Fan Fiction ❯ Embracing the Darkness ❯ Chapter 7 – The Late Barnabus Collins ( Chapter 7 )

Chapter 7 - The Late Barnabus Collins

 

During the years I spent on Azarath when I was very young I was all too aware of what I was destined to do. It was something that, whether intentionally or not, was constantly reinforced during my day-to-day life. Save for the few monks who educated me and saw to it that I was in good health no one was allowed to have physical or, to an extent, even verbal contact with me for fear of my father's influence.

 

From an early age I knew that once my eighteenth birthday came around I would be destined to free my father from his exile and thus bring about the destruction of everyone and everything I ever cared about. Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night screaming and I would look hopefully around my bedchamber, despite my fear, in the hope that someone would have heard me.

 

In my youth I hoped that someone would come and I wouldn't have to be alone. But my prayers went unheeded, nothing changed. After a while I knew better than to think that someone would come and comfort me in my despair. So I looked my destiny straight in the face, saw the hell I was fated to create, pictured it in my mind instead of solely in my nightmares, and got used to it. At the time I had no other choice. In those days when it came to my personal problems and insecurities I had no one to depend upon but myself and, after a while, that was enough.

 

Years later I came to Earth and with the formation of the Titans found myself living under completely different circumstances with people who didn't simply care about me but also sought to understand me. If they guessed or imagined I had some personal problem they'd become concerned and press me to explain what was troubling me. These were the sort of people who'd have come to my aid if they'd heard me screaming in the night…and I hated it. I hated the attention they gave me, the attempts they made to draw me out of my room, my sanctuary.

 

The British poet John Donne once wrote, “No man is an island, entire of itself.” I was raised from birth specifically to be an island: independent, solitary, and complete. After all those years it was hard for me to be anything else.

 

Because of the isolated experience of my childhood (if you could even consider it a childhood by Earth's standards) combined with the knowledge of my destiny I'd learned to carry myself very well. I never acted or showed a tendency to be overly emotional or fragile no matter the circumstances. If there was some problem that concerned the team as a whole or if an individual member needed help I did my part along with the others. If I had a personal problem I dealt with it on my own. That was just the way I'd been raised to do things.

 

 

“How did this happen? How could we let this happen!” Robin shouted as he went over the details of Mr. Frid's death for what must've been the twentieth time in under a half an hour. He'd had it faxed to the Tower as soon as Cyborg had woken him along with Starfire and Beast Boy. It was a detailed fifteen page long report covering most every aspect of the scene where the body was discovered from the locations of bits of debris from the explosion to which piece of what had been the man was which.

 

No one had the heart to come up with a response lament. Starfire, who didn't have the stomach to read the report, was pacing around the main room wringing her hands in dismay. Beast Boy and Cyborg were watching the news report in apparent disbelief as it played out once more on the giant television monitor. We'd never had a casualty in the, as hard as it may be to believe we'd had a perfect record up to that point. In most circumstances an effort would be made by the police to have everyone moved out of the way when a situation arose that required the Titans. But even so it was nothing short of a miracle when considering the sort of villains we faced.

 

I could understand how the others felt. Robin's perfectionist attitude would never allow this sort of thing. I knew when I first saw the news story that he'd want Gizmo apprehended as soon as humanly possible, regardless of whether or not it was an accident on the part of the pint-sized mechanic. From the others I sensed a profound feeling of grief, regret, guilt, even shame. If it had been any other person, even though I knew full well the possibility of this sort of thing happening always existed, I would have probably felt the same way. But at that moment I didn't know how to feel.

 

I sat on the couch, calmly sipping a glass of water, occasionally studying the now cold piece of pizza that still rested on the coffee table in front of me. He was the vampire who attacked me, the one who destroyed me, I was sure of it. The report even included the silver wolf's head cane he'd used to strike me down in the park.

 

The death of the monster Barnabus Collins brought me no sense of satisfaction or relief. It only succeeded in making my situation all the more unsettling. He'd sought me out, flown across the country to find me and turn me, and his reasons were lost with him. Why me? Was it out of some perverse interest he'd developed over my celebrity status? Was I just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or was there more to it?

