The Things Raven Sees Chapter 44: Tues, a teen titans fanfic

Tuesday

I wake up.

And I feel……

I feel like a fallen log grown over with vines.

Like I have been lying dead for a long, long time.

So beautifully and relaxingly dead.

I stir under the covers.

I sit my eyes.

Feeling the urge…..

The urge to….smile?

I blink tiredly….but easily.

I glance out the window of my bedroom.

The Sun is starting to come up.

I haven't slept in…..

And yet…..I'm not too early either.

It's just………perfect……

I sigh, hugging my knees to my chest.

I raise an eyebrow.

I bring my forearm to my nose.

I sniff.

"…………..?"

I smell………good………

"…………."

I shrug it off.

After a few dazed minutes, I get up and shuffle out of bed.

I walk across the amnesiac environment of my room.

I replace my nightgown with a bathrobe and set forth for the Main Room for a morning cup of tea and meditation.

But as I past by the bathroom--

I freeze.

I do a double-take.

I dash back and glance in….

Brushing aside a strand of blue hair nervously as I peer in….

…blinking my tired eyes awake.

"…….what in the name of Azar?"

The bathroom looks normal.

Normal, save for the long deep scar on opposite sides of the tile-walls.

Like….

Like the impact slashes of an uncontrolled, blast of black telekinesis.

"……………," I blink. And then…..it hits me. "Oh……r-right……."

A beat.

My cheeks turn a rosy color.

I clear my throat, adjust my robe, turn about, and march out of the room.

Well……

I smell good……

That's all that matters………

…

"Azarath….Metrion….Zinthos……………Azarath….Metrion….Zinthos……..Azarath….Metrion…Zinthos….."

I hover before the window.

I levitate.

I meditate…..

Quietly…

Barely chanting…..

"Azarath……..Metrion……..Zinthos………"

Beep! Beep! Beep!

"…………..," I open one eye. I glance across the Main Room towards the computer station.

The big, bright text "BANK ROBBERY IN PROGRESS" flashes before my distant vision.

The Day suddenly is shaken.

The calmness of the sunrise breaks…..

"Hmmmmmm…..," I calmly put my feet down—one after the other—and flex my limbs. "All things are inevitable."

I am ready for them.

…

BANG! BANG!

A heavyset thug with dual pistols gives cover to the street as three of his buddies run out of the bank entrance with money bags over their shoulders.

A black getaway van waits for them in the center of the street as police sirens rise in the background.

They shout at each other to hurry up and make a mad dash for the van.

But just as soon as they touch the handles to the doors, the doors fall off.

CL-CLANK! CLANG! THUD!

They blink, surprised. Horrified.

Then…

CLAAAAAK! The van falls apart completely, severed into separate sections by severe slices of black energy talons.

The men gasp. They glance up…

I descend with a deceptively gentle billowing of my blue robe over my traditional leotard.

I gaze beyond them.

I am relaxed.

I am somewhere else….somewhere warm and distant….

Smelling like my arms smell. Smelling like last night.

I almost want to smile….

The men shout something. I don't really hear them. But I see them aim at me and madly fire. Like bursting flowers of amber from their pistols.

I exhale, lean back, and stretch a hand forward.

A black field of energy absorbs the bullets, warps back towards me, and flexes back out towards them.

The bullets explode and shatter the men with hot, lead dust.

They shout, scream, and drop the stolen money….attempting to run away from me.

I yawn.

With a slight curve to my lips I twist a wrist forward and ensnare their ankles in black talons.

They shout and try to claw themselves away on the pavement.

I glance around the street…looking at the shattered front of the bank, the getaway vehicle, the abandoned sidewalks, the approaching police cars.

I try to find a sufficient place to toss the men.

But I let it lay.

I take it easy and simply restrain the men until the police come.

And soon, all four cretins are accosted.

Handcuffed. Carted off. Dealt with.

Officials file into the bank to take a look at the men and women inside. Reassuring voices are cast about.

I don't realize how distracted I am until the last second.

An officer is talking directly to me. He's saying something. I can hear his words….but for some reason they vibrate past me. Thankfully, a part of me understands him and makes the rest of me nod. He smiles, salutes in some off-hand fashion, and goes to join in the examination of the former hostages.

I stand there for a few seconds. Numb. And although I know that I should be feeling exhilarated by the fact that I just 'saved the day' all on my petite own, it does not seem to change me much. The numbness. The trailing warmth and the smell. Everything inside and outside of me…..

…..is fading.

I take my first painful breath of the day….and swiftly lift myself up into the sky.

……

Standing on a rooftop, overlooking the City…

The world….

This plane of existence……

I touch upon the coarse surface of reality.

And I think of how all too quickly, everything dies out and everything fades away.

It's not a depressing thing. Or at least, it never has been for me.

But suddenly it seems all too rough and all too absurd and all too unquestionably numbing.

What exactly is this feeling?

It is so dreadfully familiar.

I feel like it has been with me straight out of my mother's womb.

Smelling of amniotic fluid and first breaths…

It haunts me, I suppose.

But has it always haunted me? And if so….has it always mattered?

