Work Text:
This is the first day of the rest of Raven's life.
That's what Robin told her, when they finished clearing the Fearsome Five out of the tower that Victor's father intended to be theirs. And Robin put a hand on her shoulder, and Raven knows she was trying to be comforting, but it didn't work.
She had been willing to subject herself to a life in Trigon's dimension before she saw the sheer depth of his cruelty. And now, it's possible that Arella is meeting the same fate.
Raven knows that most children don't refer to their mothers by their first names. Even on Azarath, that was uncommon. But as a child, Raven was not akin to most children. Raven was different. But in this context, different didn't mean special; it meant dangerous. Being different didn't come with privileges; it came with obligations.
Raven does not complain about these obligations, of course; she has seldom complained in her eighteen years of life. It accomplishes nothing. Complaining does not change anything; it only causes you to dwell on negative emotions. Peace can be found in the self. In the principles of Azar.
Raven can no longer find peace in those principles. And she knows that her mother can no longer find peace, period.
It's not fair, she thinks. Very little is fair where Trigon is concerned.
Raven stands outside the door to the room that is intended to be hers. She does not open it. She does not know what she'll see.
A presence walks in the hallway, approaching her. The emotions are strong: worried, victorious, and concerned. Koriand'r.
Koriand'r's intensity frightens Raven somewhat. Raven believes it's a good thing. Her passion to stand up for what she believes in. Her resistance to passivity. She is anti-Azarath in almost every way, yet still undeniably a good person.
Koriand'r's intensity frightens Raven because it's so damn enviable.
“Victor left with his father,” Koriand'r says.
Raven nods. She saw. She felt Victor's relief, distress, mourning, worry, love, self-hate, all of them war in his chest. It reminded her of the first time she came to Earth, except all of those conflicting and overwhelming emotions were held in one man. And the Titans gave Victor and his father company, and went back to their tower, the one Koriand'r called their home.
Raven does not have a home.
Neither does – or did – Koriand'r.
She is acutely aware of that fact.
“Have you seen your room yet?” Koriand'r asks.
Raven shakes her head.
“Do you want to?”
Raven supposes that she must. She opens the doors with a whoosh.
Inside, it is sparse. Unsurprisingly. Victor's father built the tower, and while there appears to be a comfortable bed it's not as if he would have decorated a room for someone he didn't know.
Raven walks over and sits on the bed that is intended to be hers.
Koriand'r is still standing in the doorframe, looking at her.
Does she hope Raven will alleviate her worry?
“Are you distressed?” Raven asks. “I can help relieve it – ”
Koriand'r raises her hand up, palm outward, gesturing her to stop. “That is... Is that kind?”
Why is she asking Raven? Does she not know whether she finds the offer kind or not?
“I did not intend you unkindness,” Raven says.
Koriand'r nods. “I assumed not. But you don't have to worry about my emotions, Raven. I don't want them to go away.”
Again. So damn enviable.
“On my planet,” Koriand'r explains, “Your offer might be viewed unkindly.”
“Oh. I'm sorry.”
“I suspected your intention was to be kind.” Koriand'r smiles slightly. Genuine affection blossoms in her chest. Her entire being is warm, like the sun.
She's so – so something it hurts. Authentic. Affectionate. Open. They don't even know each other. Raven lied to them.
Koriand'r steps one foot in the room that is intended to be Raven's.
“Are you feeling all right?” Koriand'r asks.
“I am fine,” Raven says automatically. The answer she always gives to that question. The safe answer.
“Your mother is a very brave woman,” Koriand'r says.
Guilt – unbidden, forbidden – stabs through Raven's heart.
Raven came to Arella for help, but Arella could not help her. She sent her back to Earth alone. Raven hadn't been able to hold back her resentment. Feeling as if Arella had given the same excuses as the rest of Azarath. Raven had not thought she was very brave.
And then Arella came anyway, to Trigon's dimension, to the man that represented the absolute nadir of her life, to rescue Raven. The daughter she hadn't asked for. The daughter of that same man.
Raven didn't get the chance to say what that meant to her, and now she never will. Her mother was distant during her childhood, but not of her own decision. Of Azar's. And then of Raven's, as Raven tried to fulfill Azar's wishes, to protect herself from succumbing to her father's influence.
Raven exhales slowly. She has already cried too much. She must not allow herself to cry more. She must not allow herself to be dominated by that which can lead her astray.
“I'm sorry,” Koriand'r says, and genuine sympathy floods from her to Raven as well as a tinge of envy –
Why is Koriand'r envious?
It isn't fair. Koriand'r's mother is not facing a fate worth than death, going against all she believes.
Raven looks away.
“You are also a very brave woman,” Koriand'r says.
Raven cannot feel that to be true.
The other Titans observed how she fled from battle. How she would not fight, despite observing its necessity.
Wouldn't Koriand'r, who clearly understands the necessity, be most frustrated with that?