 

I couldn't help but entertain the idea that Barnabas had been an emissary of my father, Trigon. It certainly made sense to me at the time given my negative perspective on my situation. What better way to diminish my humanity than to turn me into a beast that would prey on humans? Yet…that was all speculation. I had no proof, all the answers died with him. At least I found some morbid sense of comfort in knowing it was possible for a vampire to be killed providing enough bodily harm was caused. The last of my last resorts.

 

By the time I finished my water it was already a quarter to midnight. The others had been awake for a little over an hour. I'd been awake for well over twenty-four hours and felt no fatigue. I felt like I'd never be tired again.

 

“Damn it!” Robin slammed his fist down on the coffee table causing my abandoned meal to rattle and all eyes to turn to him. “Why didn't we notice this guy!”

 

“Man, calm down,” Cyborg began. “He must've just got caught up in the fight and took cover, hid in that alley. If I were him and I walked into that kind of fight I'd probably've done the same thing.”

 

“That answer's not good enough for me. We save people, we don't let them get killed in the crossfire.”

 

“Dude, give it a rest alright. Yeah, it sucks and all but there's no use in getting all crazy and angry about it,” Beast Boy.

 

“Fine Beast Boy. Do you know why I shouldn't be angry about this? A person got killed on our watch feet from where we were standing and we didn't know about it till hours later when bits and pieces of him were picked out of the rubble!” he stood up as he spoke, towering over all of us, practically yelling the words. Beast Boy backed down. I hadn't seen Robin this unstable since Slade.

 

“Robin, please listen,” Starfire said resting a hand on his shoulder, restraining him the way only a loved one could. He eventually relaxed and sat down with her. “This is indeed a terrible occurrence, but anger will not change anything. We should concentrate on finding Gizmo, not on finding fault with outselves,” she regarded him with a sorrowful yet understanding gaze that would have moved even me.

 

Robin took a deep breath in response to Starfire's words before he spoke again. “But what about you Star,” he spoke softly as though he were uncertain about what he was saying, “what about how angry you were about what happened to Raven last night when you thought she'd been killed. Are you saying that because we didn't know this man we shouldn't angry about this? That we shouldn't have Gizmo `in chains here within the hour' because he wasn't one of our friends?”

 

Starfire then slowly removed her hand from Robin's shoulder, hurt. “Robin, that is not fair.”

 

He looked away from her then and buried his face in his green-gloved hands, rubbing his forehead as though he had a headache, before turning his attention to me. “Do you have anything you'd like to add Raven?”

 

“Robin, there's no point in getting so needlessly passionate about this. The possibility of someone getting injured or even killed has always existed. No one was at fault in this, today just happened to be the day it happened.”

 

“Or maybe,” Robin began thoughtfully, “maybe it was just that we were one person short.”

 

“Robin, you're not gonna say what I think you're gonna because that is taking this crap too far,” Cyborg jumped in.

 

“Is it Cyborg?” Robin yelled. “Raven, you were attacked and nearly killed two nights ago. This morning, after you recovered, you said that you weren't well enough to fight the HIVE. But you were still well enough to go traveling all over the city. You even went all the way up to Ashford for God's sake.”

 

“What of it,” I responded.

 

“What of it? You could've made a shield to catch those missiles, something no one else on this team can do. If you were capable of doing everything else you've done today you should've been able to do that.”

 

“Well we'll never know, then, will we?”

 

Robin growled in response to my words. If he was looking for a fight, something to vent his anger on, I wasn't going to provide him with it. I stood up from where I was seated on the couch, thanked Cyborg for the pizza, and headed off for my room.

 

“Raven. I want to train with you in the gym tomorrow morning, 6:00 if you don't mind,” Robin called after me. “I want to see just how much your accident has affected you.”

 

I didn't stop to respond and only continued on to the safe confines of my room as I could hear the others berating Robin for everything he'd said to me.

