Change.
Things change, people grow up and life goes on. But what will happen when the Titans move on with their lives and one by one leaves? Growing up is hard. They still are, and always will be friends, is what they all said, but the Titans...were no more. BBRAE-ROBSTAR
...
Chapter One: Departure.
...
Richard was the first to go, and they would be lying if they said they hadn't seen it coming. Ever since his grand Nightwing transition—a momentous shift that symbolized his departure from the shadow of his mentor—he had been changing. The transformation marked a new era in his life, one that should have signified growth and empowerment. But instead, it felt like the beginning of his quiet withdrawal. The anticipation of change lingered in the air, thick and unspoken, casting an invisible but undeniable weight over the Titan's Tower. His presence, once a steady and grounding force, had begun to waver.
Even Kori, the one person he had always confided in, found herself on the outside. The bond they shared, once a foundation of trust and warmth, had become strained by the words left unsaid, by the silences that stretched too long between them. He had shut her out, not out of malice, not out of anger, but for reasons he had refused to put into words.
The day itself had started like any other. The city hummed with life beyond the Tower, the sky streaked with the soft hues of a waning afternoon. Yet within their home, the air was different, charged, heavy. Richard was tense, his movements precise yet detached, as if operating on autopilot. The others noticed, but none of them voiced their concerns. The boys, more accustomed to Richard's occasional bouts of introspection, brushed it off as another one of his brooding phases. But Raven, always perceptive and attuned to the emotional undercurrents, knew that something significant was unfolding.
She had felt the shift in him long before today. It wasn't just the usual storm of emotions that brewed within him, it was something deeper, something final. And now, as he stood before the towering window, his silhouette dark against the golden cityscape, she could all but hear the echoes of his internal conflict.
From across the room, Raven studied him in silence, her empathic senses picking up on the weight of his thoughts. He had made up his mind. That much was clear. But still, he hesitated.
"Richard, are you okay?" Her voice was soft, careful, seeking to pierce through the emotional barricades he had erected.
Richard turned to her, offering a small smile—one that barely masked the weight pressing on his shoulders. It was practiced, polite, the kind of smile meant to reassure rather than reveal. But Raven saw through it.
"I'm fine." He said, the words smooth but hollow. His voice carried the cadence of someone trying to convince himself as much as her.
Raven held his gaze, the skepticism evident in her expression. Silence stretched between them, thick and expectant, as if waiting for him to revise his answer. When he didn't, she arched a brow, wordlessly daring him to say something more.
Richard exhaled through his nose and cast a glance back toward the city, as though searching for his thoughts in the skyline. He knew Raven, with her ability to navigate intricate emotions, would eventually unravel the truth. "I was just thinking about supper." He added casually, as if that were the real reason behind his brooding. His fingers tapped absently against the window frame. "Tell the others I'm going to cook tonight."
It was an obvious deflection, and Raven knew it. But she also knew Richard well enough to recognize when he needed space to sort through his thoughts. Pushing him now would only make him retreat further. So, instead of prying, she gave him a slow nod. "Alright." She murmured, but the look in her eyes conveyed that this conversation wasn't over.
Richard's dedication to the evening's preparations was evident in the kitchen. The space was alive with the rhythmic clatter of utensils, the bubbling of simmering sauce, and the warm, inviting aroma of homemade pizza. The scent of freshly rolled dough, rich tomato sauce, and melting cheese mingled with the crisp hint of herbs, creating an intoxicating warmth that seeped into the very walls of the Tower.
Beyond the kitchen, the rest of the team lingered in hushed conversations, their voices brimming with speculation and curiosity. The air crackled with the unspoken tension of anticipation as they considered the myriad possibilities of Richard's impending announcement. Whispers of potential changes in his superhero identity, a new hero name, or even a declaration of love and a proposal for Kori floated through the room, heightening the atmosphere of uncertainty. However, the reality was about to be more profound and life-altering.
As Richard surveyed the table during the meal, the initial warmth he felt from the laughter and camaraderie of his friends gradually dulled, replaced by a growing solemnity. The joy in the room was genuine, but now, to him, it carried an undercurrent of something bittersweet—like a memory being made even as it was slipping away. This was their family, their home, their history together. And tonight, he was about to change it forever.
The weight of his decision sat heavy on his chest, pressing down like an unseen force. He had known this moment was coming for a long time, but knowing didn't make it easier. Sensing the gravity of the moment, he steeled himself and cleared his throat, the subtle sound cutting through the noise of clinking silverware and quiet conversations.
As he pushed back his chair and stood, the room instinctively fell into a hush. Every eye turned toward him, their expressions shifting from relaxed curiosity to something more attuned to the weight in his stance.
