Teen Titans
Adaptation
By Cyberwraith9
A Love Story, Part III
"My darling Rachel…"
Mists consumed the ivory walkways of Azarath. The gleaming haven, a wonder of architecture and magic hidden between dimensions, was made white and dark with the unnatural fog. She could hardly see the long bridge on which she walked. Her hands rose before her to guide her through the mist as she followed the soft whisper. "Hello?" she called. "Hello? Where are you?"
The whisper came again. "My darling Rachel…" It cut the empty mist, growing louder as she grew closer. The voice was female, and unmistakably sad. Never had she heard a creature sound so heartbroken. "My darling Rachel…" the whisper lamented.
She staggered across the bride, recognizing it at last. It was the archway that connected the grounds to the floating Temple of Azar, where she had lived as a child. But there were no people. There were no monks to greet her. The bridge was longer than she remembered, it seemed without end. She could only see the shadow of the Temple through the mists.
"My darling Rachel…" The whisper touched her. She felt compelled to follow. It beckoned her.
"Please, where are you? Who are you? Why did you bring me back?" she called. Azarath was forbidden to her. She had left so no demonic forces could follow her through the ether to find Azarath. She had left to save it.
At last, a shape emerged through the mists. She stopped before a figure obscured in a cloak and hood of pristine white. As she approached, the figure bade her to stop, and lifted the hood back to reveal the features of a young woman. Her shimmering black hair fell free of the hood to frame features cast with unbearable tragedy.
The woman's name left her lips in a gasp. "Arella." Her mother. Arella appeared just as she remembered on her last day in Azarath. After five years, the sight of the woman's face shook her to the core. "Arella, why am I here?"
Arella's brow crinkled with the weight of a terrible burden. "My darling Rachel," she murmured, "how you have suffered. And now your sufferings must grow. The end has begun."
"What end?" she insisted. Then her blood froze. "Him? No…no, I won't let that happen. It can't. I promised you that I wouldn't let him come. I won't."
Arella smiled the smile of the lost. "Be strong. You have garnered much strength since you left us. Much more strength than you realize, to fight his terrible reign."
She stamped her foot. "It won't come to that! He's never leaving his prison, Mother. Never!"
Her smile vanished. "But be warned. His defeat will carry a high price. Only the greatest sacrifice will stop him."
Desperate, she ran to Arella. "I'll do whatever it takes," she swore.
"The sacrifice is not yours to make. You are the Portal. He will come."
She threw her arms around Arella, desperate for the comfort she had been denied as a child. But where she touched her, Arella burst into flame. The fire spread to consume the cloaked woman. It burned red and impossibly hot, and crackled with laughter. She was forced to leap away lest the fire consume her as well.
Arella's smile peeled and bubbled in the heat. "My darling Rachel," she sighed, her last breath. Then, ashes.
She watched the fire flicker out, leaving behind no trace of her mother. Tears slicked her cheeks as she grasped at the mist. She fell to her knees, screaming, sobbing, unable to bear the weight of Arella's words.
You are the Portal.
He will come.
Raven awoke with a start. She sat up, choked for breath, and panicked at the unfamiliar room. It was several seconds of desperate breath before she remembered where she was. She untangled herself from the sheets and slowed her breathing, hoping that her heart would follow suit. Cold dampness muddied her eyes and cheeks. She brushed it away with the back of her hand.
The grandfather clock in the corner counted the seconds of a late hour with its tireless pendulum. Raven sat up, marveling at the stiffness that rippled throughout her body. A thousand twinges spurred her to look upon the slumbering sheaf beside her. If the afternoon and evening had made sore mess of her muscles, she could only imagine what it had done to Dominic. He slept as the dead, with his hand resting on her thigh beneath the sheets.
The sight made her smile. "I'm going to choose to take your unconsciousness as a compliment," she teased her comatose lover in a graveyard whisper.
Her innards gurgled in protest. She had ignored them since the previous morning, and emptied her body of use with the exertion of the rest of the day and most of the night. Even as her emotional thirst had at last been sated, a more conventional thirst arose from her dehydration, and joined hunger in pinching her stomach. Her bladder added to the mix with its own sloshing indignation.
Raven rubbed her bare, aching midriff. Gazing upon Dominic, she kissed his forehead lightly. "Azar help me if you wake up and think I abandoned you," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "I'm just leaving for a moment."
With great reluctance, Raven gathered her emotions back into their psychic bottle. It was surprisingly easy to rebuild her defenses. Perhaps she had simply exhausted her feelings. She rarely exercised them, after all. She locked them back under control and, loathe to do so, pulled her leg out from under Dominic's touch to leave the bed.
Donning his silk dressing robe, Raven set out into the hall, teleporting through the door so as not to wake him. The hem of the robe fluttered behind her ankles as she hurriedly found a bathroom among the fleet of doors in the hallway.
She stood in the bathroom without lights. Her demonic eyes could pierce any darkness, and she didn't want to draw any notice, should the unthinkable happen and Dominic's mother choose to return in the middle of the night. She eased the first of her body's needs, sighing in relief. Then she cupped her hands beneath the faucet and sated her thirst, and splashed water in her face.
She examined her dripping reflection in the mirror, and noted with mild surprise how well her surroundings suited her. The bathroom, like the rest of the mansion, was designed around a decidedly gothic aesthetic. The wallpaper was immaculate, but yellowed with age. Angels haunted the door frame in carvings, surrounded forever by wooden fire. Old brass polished to shine new comprised the fixtures.
The mirror showed Raven a place where she belonged. She could feel it. She liked it.
Drying her face, Raven decided to risk a trip downstairs to the kitchen. Her stomach would accept nothing less. She took to the halls again, floating above the floorboards to keep them from creaking. No moon pierced the stained glass of the grand hall. Its angel stood dark, as it had the night Raven had first come to the mansion.
