Alright, friends, here we go. I started this story more than 8 years ago, and completely abandoned it (and my account as a whole) after 3 chapters. I don't know if this fandom is still alive, but I've decided to jump back into writing, because I dearly miss it and I think this story has potential. I am going to do my best. I am a busy old lady nowadays, but I am living the stay at home mom life right now and I think it's the perfect time to get back into the swing of things here :) I hope someone out there reads this, but if not, it's good practice anyways! The plan is to edit/flesh out what I've already written, and then continue and complete the story from there. I know how frustrating it is to find a story you like abandoned, so I have high hopes of seeing this through (I do have a loose idea of where this is going this time, lol).

So if you're here, welcome, and I hope you like this story! Please review and let me know your thoughts if you are so inclined, I find it very motivating. Happy reading!

DISCLAIMER: Jk, I'm not doing disclaimers, I've always wondered if they were truly necessary so I have decided to tempt fate. Go ahead, sue me. I dare you.

[pls don't]

Chapter 1

A man with vivid emerald skin stood in the middle of the sidewalk, indifferent to the bustling world around him as he stared blankly at the newspaper headline glaring from the stand.

"THREE YEARS WITHOUT TITANS. WHERE ARE THEY NOW?"

Three years? Had it really been that long?

Three years since he'd played video games with Cyborg. Three years since he'd complained about helping Robin with paperwork. Three years since he'd choked down any Tamaranean cuisine. Three years since anyone had heard or seen any sign of life from Raven.

Three whole, entire years since he had been a Titan. A crime-fighter. A hero.

Well, that last part was debatable to some grateful patients, at least. The changeling now worked as a paramedic, taking time in between shifts to visit kids at the children's hospital, raising spirits one green animal at a time. Both occupations seemed to be a good use of his abilities. Every now and then, the opportunity arose for his powers to come in handy as an EMT- take, for instance, that time he'd entered a crushed vehicle as a mouse to assess for the best way of freeing the young, miraculously unscathed couple trapped inside. Or a couple of weeks ago, when he'd transformed into a cat to keep calm a young girl who'd climbed too high up a tree while the rescue mission was underway.

Mostly, though, he was good at his job due to the immense amount of first aid training and hands-on experience he'd received in his days as a Titan.

The man briefly wondered why he hadn't been sought out to interview for the article. He supposed it was because his former teammates, save for a certain empath, had chosen to remain relatively within the limelight. Though he certainly was easy to place; while he had reaped the more drastic benefits of aging, his green skin would always be a part of him. Whatever the reason he was passed over for the piece, he was grateful. Nowadays, Garfield Logan preferred to dwell on the sidelines. He'd take action if it were ever necessary, of course, but he always tried to get the proper authorities involved first. After all, it had been determined for him that it wasn't his responsibility anymore. Who was he to argue with whatever council had decided to end the Teen Titans? His crime-fighting days were over.

The same could be said for most of the other Titans as well. Robin- or Richard Grayson, rather- had unsurprisingly kept his foot in the door. He was now Bludhaven's star detective; just far enough from Batman to preserve his sense of self (and sanity), while still pulling strings in the efforts of wrestling villainy. Last Garfield had heard of Starfire, now going by Kori Anders, she had gone on to become a metropolitan news reporter, engaged to none other than Richard himself.

Victor Stone, his cybernetic friend and the only one he'd managed to remain somewhat in contact with, had opted to remain in the area as well. He was now a big-wig sports medicine doctor and researcher up in Star City, not too far from Jump itself. The pair met up for lunch or drinks once or twice a year, checking in with each other every now and then the way old acquaintances do. After the Titans disbanded, speculated to have been the courtesy of the then newly-appointed mayor, most of the team had attempted to stay in close contact with each other. However, as they adjusted to civilian life, it got more and more difficult to align schedules and keep promises until they all just... stopped trying.

To the others, it must feel like a lifetime ago. Staring at this newspaper headline, though, Garfield found he could hardly believe it had been more than a few months. Tears sprang to his eyes as long-suppressed emotions fought for their right to be felt. He groaned internally at the familiar sensations beginning to wrack his body- his chest tightened, muscles tensing of their own accord as his senses jumped into hyperdrive. The changeling finally wrenched himself from his stupor in front of the newspaper stand, ignoring the merchant yelling as he stumbled away. ("Hey, you're not allowed to read for free-!")