He forced a smile, a last attempt at normalcy, though it faltered at the edges. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I went through the trouble of preparing this dinner." He began, his voice steady but carrying an almost imperceptible tremor. "I wanted to celebrate us—this team, this family. And I couldn't have asked for a better one. We've had a great ten years together." He continued, his voice dipping slightly. "But things change."
The warmth drained from the room in an instant, replaced by a thick, leaden tension. The shift was almost tangible, the unspoken concern settling in their chests.
"It's been an honor leading you guys." Richard pressed on, forcing himself not to waver under the weight of their expectant stares. "But it's time for me to start a new transition in my life."
Victor was the first to break the silence. "Dick, what are you saying?" His voice was firm, questioning, but there was an edge to it, like he already knew but didn't want to believe it.
Richard inhaled sharply, steadying himself before delivering the words that would change everything. "I'm leaving the Titans."
The declaration dropped like a bomb, the weight of it reverberating through the room. It was one thing to suspect it, to sense something shifting in him, but to hear it, to have it confirmed in such simple, irrevocable terms, sent shock rippling through them all.
Silence stretched out, thick and suffocating.
Garfield let out a forced chuckle, shaking his head as if trying to dispel an illusion. "Is this some kind of joke?" His voice wavered slightly, grasping for any sign that Richard was messing with them.
But Richard's expression remained solemn. He didn't say anything, didn't need to.
Kori, who had been eerily quiet, suddenly stood so abruptly that her chair scraped against the floor with a sharp, jarring sound. Her hands clenched at her sides, and for a brief moment, she simply stared at Richard, her face unreadable beneath the storm of emotions battling within her. Then, her composure cracked. Her breath hitched as she lifted trembling hands to her face, barely managing to suppress a sob before the tears began falling freely. A deep, shuddering inhale later, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her departure leaving behind an almost deafening silence.
"Kori, wait!" Richard called, already abandoning the table, his chair toppling in his haste.
The remaining Titans sat in stunned silence, staring at the space where Richard had stood, where Kori had broken down, where their entire world had just shifted. The scent of the meal still hung in the air—a cruel reminder of the night that had begun as a celebration but had unraveled into something far heavier. Something final.
Richard ran through the dimly lit halls, his heart pounding in rhythm with his hurried footsteps. The overhead lights flickered intermittently, casting long, distorted shadows that stretched across the walls—twisted reflections of the turmoil raging inside him. The Tower, once a place of laughter, of purpose, of belonging, now felt hollow, its silence deafening as he chased after Kori.
Reaching her door, he didn't hesitate. He pushed it open without knocking, the urgency of the moment outweighing any sense of decorum. The air was thick with emotion, an almost tangible weight pressing down on the space between them.
Kori stood by the window, her back to him, her shoulders trembling with silent sobs. She had always been a beacon of warmth, radiating light even in the darkest of times, but now, she seemed small, fragile, a silhouette outlined in sorrow.
"Kori, I'm sorry." The words felt insufficient the moment they left his lips, but they were all he could manage. His voice, usually so steady, wavered under the weight of his guilt, cracking slightly as it filled the room.
Kori flinched at the sound of it, her fingers clenching into fists at her sides. "Why are you leaving us, Richard?" Her voice was raw, trembling with a mixture of heartbreak and desperation. Slowly, she turned to face him, her emerald eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Why are you leaving me?"
The question struck him like a blade, sharp and deep. He could barely hold her gaze, the sheer intensity of her anguish forcing him to look away for a brief moment before he gathered the strength to meet it head-on.
"I know this feels sudden, Kori, but I've thought a lot about this." He said, his voice low, almost pleading. "The Titans don't need me anymore. Jump City doesn't need me."
Her eyes widened slightly, disbelief flashing through them before it was replaced with something fiercer, something wounded. "But I do." She shot back, her voice carrying a quiet ferocity.
Her words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the reasoning he had convinced himself was sound. He had expected anger, even resentment. But this? This raw, unguarded plea—this shattered something in him.
His jaw tightened as he struggled to hold himself together. "Kori, you mean the world to me." He admitted, the truth in his words evident in the way his voice softened. "And it kills me to hurt you like this… but I have to go."
Kori let out a shaky breath, her expression twisting in pain. She searched his face, desperate for something, anything to grasp onto. Some reassurance. Some loophole in his resolve. But all she saw was a man who had already made up his mind.
Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something, to argue, to beg, but no words came. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut, turning her face away from him as a fresh wave of tears spilled down her cheeks.
When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of finality. "Then go."
