A/N: Another chapter of Firelight is here, and it didn't take me a month to update this time! Does that make you happy? It makes me happy! I'm glad that I don't have to keep all of you waiting. One thing I despise is keeping my readers waiting. With each new chapter I post, I notice that the amount of people reading keeps steadily increasing. So thank all of you for the reads, favorites, and follows! After posting the last chapter, I received more new followers for this story than any other time I've posted! So thank you guys a bunch! I appreciate the support, and I'm glad that there are so many of you who like this story!
Well, besides my author's rambling, I have nothing to put for the author's note than enjoy the chapter! I hope you guys like it!
Note: Whenever I bring up a specific brand of car, feel free to look it up on Google Images if you're curious. As a confession, I know nothing at all about cars, so Google Images is actually where I turn to figure out what specific brands of cars look like. So feel no shame if you have no idea at all what the Titans' cars look like. Before Google searching, I had no idea how to make them look. XD
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans (or any other shows that I might make subtle references to).
Part II: Shadows: Chapter Seventeen
"Wow… This is…my room?!"
Damiana has never been more amazed in her life. The room that she's standing in, a room that is currently empty besides a bedframe and a dresser, is three times larger than her motel room. Even the bedroom that she had back on Dabnod is dwarfed compared to this, as two of those bedrooms would be able to fit cozily into this one. Never has Damiana had this much space in her life! And that door to her right that's four feet away from the window…is that…a walk-in closet?!
As she gapes at the large expanse, Bumblebee gives a friendly chuckle from behind her. "Yep. This room is completely yours. I know it's probably a little overwhelming, but don't worry. You'll get used to it." Pausing slightly, she adds, "Being a Titan, I mean. Living in the Tower, having roommates, fighting crime, soon enough it'll all feel natural."
Shoving a brown strand behind one of her ears, Damiana removes her black bag from her shoulder and sets in atop the dresser. Once this is done, she turns to face those standing behind her. In the room with her isn't just Bumblebee, but also Speedy and Aqualad. Keeping the strand of hair firmly tucked behind her ear, she smiles as she replies to Bee's statement.
"I believe you. After all, I am pretty adaptable. I'm sure that I'll get used to being a Titan soon enough."
Smiling brightly, Bumblebee gives a firm nod. A moment later, however, her smile fades slightly and the Titan leader walks over to where the girl sat her bag on her dresser. Reaching in, she pulls out the golden brown hair dye and green colored contact lenses with a brow raised questioningly. Giving a glance to the others, she sees as the rest of the room's occupants eye her in the same manner.
Meanwhile, Bumblebee speaks out again. "But is there any reason why you dye your hair brown and wear green contacts? I have to admit, when you told us, I was a little surprised."
"If your hair isn't brown and if your eyes aren't green, then what do you really look like?" asks Aqualad in astonishment. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."
Crossing her arms, she shoots Aqualad a stern look. "First of all, you haven't seen my real features, so don't say that they can't be 'that bad'. If I wanted you to know what I look like, then I wouldn't dye my hair and wear contact lenses." Turning to face Bee, she continues in a more relaxed fashion. "As for why I hide everything…to put simply…I'll stick out like a sore thumb if I don't. I've had my fire powers since birth, and as a side effect, my hair and eyes are very…strange…colors. They don't look anything at all like the rest of your features. To be honest, it's kind of embarrassing sticking out so much. Without the hair dye and contact lenses, I feel like a one-women freak show. So, after a while, I decided to hide everything; which in my situation, isn't a bad thing."
This time it is Speedy's turn to voice his thoughts, which just so happen to sound very confused. "Okay, I know that you don't want any prying, but can you at least give us a hint about what you look like? Do you have a sharingan eye, an orange and purple eye, and putrid green hair or something?"
Rolling her eyes, Damiana can't help but give him a sardonic look. "No. Trust me, it's nothing like that. Or…at least not most of the time... Let's just say that my hair and eyes are very…noticeable….and very…vivid." After a short pause, she adds firmly, "Now quit prying, because that's all I'm telling you."
Leaning against the wall with the sole of one of his yellow boots touching, his back touching, and his arms crossed, Damiana sees as Speedy nods in response. Along with this, he smiles faintly.
"Alright. Don't get your big girl panties in a bundle. I'll keep my mouth shut about the hair and the eyes." After a brief moment of silence, he adds, "Besides. It doesn't matter that much, anyway. I eventually took my mask off in front of the team, Bee finally came out of her room first thing in the morning before prettying herself up, and at some point Aqualad told us that his name is 'Garth'. It took a while, but eventually we all ended up sharing. I'm sure that at some point you'll share too."
In truth, Damiana greatly disagrees with Speedy's synopsis of the situation. Yet, she doesn't argue. Instead she turns away from the group of them and faces the emptiness of her new bedroom in attempt to get her mind away from such thoughts. Inside of her head she examines the walls thoroughly, imagining what she could transform the plain white into if only she could get her hands on some paint. Not only that, but with all of the space, she could fit so many bookshelves in here that it would be unimaginable!
If it wouldn't make the other Titans suspicious, it would be her greatest dream to fill rows of shelves with books written in different languages from all over the world. It has been a long while since she has added new languages to her arsenal. Perhaps Damiana could consider taking up the practice again. Now that it's necessary, she should start practicing with her fire again, too. Shortly before Dabnod was destroyed, the clan elders did mention wanting to give her further training. They wanted to go beyond Master's level techniques and start teaching her Phoenix techniques.