But when Raven looks at her again, Koriand'r's face and emotions only indicate that she did feel it to be true, that she did think Raven was brave –
Why?
“I am not,” Raven says, a bit forcefully. “I am not brave, Koriand'r.”
She can still feel the tears in her eyes, begging to be let out.
Raven grabs Azar's ring on her index finger and gives it a quarter turn. Remember Azar.
“You were told your entire life that to fight is wrong, and you came to save the Earth,” Koriand'r says. “Even after the Justice League brushed you off. You went against what you were raised to believe. You went alone. That takes courage.”
Raven can't help it anymore. Her nails dig into her palms as her hands ball into fists and tears escape her eyes. She sees Koriand'r attempting to comfort her, entering her room, but she cannot allow it. Koriand'r is too emotional, too genuine, too much. She needs less. She sinks through the bed using her dimension shifting, disappearing into a cloud of smoke, and reappears in the basement.
That is better.
It's further from people. The lights are off. She can feel Koriand'rs disappointment and concern, but nothing too acute. Nothing worrisome or painful. She can feel Robin's worry as the woman she chose to be leader paces upstairs. Donna and Garfield are already gone, as is Wallace, and Victor is not back yet.
Raven allows herself to sink to the floor and sob.
It is not fair. Her mother is gone and she will never come back.
She grits her teeth, trying to keep the noise in.
It is not fair. She shouldn't even be feeling this. She knows what she risks –
She risks annihilating Arella's sacrifice –
She cannot even think of her as mother first –
It is not fair.
She digs her nails in her arms.
By necessity you must never experience love. To do so would be to destroy all life.
Arella loved her and she cannot even allow herself to experience it, to love her back –
Give yourself completely to the needs of others –
She has, hasn't she? She has when those in the Temple Azarath would not. She has done all that is required of her, everything that she could do –
And it wasn't enough.
Raven bites her lip to keep in a scream.
She must – she knows what to do.
She must meditate. She must clear her mind. She must breathe slowly.
One two three. Inhale.
One two three. Exhale.
The same process. Inhale, exhale. She must not allow herself to succumb.
Mother.
She cannot allow her sacrifice to be in vain.
Mother.
Raven wipes her eyes. Her hands are shaking and she doesn't know why.
She can do this. She can. Trigon is not threatening the Earth. She succeeded in her mission.
But the victory still feels so empty.
.
.
.
Koriand'r does not make any acknowledgment of their conversation last night when Robin lays out the plan.
She has been planning. Robin loves to plan, Raven has noticed. Robin talks about everything they need to do to get ready as a team, training exercises, and so on. Victor asks many questions about the training exercises as Robin explains. Victor's interest seems genuinely peaked. Garfield complains, asks what those who are already 'old hat' at this have to learn.
Robin explains, probably in greater detail than anyone could possibly want. Victor says, “All right, coach, we get it,” to cut her off and Robin blushes. As Robin blushes, some emotion stirs within Koriand'r. Lust.
Fortunately, Robin does not make them actually train today. She simply suggests that the team get to know one another. Victor suggests that it be via pizza party, because evidently that was tradition in his high school. Garfield heartily agrees and orders the pizza. Delivery to the 'giant building shaped like a T, you can't possibly miss it'.
Her team, though composed of outcasts, is so unlike her in every way.
Garfield, despite clearly annoying all of the girls except for her, seems to have no issue cracking jokes. Robin and Donna effortlessly reminisce about battles past while including enough detail that the others can follow and – Raven can tell with her empathic powers – feel included. Victor smiles easily. Koriand'r, despite being newer to Earth than Raven is, has no issues listening and participating. She even asks Raven, occasionally. What do you think of this? What do you think of that?
Raven excuses herself.
So that is what it would be like if she were allowed to be a regular teenager. She had not wanted to allow herself to imagine earlier, even if she could not stop herself.
She knows she will have to learn more about Earth. Arella should have told her more. She was raised on the planet.
On the few occasions Arella did speak of Earth, it was somewhat negative. It is a dangerous place. It is far better here.
Raven will not deny that danger is present.
Someone is approaching her.
Warm, welcoming, somewhat relieved, and the clink of his metal footsteps reveal it's Victor.
She knows he feels somewhat bad for having called her witch so often. Even if it didn't hurt her feelings much.
“Hey, spooky lady,” Victor says as he approaches her in the hall. But his demeanor is warm enough she knows he does not intend his words to be hurtful. “Gar's done doing his best impression of a garbage disposal eating the pizza, so it's safe to come back now.”
Raven attempts to smile slightly. She thinks he wants her to smile.
Victor leans against the wall and speaks casually: “It's kind of high school, but back when I was doing football, we had like, a pizza party at the beginning of the season, and a pizza party after big games.”
“Why?”
Victor shrugs. “Teambuilding, probably. You play better if you know the guy you're playing next to and actually like him.”