Garfield searched frantically for a secluded spot among the busy streets of Jump City. Zipping into an alley on his right, he walked just far enough to not be bothered by passersby before slumping against the red brick wall and roughly sliding into a sitting position. He drew his knees toward his chest, resting his arm and head upon them as he struggled to fill his lungs. With his free hand he dug lazily in his pocket for earphones, but gave up quickly and resorted to focusing on his breathing. Four beats in through his nose, eight beats out through his mouth.

four... eight... four... eight... four... eight...

He sniffed, letting his head fall back against the cool brick wall. Panic attacks fucking blow. They were fairly new to him, having occurred for the first time about a year prior and periodically since then. He had experienced bouts of anxiety throughout life, but nothing that had manifested in such a physical way before. Even the milder anxiety was something he'd only really felt comfortable discussing with Raven. It was one of the many things they had begun bonding over before being blindsided by the end of the Teen Titans.

He shuddered.

Raven.

Try as he might, it was impossible not to worry over the fate of the sorceress. Where had she gone? What could possibly have happened to her? If she was alone... If she still thought of them. Of him.

If she was even alive.

His stomach churned.

The last of them to have spoken to Raven was Kori, a little over a week after news of the city's decision had been brought to light. They had gone out for tea, and according to the Tamaranean, nothing seemed unusual. No matter how many times Gar had begged her to remember something that would help them find the empath, Kori's story remained the same. Eventually, he gave up. That meeting had taken place as everyone was getting settled into their respective new homes. They'd all promised to keep in contact and hang out frequently; no one had heard from Raven since.

Garfield jumped at the clanging sounds of a garbage truck emptying a dumpster at the other end of the alley. Yanked from his thoughts, he stood and brushed off his scrubs before this line of thinking sent him into another attack. Pushing the events of the past half hour aside, he reentered the crowded sidewalk and made his way to the hospital a few blocks away to begin his shift on the ambulance.

Over the years, Garfield had encountered the likes of Dr. Light, Mad Mod, and even Control Freak while he was on duty. So, as he strolled past room after room on his way to the EMS office to clock in, it should have come as no surprise when he caught sight of Adonis occupying one of the patient beds. And it didn't, not really. What stopped him in his tracks, however, was his former foe's appearance. Adonis was almost inhumanly pale, sporting deep circles under his dark eyes, which stared blankly ahead as he ignored the slew of questions from hospital staff and police alike. He didn't resist the restraints being placed on his arms and legs, didn't react to his surroundings at all... until, that is, he seemed to sense Gar's presence. Adonis appeared to suddenly return to reality, slowly craning his neck at an unnatural angle to make eye contact with the changeling standing at his door. His blank face suddenly grew a menacing grin, and a chill ran up Garfield's spine as he took a step back. Adonis's face was bruised and bloodied, becoming more so by the second as a nurse desparately tried to tend to a particularly large gash just above his right temple. By the looks of it, he shouldn't even be conscious, yet here he was mouthing something even Garfield couldn't quite make out with his animal hearing. He was so unnerved by the odd behavior that he took a couple more subconscious steps back before bumping into a pillar and snapping out of his daze; Any further thought he may have given the situation was interrupted by the urgent voice erupting from the walkie clipped to his chest.

"Logan! We need you downstairs, stat. Unknown code red situation on 9th."

Shit. 9th Street. Bad neighborhood. His neighborhood.

Garfield launched himself down the corridor and into the stairwell, taking the steps 3 at a time and making it to the ambulance bay barely a minute later.

"'Bout time, lard-ass. Stop at the cafeteria on your way down?"

The shape-shifter rolled his eyes at his friend's hypocritical humor. Roger was a rotund man, boasting thin-rimmed glasses, an impressive mustache, and a tendency to get winded after just about any physical movement.

"At least the cafeteria has healthy options, dude. Did the donut shop have to shut down to restock after you visited this morning?" he retorted smugly.

Roger grinned in response, patting his beer gut as he climbed into the driver's seat. Gar took his seat on the passenger side while Pamela, the third medic in their crew, strapped herself into the back. The smile faded from his face as they headed toward the scene; they usually got more details on the ride over, but no matter how long you called this your profession, it was hard to hide the jitters that accompanied these more serious calls. They rarely knew exactly what they were walking into, and this case turned out to be no different.