They're techniques brimming with so much hidden knowledge and unique skill that only a handful of people ever knew that they were in existence. The reason so few people knew about them is mostly because they're techniques unique only to the Fire Phoenix clan. There were several clans on Dabnod that had secret techniques unknown to the rest of the planet, and the Fire Phoenix clan was definitely one of them. It was always rumored that the Fire Phoenix clan had enough skills in their fiery arsenal to take out the Dabnodian monarchy and seize control of Dabnod. It never would have happened, though. Damiana's clan was far too loyal to the monarchy.
Meanwhile, as she continues with these thoughts, she speaks to herself internally.
"I should really unlock the Phoenix Index again. When I opened the secret compartment and found my armband, I'm sure that I saw scrolls in there too. Those have to be the scrolls the elders used to talk about. The scrolls that contain our secret techniques…"
As the girl muses to herself, it is heard as the archer awkwardly clears his throat and moves toward the exit. She still doesn't look at him, but she can tell by Speedy's footsteps that he's leaving.
"Well, I'm going to go ahead and assume that our conversation is over, so I will be going." Glancing over at him, Damiana sees that he's hovering half in and half out of the doorway as he makes his final parting statement. "In case you're curious, my room is next to yours on the left side. Don't ever go in uninvited, and if you need me, please knock. Of course, as a fair warning, if I feel like being alone or if I'm doing something important, I might not answer."
Turning so that she's facing him fully, Damiana nods. "Okay, thanks for letting me know. And don't worry about me knocking. I don't plan on randomly barging into your room anytime soon." Giving a smirk, she adds, "Unless I want revenge for being forced to ride on the back of your motorcycle."
It is here that he returns her smirk. "Sure thing, Leila, but just know that your revenge is at your own risk. Barge into my room, and you might catch me getting dressed or laying across my bed in my underwear listening to Skillet. Believe me. Once you see that, you can't un-see it."
Bumblebee releases a groan of agony at those words. "Yeah, well I wish I could! You've got some weird habits! What kind of crazy person strips down to their underwear to listen to music?!"
Pointing a finger at the winged girl, Speedy works to defend himself. The whole time Damiana starts to feel the least bit disturbed.
"Hey, at least I'm in the privacy of my own room, and at least I wear something! Unlike Aqualad, who likes going skinny-dipping in his pool at two in the morning!"
His face turning crimson with embarrassment, the aquatic Titan shouts loudly. "For the last time, I was not skinny dipping! I was in the shower, and while I was in there, Mas and Menos hid all of my clothes! Swimming around in my pool naked wasn't a choice! Unless someone is taking a shower, they should never be naked!"
Speedy scoffs at his explanation. "Right. I forgot. You're a prude like an old lady."
Aqualad's eyes widen to the size of saucers. "What did you call me? I am not a prude!"
The redhead only chuckles. "Says the guy who puts on four layers of clothes before his dates!"
"Of course I do that! You've seen what my fangirls are like! I do it for my sanity!"
Damiana can't help but gape at the duo as they argue back and forth. They're so immersed in their argument, that Speedy didn't actually leave the room like he said he was going to. Now he and Aqualad are standing in the room's center, both of them arguing their cases and neither of them winning. She can't help but find the sight one that is shocking and unbelievable. They can't possibly be like this all the time, can they?!
As if reading her thoughts, Bumblebee carefully tiptoes around the two of them. Once she reaches Damiana, the dark-skinned girl giggles and motions for her to follow her out of the room. Shrugging, Damiana gives the Titan boys one last glance before following after her. A moment later once they're in the hallway, Bumblebee speaks.
"When they get like that, it's best just to let them argue. It always runs its course eventually." Giving Damiana a kind smile, she continues. "I saw you eyeing up your room a couple minutes ago. It looked like you were making plans for it."
Returning her smile, Damiana nods. "I guess I do have a few ideas."
At this Bumblebee walks further down the hallway before motioning for her new teammate to follow her once more. "In that case, let's go to the furniture store and get some stuff picked out. Maybe we can get you some carpeting and paint, too." After a moment of silence, she adds, "Now that I'm thinking about it, there's also another stop that we should make. One that's actually more important than the furniture store."
"Uh…Bumblebee? Where are we?"
Damiana sits snugly in the passenger seat of the Titans East leader's yellow Honda Civic. It's every bit as nice as Speedy's Chevrolet, but it fits Bumblebee's personality much better, as do the fuzzy dice hanging over the rearview mirror. Really, Damiana likes Bumblebee's car quite a lot. Though if it was Damiana's car, and if she had any idea at all how to drive, she would have a red Toyota Yaris. Even so, Bee's car is very nice.
Meanwhile, the place that Bumblebee has taken her doesn't look at all how she expected. They're sitting in a nearly empty parking lot that only has two other cars. In front of them is a building that is equally deserted. It is made out of brick, the door leading inside is made out of thick metal that is bolted shut, and there is a single window without signs or business hours of any sort. Honestly, it looks like the building hasn't been touched in ages. Rarely has Damiana felt so uncertain about a building.
In the meantime, spotting her companion's uncertainty, Bumblebee does her best to put the girl's worries at ease. "Remember what I said back at the Tower? There was another stop I wanted to make before we get your shopping done, and it's an important one. You do need a costume, after all."
Brow furrowing quizzically, Damiana rips her gaze away from the building and gives Bumblebee an odd look. "This is where I'm designing my costume at? Do you really mean that?"
The dark-skinned girl gives her a comforting pat on the shoulder before opening the driver's side door. While doing so, she answers the pale-faced girl's inquiry.
"Yes, but don't worry. It looks better on the inside." Pausing slightly, she asks, "Before we go inside though, I should ask you this. Do you have your Titan name picked out?"
Opening the passenger side door, Damiana nods. "Yeah, I do." After a moment of silence, she continues. "I decided that I'd like to go by 'Firelight'."