Even without Dominic's touch, this place remained quiet in every sense. Raven adored it.
In the silence, Raven's mind wandered back to the hazy memory of her dream. The misty visage of Azarath made her shiver. She had never dreamt of her mother before. Arella had only called her Rachel once, when she was very young, and as a slip of the tongue more than anything else. "Rachel" was what Arella had first thought to name her daughter, before the monks had bestowed a more fitting name: Raven, the dark omen.
Raven shook her head. She had learned control. She distanced herself from her father in every way possible. Only through her could he pass from his extra-dimensional prison, and she would not allow it. Better still, she had found someone to protect her from his wrath.
As she glided down the steps, lost in thought, another soft whisper broke the silence. The voice made Raven stop at the bottom of the staircase. It spoke no language she understood, and could barely be heard above the sound of Raven's breathing. But it was there. It touched her, much like the whisper in her dream had. It beckoned her.
She followed its call, rounding the sprawling staircase. A small reading nook had been tucked next to the stairs in full view of the stained glass mosaic. There was a couch set before several bookcases that had been cut into the stone wall. Old volumes lined the shelves, intermingled with curios whose value Raven could only imagine.
The whisper had led Raven to the library of her wildest dreams. She skimmed the selection and found a priceless wealth of books. Many of them were first editions, bearing authorial names that made Raven's reading palate salivate. She would have read them at once, had the incomprehensible whisper not grown louder and more insistent.
Her hand moved according to the whisper, and fell upon the spine of a very old John Milton bound in leather.
She pulled it.
The book came halfway off the shelf and then stopped with a mechanical clicking. The bookcase next to her slid back into the wall, and then sidestepped, disappearing altogether.
Raven blinked in surprise at the hidden door's emergence. The whisper grew louder still, hissing in her ears. It made her step to the side to see beyond the hidden door.
And then Raven gasped and recoiled at the skulled face of Brother Blood.
Furious clicking kept Beast Boy and the buzzing television company in the lonely late hour of the Commons. The shapeshifter sat slouched on the couch, a video game controller lodged between his gloves. The controller clicked as his thumbs tested the stress limits of its joysticks. Only his thumbs showed any signs of life. He remained otherwise a fixture, his set scowl alight in the colors of the TV.
A light switch across the room flicked. White light overpowered the iridescent TV screen and pinched Beast Boy's eyes shut. He tested the air without turning around, and heard slippered footsteps shuffle across the floor. Grumbling, he let his eyes adjust, and then returned to his controller, pointedly ignoring the unwelcome intruder in the kitchen behind him.
"I see you are up late," Bushido said. He pulled the edges of his robe tight against the chill of the refrigerator as he rummaged through its shelves. "And upset," he called from inside the fridge. "Neither of these is conducive to a healthy lifestyle."
Beast Boy's scowl became a sneer. "What makes you think I'm upset?" he said, casting his snide voice over the top of the couch.
Bushido retrieved a glass and filled it with a tall drink of grapefruit juice. "For one thing, you're attempting to play CNN," he noted, and replaced the juice carton in the fridge.
Looking up, Beast Boy found an old man in a crisp suit reading at him about turmoil abroad. Glancing back at his controller, Beast Boy grumbled, "I thought it was some new import RPG. Isn't that my level going up in the corner of the screen?"
Arriving behind the couch, Bushido said, "Beast Boy, that is the current time."
"Oh." Beast Boy tossed aside his controller and crossed his arms. "Stupid game anyway. The game economy was broken, and the Middle East levels are hacked."
Bushido rounded the couch and sat next to Beast Boy. "It is important to settle your troubles before you end the day. Otherwise, your sleep will be fitful, and worse, you will start tomorrow already troubled." He took a long sip of juice, sighed, and propped his feet up on the coffee table, revealing slippers shaped like bear paws. "That is why I like something sweet before bed."
A derisive snort cleared Beast Boy's nose of the swordsman's scent. "I'm surprised you don't just assassinate your problems. Or can't inner peace pony up the down payment for a sword through trouble's neck?"
Smiling, Bushido said, "I don't kill all my problems. It would certainly be easier, though. But problems between a man and a woman are rarely so simple that a blade can make things better. Down that road lies only tragedy. And thespianism."
Beast Boy eyed him as Bushido took another drink. "Man and woman? This isn't a man-and-woman kind of problem. I mean, there is no problem. If Raven's happy jumping the first SuicideGuy she can find, then I'm happy for her. I'm buckets and buckets of happy for her!" he grumped.
"My mistake. I thought you might be jealous," Bushido said. Swirling his juice, he added, "Probably because you're exhibiting every textbook sign of jealousy imaginable."
Throwing Bushido a look of sidelong disgust, Beast Boy snapped, "Get a clue, Terminator. Raven and I have been friends for years. At least, I thought we were. And I was getting used to the idea that being friends with Raven was going to be like hugging a porcupine made of icicles. Whatever. Only now, it turns out she can be all ga-ga happy-pants with some other guy. And why? Why not me? But who cares, right?"
Bushido sipped. "Hmm. So you are jealous."
"Why not me too?" Beast Boy demanded, rounding on Bushido with curled claws. "We've saved each other's lives. She barely knows him. Why does Dom get a smile, and I get snarked at? I can't stand it! It's so unfair. So…"
"Human," Bushido said. He considered Beast Boy for a quiet moment, enduring the shapeshifter's glare without a word. Then, thoughtfully, he said, "You do not like me, do you?"
The question flustered Beast Boy. "I…well…"
"No. You do not." Bushido paused for a drink, smacking his lips. "It's all right. I don't care. But consider: you and I now live together. We fight side by side. I have made every effort to be polite, even nice, despite the constant barbs you sling at me."