Raven nods. That seems logical. The team certainly worked better together when they weren't arguing.
Raven knows that Victor is making polite conversation. That she should probably make polite conversation back.
“How is your father?” she asks.
Victor smiles, a little sadly. “I think he's relieved. I was a real brat to him.”
“You were understandably upset,” Raven says.
“He tried to explain it,” Victor says. “I guess I kinda understand. I was dying. It's not like he could've asked me what I wanted.”
“He was trying to save your life,” Raven says. She understands. A parent's love for their child.
“He offered to see if any of the parents taped my old games,” Victor says, “So we could watch them together.”
Raven thinks that was nice? She says, “That sounds nice of him.”
Victor nods. “And in exchange, I offered to let him teach me how to Fourier transform out background noise from tapes.”
Raven furrows her brow. She doesn't know what a Fourier transform is.
“It's a joke,” Victor explains. “I mean, not me learning it. I am gonna learn it. But it being an exchange is a joke. We're just hanging out.”
That was not the part that confused Raven, but she doesn't say so.
“Are we hanging out right now?” Raven asks.
Victor smiles again. “Yeah. I'm guessing you don't wanna go back with the others?”
She wonders if he has some type of sensor in his body that can perceive more than a human can. Because she can sense Koriand'r coming up to them. She wonders if he can, too, and that's why he's asking.
Raven nods. “You guessed correctly.”
“That's fine,” Koriand'r says from behind Raven as she approaches. “Would you permit me to join you, though?”
Raven nods. Right now, Koriand'r and Victor are... not difficult to be around. Just feeling generally positive things. It may be enviable, but it's not extreme. It's not dangerous.
“I apologize if I was behaving inappropriately last night,” Koriand'r says.
Victor's eyebrow seems to raise at the surprise he feels.
“You weren't inappropriate,” Raven assures her. “It was simply... not a good time.”
“I understand,” Koriand'r says. And she seems understanding.
They are... trying to establish a connection. Raven can't understand why. But perhaps Victor is correct, and it is useful for team-building. So Raven decides to try to talk to them.
“Last night,” Raven says, “You said that I was brave. But previously you all observed I didn't join your fights.”
Victor rubs the back of his neck. Awkwardness and shame flare in him.
Why?
“I get you got your reasons,” Victor says.
“When I was a child, I was taught to fight,” Koriand'r says.
Raven's having a hard time following her.
Koriand'r continues: “It's easy to realize you need to fight if you have been taught. If you're prepared.”
Victor laughs slightly. “It would've been kind of nice to have been taught before I teamed up with you guys. Like, I got in some scrapes as a kid, but nothing like that. And I'd only ever tested my weapons in a lab before.”
Raven can't understand this: “Why did your father give you weapons? If the purpose was simply to keep you alive. They don't perform any vital functions.”
Victor's biological eye narrows. He becomes slightly guarded. “I think that's why he gave me the weapons,” he says. “My mom got killed by the same thing that nearly killed me. I don't really know if my sonic canons would work on it, but I think Dad wanted me to have something. I don't think he ever wanted me to be helpless again.”
Victor laughs at that. “It's funny. I wouldn't have ever considered myself 'helpless' before then.”
Despite his laughter, she can feel his pain. No longer very present, no longer very strong, but some lingering feeling of terror and hurt.
“You were a regular person,” Raven says. “You didn't have to worry about those things.”
Victor nods slowly.
Koriand'r puts her hand on his shoulder. She's trying to comfort him. It seems to be working.
“Teaching a child to fight would be like going against the teachings of Azar,” Raven says. “It would be viewed as corrupting innocence.”
Judgment can't help but emanate slightly from Victor and Koriand'r.
“Which would be a noble idea,” Koriand'r says. “Were the adults willing to defend the children's innocence.”
As she says this, bitterness creeps through her chest. Anger. Something –
Does she really hate those of Azarath so much?
Raven feels obligated to defend them, even though she knows they left her no defense.
“They believed what they were doing was right,” Raven says. Even if she can't help the knife that twists in her stomach, agreeing with Koriand'r's bitterness, Victor's judgment.
“I'm just glad we got you back,” Koriand'r says. And of course, like always, she seems to mean it.
Raven would love to be able to always say what she means.
“You are... good friends,” Raven says slowly, even if she's not sure they consider her as friends.
“You're not such a bad friend yourself,” Victor says, and clasps Raven on the shoulder.
Raven thinks this must be how those outside Azarath bond, so she puts a hand on his shoulder, too.
Raven is still confused by Koriand'r, she still doesn't understand her or the others very well. But this feeling, just being with Koriand'r and Victor, is not entirely unpleasant. And it is one she can allow herself to feel.
Not such a bad friend. That is someone she can be. Perhaps not for the rest of her life, perhaps for the moment. But the moment is what she will work with.