A cheerful smile lights up Bumblebee's face. "Firelight! You picked a good name. It fits you. Now when we approach the door, make sure you introduce yourself as 'Firelight', not 'Leila'. Leila is your secret identity now, so any time you go somewhere as a Titan, you have to remember 'Firelight'."
Damiana gives an immediate nod of understanding. "Don't worry. I'm perfectly willing to go by my hero name from now on. In fact, I kind of like the idea."
"Good," replies Bumblebee happily. "I'm glad to hear it."
With that being said, the two girls get out of the car and make their way onto the sidewalk leading to the sturdy metallic door. As they saunter down the sidewalk, Damiana takes a closer look at her surroundings. Upon doing so, she immediately notices that even if there are no signs of inhabitation in the building's single window, that it is completely free of dust and grime. Not only that, but the sidewalk and parking lot are in good repair, the bricks making up the building appear to be relatively new, and there isn't a single piece of litter anywhere. So, even if the structure appears creepy and deserted at a first glance, it isn't deserted at all upon further observation.
Once they make it to the flawless metal door, a door that's so thick that it looks like the door to a prison cell, Bumblebee doesn't hesitate to knock. She taps loudly and evenly three times. A few second pass and nobody answers, Bumblebee repeating the action. It is only then that they get a response. Of course, it isn't the response that Damiana was expecting. Rather than somebody opening the door to them, a small metal plate that is built into the door at eye-level is shoved aside, revealing a pair of stormy gray eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. When the person speaks, the stormy gray eyes are revealed to belong to a woman with a thick foreign accent.
"Well, Titan Bumblebee! It's been a while since you've come here in person. This is really a pleasant surprise!" Stormy eyes shifting to Damiana, she speaks sounding a bit less pleased. "Who is the skinny girl with the tattered jeans and the jewelry? Did she follow you here?"
Much to Damiana's surprise, Bumblebee isn't the one who answers the accented woman. Instead the Titan leader gets behind Damiana and gently shoves her closer. She stumbles slightly, having not expected the move on Bumblebee's part. When the woman's eyes narrow at her through the slot in the door, Damiana immediately feels both confused and nervous. Nonetheless, she does her best to put the unknown woman at ease, as she is certain that getting into the building is essential. If it wasn't, then Bee wouldn't have said that it was.
Gulping, the girl answers her hesitantly. "Uh… No. Not exactly… I didn't follow her here. You see, my name is Firelight. I just joined the Titans East a short while ago, and I need a costume? The clothes I have now aren't exactly working out."
Shoving up her glasses with a long, slender, index finger, she narrows her eyes again. This time, much to Damiana's relief, they're narrowed in a curious fashion rather than in contempt.
"A new Titan, you say? I didn't know that the Titans East were getting a new member."
This time it is Bumblebee who responds. "Sorry to catch you off guard, Marcy. A lot has been going on with the Titans recently, and with everything that's been happening, Firelight joining the team was kind of a last minute thing."
The woman behind the door scoffs. "The Titans East themselves were a last minute thing, as were the Titans West, so this doesn't surprise me."
All of the sudden the metal slot in the door closes up, catching Damiana off guard. A few seconds later metallic clanging is heard along with the clicking of locks, the thick metal door swinging open a moment afterward. Standing in the doorway looking down at them both is the woman with gray eyes and wire-rimmed glasses, who is revealed to be very tall, slender, and has thin black hair styled into a tasteful bobbed haircut. She currently wears a knee-length black dress with elbow-length sleeves and a high collar. Her wedges are the same shade of black as her dress, though they're much shinier, and appear extremely high; most likely why Damiana sees her as so tall. When it comes to her age she is uncertain, but Damiana would place her in her middle to late forties.
Stepping back from the doorway, the woman motions for them to enter. Her expression fairly pleasant, Bumblebee walks past Damiana and goes inside of the building without reluctance. The alien girl is a bit hesitant, having no idea where they're at or who this woman is, but a few seconds is all it takes for her to enter inside at last. Once inside of the building, after the door shuts on its own behind her, Damiana finds herself feeling confused. Besides a desk, a leather chair, and a magazine rack, the room they've entered is completely empty! There aren't any doors leading out of this room either, so it is automatically assumed that this is the only one.
Arching a brow, she shoots Bumblebee a questioning look. Spotting her facial expression, Bumblebee giggles in friendly amusement before giving her an explanation.
"It's okay. There's more here than you think."
Giving her a reassuring look, the woman adds in her thick accent, "If you need a costume, Firelight, just trust Marcy Fabron. Believe me when I say that I can do anything."
Raising her brow curiously, Damiana watches as the woman, Marcy, makes her way over to the desk in the corner with her wedges clicking against the tile. As she does this she pulls a key out of a pocket that is hidden in her black dress, taking a seat in the leather chair behind the desk and shoving the key into one of the locked drawers. For a moment Damiana thinks that she's going to pull out files, a briefcase, or something of that sort. It is because of this that when the smallest drawer opens up to reveal an incredibly intricate keypad containing both letters and numbers, the alien girl can't help but be astonished. When Marcy types what appears to be a very long password into the keypad, Damiana is further astonished when one of the metallic walls opens up to reveal a clear glass elevator.
As she gapes, Marcy shuts and locks the keypad back into the desk before walking over and giving Damiana a friendly pat on the shoulder.
"You haven't seen anything yet, girl. Be amazed."
With that being said all three of them walk into the elevator, Damiana growing more stunned and more curious all the time. There aren't many buttons in the elevator. There is nothing but a single button, and the only direction it goes in is down. There isn't the slightest bit of hesitation from Marcy before she presses the button, causing them to plummet downward in a whir. With nothing but darkness shining in through the glass, Damiana is a bit disoriented, but overall she fares well.
