Chapter 21
Tom took a deep breath as he approached the main room where the Team was waiting. His thoughts raced with anticipation and a lingering nervousness, but he pushed them aside, steadying himself. Kaelith's presence flickered in his mind, her quiet warmth helping to anchor him.
"You've got this, Tom," she murmured. "They're curious, but they're not your enemies."
"Let's hope I don't screw this up," Tom thought back as he stepped through the doors.
The Team was scattered around the room, their attention turning to him almost instantly. Nightwing leaned casually against the central table, while Miss Martian hovered just above the floor. Superboy stood with his arms crossed near the back, his expression neutral but focused. Impulse and Blue Beetle were seated near the monitors, though they quickly perked up as Tom entered.
"Hey, you're back!" Impulse said, zipping over to him in a blur of speed. "We've been dying to know more about you. Like, where you're from, what you can do, what's with the—"
"Bart," Nightwing said, his tone calm but firm, cutting off Impulse's rapid-fire questions.
Impulse stopped mid-sentence, grinning sheepishly as he stepped back. "Right. One thing at a time."
Tom forced a small smile, his hands tucked into his pockets. "Uh, yeah, I figured you'd have questions."
Miss Martian floated closer, her expression kind. "If it's alright, we'd like to know more about you. Whatever you're comfortable sharing."
Tom hesitated, glancing around at their expectant faces. He felt Kaelith's encouragement in the back of his mind, but one question came faster than he was ready for.
"What about your scars?" Blue Beetle asked, his tone more curious than intrusive. "They're kind of... intense."
Tom stiffened slightly, his hand instinctively twitching toward his face before he stopped himself. "I'm... not really comfortable talking about that right now," he said, his voice quieter.
There was an awkward pause, the Team exchanging brief glances. Miss Martian nodded, her expression understanding. "That's okay. Whenever you're ready."
Tom exhaled softly, grateful for her response. I don't want their pity, he thought to himself. They don't need to know how bad it was—or how much of it there still is.
Nightwing shifted slightly, breaking the silence. "Alright, let's take a step back. Why don't we all introduce ourselves properly? We know your name's Tom—well, Riftwalker now—but you should know who we are."
Miss Martian smiled. "I'm M'gann M'orzz, or Miss Martian. It's great to have you on the Team."
"Blue Beetle," Jaime said with a grin. "Or Jaime Reyes when I'm not on duty."
Impulse waved enthusiastically. "Bart Allen, aka Impulse. Fastest guy in this room—and probably your new favorite teammate!"
Nightwing smirked. "Nightwing. I lead the Team, and I'm here if you have any questions or need support."
Superboy gave a short nod. "Conner Kent. Superboy."
Tom nodded in turn, he already had their names committed to memory. "Thanks," he said simply.
Nightwing leaned forward slightly. "Alright, now the obvious question—how'd you learn to fight like that? Because what you showed out there was something else."
Tom's stomach twisted slightly at the question, but he forced himself to answer. "My dad taught me," he said shortly, his tone flat and leaving little room for follow-up.
The shift in his voice didn't go unnoticed. The Team exchanged subtle glances but didn't push the topic.
Before anyone could ask another question, a faint shimmer of light and shadow appeared beside Tom. Kaelith stepped out in her human form, her dark, flowing hair and luminous skin giving her an ethereal presence. She adjusted her long, layered tunic, her tear-like scars catching the light as she glanced around the room.
"Whoa," Blue Beetle said, blinking. "Who's this?"
Kaelith inclined her head slightly, her tone calm but carrying a playful edge. "I'm Kaelith, Remember? I can change forms. You could say I'm... a familiar. Tom's partner in all things magical."
"Familiar?" Impulse asked, his curiosity piqued. "Like, you're bonded to him or something?"
"Exactly," Kaelith replied smoothly. "I'm here to support him, guide him, and ensure he doesn't do anything too reckless." She glanced at Tom with a faint smirk. "Which can be a full-time job."
Tom rolled his eyes but smiled faintly. "Thanks for that."
Nightwing studied her carefully, his analytical gaze taking in every detail. "A familiar. Interesting. And you're part of the package?"