I stand in the wind. The currents of the sky dip down and blow at my robe. My short blue hair. My squinting eyes.

I think about the softness of the day and night before. The gentleness of it all. The fragrant peace and serenity that is all too quickly fading. Turning stale and lukewarm and shapeless again.

I wouldn't think anything of it, usually. But for some reason—after last night—I feel like I am losing something. And I feel that there must be a reason for that loss.

Never in my life have I felt guilty for anything I have ever done. And yet, there has always been some shadowing presence of remorse. I could never quite put my finger on it…..mostly because it's always been so intangible of a thing. But last night, life suddenly became so unashamedly lucid. In the absence of my friends and—for the most part—in the absence of myself, I threw myself at the brick wall of life and dared myself to relax.

Now another brick wall is slamming towards me. One that I am all too familiar with and one that I am used to piling up against. But returning to it now is suddenly like returning to the Earth after a year up on MIR. I can't describe it. But there is one thing I realize.

Almost everything in my life is intangible.

And now that such a pattern has been broken…..I am feeling bad. But why? And is there a reason to call this 'bad'?

I take a deep breath. I smooth back my bangs with a shaky hand and shudder.

I need to meditate.

……

I return to the Tower.

I ascend to my room.

In a levitating lotus position…surrounded by Azarathian candles….the scent of home….

I chant and plummet back into my familiar self.

"Azarath….Metrion….Zinthos……Azarath….Metrion….Zinthos….."

I realize that I have always indulged in myself. Whether it be the ritualistic meditation of my home-taught arts or the way I constantly distract myself with books or meander around the Tower with a cup of tea or simply treat every bombarding associate with taciturn evasion.

The very magic that makes me powerful is essentially a distraction in and of itself. My powers to do good….my superheroic quest against evil……I've known all along that they are distractions. But somehow…the severity of such has not really ripped its way to my psychological surface.

Not yet…..

"Azarath….Metrion….Zinthos…..Azarath….Metrion….Zinthos……."

I've long wondered what my team members think of me at a glance. Am I simply a wildcard in the face of battle? A telekinetic witch who just happens to keep it cool at times when any number of my friends may need a shield in battle or a boost in energy and stamina? I've never considered myself one to support, but I have in fact become that…exactly.

I may deny it, but I've made the atmosphere around my teammates wholesome. I consume dark energies in areas where my friends hardly realize that they are troubled. I 'devour' the demons in the air so that they may remain sane. It's not something I've gone out of my way to do, but rather a subconscious effort on my part. A second sight and a third hand, I suppose.

"Azarath….Metrion….Zinthos……Azarath….Metrion….Zinthos….."

I don't and can't give thought to a thoughtless process I undergo 24/7. But in the case of my friends, I assume that the role I have taken has been for the betterment of them. For it is not often at all that I 'indulge'…..that I utilize my powers and my psyche towards my own person and my own person alone. Everything I've ever been and everything I've ever done has been to focus on the world around me…..on preserving the lives that exist outside of my shell.

Last night, I didn't think about that. Which doesn't mean I didn't care. But….I thought inside the box, and inside the box I purposefully held myself warm and comfortably. Like a snug thought rolled up in purely sinful serenity. With no hint of remorse, fear, or self loathing….

Why is that so abnormal?

"Azarath….Metrion….Zinthos…..Azarath….Metrion….Zinthos……."

My friends are not here right now. Perhaps I've let my mind, heart, and body go freely into its own domain. For my team members were not nearby enough for me to subconsciously employ my soul-self into the preservation of them. There is kind of 'nudity' that is far more frightening than any other exposure….and that is the exposure of no exposure. Of being vulnerable only to oneself. The existential question.

And right now, I can't help but question………..What am I without my friends?

What am I inside of this universe?

This fragile and unpredictable dimension?

Would I be here without them?

Would I be……fighting crime? Preserving justice?

Am I that weak and pathetic?

My chanting stops.

I open my eyes.

I gaze around my lonely room.

The dark shadows of everything.

The way it lingers, cold and silent…..just like it always does.

With or without the other Titans existing beyond the walls.

I take a long, deep breath.

This meditation isn't working.

I'm……I'm such a mess right now.

A beat.

I glare at the walls again.

"This Tower is such a mess right now."

……

A pair of worn, khaki shorts.

A long, smudged t-shirt twist-tied at my waist.

A handkerchief wrapped around my blue head of hair.

The occasional sandals, but mostly barefoot.

And….

An endless mission.

Around the Tower.

The bathrooms.

The kitchen.

The hallways in front of Robin's room, my room, Starfire's room…

The seats around the Atrium of the Tower.

The super computer desks.

The dishwasher.

The counters and the cabinet drawers.

I am cleaning.

Endlessly.

Armed with various old washcloths, cleanser bottles, paper towels, and water buckets galore.

I clean up the embarrassing debris from last night in my bathroom. I scrub the sink. I polish the tub and make the walls sparkly.

I dust off the ends of my room, removing book after book after book from the walls before resuming the dusting. I pause every now and then to thumb through a good volume I haven't been in for a while and smile ever so slightly to myself.

