Forgive me for the lateness. Summer was hectic and I was taking some hard classes. But here it is and I hope you all enjoy my work so far.

Disclaimer: Should be in chapter 1

Chapter 3

Miserable.

It was the word of the day and with good reason. For three days straight the rain had been falling, drenching everyone in sight and causing a lull in activities. Since there was a steady wind blowing, the crew didn't really need to work much and instead spent their time below decks, drinking rum and playing cards. It was funny how the peaceful quiet made the priestess yearn for the bustling noise, which she once abhorred.

Purple eyes gazed up at the tall center mast that she was chained too. The beam was long and seemingly endless as it towered into the sky while holding up the pure white sails. Pure white...

Raven abhorred the color white. It was repulsive, it was irritating...the color of mourning and sorrow.* Quickly, Raven averted her eyes, staring instead at the chocolate brown wood floor. Rain fell steadily against the floor, giving it a glossy color. Gently, Raven pressed her hands to the cold floor, watching the water seep through her fingers.

Everything was so cold. This rain was cold, this floor was cold. She was cold. What kind of rain was this? This wasn't the type of rain that fell during storms, much to Raven's dismay. If the ship had been caught in the middle of a storm, everyone would be frantically trying to keep the ship from drifting off course...or sinking.

She preferred sinking. To sink to the bottom of this cold ocean would be bliss...Then at least she'd be free. Dead no doubt, but at least free. But what about Garfield, or Victor? She didn't want them to die...the crew as well. They were simply following orders.

The young woman curled up on the floor, ignoring the chill and the slowly falling rain. At least Garfield gave her a cloak. Otherwise she'd be freezing...and humiliated.

At times Raven wondered whether to tell Victor, he was a doctor and was probably used to this sort of thing. But it would no doubt be awkward...and Raven hated feeling embarrassed. Her lips turned down into a pout.

She never had to suffer like this before...Asha was always there to help and to perform all the rituals. Raven couldn't live without Asha...the two were bound for all eternity, and not because of their duties to the Temple and to Azar.

Asha was her familiar...a reincarnation if you will. There was nothing about Raven that Asha didn't know and the converse was also true. Another sigh escaped her lips as she curled further into the cloak. There were many times she cursed her monthly cycle. This was one of those times.

"Hey Victor, I wanted to ask you something." Garfield's spoke up, his concern probably not as hidden as he wanted.

"What can I do for you?" He sounded busy, Victor always did. He was the only person on the ship with medical training...and a license. Keeping track of everyone's health must be a challenging feat.

"I think Miss Roth is sick." Perhaps that came out a little desperate. She kept telling him that everything was fine, but he wasn't convinced. Why did she look so pale and tired? Miss Roth even refused to eat the food he'd stolen.
That in itself was a warning sign...Miss Roth was the only woman he knew with a bottomless appetite. She never refused meat and could polish a bowl of rice in seconds. She even liked pea soup!

"What makes you say that, Garfield?" Victor didn't seem surprised...he didn't even seem like he cared. Wasn't this whole trip about bringing Arella Roth back to Gotham to stand trial? How could he accomplish that if she was dead? Wasn't it Victor's job to see for her well-being too?

"Well, she's refusing to eat...and she seems a little pale. Sometimes she complains of pain..." The young man' voice trailed off as a slight smile spread on Victor's face. What was so funny?

"What else did Miss Roth say?" The young teenager asked, growing annoyed with the small upturn on Victor's lips.

"Well...she told me not to worry, a-and she said something about a 'time of the month'. But sir, what does that mean? Why are you laughing...I don't really understand your amusement Victor..sir, wait...where are you going?" Scrambling, Garfield managed to tip over several chairs on his way out of the small medical room.

They'd have to be fixed later, Garfield mused as he rushed after the ship's doctor. Perhaps Victor had known she was sick all this time...but why didn't he do anything? Miss Roth could have been dying!

He stepped into the lightly falling rain, watching as the doctor bent down and spoke to his friend. It irked him to see the smile on his face as he chuckled lightly, as well as the sullen frown on Miss Roth's features.

Perhaps he'd made her angry? Striding up, Garfield knelt down and apologized. "I'm sorry I told him miss. It wasn't my place."

Purple eyes turned his way and he watched as she smiled brightly. "Why are you apologizing? You were just trying to help your friend, right? I am in no way angry with you."

"Garfield, help me get her below deck." Victor cut in, that knowing smirk still on his face.

The young deck hand bit back a grumble and complied, wondering if he'd ever be let in on this elusive secret.