"I am," Kaelith said simply. "You'll find I'm more than capable of holding my own."
Miss Martian smiled gently. "It's nice to meet you, Kaelith."
Kaelith's expression softened slightly. "Thank you."
Tom shifted on his feet, his hands tucked into his pockets as he glanced around at the Team. Their curiosity was palpable, but there was no malice in their expressions—just genuine interest. He felt Kaelith's reassuring presence in the back of his mind, but the knot in his chest still lingered.
"Look," Tom said, his voice soft but steady. "I'm sorry I'm not telling you much right now. It's not because I don't want to, it's just..." He hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting theirs again. "There's a lot, and it's not easy to talk about. But I hope... eventually, I'll get there. I want to be able to open up more, to really be part of the Team. And... I'd like to be friends with all of you."
Miss Martian's smile was gentle, her warmth cutting through the awkward silence that followed. "We understand, Tom. Take your time."
Blue Beetle nodded, his expression friendly. "Yeah, no pressure. We'll take what you can give us when you're ready to give it."
Impulse grinned, leaning slightly closer. "And until then, we'll just make wild guesses about your backstory! Secret ninja school dropout? Former spy? Alien prince?"
Tom let out a small laugh despite himself, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Not quite. But... I can tell you some things."
He glanced at Kaelith, who gave him an encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the Team, ready to share what he could.
"Well," Tom began, "here's what I can tell you..."
Hours passed as Tom shared what he felt comfortable revealing to the Team. He explained how he wasn't originally from their world, a fact that clearly piqued their interest, but he admitted he had no idea how he'd been brought to this one. The circumstances were a mystery even to him, one he hadn't yet unraveled.
He went on to explain Kaelith's role in his life—how she had been partnered with him when he first arrived in this world. Her job had been to watch over him, and she still did, but over time their relationship had grown into a true friendship. Kaelith was not just his guide and stabilizer but also his teacher, helping him unlock and refine his magic. He emphasized how much he relied on her and how much he'd grown because of her presence.
In turn, each member of the Team took the time to share a little about themselves. Some stuck to the basics, while others offered glimpses into their personalities and routines. They explained the structure of life in the Team: rigorous schedules filled with physical and combat training, teamwork exercises, and mission preparation. But there was also time for hobbies and personal interests, moments of free time that kept them grounded amidst the constant pressure of their work.
The conversations felt natural and unforced, and for the first time, Tom felt a genuine sense of camaraderie growing among them. By the time the Team began to split up for the night, the atmosphere was lighter, more relaxed. Miss Martian offered him an encouraging smile before floating out of the room, while Blue Beetle gave him a casual wave. Impulse left with a dramatic flourish, talking about how he had "so many more questions" but would "save them for later." Even Superboy gave him a short nod before heading out.
Nightwing lingered as the others left, stepping up to Tom with his usual composed demeanor. Without much fanfare, he offered Tom a short tour of the base, pointing out key areas like the gym, training rooms, kitchen, and communal areas. He explained a few basic rules and expectations, though his tone remained friendly and welcoming.
Finally, Nightwing led him to his room—a modest but comfortable space with a bed, desk, and personal storage. "This is your space," Nightwing had said before leaving. "Make yourself at home. Tomorrow's a new day, and there's a lot to dive into."
As the door closed behind him, Tom stood in his new room, the events of the day replaying in his mind.
A few hours later, Tom found himself pacing his room, his thoughts restless and tangled. He couldn't sleep, the weight of the day's revelations pressing heavily on his mind. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, he decided to leave. There was one place in Mount Justice he'd been curious about since arriving—the Grotto. It felt like the perfect place to clear his head, a quiet sanctuary to reflect and think.
The halls were quiet as Tom made his way through the base, his footsteps soft against the polished floor. His thoughts churned, lingering on the events of the day. He thought about the sparring match and the way the Team had reacted to his abilities. His fighting skill, something he'd always assumed was average at best, had been far above what he'd originally thought. Batman's surprise had been obvious, and Tom couldn't help but feel like the Dark Knight suspected him of hiding more than he actually was.