Richard opened his mouth to respond, to offer some semblance of explanation for the pain he was causing, but the words refused to come. What could he possibly say to make this easier? To make it hurt less? There was nothing, no justification, no apology, no carefully chosen phrase that could mend what was already breaking.
He sighed heavily, the weight of his unspoken emotions pressing down on him like an unbearable force. His eyes lingered on Kori for a moment longer, filled with regret, sorrow, and all the things he wished he could say. But in the end, silence was the only truth he could offer her.
With a slow, reluctant turn, he forced himself to leave, each step feeling heavier than the last. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing Kori in the dim quiet of her room, where she stood motionless in the shadows, drowning in the reality of what had just happened. He didn't have to see her to know, he could feel the shattered pieces of her heart, the love they had built now fractured beyond recognition.
...
Richard wasted no time. The moment he reached his room, he grabbed a duffel bag and set to work, moving with a quiet, practiced efficiency. Every movement felt mechanical, a distraction from the storm raging inside him.
If he let himself hesitate, even for a second, he might start to doubt himself. The sooner he left, the better. For everyone.
As he zipped up the bag, the soft creak of his door broke the silence. He didn't have to turn around to know who it was. He exhaled slowly, steeling himself before speaking. "I'm sorry, guys, but you can't talk me out of it." His voice was steady, but it lacked its usual conviction.
"Dude, why are you doing this?" Garfield's voice was small, carrying an uncharacteristic weight of sadness. He stood near the doorway, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, like he was trying to hold himself together. His expression was raw, a mix of confusion, disappointment, and something dangerously close to betrayal.
Victor, standing beside him, shook his head. "Yeah, man. I don't know what kind of midlife crisis you're going through, but we can help you through it." His usual lightheartedness was absent, replaced by a genuine, quiet concern.
Richard sighed, finally turning to face them. "I'm not going through any midlife crisis. I just… feel like it's time for something new."
His gaze swept over them, landing on Garfield first. "We aren't kids anymore." He said, his voice laced with nostalgia. Then, he turned his eyes to Victor, the oldest among them. "We've grown up. You don't need a leader anymore." A heavy silence followed.
Garfield scoffed under his breath, shaking his head before muttering. "Yeah. Whatever." With that, he turned and left, his departure echoing with the kind of hurt he wasn't ready to voice.
Victor, however, remained, his expression unreadable as he studied Richard closely. He didn't speak right away, giving him one last chance to say something, to explain himself in a way that made sense. But Richard stayed silent.
So Victor spoke instead. "Okay, I get that change is inevitable, and I understand wanting a fresh start." His voice was calm, measured. "But are you really going to begin this new transition without Kori?"
Richard tensed. And Victor saw it. The way his fingers tightened around the strap of his bag. The way his jaw clenched for just a second. The way his carefully composed expression faltered, if only briefly.
"Kori is a Titan." Richard said finally, his voice carrying a forced certainty. "She belongs here, at the Tower."
Victor looked at him confused. "You are also a Titan." There was no accusation in his tone, no anger, just a quiet, painful truth.
Richard shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching downward. "Not anymore."
Victor's expression softened, though the sadness in his eye deepened. He inhaled slowly, then let out a heavy sigh. "If you say so."
And then he, too, turned and walked away, leaving Richard alone in the dim room, surrounded by everything he was about to leave behind.
As Richard put the final touches on his packing, the room felt heavier, as if the very walls carried the weight of his unspoken farewells. His fingers lingered over the zipper of his duffel bag before he let out another sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as the burden of his decision pressed down on him.
Then, he heard the soft footsteps at the door. He didn't turn around. He didn't have to. "Guys, I already told you. You can't talk me out of it—" He began, his voice laced with exhausted finality. But as he turned, his words faltered, catching in his throat the moment his eyes locked onto Raven.
She stood in the doorway, arms crossed loosely over her chest, her expression unreadable yet piercing all the same.
"I'm not going to try and talk you out of it, Richard." She said, her voice quiet and measured. She stepped further into the room. "I just wanted to say goodbye."
Richard glanced down, the unexpected weight of the moment heavier than he'd anticipated. Of all the reactions he'd faced tonight—Kori's devastation, Victor's quiet disappointment, Garfield's hurt—this was different. There was no anger in Raven's voice, no attempt to guilt him into staying. Just... acceptance.
"I hope you find whatever you're looking for in Gotham." She finished, her tone softer now, more personal. There was no sarcasm, no judgment, just the raw sincerity of someone who knew him too well to pretend this wasn't inevitable.
Richard's head snapped up, surprise flashing across his features. "How did you know I was going to Gotham?"