I turn music on while I'm in the Main Room. The Murmurs. The insides of me hum as I go about my gritty, frenzied task. I realize with each spray of cleanser and every desktop that I turn sparkly just how unkempt all of us are. Truly, I am not one to put blame on others…..but it's hard to deny the slovenly nature of the rest of the team………compared to myself.

I'm a ridiculous sight. Petitely tossed into a pair of flattering work clothes. Smudges form in greater and greater randomness across my old white shirt and brown shorts. A strand of blue hair or two falls loose from the handkerchief over my head. I'm sweating and I'm starting to get chafe fingers from the dust and cleanser. But I keep going. Pausing every now and then to sip some lemonade. I have the windows open. The humidity of the day seeps in like a summer afternoon. The music calmly enters my ears and exits out through a sighing mouth. In spite of the chafing and the cleanser smell and the two or three times I nearly collapse over a chair trying to reach a high point on the computer consoles (I'm so Azarath-blasted short), I am genuinely enjoying myself. Inasmuch as enjoyment yields itself to a frenzied increase in tempo everytime I think about Beast Boy's uncleanly table manners, Starfire's uncustomary Tamaranian bathroom procedures, Robin's random filing and document losing, and Cyborg's nonchalance. I work faster and faster….spinning my breathless self into oblivion.

This Tower looks like my own father took an uncustomary bathroom break of his own here……

The Main Room and my abode are not enough for me. I find myself wandering into enemy territory….and that enemy territory turns out to be the door to Beast Boy's room.

"……………………" I gaze at it. A pail in one hand. My clothes in disarray. Short blue hair included. A mop leaning against a nearby wall. Cleanser bottles and cleanser smell…..trailing. "…………….." My pale brow furrows. "Tough."

I go in.

I raise Hell……for the heavenly.

Beast Boy's abode becomes a princess' castle in just a mere hour. Or a prince's……whatever.

I make sure not to disorder anything too much or to pry into any of his belongings. A pair of questionably colored boxer shorts I did—however—bravely move across the room and toss into a hamper thanks to the adept use of a mop pole. I really don't care if he or any of the other Titans return from their mission, find out about my frenzied invasion into their slovenly privacy, and summon all sorts of anger at me.

I need to do this.

But why?

Argh……anything to make the day go by, I guess.

Besides, this house—er—Tower is a horrific mess.

I move onto Cyborg's laboratory next. At first, I don't expect much to be done. But then I am appalled by the nightmarish dust in the room. I actually go to the infirmary to grab a face mask and gloves before going in. I clean off his computer monitors with Endust. I scrub clean the outsides of the mainframe towers. I consider even scrubbing his keyboards when I save myself with the realization that……Cyborg's fingers don't have flesh.

That done, Starfire's room is the next country I invade. It honestly isn't that messy of a room, but the only trouble I find is trying to figure out what is 'untidy' and what is necessarily 'Tamaranian' in arrangement. I've realized from one too many visits with Starfire that the interior decorator's concept of 'clean' on another planet significantly differs from solar system to solar system. So I focus on her draperies, her windows, and the bookcase that Robin got her.

I can't for the life of me enter Robin's room, in that the alter-ego Boy Wonder keeps his door shut and locked from all other members of the Tower. But I do give the hallway outside his domain a good mopping. And somehow….in some fashion…..I am satisfied.

And as I return to the Main Room…with the Murmurs CD repeating for the umpteenth time, I find that the Sun is going down. I stand…..stained with cleansers, dust, and various other abominable dust bunny detritus. And I feel like I've emerged from a warzone. I feel like taking an endless shower, I feel like collapsing, I feel…..

I feel distracted.

And my lips curve ever so slightly from the ordeal.

……

Nighttime.

I sit in my room.

Candlelight…again….

A soft, blue nightgown.

Legs crossed in a reading chair before the darkened window.

With two things in my petite lap.

Edgar Allen Poe….

And a plate of Chocolate cake.

"Mmmm…..," I take a bite from the slice and wave the fork at the poem. "….now of course….," I murmur through mouths of creamy chocolate. "….if life is but a dream….within a dream….." Another bite. "….then….Mmm….why is it….that we see color?" Another bite. "Or…..can color be….simply a word? A word that we label…..because we have nothing greater….to attribute to random phenomena….but the universal human schizophrenia….we commonly call 'language'?"

I finish the cake. I clean the icing off the plate. I dust my hands off, reposition the book on my lap, and smirk ever so slightly.

"Not bad an imagination…..," I drone. "…….for a man who practically died drunk in the gutter…."

It is merely the walls and window reflecting my voice. But I could have sworn….I heard the echo of some hapless girl giggling.

……

Bedtime.

I am sliding under the covers.

Freshly clean from the second shower of the evening….I'm pathetic that way.

I pull the sheets over myself, blow the candle out, and lie down.

And as soon as the darkness erupts.

I freeze…..I freeze in the warmth of myself.

"………………"

Everything is still……still messy……

In my mind………

I bite my lip.

I shudder to ignore that.

Messiness……

It is the same as color.

I turn over in the covers and hide from the night.

I wonder what 'colors' my friends are seeing now?

I hope it's not red.

So long…..Tuesday……