Tom traced a finger along the scars on his face, a self-conscious habit he couldn't quite shake. Batman wasn't wrong to question him, but Tom really hadn't thought his level of ability was worth mentioning. Apparently, his judgment had been way off. The realization left a strange knot in his chest, equal parts confusion and unease.
Then there was Impulse. Tom had recognized him immediately, but something about his presence felt off. If Tom's memory of the original timeline was accurate, Impulse shouldn't have been introduced to the Team yet. Something had changed—something big—and it worried him. If events were already diverging from what he knew, then how much of his knowledge could he still trust?
Despite the uncertainty and questions, there was one thought that kept breaking through Tom's worry. He was here. A member of the Team. Someone with magic, a power he never imagined having, and now he was walking the halls of Mount Justice, a place that once only existed on comic book pages. The surreal nature of it all made him grin despite himself.
His smile faltered as he remembered the sparring match—and the embarrassing moment when he'd hugged Superboy. Tom winced, running a hand through his hair as his face flushed at the memory. "What was I even thinking?" he muttered under his breath.
Kaelith's presence stirred in his mind, a warm and reassuring embrace that helped ease his embarrassment. No words passed between them, but her silent support was enough. He exhaled slowly, letting her presence ground him as he continued toward the Grotto.
When he finally arrived, the dimly lit chamber stretched out before him, its quiet majesty making him pause. The soft glow of the memorials illuminated the walls, each name a reminder of the legacy he'd now become a part of. For the first time that day, Tom felt a flicker of calm. Here, in the silence of the Grotto, he could let his thoughts settle and just... be.
As Tom sat in the quiet shelter of the Grotto, he finally gave way to thoughts he'd been avoiding for months. His gaze drifted over the glowing names etched into the walls, but his mind turned inward, back to his life before the portal. It had only been a couple of months since he'd been thrust into this new world, but he'd kept his past at bay, distracting himself with the present and all its chaos.
He hadn't grown up in a warm, loving household—not by a long shot. Raised by his father alone, Tom had never known his mother, who had died in a car accident shortly after he was born. At least, that's what his father had told him.
His father had always been a strict, demanding man. Friends were never allowed over, and Tom's free time had been consumed by endless martial arts training sessions. His father never explained the reason behind the relentless practice. Whenever Tom had asked, the question was met with anger, sharp words, or cold silence.
There were other things—details he didn't want to examine too closely now—but he couldn't deny one truth. Whatever else his father had been, he had been dedicated to making Tom a fighter. And apparently, a good one.
Tom exhaled softly, running a hand through his hair as he broke the silence. "Maybe I should start practicing again," he said aloud, though his words were meant for Kaelith. "I mean, just relying on magic seems like a recipe for disaster. Maybe it's time to mix in a few katas, get back to basics."
Kaelith's presence stirred in his mind, a flicker of warmth that felt approving. "It couldn't hurt," she murmured, her voice steady but encouraging. "The more versatile you are, the better."
Tom stood, glancing around the empty chamber. It was quiet—no one was likely to stumble in at this hour. He tugged his shirt over his head, folding it neatly and setting it aside. The scars crisscrossing his body caught the faint light of the Grotto. Some were long and jagged, others small and precise, each telling a story he wasn't ready to share.
With a deep breath, Tom settled into a ready stance, his feet planted firmly on the cool floor. His movements started slow, deliberate, as he began to flow through a familiar kata. Muscle memory took over quickly, each step, strike, and turn smooth and practiced.
As he moved, the rhythm became second nature, his mind quieting as his body fell into a trance. The motions came easily, as though no time had passed since he'd last practiced. His hands and feet moved with precision, the air shifting faintly around him with each strike and block.
For a moment, the scars and doubts faded. Here, in the rhythm of the kata, there was clarity—a connection to something he couldn't fully explain. The Grotto's soft light played across his form, illuminating the scars on his body, but he didn't notice. He was lost in the flow, the movements anchoring him in a way that nothing else could.
Kaelith's presence flickered in his mind again, silent but steady, her approval a quiet warmth that surrounded him.
As Tom transitioned into another sequence, his thoughts drifted back to his father. The image came unbidden, sharp and vivid in his mind. His father had been a tall man, broad-shouldered and imposing, with a presence that seemed to fill any room he entered. His face was always clean-shaven, his jawline sharp, his features rugged in a way that seemed permanently etched with sternness. His piercing gray eyes had a way of locking onto you, making you feel like he could see straight through any excuse or hesitation.