"C'mon," Beast Boy said, squirming. "It's just a few harmless—"
"You do not like me," Bushido railroaded, "because of who I am. Of what I am. I am a warrior. I kill, and make no apologies for it. I am an assassin, and make no qualms of it. To me, assassination is a noble art, an honorable profession the way I practice it. You would be surprised to find how many of your great American leaders agree with me, considering how frequently they contracted my services. But because of this, you do not like me. You will never like me."
Beast Boy sagged. "…no. I guess not," he admitted.
Bushido nodded. "It is only natural. You are a creature of instinct. I hurt you, and therefore cannot be trusted. You are dictated wholly by your emotions. When you feel something, you act upon that feeling, to the exact opposite of the way someone as contemplative as Raven lives her life."
"I guess so," Beast Boy said. "So what?"
"So, because of what you are—a creature of feelings, anathema to her—Raven does not like you. She will never like you. She cannot, any more than you could ever like me," Bushido explained. "We must all act according to our respective natures."
The swordsman finished his juice under Beast Boy's look of disbelief. "Do you really think it's that simple?" Beast Boy asked.
"Most everything is, until we complicate things. But that, too, is our nature." Bushido stood with a refreshed sigh and straightened his robes. He bowed, and said, "Thank you for the company."
As Bushido walked to the kitchen, Beast Boy pushed his chest up and over the back of the couch. "Hey, Bushido? Why do you even care?" he asked.
Rinsing his glass, Bushido said, "As I said, I do not. I do, however, understand the nature of Raven's loneliness, as well as the loneliness of Raven's nature. And…" He hesitated, frowning through the wet refraction of his empty glass. "Well, perhaps I simply understand loneliness better than even I would care to admit." He set the glass in the sink. "Good night, Beast Boy."
Beast Boy watched him leave. As Bushido passed through the Commons' doors, Beast Boy blurted, "Hey, Ryuko?" His questioning tone gave Bushido pause and turn. Somberly, Beast Boy said, "Call me Gar, okay?"
Bushido nodded. "Rest well, Gar," he said, and turned out the lights.
Once more in the light of the television, Beast Boy sank back into the couch, burdened with Bushido's talk of natures. Channels flickered, surfed without consideration by a thumb wholly detached from his troubled mind.
Talons extended from Raven's hardening mind into her hands, growing black and sharp from the ends of her fists as she fluttered back on a trail of Dominic's long robe. An incantation sat poised on her tongue to rain fury down upon the intruder behind the bookcase. Should anything of him remain, Raven could question it later.
But as seconds crawled by without reaction, Raven's surprise settled. So too did her feet to the floor as she let her soul-talons dissipate. The robed Brother Blood did nothing and said nothing. Emptiness haunted the cavernous sockets of his silver skull mask. He seemed unconcerned about being discovered by a half-naked sorceress. Raven realized after another second's consideration that this was because he was not Brother Blood, but rather a coat rack in clever disguise as Brother Blood.
Relief and embarrassment flooded Raven in equal parts as she tiptoed toward the empty vestments. The golden helmet hung at a slight angle on its padded rack, skewing its empty glare at her. She brushed its flowing robe with her fingertip, scarcely believing what she had found, even as the smooth fabric tickled her touch.
The whisper that had led Raven to the hidden door spoke again, this time in a deafening hiss. She clapped her hands over her ears to no effect. Tears welled in her eyes as she doubled over, staggered by the overwhelming, incomprehensible words. She tilted into the empty robe, knocking its stand. The top-heavy vestments teetered and fell, clattering to the floor. The helmet slid away over polished hardwood as the voice died down.
At the back of the alcove sat a thick, tall pedestal cut from white stone. Like the architecture of the mansion, the pedestal was carved with angels, their faces scored with tears, their arms outstretched to hold aloft the platform of the pedestal. Resting atop, a propped book sat open and facing Raven. Its pages were tattered papyrus, brittle and cracked. Thin script glistened on each page with a dull red sheen.
Raven lifted the book, cradling its halves with tepid care. It was too dark, and her Sanskrit too rusty, to understand everything. But as she skimmed the page, she came across a word she recognized at once.
Portal.
Hands shaking, she lifted the book until its crease all but consumed her nose. Her whisper quivered as she read the sentence aloud. "The union of the Priest and the Portal shall bring about the beginning, His glorious reign. Hence will the world be as ash, from which will rise His kingdom of blood and fire, to rule…"
She turned the page. "…for all time," she finished breathlessly. Her chest seized as her eyes trailed from the words. The rest of the new page depicted a wood cut of an angel reaching from the darkness. Its hands stretched to the foreground, opening to her, framing the angel's otherworldly beauty. Its flowing, cadent hair billowed back behind the angel's four luminous eyes.
Raven gasped at the angel's four-tiered gaze. She dropped the book, letting it fall onto its rough binding at her feet. The whisper in the alcove shouted terribly, drawing her eyes back in. There, she found that the book had been propped on the hilt of a bone-white sword whose blade was sheathed in the pedestal itself. It was the Hand, the relic sword of the Church of Blood.
When her eyes fell upon the sword, the whisper ceased. Horror deafened her in its stead.
"What are you doing in there? Who are you?" an angry voice demanded.
Raven whirled from the alcove. A steel-haired woman draped in white robes rimmed in red stood in the entryway, finger thrust at Raven. Large, shadowy figures in blood red robes lurked behind the woman, outside the door. Raven's heart raced as she recognized the woman staring her down.