Meanwhile, Marcy speaks once more. "What are your superpowers? Before doing anything, I must know. Otherwise I won't be able to find you the right fabric."
"My powers?" says Damiana. "To put it simply, fire is my superpower. I can self-manifest it, my body absorbs outside fire, and my body is flame-resistant."
Marcy purses her lips in a considering fashion as she muses aloud. "In that case, I will need the heaviest flame resistant material available. I have material that can withstand heat up to thirty-thousand degrees Celsius. Is that good enough?"
Eyes widening, Damiana gives a stunned nod. "Um…yeah. Thirty-thousand degrees is good."
Pushing up her wire-rimmed glasses using her middle finger, she gives a smile. "Excellent. I have that material in every color from pink to black. With the amount of fabric at my disposal and my skill, I should be able to put together something to please you in no time." Nervousness filling her gaze, she asks, "Just out of curiosity, you can't fly, can you? If you can, it might be harder for me to find material that is both flame resistant and durable enough for flight."
"No worries," Damiana assures. "I have multiple talents, but one thing I can't do is fly."
Smile returning full-force, she nods. "Good. This makes my day. It has been a long time since I have gotten to help design a costume for one of the Titans. This will be a true delight!"
A second later the elevator stops at last, and the doors open up. It is still pitch black, but all it takes is Marcy giving two loud claps for the area to become flooded with light. When it does, just as Marcy had stated earlier, Damiana is definitely amazed. In her sixteen years of living, Damiana has never seen another room like this one; not on Earth or on Dabnod. To her, it is simply incredible.
The room is large and very well-lit, revealing a space filled with floor-length mirrors. In the center of the mirrors is a very lavish walkway, most likely used for admiring whatever final product that Marcy comes up with. There is another portion of the room, too, that isn't covered in mirrors. Lying out on chairs, on tables, and lining various shelves are fabrics of all colors, patterns, and materials. Along with this there are scissors, measuring tapes, sewing machines, thread and needs, various types of shoes, and anything else imaginable. Damiana can't even remember the closets of Queen Guayusa and her courtiers having access to fabrics of so many colors! When Bumblebee said that she would get to design her Firelight costume, she had no idea that she would get to do it so…extravagantly!
All of the sudden Marcy gives a pleased chortle, freeing Damiana from her momentary trance. Turning to face her, she sees that she is already holding a measuring tape in her hands as well as a pen and a pad of paper. As Marcy speaks, she walks toward her.
"Yes, I knew you would be amazed. I saw that same look of wonderment in Bumblebee's eyes when she first saw my crafting room. With the tools I have at my disposal, I can design absolutely anything. I especially love putting together costumes for superheroes. It gives my life meaning." Motioning to her with the hand holding the measuring tape, she commands, "Now go stand on the pedestal so I can get a good look at you. I won't be able to design you a proper costume otherwise."
Giving a nod of comprehension, Damiana follows her instructions and moves over to the walkway. Once she's standing on it, Marcy doesn't hold back with the measuring tape. She measures every inch of her while scribbling things down on her notepad. The whole time the woman mumbles things aloud, the alien girl not knowing whether to feel complimented or insulted.
"Good heavens are you skinny! Very skinny… Nonetheless, you still have quite a decent figure. That baggy tank top and raggedy jeans simply do an excellent job of hiding it. We are going to change that very soon…" The next time she speaks, she says, "Your face is absolutely stunning! Very rarely have I run into a young woman with as beautiful of a face as yours! Your hair is far too curly, though… Then again, you have a stunning face and an adequate figure, so I suppose the hair doesn't matter too much. Not to mention, that you have a gorgeous bracelet. Your taste in jewelry is magnificent. That bracelet with the bird is definitely being incorporated into your costume…"
From here Marcy doesn't speak for several minutes. She is busily scribbling things down, dashing all over the room in her stylish black wedges and picking up various rolls of fabric. At some point she nonchalantly places her notepad on a table and begins comparing fabrics that are various shades of orange and black, as if trying to decide which is better. Secretly, Damiana doesn't think that any of them are better. Honestly, the shades of orange look practically identical to her, as do the shades of black. The whole time Bumblebee leans against one of the mirrors, watching on in a curious yet pleased fashion.
It takes a long while, but eventually Marcy speaks again. While doing this, she rushes toward Damiana holding scissors, thread, and an armload of orange and black fabrics. Though, she's certain that she sees some splotches of yellow fabric too.
"Okay, Firelight, we are getting straight to work. You are free to tell me what you like, and what you do not like, but I do have two ground rules. The first is that your bracelet with the bird on it is fabulous, so it stays! No complaints, no questions! And the second is that we are getting you in some shorts. No pants for you! Underneath those hideous jeans, I would stake my life on it that you are hiding some gorgeous legs. It is high time that you show them off!"
It is here that Damiana's face pales. Running a hand through her false brown tresses, she eyes the woman nervously as she responds.
"No pants? But…why?! Shorts are just so…revealing…and…tight!"
Smirking, Marcy piles the fabric down on the walkway beside her. "Exactly my point, dear girl. We have to accentuate your strongest assets. It's what makes heroes the best they can be." Nodding over to Bumblebee, she adds, "As a fair example, Bumblebee's waist is greatest asset, so I accentuated it. Just look at her costume! She looks fabulous! And you will, too."
Running a hand through her hair, Damiana sighs before responding. "Well… I guess I can try on a pair of shorts… There's no guarantee that I'm going to like it, though."
The woman's smirk never fades. "Oh, don't worry. I can guarantee that you will like what you see. Every customer does. Trust me. This is what I do best."