His father's dark hair had always been neatly combed, not a strand out of place, adding to the air of precision that defined everything he did. He wore plain, practical clothing—no logos or bright colors—always in shades of gray or black. His posture was rigid, every movement deliberate, as though even the smallest action had to serve a purpose.
But it wasn't just his appearance that stuck with Tom; it was the weight of his presence. There was a coldness to his father, an emotional distance that felt more like a wall than a shield. His words were often clipped, his tone sharp, leaving little room for warmth or comfort. Tom couldn't recall a single moment when his father had smiled—at least, not genuinely.
"Again," his father's voice echoed faintly in Tom's memory as he moved through the next set of katas. He could almost see the training room in their old house—the padded floors, the mirrors lining one wall, the faint scent of sweat and leather from the equipment. His father had stood off to the side, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as he watched Tom repeat the same sequence over and over.
"You're too slow," his father had said, the words devoid of malice but still cutting. "Your stance is too loose. Do it again."
Tom's movements faltered for a split second before he caught himself, his breath steadying as he pushed the memory aside. He didn't need to relive those sessions in full—not now.
Kaelith's warmth flickered again, pulling him back to the present. "Relax, Tom," her voice murmured, soft but grounding.
Tom nodded faintly to himself, his focus returning to the flow of his movements. The kata shifted, his strikes and blocks precise, his body moving with a balance of power and grace. Despite everything, he had to admit his father had taught him well. The years of relentless training had shaped him into the fighter he was now, a fighter that even Batman and Nightwing were impressed by.
He exhaled slowly, finishing the sequence and coming to a still stance. His body was covered in a light sheen of sweat, his breaths coming steadily as the rhythmic motions left him feeling lighter, as if he'd shaken off some of the day's tension. His muscles hummed with a familiar ache, the kind that came from focused effort rather than strain.
But his mind wasn't as clear. The image of his father lingered, a shadow that refused to fade, its presence heavier than the physical exertion he'd just gone through. Questions began to surface, questions he realized he should have had long ago. Why had his father insisted on such relentless training? Why the strictness, the isolation, the obsession with fighting? There had always been gaps in the explanations—or lack thereof—but Tom had never let himself dwell on them. Now, those gaps felt glaring, and the weight of what he didn't know pressed against his thoughts.
"Tom," Kaelith's voice flickered in his mind, calm but with a note of caution. "You're not alone."
The warmth of her presence was accompanied by a light mental tap, like a nudge to his consciousness. Tom's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced toward the entrance to the Grotto.
A figure stood there, half-shrouded in the soft glow of the memorial lights. The silhouette was still, watching him with an unreadable intent. Tom felt his heart quicken slightly, his muscles tensing reflexively. He didn't move, his body still rooted in the stance he had just finished.
Raven had always sought solitude in the quiet spaces of Mount Justice. Since joining the Team a week ago, she'd avoided most of the others, their emotions often overwhelming her. The Grotto had quickly become her refuge—a sanctuary far enough away from the bustling energy of her new teammates. Here, surrounded by the silent tributes to fallen heroes, she found a place to meditate, away from prying eyes and the noise of so many emotions.
Tonight, however, someone else had claimed the space.
She had sensed his presence before she saw him, a swirl of emotions both familiar and foreign. Curiosity tempered by unease. Determination mingled with doubt. But as she stepped closer, Raven froze. There was something... odd. The emotions she felt weren't singular; they came in two distinct waves. One set was undeniably his—layered, complex, introspective—but quieter than most of the others she had encountered. The second set was fainter, harder to pinpoint, but it was there. It felt steady, calm, and yet entirely separate, as though there were two people standing in one spot.
Raven hesitated, her brow furrowing. She had no explanation for what she was sensing, and the faint mystery of it only deepened her curiosity.
It was the new addition to the Team, the one she had heard about but avoided meeting. She had stayed away from the introductions; the idea of being in a room full of people—and their emotions—all at once felt too annoying. Azarath had shielded her from such intensity, the monks long ago had mastered controlling their emotions.