Mother Méhymn lowered her finger with a scowl as she in turn recognized the intruder. "You," she spat with disgust. Stepping forward, she gestured for the trio of red cloaks behind her. These three men were among the largest Raven had ever seen, and were likely part of the Mother's enforcement squad from the battle with the robots. "Take her!" Mother Méhymn bellowed.
Taking to the air, Raven jumped back in a swirl of oversized robe. She swept her hand through the air. A wave of soul-self pushed from her touch, expanding as it flew at the Mother and her squad as a battering ram-wave.
Barking a sharp word that Raven did not understand, Mother Méhymn swept her own hand at the soul-wave. A bracelet of white beads jangled at the Mother's wrist. At the Mother's touch, the wave dissolved into ethereal smoke, which billowed over her and her followers to no effect. The curt incantation trickled back through Raven's soul, chilling her with a kind of un-magic she had never before felt.
Raven flew higher. She felt the air ripple beneath her with more un-magic, which sucked the flight out of her. Desperate, she grasped at the railing of the balcony overlooking the grand hall. She pulled herself up and over, even as she heard the footsteps of the red cloaks thundering up the staircase to give chase.
She sprinted for the hallway. Already, she could feel her power returning. She just needed to reach a safe place long enough to create a portal that could return her to the Compound. And Dominic. She had to find him, had to keep him safe.
As she rounded into the hall, she ran full bore into Dominic's bare chest. She and Dominic bounced apart, both falling to the floor with startled gasps. He rose from the floor with a wince and tugged up the waist of his pajama pants. "Raven? What's wrong? When I woke—"
She sprang up with a burst of flight and grabbed his hand. "We have to run!" she cried. "Hurry!"
Dominic staggered behind her, completely lost. "Raven, what…?" He looked back and saw the burly trio of cloaks barrel onto the balcony. Immediately, Dominic's hand tightened in hers. His heels dug into the floor, jerking them both to a halt. Horror struck his face blank as he stared at the cloaks. "Oh, no…" he murmured.
Raven yanked on his arm. She couldn't make him budge. "Dominic, we have to go! The…"
She trailed off as she saw the cloaks beyond him slow their determined charge to a dead stop. Wide stares escaped their hoods at the sight of Dominic. Immediately, they fell to their knees, splaying themselves on the floor with reckless reverence.
"Please forgive us!" the lead cloak sobbed. His brethren joined him in mewling, "Forgive us! Forgive us!"
Their worshipful pleas struck Raven dumb. Her pulling ceased as she watched the cloaks proffer themselves before Dominic. She did not even see Mother Méhymn stride from the steps and approach them until the old matron snapped, "Brother Blood! What is the meaning of this?"
Raven followed the Mother's angered words to Dominic's remorseful features. His grasp loosened around hers, allowing her to slip free. She staggered back from him and struck the wall in a daze. "Raven, I... This isn't how I wanted you to find out," he said lamely.
"You're…" Raven gagged at the very notion. "…no. No!"
Mother Méhymn kicked the prostrated cloaks to their feet. "This foolishness has gone on long enough, Brother Blood. Restrain her."
Dominic watched Raven cower from him. His stomach clenched at the sight of her fear. "Mother…"
"Do it!" Mother Méhymn snapped.
Closing his eyes, Dominic shriveled with a long sigh. His eyelids rose to reveal twin points of arcane brilliance, which shone upon Raven through bottled tears. Reaching out, Dominic said, "Raven, please. Come with me, and I can explain everything. I promise."
Raven seized at his impending touch. She gathered her soul for a blast that would knock him through the wall. "Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos!" she cried, and thrust out her palm.
Nothing happened. Raven panicked, and grasped at her soul with her last shreds of control. It would not budge. Her soul settled in her body, cold all throughout her. She couldn't summon her soul-self. She couldn't manifest her will as magic. Everything demonic about her was frozen.
Dominic's hand closed gently around her wrist. Sorrow poured into her through his touch. "You're powerless now, Raven. Please don't try—"
Raven broke his grasp with a twist. She thrust her elbow into his eye, snapping his head aside and knocking him over. As he crumpled to the floor, she sprinted for the balcony, trying desperately to unlock her soul, or her flight, or the nexus inside of her.
The three cloaks spread out to stop her. They filled the mouth of the hallway with a wall of muscle and menace, their thuggish scowls cast in heavy shadow. Pure hate rang in their faces for the cow who had dared to strike the Brother Blood. "Stop, defiler!" the lead cloak bellowed.
Wood splintered as Raven tore a portrait from the wall in mid-run. She angled the frame's edge at chin height and drove it at the first cloak. He caught it easily, just as she had expected. Sliding under the portrait, Raven kicked the man hard in the side of his stomach, bypassing his strongest muscles to drive her foot up and under his ribs. He made a gargled, wheezing noise and staggered back.
The second man shoved him aside. Still under the portrait, Raven flipped it hard and fast, driving its canvas over the man's hood. The old material tore, leaving the frame ringed around his neck. Raven stepped back and yanked the frame, throwing him off balance. As he staggered forward, she jumped, shoving the top of her head into his nose. Hard impact and wet warmth spread across her scalp as he reeled back with a grunt.
Raven sprinted, her grasp on the frame trailing behind her. As the third man lunged for her, she dropped onto the long train of Dominic's robe around her. The polished hardwood let her slide right between his legs. The man she had choked with the frame crashed into the other man. Raven sprang to her feet and left them both in a tangled heap.
Bellowing with frustration, Mother Méhymn barreled at Raven, and lifted her clacking bracelet. Up close, Raven could see that the bracelet was actually a line of human teeth strung on sinewy cord. The bracelet glinted with another buildup of un-magic that made Raven's neck hairs quiver with dread.