Meanwhile…
As far as Speedy knows, Bumblebee and Leila are still gone, Aqualad and Cyborg are at work examining Black Shadow's machine, and Beast Boy left the Tower to go buy vegetarian cuisine. Speedy can't help but feel relieved because of this. It will make it so much easier to slip out of the Tower without having to confront anyone. Dressed from head to toe in civilian clothing and wearing a pair of sunglasses, Speedy steps out of his bedroom and into the hallway. His car keys in hand, he sneaks down the hallway, through the common room, and to the door leading to the garage.
Any other time he leaves the Tower, his teammates don't think a thing of it. They figure that he's going to visit his dock, out for tacos, on a date, to torment the local store workers, or anything else that the redhead might like to do in his spare time. However, because of the fact that Speedy leaves so specifically at twelve-thirty pm every Sunday, and because he tries to be so stealthy about leaving the Tower, the other Titans have grown more than a little bit suspicious of his whereabouts. The same thing applies to Wednesdays at four-thirty pm, when he also does his best to slip out of the Tower unseen.
Bee, Aqualad, and Mas y Menos have all tried questioning him about it many times. This is partially because during those times when Speedy is gone and there's a crime alert, they're always forced to get by without him. Along with that, Speedy is so secretive about where he's going that a person would almost think that he's out committing crimes himself, or that he's involved in a secret love affair. During the first year of being with the Titans, sneaking out twice a week wasn't so hard. For the past six months, however, it has been getting steadily more difficult. At some point, it is Speedy's worst fear that the other Titans are going to find out where he's going. When that day comes, there isn't a doubt in the archer's mind that they're never going to see him the same. He's going to be…labeled.
Sighing, Speedy makes his way down the stairs to the garage and weaves around their motorcycles, the T-car, and Aqualad's black convertible. Once he makes it to his white Chevrolet, he opens the driver's side door, pulls himself inside, and turns the key in the ignition. Removing his sunglasses and tucking them so that they're attached to the truck's sun visor, he speaks aloud before pulling out.
"Just go and enjoy the meeting, Roy. The other Titans haven't found out yet, and if you play your cards right, they're not going to."
In the back of Steel City Gospel Church, in a windowless room with soft white carpeting and soothing blue walls, is a group of ten individuals of various ages and genders. The day being Sunday, church was on earlier, but the people who were previously present for the service have all filtered out. Now, besides a few faculty members who run the church office, there isn't anybody in the building besides these ten people in this cozy blue room.
The small group sits arranged in a circle, not in the uncomfortable metal fold-up chairs that would normally be expected, but instead they sit in beanbag chairs. Painted on the wall behind them in black cursive letters are words that have become very familiar to the vast majority of people within the group: "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference".
Speedy remembers the first time he came here very well. Never having been inside of a church building before, he can remember feeling like a fish out of water. The beanbag chairs, the prayer painted on the wall, hugs from random strangers, it was all so…foreign. After the first time he was here, he didn't even want to come back he felt so out of place. Of course, after trying ten other groups in Steel City similar to this one, Speedy decided that he liked this one the best. Out of all the groups, this one was by far the warmest and the most welcoming. Even after only meeting him once, the individuals in the group welcomed him back with open arms. It was only then, after his second time showing up at this group, that he finally decided to become a regular.
During his time with this group, while he generally sees the same eight people every time he comes here, there are usually one or two new faces at least once a week. The majority of the time the new faces don't tend to come back, and either seek out new groups, or drop attending these meetings completely. In a way, Speedy finds it disappointing. The beanbag chairs and brightness of the room always come off as odd at first, but if people would give it a chance, he knows that it would grow on them. It grew on him, after all.
Sitting directly across from him, Speedy notes, is this afternoon's single new face. For once, he can't help but feel surprised. The person sitting across from him is a boy wearing a black sweatshirt and baggy black pants. His arms are crossed and he wears a pouty expression, as if this is the last place on Earth he wants to be. His chin is pointed, as is his nose, and his hair is shaggy. So shaggy is the boy's hair that it covers one of his caramel brown eyes. What shocks Speedy isn't the child himself, but the fact that he's…well…a child! By the looks of this kid, he can't be any older than twelve! A year-and-a-half ago when he started at this group, he'd freshly turned sixteen, and they said that he was the youngest person they'd had! Sixteen is nothing compared to how young this kid is!
Meanwhile, the person sitting beside the kid is the one who speaks. He is a man is his early sixties with a friendly personality and a thick gray beard, known to Speedy as Bill. When Bill speaks, he does so in his usual warm and caring fashion.
"Hello, everyone. My name is Bill, and I'm a cocaine addict."
The others in the group, including Speedy, respond in unison. "Hi, Bill."
The next one to speak is the kid, who is notably a lot less open than Bill. "My name's Dustin. That's all I'm telling you people."
Again, the group responds in unison. "Hi, Dustin."
Once this is finished, Bill addresses the boy in what Speedy identifies as his usual grandfatherly fashion. "It's okay, Dustin. You don't have to tell us anything that you don't want to. If you just want to sit in and listen tonight, feel free."
Dustin doesn't say anything. Instead he gives a huff before they move onto the next person. The next person being a woman named Stacie, who is a crystal meth addict. The whole time people introduce themselves the majority of the group appears genuinely invested, while Dustin simply appears annoyed. Speedy doesn't judge the kid, though. He can tell just by looking at him how new he must be to this. Since he's here as a preteen, there's no doubt that he's here by the force of his parents, or as a court mandate. That would definitely make a kid feel targeted…
At last, when his turn finally comes, Speedy doesn't hesitate in introducing himself. Having done this at least a thousand times, he pretty much has his lines memorized.