Raven had planned to leave the moment she realized someone was there. Yet, as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the Grotto, she found herself pausing. He was moving, his body flowing through a series of precise motions.
His movements were fluid, yet deliberate, each strike and block executed with a sense of purpose. His arms and legs shifted in perfect rhythm, his form a balance of power and grace. There was no hesitation in his steps, no wasted energy. It was almost... mesmerizing.
Raven's gaze drifted over his figure, and that was when she noticed them—his scars.
There were so many. They crisscrossed his arms, his torso, and his back, illuminated faintly by the soft light of the Grotto. Each scar told a story she couldn't read, but she felt their weight. Pain. Survival. A life lived far harder than his years should have allowed. She hadn't meant to linger, but her curiosity got the better of her. Who was this person, and what had brought him to this place—both the Grotto and the Team?
As he continued through his katas, Raven found herself drawn in, her plans to leave momentarily forgotten. His emotions weren't chaotic like the others she had encountered since joining the Team. They were layered, introspective, but oddly quiet. And yet, that second presence lingered, steady and faint, its source still unknown.
It wasn't until he stopped that she realized she had been staring.
His head lifted abruptly, his gaze snapping to where she stood in the shadows of the entrance. His posture was still, his body frozen mid-motion, but there was no mistaking the alertness in his eyes.
For a moment, neither of them moved
Raven stiffened, folding her arms over her chest. The faint glow of her dark energy pulsed at her fingertips—a reflex she didn't suppress. His stare wasn't hostile, but it was intense, and she realized too late that she had been caught.
"You're not the only one who comes here," she said finally, her voice calm but carrying its usual monotone edge. Her words hung in the air, breaking the silence but leaving the tension untouched.
His emotions shifted slightly—curiosity now laced with embarrassment. But beneath that, Raven felt another thread of emotion weave its way to the surface: confusion. It was sharp, distinct, and oddly focused, as though he were grappling with something he couldn't quite piece together.
The intensity of it caught her off guard. What could he possibly be confused about? The Grotto? Her presence? She couldn't tell, but it was potent enough to tangle with the other emotions radiating from him.
Raven folded her arms tighter, her dark energy flickering faintly at her fingertips as she tried to push away the distraction. He still hadn't spoken, and she found herself waiting, her gaze steady on him, unsure if she wanted an explanation—or if she should offer one herself.
Her mind brushed against that second presence again, faint and steady in the background. Whatever it was, it added an extra layer to the already intricate emotions she was sensing, making her curiosity grow despite herself. Something about this new teammate was different, and Raven couldn't decide whether that intrigued her or unsettled her.
What the fuck.
That was the primary thought racing through Tom's mind as he stared at the figure in front of him. Raven. Raven. She was standing right there, her calm, unreadable expression fixed on him. She shouldn't be here.
She had never appeared in Young Justice. She wasn't part of the Team in any way he remembered, so why was she here now, staring at him in the Grotto? Something fucky was definitely going on, and Tom was sure it wasn't a good thing. Maybe his presence was changing more than he'd realized—a butterfly effect he hadn't considered.
The implications churned in his mind, possibilities branching out in every direction. Was her being here part of some bigger shift, or was it unrelated to him entirely? Either way, it felt significant—and concerning.
Tom was so lost in thought that he almost forgot Raven was still standing in front of him. That is, until Kaelith gave him a sharp mental bump, pulling his focus back with an amused flicker.
"Focus, Tom," Kaelith chided, her tone tinged with humor. "And maybe remember that you're shirtless. In front of her."
Shit.
Tom's eyes widened slightly as the realization hit him. He was standing shirtless in front of Raven—a long-time fictional crush and the source of more than a few of his teenage fantasies. His thoughts immediately started to spiral, memories of old comics and shows flickering through his mind before he crushed them with a mental sledgehammer.
Nope. Nope. Not going there.
Clearing his throat, Tom scrambled to compose himself. "I—I apologize," he said, his voice steadier than he felt. "I didn't realize I'd be taking the space from anyone. I just needed a quiet place to get my thoughts in order."