Flickering lights... soft gentle swaying...the heavy scent of rum. It was all so nauseating. Ice blue eyes glared down at worn and well used maps. A compass sat off to the side, it's arrow swaying with every rock of the wooden ship.

Wooden ship...he didn't want this wooden ship anymore. Not when there were other, more advanced ship out there. A ship that could never rot, a ship that needed no sails and no masts. Yes, such a thing really existed.

Richard pursed his lips as he examined the map. To get such a ship would mean taking a detour...a detour that would go halfway around the world. The journey would be longer...and much of it would be through land.

His crew might not agree with the demands. Perhaps the best thing would be to pay them off when as soon as land was sighted. Whoever wanted to stay was welcome.

The same cold blue eyes stared at the low ceiling, taking in the scarce furnishings and the carelessly tossed clothing. Clothing...clothing...

Miss Roth hadn't been wearing her usual clothing for the past few days. That indecent lavender outfit she always wore, suddenly went missing. In it's place were Garfield's worn dark trousers and pale cotton shirt.

Truth be told, he was baffled, that day he entered the infirmary and saw her, sitting on a low stool with the wash bucket between her legs...she was washing clothes. In his mind, it was unsightly and disgraceful. Why would a high priestess do a job that was fit for servants?

Then again...they weren't on Azarath anymore. This was a ship, in the middle of the ocean. If she wanted anything done, it would have to be accomplished by her hands alone. After all, he didn't hire his crew to dote on a prisoner.

Richard didn't know how long he had been standing there, watching as Victor rolled bandages and took stock of the inventory, while Arella continued washing, her slender arms moving in a rhythmic pace, and the loose braid swinging slowly against her movement.

Richard was quiet the whole time as he watched her wringing the water from the dark purple fabric. The woman's pale fingers gripped the material, and he was struck by how pale and white she was...despite the hot tropical climate of her home. Most people on Azarath were dark and tanned with dark brown eyes and thick black hair. She was completely different. For one, her eyes were not brown, but purple...even her hair had a slight purple color.

Despite the oddity, Richard couldn't help but feel enchanted when she pushed back some stands of hair, finally revealing the soft slender contours of her face and neck. His ice blue eyes had traced her features carefully, taking in the gentle curving of her collar bone and smooth angled jawline. Why did she look so much like his fiancee? Why was she so similar to Korianna?

He remembered the sound of bare feet gently padding against the wooden floor in the quiet peaceful room when Arella Roth began to tiptoe towards the back, her hands unwinding and smoothing out the unsightly wrinkles. Richard's mouth had gone dry at the sight. Garfield's clothes were so tight on her...tight enough to perfectly outline every single curve of her body.

His ice blue devoured everything, from the buttons that strained against her ample bosom and the slender curving of her back and waist, to the rounded contours of her hips. They swayed softly as she walked...as if dancing to an inaudible sound.

Richard was drawn in...he was enthralled as she begun to dance, chanting softly in a strange language. Her voice was light and airy...almost childlike as she softly sang. Her body moved in a way that was graceful, sensuous and erotic...to this day he couldn't erase the sight from his mind.

Richard felt angry and disgusted with himself. He couldn't stop his mind from wandering, from imagining and from forgetting his fiancee. Why did that woman have such a hold over his mind? What kind of spell did she cast over him? Why was his mind filled with thoughts of her...only her and no one else? It was annoying, it was distracting and he couldn't captain this ship with a wandering mind!

Was he the only one to feel this way? Perhaps it would have been best to forget about bringing Arella Roth to justice. There was really no proof that she killed his father anyway. She was merely a witness...an unconfirmed bystander in the case. It would be better to leave her alone, instead of to spend his days chasing empty clues.

But even if this clue were to be a wild goose chase...Richard didn't think he could rest until he found out who killed Bruce Wayne. All other things...even his beloved Korianna could wait.

Dark, silent and brooding. This was the mood that had settled over the ancient mansion. Outside the cold winter air blew violently against the frosted window pane and the bare tree branches swayed in obedience. The wind was their master...they bowed to no one but the wind.

Inside the chilly, dimly lit library a fire crackled gently, casting ghostly shadows across the floor. Shelves of old, worn book lined the walls, and old dusty furniture cluttered the once grand room. Nestled gently beside the fire place was an old sofa...the only occupied piece of furniture in this dark empty room.

This young man with menacing dusky green eyes slouched in the old sofa, a pile of books and ancient articles resting beside him, while his eyes closed gently...he was in obvious need of sleep.

And sleep he did...at least until a gentle tapping filled the stagnant, quiet air. Green eyes opened slightly, glittering with confusion. Who could it be, tapping at the door so late in the night? The young man ignored it, besides it was only a visitor...nothing more. His eyes closed in sleep once again.