Back-pedaling, Raven grasped the rail of the balcony and sprang onto her hands. She flipped away from the Mother's un-magic, into the open air. Arms wheeling, powers frozen, Raven fell and struck the wall next to the balcony. Her hands found the side edge of an old tapestry, which she grasped, white-knuckled, and rode down. Her hands burned raw with friction by the time she collapsed onto the floor. Her knees throbbed, but there was no time to hurt.
She rose and rand for the door unopposed. Where she could go, what she could do, she did not know. If her powers could return with distance from Dominic…
Dominic. She felt sickened and stung all at once to recall his name. His smile. It had all been a trick since the very first day. He simply wanted the Portal. But he would never have it. Raven would die before that happened.
The door waited for her, still open from Mother Méhymn's entrance. Raven ran with everything her legs had left. But she bounced off a shimmering wall of red ether that filled the doorway with the speed of a thought. The impact threw her to the ground, where she landed with a cry, dazed.
Leathery wings beat the air above her, stirring her hair as she cleared the pain from her clouded thoughts. Dominic hung above her on draconic wings that spread from his shoulders. The soul-wings set him gently before her, and dissipated as he offered her his hand. His eyes burned with power.
In a quiet, pleading voice, Dominic said, "Raven, please don't do this."
"Get away from me!" Raven screamed. She launched herself at him. Her mind pierced its haze with a single thought: to wrap her hands around his throat, to squeeze until her powers returned and his came to a choking end, to hurt him ten thousand times worse than he had hurt her.
Dominic lowered his head. He did nothing to defend himself, which jarred Raven with a moment's hesitation. It was all the opening Mother Méhymn needed to strike from the stairs with a wave of un-magic that swallowed Raven into a black void.
Beast Boy emptied his spoon, peeling it from his mouth. He swallowed. He stared. "Nope. Still troubled," he gurgled.
He dug his spoon into the carton, only to find glazed emptiness at the bottom. The carton tilted onto its side and rolled off the counter as he pulled his hand out. Mechanically, he rose and found a new carton from one of the freezers, and took it back to his stool at the counter.
The carton cover gave way, revealing three stripes of flavor. Beast Boy swept his spoon across all three and deposited the spoonful in his mouth. He swallowed. He stared. "Nope. Still troubled," he gurgled.
Light flooded the Commons with a click from the doorway. Beast Boy hissed and mashed his eyes shut as he heard Tek say, "Oh! Sorry, Gar, I didn't…know… What on earth are you doing?"
Slumber-adorned in an oversized shirt that left her thighs bare, Tek stood in the doorway, lost for words at the sight of Beast Boy hunched over the kitchen counter. Empty cartons of ice cream littered the countertop and floor. Melted flavors intermingled in pools everywhere. A runny ring surrounded Beast Boy's mouth, which cradled a spoon with its grimace.
Tek's presence awakened Beast Boy to the mess around him. Taking the spoon from his mouth, he said, "Trying to un-trouble myself." He counted the empty cartons, and added, "Also, I might be diabetic by now. Not really sure."
She minced around the cartons and pulled out the stool next to him. "I came down for a midnight snack. Guess it's good that I got here when I did, or the ice cream would be gone," she said with a smile, and took the spoon from his hand to help him with his carton of Neapolitan.
"And also th—" He hiccupped, and gagged on a surge of creamy bile that jumped up his throat. Forcing it down, he said, "And also the diabetes."
"And that," Tek said, laughing around a scoop of chocolate. As she swallowed, the edges of her smile turned forlorn. She leaned on the counter, her elbow in a puddle of Rocky Road, and said, "Are you okay? You really scared me this afternoon, goofing on Raven like you did."
Something worse than the bile surged up in Beast Boy. He grabbed the spoon from Tek. "I don't wanna talk about it," he said, and thrust more ice cream in his mouth to force the surge back down.
Tek nodded. "Okay. Sorry," she said.
They sat for a spell, trading the spoon back and forth in silence. Tek emptied the carton of chocolate as Beast Boy finished the other flavors. He could smell her continuing hesitance above the nauseating reek of ice cream. Tek always smelled of nervousness, especially when she was around someone else. Her scent never went without its sweaty tinge of uncertainty. It was especially strong at the moment, as though he could smell a question building inside of her.
He wasn't disappointed. "Gar? Can I ask you something?" Tek blurted, setting aside the spoon.
"Sure," he grunted.
Her hands fell into her lap, anxiously curling against the smooth skin of her legs. Unable to meet his gaze, she found her own reflection in a pool of Butterscotch Ripple, and watched herself ask, "How do you know when you're in love?"
Beast Boy blinked. He wasn't disappointed, but he was certainly surprised. "Huh? How do you…?"
She nodded. "Yeah. How do you know? I've mostly only seen it on TV. And I know it doesn't work like it does on TV, or else everyone would just be married to some fat guy who screws up and apologizes every twenty-two minutes. You guys are the only friends I have, and you and Tara were the only couple I know that really ever worked. You loved her, didn't you?"
Tek's gentle, earnest question punched Beast Boy in the stomach. "Tara wasn't real. I mean, what she said… How she said she… The way she… She didn't… I don't…" He slid off his stool, staggering backward. "I don't really want to...y'know?"
Tek nodded glumly. She toyed with the spoon in the empty carton, sighing. "Sorry, Gar. Forget I asked. Of course you don't want to talk about her. That was stupid. I'm sorry. I just… I think I…"
He watched her bite her lip and cringe. Her sudden misery eased the churning in his stomach. Slinking back to his stool, he watched her twiddle the spoon. Her expression reminded him of one he had seen a lifetime ago, staring back at him from a mirror as he rehearsed lines. "You…?" he asked.
"I don't know," Tek mumbled at the spoon. "Maybe?"
He wilted at a distressing thought. "…it's not me, is it?"