As he spoke, Tom moved quickly to grab his shirt, pulling it on in one smooth motion. The familiar fabric was a small relief, shielding his scarred torso from view. He didn't look at Raven directly as he finished, though he could feel her gaze lingering on him, calm and assessing.
With his shirt back on and his thoughts slightly more under control, Tom took a breath, bracing himself for whatever came next. But the knot of confusion and curiosity in his chest refused to loosen. Why is she here?
Tom adjusted the hem of his shirt, trying to push down the rising tide of awkwardness and confusion swirling inside him. Raven still hadn't moved from her spot near the entrance to the Grotto, her piercing gaze fixed on him like she was trying to read his mind—or maybe his soul.
He felt Kaelith's presence flicker in his mind again, amused but patient. "You're overthinking again. Try breathing."
"Yeah, thanks for the tip," Tom thought back dryly, though he did take a slow, steadying breath.
He glanced back at Raven, her expression calm but giving nothing away. The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Tom shifted his weight from one foot to the other, debating whether he should speak first or just wait for her to.
Deciding he couldn't let the silence stretch any longer, he cleared his throat. "Uh, hey," he started, his voice a little uneven before he steadied it. "I'm Tom. Tom Martin. Or, uh, Riftwalker, if we're going with code names."
He paused, glancing at her expectantly. He didn't want to call her by her name without hearing it from her first, even though every part of him wanted to blurt it out just to confirm she was really here.
Raven tilted her head slightly, her piercing gaze unwavering as she studied him for a long moment. Finally, she uncrossed her arms, her tone cool and even. "Raven."
Tom nodded, trying to play it cool despite the millions of questions swirling in his head. Raven. She's here. And she just said it, so it's real.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence settling around them again. Tom fought the urge to fidget, his mind spinning with possibilities but his body still as he waited to see if she'd say anything more.
Tom scratched the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze for a moment as he tried to piece together his thoughts. "I didn't know you were part of the Team," he said carefully, testing the waters.
Raven's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of curiosity in her gaze. "I joined a week ago," she replied, her monotone voice calm but firm. "I keep to myself, so you wouldn't have."
Tom nodded slowly, though the response only raised more questions in his mind. A week ago? Why? She hadn't been part of this world in the Young Justice timeline he remembered. Her presence here didn't fit, and that nagging sense of unease crept back in.
Raven's eyes narrowed slightly, and Tom realized too late that she might be sensing the confusion practically radiating off him. He forced himself to relax, though it felt like trying to smooth out a crumpled piece of paper.
"Sorry," Tom said quickly, trying to steer the conversation away from the awkward tension. "I've just... had a lot on my mind. The Grotto seemed like a good place to think. Didn't mean to take up your space or anything."
Raven tilted her head slightly, studying him. "It's not my space," she said after a moment. "I just come here because it's quiet."
Tom nodded again, the tension easing just slightly. "Yeah, same," he admitted. "It's a good spot for... all the stuff that doesn't make sense."
For the first time, he thought he saw the faintest hint of a smirk tug at the corner of her lips, though it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
"Agreed," she said simply.
The silence returned, but it felt less suffocating now. Tom resisted the urge to fidget, instead letting himself settle into the quiet of the Grotto once more.
The silence returned, but it felt less suffocating now. Tom resisted the urge to fidget, instead letting himself settle into the quiet of the Grotto once more.
But inside, Tom was dying. What am I supposed to do here? Raven wasn't making this conversation easy, and he had no idea what her deal was. If she didn't want to talk, why didn't she just leave? Or was she waiting for him to leave? Her expression was unreadable, and she wasn't exactly known for being the type who enjoyed small talk.
Tom's mind raced for a solution. Anything to break the weird tension without making it worse. Then it hit him—Raven was an empath. She could sense emotions. That had to be part of what was making this so awkward, right?
Kaelith, he thought, reaching for her presence in his mind. Is there any way you can, uh, suppress my emotions or something? Block her from sensing them?
Kaelith's warmth flickered, her tone calm but tinged with faint amusement. "I've been doing that to a degree already," she replied. "She can still sense your emotions, but they're muted—softer. I could block them completely or even fake them, but I haven't done that. Yet."