"Hi, everyone. My name's Roy, and I'm addicted to heroin."
Just as he expected, he is responded to with the collective chant of "Hi, Roy".
From here he expects things to move to the person beside him; a woman named Joy with an addiction to Vicodin pills. Before Joy has a chance to speak, however, Dustin looks up at him with surprise. The surprise is only there for an instant, though, because it is quickly replaced with skepticism.
"Pft. If you're still addicted to heroin, then it doesn't look like this group has helped you any. I bet the last time you shot up was this morning."
Emerald irises filling with his own brand of surprise, Speedy can't help but gape at him while responding. "Actually, the last time I shot up was more than three years ago. All I have left now is three months until I've made it for four years' heroin free."
Surprised returns to Dustin's caramel gaze full-force at Speedy's words. "You haven't had any heroin in almost four years?! How old are you?! You don't even look like you're eighteen yet!"
"That's because I'm not," replies Speedy simply. "I have five months left until I turn eighteen."
Eyes widening farther, he asks, "So…does that mean you were…super young when you started going through treatment?"
Giving a nod, Speedy replies to the kid. "Yep. I was twelve when I got addicted, and going on fourteen when I finally recovered. I relapsed twice, and it was painful, but I made it through."
It's quiet for along moment until, at last, Dustin speaks again. This time he does so in a small, hesitant, voice that is the equivalent of a mouse, sand-colored hair hiding his face.
"I'm twelve. And I'm addicted to heroin."
Speedy feels as his eyes widen, surprised at the boy's sudden confession. All it takes is a moment for the rest of the group to start applauding softly, and for those sitting closest to Dustin to start giving him friendly pats on the shoulder as well as the occasional hug.
"Good job, Dustin!"
"Thank you so much for sharing with us!"
"I hope that your treatment is going well!"
Dustin doesn't give those gathered around him much of a response. The whole time his eyes narrow and he gives an irritated frown. Honestly, he can't really blame the kid. He remembers his first Narcotics Anonymous meeting with everybody hugging him. His bubble felt so violated…
Meanwhile, words of encouragement are shot his way as well. They come from everybody in the group besides Dustin, though mostly they come from Bill and Joy.
"That was some excellent sharing, Roy! Thank you so much for making Dustin feel welcome!"
"You've almost been clean for four years now? We're so proud of you!"
"Three months from now, I'm bringing in cupcakes! You've earned them!"
Speedy smiles, nods, and replies to each of their comments genuinely. When one of them hugs him, exactly like he never would have expected several years ago, he hugs them back. The one who hugs him is Joy. She is a woman in her early forties, and apparently used to have a son the same age as him.
Once the majority of encouraging comments have subsided, Joy speaks to Speedy.
"I really am bringing in cupcakes at your four-year mark, Roy, and don't you dare try stopping me! You're a real success story, kid. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
He can't help but smile at the woman's kind words. "Thanks, Joy. I appreciate hearing that. It really helps; on the good days just as much as the bad days."
From the other side of the circle, Bill responds to him. "Nah, Roy, you don't have to tell that to us. Even if it's a good day, a kind word always helps. I haven't had any cocaine in almost thirty years, and sometimes I still need encouragement. Recovery isn't just being free from the drug. It's a lifelong process no matter how long you've been clean for."
Opening his mouth partway, Speedy is preparing to reply to Bill. Before he can, however, Dustin chimes in. The boy sounds confused as much as shocked.
"Hold on. Let me get this straight. Some of you have been clean for years, decades even, and you're still coming to NA meetings? Why?! If you're not using anymore, what's the fricken point?!"
"Support from other addicts," replies a man in his early thirties. "That's the point."
"Only someone who has been addicted to drugs, stolen, lied, and cheated, is going to be able to understand another person who has done all of those same things. It's kind of like how only someone who has been homeless before is going to be able to understand someone else who has been out on the streets," explains Bill. Pausing slightly, he asks, "Is this making any sense, Dustin?"
Furrowing his brow thoughtfully, the kid nods. "Yeah, I guess. To be honest, it's even like that at the treatment center. The first couple days I hated it, but now that I've gotten used to it, it's not so bad. The people there…they get it. They treat me like a guy and not…"
Before Speedy has a chance to process what he's about to say, he fills in the blank that Dustin was looking for. "They treat you like a guy, and not a 'druggie'? Yeah, I know what you mean. People who have never been addicted don't get it at all. Once they figure out where you've been and what you've done, they give you a label and de-humanize you. It really doesn't make life any easier."
Eyes widening in comprehension, Dustin looks directly at him. "That's exactly what I was going to say. How'd you know?"
He replies simply. "Because I've been there."
A moment of silence passes, but at last, it is broken by a sigh from Joy.
"Not everyone labels you, though. I'll admit that I've some pretty bad encounters with family members, but I also have people who really support me. I'll be honest. Nobody supports me more than my husband and my daughter."
Another moment of silence passes, this one briefer than the previous. This time it is broken by Bill, who does so with a question.
"You know, Roy, before we figured out about the four-year mark you have coming up, we were actually thinking about planning a meeting that month where everybody brings in their friends and family. We were going to have cake, tell them a little bit about NA, and celebrate everybody's progress." After a slight pause, he continues. "I'm not telling you and I'm not forcing you, but have you ever considered bringing the roommates that you told us about?"
"You told us just last week that you trust them with your life," adds Joy. "You don't think you can trust them enough to tell them that you used to be a heroin addict?"
Giving a deep sigh, Speedy replies at last. "Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do and I know where you're coming from, but I can't. There is absolutely no way I can tell them. They'd never accept it."