"What? No!" she cried. Then she realized the volume of her voice, and blushed, and babbled, "I mean, not that I never would, you know? But no, it's not you, Gar."
Beast Boy's brimming smile cooled her blush. "Hey, it's your loss. I can eat four gallons of ice cream and still keep my fab abs," he said, and lifted his shirt to show her the washboard proof.
She laughed. "You're all kinds of sexy, Gar. But it's not you. It's…" Her smile dimmed with thought. "It doesn't matter. I know he never would… Heck, how could he, when I'm not sure? I don't even know if the feeling's real. I sure don't want to turn everything upside-down for nothing but a silly little crush."
He rubbed her shoulder, summoning a ghost of a smile back to her face. "It's not really an all-or-nothing gig, Armor All. It's not even a choice. Either it's there or it's not. And if it is, all you can do is hope the other guy's got it just as bad as you do."
"But how do you even know? How is either person supposed to know?" Tek asked. "I don't even know what to watch for, or even what signals to throw out. The only other girl around here is Raven, and I can't copy her. I'm just not that sarcastic."
"Trust the expert. Nature has a way of lining these things up," Beast Boy told her, waggling his pointed ears. "The best way to tell it's working is when you hear yourself spewing verbal diarrhea, but you can't seem to stop."
"In that case, you must be crazy about Raven," Tek said. Her laugh filled the Commons alone. Her mirth wilted at his sobering expression. "Ergh. Or maybe I'm crazy about you, considering how far I just jammed my foot in my mouth. Sorry."
He stared past her, out to the dark patio beyond the new windows. "Was I really that bad?" he asked.
Tek quirked the corner of her mouth. "You did ask Dominic about their sex life in front of everybody. I'm a little surprised Raven didn't pop your head like a big, meaty balloon with her mind. She was really upset, Gar. I think she likes Dominic a lot."
Humor tweaked his piteous expression. "I thought you couldn't tell," he pointed out.
"Not with ordinary people. Raven's easy, though," Tek said. "She doesn't treat Dominic like she treats us. She's actually nice to him."
The afternoon's resentment joined in Beast Boy's churning innards. He frowned. "Doesn't that ever make you mad? That she treats us like garbage, and saves her warm fuzzies for some stranger?" he grumbled.
Tek shrugged. "Sometimes. But mostly, I just feel bad for her."
"Bad for her?"
"I know Raven doesn't like me," she said. "She told me as much. But she really likes you, and Vic, and Kory. Otherwise she wouldn't live with you all. Raven wouldn't do something she didn't really want to. She's not like that."
The edge of Beast Boy's eye crinkled in disbelief. "And that's why you feel sorry for her?"
Lowering her head, Tek said, "How awful would it be if the only way you could tell someone you liked them was to be sarcastic and mean about it? I don't think Raven knows how to be nice. I think snarkiness is all she has. That's really sad."
Beast Boy thought back to his and Cyborg's trek through the vast, cold interior of Raven's mind. There, they had met exactly one instance of cheeriness in the otherwise bleak wastes. Beast Boy had held onto the notion that enough humor, enough friendship and fun, could bring Raven's inner pinkness to the surface. But maybe the real miracle was that he had seen it at all. Maybe that aspect of Raven was the exception that proved Tek's grim rule.
He managed a weak smile that almost covered his misery. "You're too nice for your own good, you know that?" he said to Tek.
She smirked. "I'm a delightfully quirky, medicated, borderline-schizophrenic amnesiac who has a tendency to wig out with super-weapons. It tends to make you see everybody else's faults a little differently." Her chuckle turned into a ponderous yawn that drove her to her feet. "Okay. I'm full of ice cream and out of angst. Back to bed. Thanks for listening to my verbal diarrhea, Gar."
"No problem," Beast Boy said, shifting his slight smile to the other side of his face. "At least one of us should get some sleep tonight."
Tek padded to the door. She paused, grasping the frame as she turned around. "Hey, Gar?" she said, interrupting him from his half-hearted stacking of cartons. "Maybe I don't know anything. Maybe. But I…I think Tara loved you a lot. I never said it, but I'm sorry things worked out the way they did."
Beast Boy felt his eyes grow hot. He hooded them in faux-disinterest, and said in a husky voice, "Thanks."
She nodded, and backed through the door. "Night," she called softly.
Beast Boy stared at the syrupy mess on the counter, lost in thought and memory. He thought about the way Dominic looked at Raven, and wondered if he had looked the same way at Terra. He hoped so. Just like he hoped his nose had been wrong about Dominic, for Raven's sake.
Raven sat in a dark, dank chamber, bound to a folding metal chair with heavy chains that wrung her bare skin. A lone candle burned atop a small table beside her. Its flame threw pitiful light into the oppressive pitch, barely reaching the walls of rough stone surrounding her. She thought it might be cold in the cave, but it was hard to tell. The chilling paralysis of her soul made it difficult to assign blame for the goose bumps puckering her flesh.
Her head throbbed, partly for the lump she felt growing from the back of her skull. Her torrential emotions rattled inside her. She meditated as best she could, ensconcing her wayward emotions in a shaky bubble of peace. It would be vital for her to keep a level head if she was going to get out of this. She needed to keep calm…
…until I find Dominic and tear him in half the long way.
She quashed her father's influence, screwing her face with determination. She couldn't afford to feel. Feelings would only slow her down. Feelings had gotten her chained to a chair in only an open robe in the first place. She couldn't trust her feelings anymore.
This has to be a mistake. Dominic can't be part of this.
Tears pricked her eyes. She mashed them shut, hissing, straining against her chains. The metal bonds bit her to the bone. She grasped the pain and used it to drown out everything else in her head, focusing until all that remained was the ache all throughout her body. Then she sagged back into her seat, emptied, panting.