Raven didn't answer right away. Instead, she studied him with that same knowing gaze, one that stripped away all his walls with ease. Then, she simply tilted her head. "Old habits die hard."
...
Goodbyes were never easy, and Richard couldn't escape the heaviness that clung to him. No amount of preparation could have made this moment feel right. He had wished for something smoother, a farewell filled with understanding and acceptance, but circumstances dictated otherwise. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that leaving was the right choice, the weight of his decision pressed down on him, suffocating in its finality.
As he stood at the exit of the Tower, his packed bag slung over his shoulder, the silence around him felt unnatural, too thick, too charged with the emotions left unspoken.
Victor and Raven stood close by, their presence a quiet acknowledgment of the gravity of his departure. Neither of them tried to stop him. They had already come to terms with the fact that Richard Grayson had made up his mind. Instead, they simply stood there, their gazes filled with an understanding that somehow made it all the more painful.
Garfield, however, was not so composed. He stood stiffly a few feet away, arms crossed, his usual lighthearted energy completely absent. His face, often animated with laughter and mischief, was now twisted in an unfamiliar turmoil. His jaw was tight, his arms crossed tightly across his chest, and despite his best efforts, the sheer hurt in his expression was impossible to ignore.
Beyond the common area, within the corridors of the Tower, Kori remained unseen, hidden in the spaces between where she had once felt at home. The harsh overhead lights did nothing to soften the stark devastation written across her tear-streaked face. She couldn't bring herself to stand beside the others, couldn't bear to look at him, not now, not like this.
Her entire world had just unraveled in the span of a single night. Eight years. Eight years of love, of trust, of building something together, only to have it shattered without warning.
The Tower, once a place of unity, a place where they had all grown together, now felt hauntingly hollow. It no longer felt like home.
...
Two agonizingly long weeks had passed since Richard's departure, and the Tower had yet to recover from the wound he left behind. The headquarters, once filled with life and the constant hum of camaraderie, now stood as a hushed and hollow monument to the void in their team. The halls seemed to echo with a quiet melancholy, shadows playing on the walls as if mirroring the unresolved emotions lingering in the air.
The common room, which once echoed with laughter, now bore only the quiet murmur of half-hearted conversations. Training sessions lacked the same energy. Missions, while completed successfully, felt mechanical, as if they were simply going through the motions. Despite their attempts to carry on with their lives, the absence of the fifth member of their team cast a persistent shadow over their daily routines.
But no one had felt the loss more profoundly than Kori.
She had been inconsolable in the days following his departure. The light that usually radiated from her had dimmed, her once effervescent presence reduced to fleeting shadows of what she once was. She barely spoke. She barely ate. If not for the team's quiet yet unwavering efforts, she might have disappeared into her grief entirely.
The boys took turns preparing meals for her, small gestures meant to keep her strength up, though she often picked at her food without appetite. Victor left warm cups of tea outside her door, while Garfield, despite his own heartache, tried to coax a smile out of her with jokes that never quite landed.
Raven spent the most time with her. Late into the nights, she would sit with Kori in her room, holding her as she sobbed, stroking her hair as tremors wracked her frame. She said nothing, but her presence was steady and unwavering.
And then, one day, everything changed.
As the first golden rays of morning bled through the curtains, Kori finally emerged from her room. She walked into the common room with an unexpected sense of grace, shoulders squared, chin lifted. Her friends turned, startled by her presence.
"Good morning." She greeted them, her voice carrying a warmth that hadn't been there in weeks. A small, confident smile tugged at her lips, though the pain still lingered in her eyes.
For the first time since Richard left, she looked alive again.
But before they could fully process the shift, she took a deep breath. "I have decided." She announced calmly. "That I will go to Gotham."
The room fell into silence.
Garfield's mouth opened slightly, as if to protest, but no words came. Victor rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling deeply. Raven simply watched, her expression unreadable. No one tried to change her mind. Because they could see it, the resolve in her stance, the unwavering certainty in her voice. This wasn't a question. This was a declaration.
They exchanged glances, silent acknowledgments passing between them. They had already lost one member of their family. Now, they were losing another.
Kori turned to each of them, her smile tinged with sadness, and one by one, she embraced them. And then, with nothing but the clothes on her back, Kori left the tower. She took one last breath, one last look at the home she was leaving behind, before taking to the skies. In a burst of light, she soared into the night, disappearing into the horizon.
The emptiness that followed seemed to reverberate within the empty space, marking another significant shift in the Titan's once unbreakable bond. The Tower, once a place they could all call home, felt smaller than ever.
...