Tom blinked, both surprised and slightly relieved. You can completely block them? Why didn't you say that earlier?
"Because it wasn't necessary," Kaelith said smoothly. "But if you want me to shut them down entirely, I can. Just say the word."
Tom hesitated for a moment before sighing internally. Yeah, do it. Block them. Please.
The shift was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Tom felt it immediately. Like a door closing in his mind, the weight of his emotions seemed to dim. The awkwardness, the tension—it was still there, but it felt distant, like something he could observe instead of feel.
Then Raven's head whipped toward him, her eyes narrowing sharply. "What did you just do?"
Tom froze, his heart skipping a beat despite the muted sensations Kaelith had created. "I... What?" he managed, his voice cracking slightly.
Raven took a step closer, her gaze fixed on him with a new intensity. "Your emotions. They just... stopped. Completely. That doesn't happen."
Tom swallowed hard, his brain scrambling for an explanation that wouldn't make things worse. "Uh... I don't know what you're talking about?" he said, his voice higher than he wanted it to be.
Raven's expression didn't shift, her piercing gaze locked onto his. "You're lying," she said flatly.
Tom winced, his mind racing as he silently screamed to Kaelith. Okay, this was a bad idea. Undo it! Undo it!
Kaelith sighed, the faintest flicker of exasperation brushing his thoughts. "Fine. It's your mess."
The door in his mind reopened, and Tom felt the flood of his emotions return all at once—awkwardness, confusion, and panic crashing over him in a wave.
Raven's eyes narrowed further, her posture tense as she studied him. "You did something," she said, her voice calm but edged with suspicion. "I don't know what, but I felt it."
Tom raised his hands defensively, his mind spinning for a way out of this. "Look, I didn't mean anything by it, okay? Just... call it a mistake."
Raven didn't respond immediately, her expression unreadable as her gaze lingered on him. For a long moment, the tension in the Grotto felt almost unbearable. Then she folded her arms again, the faintest flicker of curiosity crossing her face.
Tom took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax, though his nerves were still jangling. He glanced away from Raven, trying to muster up whatever shred of dignity he had left. "You know what?" he said, his voice a bit too fast. "I think I'm just gonna head to bed."
He rubbed the back of his neck, taking a step back toward the entrance. "Sorry for, uh, taking the spot. Didn't mean to mess up your... thinking time or anything." He hesitated, then offered a small, awkward smile. "Good night, Raven."
He turned to leave, eager to escape the overwhelming tension. The air felt heavy, her gaze still pressing against him like a physical weight.
"Wait," Raven said, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
Tom froze mid-step, turning his head slightly to glance back at her. Her arms were still crossed, her expression as calm and unreadable as ever, but there was something different in her tone—not sharp or cold, but firm.
"You didn't mess up anything," she said, her voice low but steady. "You needed the space as much as I did."
Tom blinked, unsure how to respond. "Uh... thanks?" he said, though it came out more like a question.
Raven tilted her head slightly, her piercing gaze still locked on him. "You don't have to run away every time something feels uncomfortable."
Her words hit harder than he expected, and Tom felt a faint flush creeping into his cheeks. "I wasn't running," he mumbled, though even he didn't believe it.
Raven didn't reply, but the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, just enough to make Tom wonder if she was messing with him. After a moment, she turned her head slightly, her gaze drifting back toward the memorials on the walls.
"Good night, Tom," she said simply, her tone soft but final.
Tom stood there for a beat longer, then nodded quickly, even though she wasn't looking at him anymore. "Good night," he muttered before finally retreating, his steps quick but not hurried.
As he left the Grotto and stepped back into the quieter halls of Mount Justice, he let out a long breath, the tension easing from his shoulders. His mind was still racing, replaying the encounter in an endless loop.
Kaelith's voice flickered in his mind, her tone laced with amusement. "Well, that wasn't awkward at all."
"Don't start," Tom thought back, shaking his head. But despite everything, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of relief.
Author Note: Some of you might have noticed that the mental dialogue between Kaelith and Tom is sometimes bolded and sometimes not. I blame uploading the document to the site as it does not convert everything perfectly. And I don't have the patience to fix it everytime. Besides that I appreciate you all for reading my story thus far!