Later That Day
It took two full hours of sketching things out with paper and colored pencil, followed by measuring, cutting, and stitching, but Marcy and Damiana managed to complete her first Firelight costume. Admittedly, the costume they created is only a prototype, and Marcy wanted to make some adjustments to it so that it is, in her words, "the absolute best it can be". Of course, even with the alterations the woman wants to make to the costume's original copy, she still claims that she is going to have a full set of seven uniforms delivered to the Tower by tomorrow morning. By the following morning, she says that ten more will be ready. Now that her costume's initial design is planned out, Marcy claims that putting together Firelight costumes in bulk will be a simple task.
Thinking back to earlier in the afternoon, Damiana huffs while grumbling internally. "Of course putting together Firelight costumes won't be hard for her. With how 'adequate' my figure is, it isn't like she's going to be wasting any extra fabric for my hip and chest area."
Admittedly, the woman is a very skilled designer. Damiana never thought that she would hear herself say this, but she is absolutely in love with the uniform that was put together for her! This doesn't change the fact that she feels incredibly insulted, though. Telling her that she doesn't have any curves, blatantly stating that her hair is absolutely horrendous, and then forcing her to wear shorts even if the amount of skin showing makes her feel incredibly uncomfortable? Never has Damiana met a more disrespectful person! True, Damiana doesn't mind the shorts as much as she initially thought she would, but still… What makes that woman think that she can insult her like that?!
Taking a deep breath, Damiana tugs several buckets of paint into her room which is now completely empty. As soon as they got away from Marcy's design studio, she and Bee got straight to shopping. At first Damiana thought that shopping would take the longest amount of time, and that getting her costume designed would be quick and easy, but it turns out that this wasn't at all the case. In truth, it ends out that the Dabnodian girl already knew exactly how she wanted her room decorated. Picking out things such as a nightstand, desk, the bookshelves she wanted, and a mirror didn't take any time at all, neither did picking out other things such comforters, pillows, and a lamp. She chose civilian clothing as well, which also went quickly.
Getting carpeting and paint for her walls took even less time. All it took was ten seconds of staring at her bedroom walls for Damiana to know exactly how she wanted to paint them. True, painting them exactly the way she wants to will require an endless amount of colors. When picking out paint, instead of getting a can of each color she needs, she decided to get massive quantities of red, blue, and yellow, along with black and white. With these five colors, Damiana will be able to get every single color she needs and then some. All she needs is to mix them correctly.
Setting the buckets of paint down in the middle of her bedroom floor, along with other buckets that she'd previously hauled up, Damiana straightens her posture and stares intently at the perfectly white walls. Right now all of the other things she and Bumblebee purchased, furniture and new clothes alike, are being stored in a guest room on the level below this one; the room that she will be occupying until this room is completed. Having it be her, the paint, and her tattered jeans and tank top all alone in this perfect room makes Damiana feel undeniably happy. There's no doubt that it will take several days of intense effort, but she will make this room into her perfect paradise.
Before painting, however, Damiana has to have the designs for her walls drawn out first. It is because of this that she removes a perfectly sharpened pencil from amongst the paint cans, saunters over to the wall, climbs atop a ladder, and gets straight to work. Once she starts drawing on the walls, her brain doesn't have a chance to process what is being created. Instead the duo of hearts pumping Dabnodian blood through her veins take over, allowing her to unleash everything that she has been yearning for onto this perfect white canvas.
Meanwhile…
"It's okay, old man. I can help you get down this hallway. I wouldn't want you to fall and break your hip. Especially since you forgot your Life Alert."
Today's meeting having finally ended, the small group of individuals said their goodbyes and filtered out of the cozy blue room with the beanbag chairs. Even so, this doesn't mean that the individuals in the group are free of each other yet. Speedy generally parking in the same area Bill, they usually end up walking out of the church and to their cars together. Speedy gets along well with Bill, so he doesn't mind this. If anything, he prefers it. It gives him time to talk to the aging man and to make friendly jabs at him, just like he does to anyone he becomes friends with.
Right now, as an example, Speedy takes Bill by the arm in attempt to guide him down Steel City Gospel Church's front-most hallway, treating him as though his is a feeble old man. Considering how gray his hair is and how, from a distance, he could pass for older than sixty, this might make sense at a first glance. Of course, once they see how Bill glares at him and yanks out of his grasp in an irritated manner, it becomes bluntly obvious that this isn't at all the case. Upon hearing his verbal response, this is made even clearer.
"For the last time, Roy, I do not have a Life Alert, and I'm not getting one!"
Chuckling at his response, he asks, "But what if you've fallen and you can't get up?"
Turning around to face him, Bill gives the young redhead a sharp glare. Even so, it is undeniable that there is humor in his gaze too. If there wasn't, Speedy wouldn't tease him over his age in the first place. The last thing he wants is to honestly offend the guy.
Meanwhile, Bill speaks once more. "I'm sixty years old, Roy, not ninety! I exercise every day, and I still work full-time. I think I'll be alright without a Life Alert."
With that being said, the two men laugh light-heartedly as they approach the glass doors leading out of the church, and exit onto the sidewalk running alongside the parking lot. They banter lightly, Speedy complimenting him on how well he's walking for a man his age, and on how he didn't get lost on the way here this afternoon. Bill shoots him half-hearted glares in response, jabbing back at Speedy about how he's so proud that he's finally old enough to drive, and stating that if he ever decides to go to a bar maybe the bartender will give him a nice glass of milk.
Laughing jovially and saying their goodbyes, the two are about ready to step into the parking lot and go their separate ways. Before they do, however, they glance farther down the sidewalk to spot a head of shaggy sand-colored hair sitting on the curbside. For a moment they don't do anything. They just eye Dustin curiously. Then, exchanging glances, the two nonchalantly approach the kid. They still don't say anything for a couple of seconds, but once within five feet of him, they address him.
