head: Just take the picture, Raven. They're going to take one anyway; you might as well be prepared.

She clenched her jaw. "If you must." The boy flashed a rather mischievous grin and handed his phone to the other boy. He wrapped a much too tight arm around Raven's shoulders and smiled at the camera. Raven remained stoic.

After the picture was taken, the boys threw out a "thanks" and took off running for the group. As they left, the redhead screamed "I took a picture with the witch! You owe me ten bucks!" Raven stiffened.

"The agreement was five!" the boy he was speaking to yelled back.

"But I touched her! That's worth another five!"

"He's got a point," the picture-taker said, shuddering. "She's even scarier up close!"

These words echoed in Raven's head as she stared at her naked form in the mirror. The witch. She's even scarier up close. The tears began to come faster, thick rivulets streaming over her skin.

A knock on the door startled her. She snatched her bathrobe off of the towel hook and wrapped it over her form. She began to swipe at her face. "Yes?" she said, praying her voice wouldn't waver.

"You alright in there?" Raven suppressed a sigh. It was Beast Boy.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, placing a hand against the door.

"Are you sure?" His tone was laced with worry. She could feel it in his aura too – he was practically radiating it.

Raven remained quiet for a moment. Did she want his comfort? She had come to him more than once in a time of hardship. However, Beast Boy was usually on the receiving end.

"Don't answer that," Beast Boy suddenly said. "I heard you talking." Raven drew away from the door, her mouth falling open. Her cheeks burned. A pause from outside; then, sheepishly, "I've kinda had to pee for a while."

Raven rested her forehead on her palm. He definitely wasn't going to go away. She pressed the button to open the door.

The changeling stood there, hands shoved into his pockets. He looked mildly surprised that she had opened the door. "What's wrong, Rae?" he asked softly.

The sorceress looked down at her bare feet, hugging her robe to her sides. "I'm not feeling very…confident." Well, that was one way to put it.

Beast Boy raised an eyebrow. "Is this because of those kids last week? I thought I told you; they're just a bunch of punks. "

Raven shrugged. "They weren't wrong. I am not…visually pleasing."

The green teen barked a single, loud laugh. "Are you saying that you think you're ugly?"

"Well, I'm not –"

Beast Boy held up a gloved hand. "Stop. Just stop. Raven, you're beautiful."

The half-demon balked at this, her cheeks flaming. "Wh-what?"

"You're beautiful." He shrugged. "It's a statement of fact."

Raven needed a moment to recollect her thoughts. She backed up into the bathroom, stumbling over her tongue. "But….my scars." It came out a squeaky whisper. "They only serve to make me –"

"Uglier?" his tone had gotten harsher. Raven felt a spark of anger come off of him. He stepped into the bathroom, smacking his palm against the button to make it close. She stepped back instinctively. Beast Boy was larger than her, and in her current state she was in no shape to stand up for herself.

Before Raven knew what was happening, Beast Boy reached behind his head and began to tug the shirt of his uniform off. Raven's eyes widened. The changeling threw the clothing to the floor and straightened up, revealing his bare torso. "Beast Boy, what are you –"

Beast Boy turned around, showing his back to her. A small gasp caught in her throat. Across his back, ivy on jade, were long, wicked looking scars. Whipping scars.

"Before I joined the Doom Patrol, I ended up with a really bad guy. He hurt me, treated me like an animal. Whenever I didn't do a trick correctly, he used the whip on me."

Raven felt tears pushing at her eyes again. She reached out a tentative, shaky hand. Her fingertips brushed the scar tissue. Her teammate didn't flinch as she traced out the marks. The tears rolled over her eyelids and fell down her face. She wiped them away with a free hand.

When she was done looking at the scars, Beast Boy turned around again. He searched her face with his emerald eyes. Raven tentatively dipped into his emotions: no trace of anger now, only sorrow – for himself or for her she couldn't tell. The changeling gently took her hands. Raven didn't pull away.

"I like to think of the body as a canvas," Beast Boy murmured, running his thumbs over her upturned palms. "You're born with a blank one. Throughout your life, you collect paint for your canvas – scars, tattoos, whatever. You aren't a blank canvas, Rae. You're a masterpiece."

She pulled her hands from his and wrapped her arms around his lean form, pressing her face into his chest to hide the tears.

"Thank you, Beast Boy."

…

A/N – Still alive! Sort of. I've been really busy lately – moving, school starting, a lead role in a production. But I now have some free time, so hopefully I can get back to writing! Thanks for staying with me, lovelies!