Title: Masks and Men
Chapter Title: Epilogue
Rating: T for swearing and mild violence and mature themes
Disclaimer: I don't own this… I think that's why there's Teen Titans Go and no season 6.
Author Notes: Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favorites! Thanks for all your support! I wish I could give you freshly baked cookies! :D Thanks for sticking with me to the end, yes pun intended.
Please enjoy!
The end of the world was hell. Literally. Lava. Fire demons galore. Ashes everywhere. The whole melodramatic shebang. Satan would have been quite proud. Trigon probably had been when he was around to see it. The end was destructive, unstoppable. The end was supposed to be The End.
The problem, of course, is what happens after The End. What happens when the story continues on after the pages run out? What happens when Fate is wrong and the world keeps spinning?
The end is boring; it is the future that is truly interesting. The epilogue. The afterword. The anticipation for what hasn't happened—yet. What will be written next? What story will be told?
He doesn't know. Neither does Raven.
(They wouldn't mind finding out together.)
For the second time, she comes to him, a lone figure of white knocking on his balcony's door. Their eyes meet. The emotions bottled in their chests mingle until they don't know whose feelings are whose. Not that it mattered. Their hearts are one and the same.
He steps out into the early morning's light. "Raven."
She closes the distance between them. "Slade."
He lifts up her hand to gently kiss her fingertips. "Do you want to come in?"
"No. I won't intrude." She casually leans herself against the deck's railing. He can feel the amusement radiating from her in waves. There's something else under that, something different, deeper, stronger… He feels it too, a small flickering in his chest. "Unfortunately, I won't be staying long."
"Pity." It doesn't surprise him anymore that he means it. He grins. "And what causes you to grace me with your presence?"
"This." She holds out the ring of gold bound by crimson. "Take it." He hesitantly reaches for it, but he draws back as if burned by hellfire.
The smile fades from his lips. "I can't."
Deathstroke is still there, whispering terrible things in his mind, and the things Slade Wilson has done in the past aren't much better. Slade isn't worthy of taking her blessing or her protection, and sure as hell isn't worthy of being hers.
"You can." She smiles faintly. "It's yours."
"It's not."
"This ring will always be yours, Slade." Her smile widens. "I will always be yours." Raven gently places the ring in his palm. It feels warm in his hand. It has a quiet warmth that pulsed like a heartbeat, a gentle fire that would never burn. His one good eye meets hers. In that gaze, he tries to say the things he couldn't bear to say aloud.
She already knows.
"Good bye, Raven."
"Not good bye," she laughs, looking happier than he had ever seen her. "Until we meet again."
A ray of sunlight breaks out from behind the clouds to illuminate her face. It decks her hair in a shining halo of gold. Her hair falls to her shoulders in a purple cascade. In white, she looks every bit a queen. An angel in the flesh and blood. His salvation and damnation all in one.
And he suddenly realizes, my god—that woman is beautiful.
(This time, Slade Wilson doesn't bother correcting him.)
"White suits you," he whispers. His fingers touched her shoulder, his fingers floating up to just graze her check.
"Why?" She tilts her head to look at him with those hypnotizing amethyst eyes of hers.
He leans forward and murmurs throatily in her ear, "White is the color of hope." Her fingers intertwine with his, and they instinctively press their foreheads together. He can feel the rush of her newfound joy and freedom as he slips further and further into her very soul. She can feel the unbridled affection in his chest as she delves into the deepest, darkest corners of him.
(And they both feel whole. No more secrets. No more lies. The puzzle is now complete.)
Her lips brush his cheek. "Thank you."
And then she was gone, just a shadow running from the morning light.
(Or was she running towards it?)
Smirking, Slade shuts the deck's door behind him and returns to the darkness from which he came.
—
Their story would continue for a very, very long time.
(There was no way this would be The End.)
Thank you for reading!
Yeah… Stay tuned for my next work…I guess? I dunno. What are you supposed to say, I wonder? Anyway, I'll probably post Fifty Shades of Slade this weekend. First time writing smut. Fun, fun, fun… Also, be sure to check the bonus drabble. :D
Cough. Anyway, questions? Comments? Constructive criticism? Type something in that cute little box and leave a review!