After a few sharp turns and a close call with a driver who doesn't know what lights and sirens mean, Garfield began recognizing the tell-tale signs of the neighborhood he called home- windows boarded up with plywood, rusting, booted cars, and even a tall, barbed fence surrounding the local playground. The ambulance screeched to a stop, beaten to the scene only by a couple of police cars. As he climbed out and opened up the back of the vehicle, he could hear the sirens of more units in the distance. The police who were already there had their hands full, with one officer focused on controlling the small crowd that had gathered while another kneeled over someone a few feet within an otherwise deserted alleyway. Roger jogged as best he could toward the latter officer to assess the situation, while Gar and Pam pulled out a gurney and other gear.

"Beast Boy!" someone in the crowd yelled as they rushed toward their companion. He shook his head at the outburst before a glimpse of deep violet hair splayed on the concrete stopped him dead in his tracks.

No. Fucking. Way.

"Gar, go!! What the hell are you doing?!" Pamela shouted behind him, shoving the gurney to get him stumbling forward again. They arrived at the victim's side and worked to lower the contraption, Gar's hands moving only by the grace of muscle memory as he took in the girl laying at his feet. She was clad in a simple lavender shirt, an oversized black sweater, and black leggings, all of which were shredded and splattered with red stains. Her waist-length purple hair was matted with blood, and her chest hardly moved as she breathed raggedly in and out. Garfield put every ounce of willpower into focusing on his job, picking up on the fact that Roger was already calling it in to emergency room staff.

"Female, 18 to 25 years old, no ID, critical condition. Standby," he said into his walkie talkie.

"23. She's 23 years old," Gar muttered as he went through the motions. He felt his body set to work while Roger amended his correspondence- lifting the girl onto the gurney, strapping her in, placing her in a neck brace, rushing back to the ambulance- but his mind was entirely elsewhere. He couldn't just pretend he hadn't noticed the gray-hued complexion, or the violet hair, or, oh yeah, the freaking jewel between her brows. His head was swimming and he struggled to fight off an intense wave of nausea.

"Gar, hey, listen," Pamela gently placed her hands on his shoulders as the ambulance began rushing back toward the hospital. She was a middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair, laugh lines, and infectious compassion that could give Starfire a run for her money. She waited for him to meet her soft stare before continuing. "I need you to focus, okay? We know why you're freaking out, we know who this is, but we need you. She needs you. Let's save her, yeah?" She flashed him a tiny smile and glanced between him and Raven, finally pulling him out of his shocked stupor.

"Right. Yeah. Okay."

And with that, they got to work. Pam fumbled through cabinets behind him as he thumbed open Raven's eyelids to check the dilation of her pupils. His breath hitched again when they revealed familiar amethyst irises, but he forced himself to keep going. He reached over her to grab a stack of gauze pads, applying several to the- knife? Was that from a knife?- wound in her side. Temporarily satisfied with that, he reached again for a roll of gauze as he gaped at the long gash in her thigh. He wound the bandage tightly around the laceration, wondering what the hell could have done this kind of damage. And why.

"May have a nicked femoral artery back here!" he shouted, panic creeping into the edges of his voice as he wrapped more and more gauze around her thigh, blood soaking easily through the first several layers. As Pam continued bustling around him, he held pressure to the leg wound, listening in on Roger's conversation with the hospital and knowing there was nothing else he could do for the time being.

"Police found her I.D. Rachel Roth, veteran. No medical info, no cell phone. She needs to be prepped for a deep lac repair and transfusion the second we arrive, may want to have an O.R. ready. She's lost a lot of blood. Two minutes out."

Gar drowned out the rest of the chatter, leaning forward to allow Pam access to the oxygen mask behind him. This was going to be the longest day he'd had in a very long time.

Well, I hope you enjoyed chapter one! I'll see how the length looks when I post, but since this is a prologue of sorts, I'm not too worried about it. Probably not as fleshed out as it could be, but hey, it's late, I'm tired, and this is currently my best. Feel free to read on, but I will be updating chapters 2 & 3 within the week and hopefully it will be an improvement from my first go 8 years ago. Cheers!