"Hey, Dustin. What are you doing sitting out here by yourself?" asks Bill.
"Are you waiting for your ride?" Speedy puts in as an afterthought.
Dustin jumps slightly, as if he hadn't even noticed that they were there. Once he sees them, however, his expression hardens and he turns back to his previous position facing the pavement.
"I'm waiting for my parole officer," he states with bile. "He's late. Again."
Exchanging glances once more, Bill and Speedy move several steps closer to the kid.
"Again? What do you mean by that?" asks the redhead in curiosity.
Dustin gives a disgusted snort. "He's always late. It doesn't matter if he's dropping me off at a doctor's appointment, at school, or at one of these stupid NA meetings. I always have to end up waiting here for an hour because he's out eating donuts or something."
A moment of silence passes, but at last, Bill speaks to him.
"In that case, do you want me to wait here with you? Sitting here alone for an hour without anyone to talk to sounds like it could get pretty boring."
Dustin gives another snort. "I don't need anyone waiting here with me. I'm not your grandson, old man, and I don't need a babysitter."
Bill doesn't appear offended at his words. Instead, he gives a sad sigh.
"Well, if that's what you want, then I guess I'll be going. I hope to see you back here on Wednesday, Dustin. It was nice having you."
Giving a bitter scoff, the kid replies with thick sarcasm. "Yeah. I bet it was."
Bill gives another sigh before stepping down from the sidewalk and onto the pavement. Turning around, he gives Speedy once last glance before departing.
"Bye, Roy. We'll see you Wednesday."
Looking over at him, Speedy gives a nod and a wave. "See you Wednesday, Bill."
With that being said, the man walks off. At this point Speedy would normally enter into the parking lot as well, get into his truck, and head back to the Tower where he will have to get another intense interrogation from the other Titans. For once, however, Speedy decides not to go find his car. Deciding that returning to the Tower can wait for a short while, he instead moves closer to Dustin and take a seat on the sidewalk approximately four feet away from him. When this happens, Dustin narrows his caramel-colored eyes at him in the form of a glare.
"I already said that I don't need a babysitter. Can't you people take a hint?"
Shrugging at the kid, Speedy responds easily. "Who says I'm babysitting? Maybe I'm just hanging out here with you because I don't feel like driving home yet. The traffic is heavy this time of day, you know? Driving all the way across town can be a real pain."
Eyes widening slightly, Dustin looks at him. "You live on the other side of town? But that's the 'good' side of town. How does someone from a place like that, end up at a place like this?"
Speedy gives a contemplative frown at his question. "You'd be surprised, kid. Sometimes it doesn't matter where you're from. No matter where you're from, an entire group people can still end up in the same place."
A moment of silence passes. Surprisingly, it is Dustin who breaks it this time instead of Speedy.
"You know, if that's the part of town you're from, I see why you don't tell your roommates that you used to be a druggie. In the end, all of them react the same way. They start treating you like you're a different person, or like you're not worth as much because you made one stupid mistake."
Closing his eyes, Speedy breaths in deeply before responding. "I know exactly how you feel, kid. Believe me. I've been there, done that." Pausing slightly, he adds, "That doesn't mean that my roommates are bad, though. To be honest, they're actually my best friends."
Dustin rolls his eyes. "Yeah, sure they are."
Looking over at him with surprised emerald eyes, he says, "No, it's true. I'm scared to tell them about my past, but they're still my best friends." Pausing slightly, he asks, "I'm sure there's still a while until your parole officer gets here. Do you want me to tell you about them?"
Giving an aggravated sigh, the kid nods reluctantly. "Sure, why not? I'm stuck here until the fat joke finally gets done with his donuts so he can get me. While you're at it, why don't you tell me your whole life story?"
Even though Speedy is more than certain that the kid is being sarcastic, he starts telling him about his life anyway. Much to his amazement, it really does take a full hour for his parole office to come. During that time, also to his amazement, Dustin's scowls, snorts, and bitter remarks become much less frequent. At some point the kid even shares a few things about his own life, and much to Speedy's happiness, he even laughs once or twice. Not just does it make him happy, but it also relieves him. No matter what kind of pain or turmoil a person has been through, Speedy always thinks that the ability to laugh should be retained. Without being able to laugh or smile, what's the point of life?
A/N: I really hope that you guys liked this chapter! Personally, I really enjoyed writing the scene with Marcy, as well as the scenes revolving around Speedy's NA meetings. For any of you who are familiar with things like Narcotics Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous, I hope that I portrayed things accurately. We've had to go really in-depth with substance abuse in the classes for my Human Services degree. Not to mention that five of the classes I've had within the past two years were taught by my favorite instructor, who has been a certified addiction counselor for the past thirty years. She always manages to incorporate information on addiction counseling and substance abuse, even if the class she's teaching isn't the Substance Abuse course.
So, in order to write the scenes with Speedy's NA meetings, I basically used the knowledge from my classes. Of course, I myself am not an addict, neither have I ever been to any of these types of meetings, so there is definitely room for reasonable doubt that I got some facts wrong. If this is the case to any of you who are familiar with NA and AA, I apologize if my portrayal was a bit off. Of course, I did try portraying it the best I could, as Speedy's past heroin addiction fascinates me, and I love digging into it deeper!
Again, I hope that this chapter was enjoyed by all of you. For any of you who care more about Damiana's room and costume than about Speedy's past, don't worry. We'll dig more into Damiana in the next chapter. Only two weeks are left until the end of this college quarter, and then I have most of September off! You can look forward to some serious updates from me in September!
Until next time, my friends!
Forever and Always,
OCQ