Tap, Tap, Tap. The sound filled his ears...rousing him from the sleep he craved. Who was this person that their message couldn't wait till the morning? Was it perhaps Wintergreen, his long-time friend? The young man shook his head, Wintergreen knows better than to disturb my sleep. His hands raked through dark tousled hair.

Tap, Tap, Tap. Again, the visitor knocking at his door. The young man stood, noting the curtains rustling with an eerie grace, while the slowly dying embers filled the library with frightening figures.

His steps were cautious and guarded, as the man made his way towards the door. Whoever it was...for them to come all this way to see him must mean that there was an issue of immediate concern. Yes, that's all there is to the matter. When he received the message or item, he could simply go back and sleep in peace.

Clearing his throat, he spoke, "Sir or Madam, forgive my lateness. I was sleeping when you came, I did not hear your knocking. Again, my apologies." He unlocked and swung open the door, only to stare into the darkness.

Was it all a dream? Could he have imagined that incessant tapping at his door? These questions swirled in his mind as he sat back down on the worn couch, picking back up and old book to read. He couldn't sleep now...not when someone or something was lurking around here.

He was deeply engrossed when he heard it...a gentle tapping at the window. Green eyes stared intensely, watching the swirling leaves and the swaying branches. It couldn't be the same visitor. No, it was merely the wind...nothing more. He averted his eyes and continued to read.

Tap, Tap, Tap. That incessant sound filled his ears, and in a rage the man darted over to the shutter and flung the window open. A gust of wind scattered papers and dust. The dying embers sparked and began to glow brightly. His mouth dropped in surprise when a raven stepped through the window and flew into the library, finally landing on an old bust that hung over the door.

"Such a strange bird, to walk with such grace." The man murmured as he eyed the creature. Why did it land there? Why did the bird have to choose that bust that hung over the door? The young man smiled. "Such a peculiar creature must have a name? Tell me your name, strange bird."

He could have sworn the bird said "Nevermore."

At this he began to laugh. This bird obviously belonged to someone...but who would name a bird Nevermore? Perhaps this was still a dream? Or maybe this was just a stray bird that would simply leave by tomorrow. "Yes, I'm sure that by tomorrow, you will have left me in peace. Is that it, strange bird?"

Again, he hear the bird utter, "Nevermore."

His green eyes eyed the strange creature, noting how still and poised the bird was as it perched lightly on the bust. This was no ordinary bird...it was special, the raven was supposed to mean something. It was a very familiar sign.

Why couldn't he remember what it meant? Green eyes stared intently at the bird as the young man searched his memories. Ravens...he saw many of them on his travels. He encountered them many times in England, where he often visited with his parents. Ravens were also very common in his home country...they were worshiped as harbingers of death and destruction.

The young man also remembered people that he encountered on his journeys. In England he had met a prominent man in Gotham City...however he was still a child and those memories were hazy. A gust of wind blew into the room, rustling papers once more and succeeding to fire up the embers yet again. The raven turned it's head ever so slightly, till he stared into a pair of beady red eyes.

He paled slightly. Raven...the little girl he met in a small village in France. He remembered her purple eyes, pale white skin and horrible English. The two were inseparable during the time that he was in the village. When Arella died, he was given the task of sending her back to Azarath...which he did with a heavy heart.

He hadn't wanted to leave her side...she meant everything to him. Raven was his other half...he made a promise to always be there whenever she was in trouble. For her to send this bird, her familiar, meant that something was terribly wrong. And he was a fool for not noticing this earlier. But berating himself was not going to solve anything...there was no use dwelling on his mistakes. Raven was in trouble...and as her soul-mate he couldn't neglect the cry for help.

Slade Wilson held out his arm and watched intently as the black bird settled precariously on his arm. Ignoring the sharp talons that dug into his flesh, he opened the door and stepped out into the black, empty hallway.

*To explain Raven's opinion about the color white, In many oriental countries, white is seen as a color of mourning. In places like Japan, a bride would wear white to symbolize her "death" in her family.

I would think that Azarath(at least from the short scenes in the teen titans TV show) would look like an oriental country...probably something similar to India or Thailand. (I don't know much about India or Thailand in terms of color symbolism but the view seemed like something Raven believe.)

This last section was inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven." I thought it would be interesting to introduce Slade using a dark poem. What do you think?
This chapter was painfully short...but I hope it can tide you over. Again forgive me for the long wait, college tends to suck up any free time that I might have.

Was it confusing? I thought some parts were.

Please review!

~heartless16