"I'm afraid you won't be able to get out of those chains. Not unless you have a double-jointed knack I don't know about." Dominic's voice emerged from the sightless depths before her, strangely muffled. The candlelight reached him as he stepped forward, walking toward her with crisp steps that clicked and echoed. He wore his Blood vestments, including the helmet and skull mask.
Raven's face twisted. Her shout clogged her throat, emerging as a hoarse snarl. "Where am I?"
His green eyes glistened in the candlelight, which danced in the silver of his mask. "There's a series of caverns beneath the mansion. You're in one of the ancillary chambers right now. They're actually pretty handy for conducting—"
"Let me go. Right. Now." Raven's throat burned with baritone fury. "Or so help me, I'll bring this place down onto your head and bury you alive."
His voice dipped. "We both know you can't do anything like that right now," he murmured.
Desperately she grasped at her soul to manifest it and thrust it through his chest. One broken heart deserved another. But the ether remained frozen inside of her, trapped in her physical being. "What did you do to me?" she demanded.
He stood, contrite, before her chair. In all else, Brother Blood had appeared a bold, posturing figure of authority. Now he slouched in shame. "You spent your whole life learning to physically manipulate your surroundings. I don't usually have your raw power, so I focused on control. I reached through your ajna chakra, here…" He tried touching the jewel that capped Raven's forehead. She twisted violently from his touch, startling his hand back.
"Why?" she croaked.
"By binding your soul to your body, I could—"
"Why?" she snapped tearfully, burning him with a glare. "Why do all of this?"
The skull mask tilted forward, carrying his gaze to the ground. "I am the Brother Blood," he stated, as if that were answer enough. "It is my duty to fulfill the foretelling of His book and serve toward His glorious return to our realm." The words marched through his mask in monotone.
Sorrow spilled from her glare. Her lips twisted with a sneer. With nowhere to go, the emotional backlash of her anger struck her precious control, cracking the bubble of peace. "This whole time you were just waiting to get your hands on the Portal. You're nothing but Trigon's sick puppet. Another doom cultist who has no idea what he's trying to unleash. You bastard…"
"It wasn't like that," he said weakly.
"Was it good for you?" she snarled. Her bubble burst, spilling chaos all through her thoughts. "Did you lie there afterward, watching me sleep, knowing what you would make me do after you were done with your perverted little mind game? How far did you reach into my head to twist around my emotions? Murder my inhibition, inflate my lust?"
He stiffened, his fists curling at his sides. "I never tampered with your mind," he bristled, stepping at her. "Before today, I never touched your mind! You were the one who pushed her emotions at me! You're the one who dragged me into bed!"
"So sayeth Brother Blood," she jeered, tilting forward to match his glare with hers.
He straightened in a storm of robes. The mask gave a metallic screech as he tore it from his helmet, revealing furious features that opened to roar, "I never asked for this!" He slammed the mask onto the table, making its candle dance precariously, sputtering the light in the cavern.
Raven watched in breathless silence as Dominic knocked the helmet from his head. It bounced to the floor, forgotten. Dominic clutched his matted hair and doubled over with an inner war that thundered in Raven's ethereal ears. Seething tears cut his cheeks.
"Do you think I wanted to be born like this?" he demanded. "A…A…A freak? A monster!" Scarlet claws stretched around his hands, growing in tandem with his the volume of his voice. Leathery wings unfurled from the ether at his back. "I hate being this thing! You think I had a choice?"
"I know you did!" she shouted. "Whatever you think you go through, I go through a hundred times worse! So don't talk to me about what you are, Blood. I live every section of every day with a real monster in my head."
His eyes flashed. The entire cave shook as he grasped his head and bellowed, "So do I!"
Raven froze. "What?"
Dominic collapsed onto his knees in a pool of his own robes. His fingers kneaded his fiery hair, as though something inside threatened to escape. "The Church raised me, Raven. They found me as a child, and they groomed me from moment one to be His hand on Earth. They bonded my mind and soul to Him, just like you."
His face twisted, and he snarled, "Only, Azarath didn't come for me. No. I didn't get the wisdom of monks, or extra-dimensional sanctuary. I got a cult devoted to the most evil being in existence. I've had a monster screaming in my thoughts every second of every day! I can't shut him out! I can't escape him!" he screamed. "Not until…"
His cry trailed off as he looked up at Raven. His hands stilled, falling to his sides. "Not until I met you. Until I touched you. When…When I touch you, he can't reach me. It's just me…and you. He can't reach me when I'm with you."
The desperation behind his murmur howled deafeningly in Raven's empathy. His hand reached out for her, not quite daring to brush her bare leg. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he pulled his hand and clutched it to his chest. "He's so loud, Raven," he moaned. "He's so loud."
Raven's scowl remained. But her shaking voice dropped in a whisper. "I know," she said.
"I did the best I could. I took this monstrous Church and I tried to do something good with it. I tried to help people, to help make up for…what I have to do," he said into his hands. "God, I don't want to. I don't. I don't."
His desperation swam in her head, softening her scowl. She leaned forward as far as the chains would allow, and said, "You don't have to, Dominic. You can fight him. I've fought him my whole life. We can fight him together. He can't touch us when we're together."
Dominic moaned laughingly. "Raven, the stillness isn't our defiance. Don't you see?"
"We can fight him!" Raven insisted shrilly.
"I tried!" he roared, snapping her back against her chair with the force of his shout. "When…" He choked, and grasped at the ornate clasp of his cloak. It snapped open, dropping the heavy cloth from his shoulders. "Last year, I couldn't take it anymore. The Church…everything… I ran. I ran all the way across the country, and I wasn't ever going to stop. I wouldn't listen to Mother. I wouldn't obey Trigon. I'd just run until…I don't know."
His eyes loped into memory, dwindling into an imagined distance. A miniscule smile parted his lips. "And then I saw you. I found you. I was…drawn to you. And the first time we touched, I felt that…stillness. The beautiful quiet. You," he murmured. Tears returned to his eyes, washing away his smile. "That's when I knew."
"Knew what? I don't understand," Raven insisted.
"I didn't find you by accident. It was His will. He wanted me to find you," Dominic said. "Don't you see, Raven? Finding each other, being at peace in each other… He orchestrated it all. He wants us to be together. Even when I ran, He led me right along the path He always meant for me to walk. You aren't my sanctuary, Raven. You're my reward. And I'm yours."
A shiver radiated from Raven's soul to rattle her chains. She shook her head, and said, "No. There is no path, Dominic. Trigon just wants you to believe that. But it doesn't have to be like that."
"It's fate," he said.
"It is not!" Raven shouted. Her voice rose, trying to capture his fallen eyes. "Let me go. Come back with me. My friends can protect us from the Church. I can teach you to bar Trigon from your thoughts. Your control is amazing, better than mine! You can do it! We can do it! We can be together."
When his eyes met hers, she felt a despondent chill run through her, colder than anything she had ever felt. "He would take it away," Dominic muttered. "He would take away the stillness and replace it with hate. He would make me hate you every time I touched you. Every moment we were together. I couldn't… I can't survive that, Raven. I can't do it. He would make me hate you. I can't…"
"Dominic, no!" cried Raven.
The last of his hope died, leaving his eyes ugly discs of crumbled jade that dropped to the floor. As he rose, he gathered his cloak around his shoulders. His fingers numbly clasped the crimson garb to his neck.
Raven rocked her chair uselessly, and sobbed, "No! Dominic, if you make me do this, I'll never forgive you. You'll make me hate you. Please don't do that. Don't take away the way I feel for you. Don't do this, please!"
"I know," Dominic said. He collected his helmet, and held it before him, examining the coil of its horns in the candlelight. "You'll hate me forever. But he'll let us serve by his side. He'll let me keep the way I feel about you. That's all I have left…"
As he lifted the helmet to his head, Raven panicked. She watched him disappear behind his vestments. "Wait!" she cried. Her voice stopped the helmet over his head. He looked to her as she begged him, "Please, can I…" Her eyes closed, loosing two more tears. Her last tears. Calming, she said, "Can I have one last kiss? From Dominic. Not Brother Blood."
Dominic paused. A fraction of the light trickled into his eyes as he lowered the helmet to his side. Leaning down, he cupped her cheek. She trembled as he brought his lips to hers. Tenderly he kissed her, savoring his last taste of what he had waited for his whole life.
Tragically she kissed him, her eyes shut tight. Her body yearned for his touch, shaking with need, aching for more, a lifetime more. But her mind waited, watching her soul. In the throes of their kiss, for the briefest instance, Dominic's concentration faltered.
Every ounce of willpower Raven possessed dove through the crack in his concentration. She shattered his control with the ethereal force of a jackhammer, knocking him from her lips as though he had been punched. Raven threw her head back and screamed into the universe, throwing her voice and thoughts and fears into the void behind a single word: "HELP!"
She was so focused on the cry, so addled by her own emotions, that Dominic overpowered her at once. His control froze her abilities behind a prison of her own soul once more, silencing all but her voice. He rubbed his mouth, glaring in surprise at the outburst. "What…?"
Raven's head lolled, but her glare found his. "We make our own fate," she told him darkly. "Mine is to stop Trigon no matter what. I'll fight him with my last breath. I'll stop him."
Dominic sobered with a long, shallow breath. He placed the helmet over his head, and said, "I wish I could believe that, Raven. I do. But you can't stop fate. No one heard that. No one is coming to rescue you." Quietly, he said, "Or me."
The darkness split for the ardent approach of a white cloak festooned in red. Mother Méhymn approached the captive with an infuriated glint in her eye. She threw back her hood and aimed her look at the barefaced boy in robes. "What is this? I thought I heard something," the Mother snapped.
He bowed his head, hesitating. When he looked back at Raven, he caught sight of his mask on the table, and replaced it over his solemn features. "Nothing, Mother. I was simply…preparing the Portal," Brother Blood said, his voice muffled and echoed by his skulled countenance.
The Mother's reproachful look chased him a step back from Raven. Mother Méhymn stepped before their prisoner and bent to examine her. Raven's glower did nothing to the grim, reserved glee set deep in the Mother's lined face. "We have indulged your foolishness long enough. It is time, Brother Blood."
"Yes, Mother," Brother Blood said with a deep nod.
Smile gleaming in the candlelight, the Mother said in reverence, "The union of His Priest and His Portal shall free him of His Prison. Today, at first light of dawn, you will be wed in blood. You shall free Him."
"Yes, Mother."
Mother Méhymn's face hardened as it fell back to Raven. The sorceress quaked with rage beneath the Mother's dismissive look. "Bring her. We must make her ready," the Mother said.
Brother Blood turned back to Raven. He found her glare more cutting than the sharpest blade. But he lifted his hand in silent command, filling her with his will.
Raven's soul-self poured up from her skin, enveloping her whole. Every part of her fell beneath the cool black ether under Blood's control. Only her bejeweled chakra and her burning white eyes broke the unnatural blackness, which severed her bonds at his command. Forced by the strength of her own soul-self, Raven stood stiffly from the chair, letting the chains slide to her feet.
Blood bid her to step forward. He made her follow, leading her from the cavern to mete her destiny. "Yes, Mother," he said hollowly.
To Be Continued