 

 

Upon entering my room I was surprised to find my bed clean of any sign of the mess that had covered it earlier that morning. Starfire had stripped the bed and cleaned the sheets for me. Somehow, it made me feel sorry that I wouldn't be able to use my bed that night. It also unnerved me to know that Starfire had been that close to my blood supply while I was away.

 

I neglected to change into my nightclothes and remained in my black hooded sweatshirt and jeans. I filled my glass with the medical blood I had hidden and took a seat in my reading area. I knew I couldn't completely deny myself the blood but I felt that it would do me some good to try and control the urge that compelled me to drink the whole glass down. So I nursed it along, taking small sips every so often using every ounce of will I could muster to keep myself in check.

 

Some time ago the Titans had thwarted an attempted robbery of an antique shop. Out of appreciation for our efforts the storeowner gave us an old Edison Phonograph. I ended up taking the device for myself considering no one else showed a liking for it. The sound quality wasn't anywhere even remotely close to modern in its clarity. And yet, I found a certain retro-charm in it. It only came with one cylinder for my use, a recording of Archibald Joyce's Song d'Automne. The first time I'd played it I thought it was a lament. Upon further investigation I found it was a waltz. Joyce was actually known as the “English Waltz King.” None of this, though, lessened my affection for the piece, as scratchy as the recording was.

 

So that night I played the four-minute long recording as I sipped my blood and thought about all that had transpired and what it meant.

 

Weeks he said it would take. The thought alone was enough to make me despair. I had the distinct feeling that I simply wouldn't be able to last that long. I hated to admit it but the medical blood I was drinking wasn't lessening my hunger. It wasn't even having any lasting effects. It wasn't enough to keep me going. Would there be anything left to save by the time Dr. Lang had found a cure, if he ever did? I didn't allow myself to dwell too long on those thoughts and instead simply listened to my music.

 

As the final seconds of the recording winded down, and I was about to take my last sip of blood, Beast Boy knocked at my door, somehow I sensed that it was he. I stopped and wondered for a moment what it was that made me think that before he knocked again.

 

“Raven um…can I talk to you for a minute,” there was an uncharacteristic softness to his voice. I frowned, it seemed they all thought Robin had seriously hurt my feelings. Perfect. More attention was just what I didn't need at that point. Given the opportunity they could find out about my condition, providing that they didn't smother me first with affections that I didn't want or need.

 

I turned off the phonograph, hid what remained of my glass of blood among the volumes on my bookshelf, and drifted quietly towards the door.

 

“What is it Beast Boy?” I asked the green changeling as the door slid open. “Do you have any idea how late it is?”

 

“Yeah, its 12:30. I know. I couldn't sleep and, I'm guessing you couldn't either.”

 

I ignored the sympathetic look he gave me. “I'm sorry if my playing music at this hour caused you discomfort. I was planning to turn in now anyway.”

 

“Into what?” he said with a smile and a giggle.

 

I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose, “Is this what you came here for Beast Boy? To make jokes.”

 

“Oh no, I just…wanted to talk to you about earlier, what Robin said and everything, and about last night. Mind if I come in?”

 

“In lieu of having my door knocked over like the last time you tried to get in?”

 

“Hey, that was Cyborg who did the door breaking.”

 

I smirked briefly, stepped aside and gestured for him to enter. He gave me a quizzical look, surprised that I'd actually allow him to enter let alone honor him with a smile, however small it may have been. Realizing that I truly meant for him to enter he slowly stepped over the threshold. If the other Titans were overly worried about me then it would be best to put a stop to it as soon as I could. The worst thing I could do for my cause would be to seal myself away in my room.

 

Although I'd always done it in the past, after my apparent near-death experience my solitary nature would carry a greater meaning to them. It could very well give them the impression that I was cutting myself off from the world perhaps due to insecurities arising from my experience. I had to appear open with them, if only to make them believe that nothing was wrong with me. Convincing Beast Boy would be far easier than convincing the others, but it would be a start.

 

I returned to my seat while Beast Boy moved to the other side of the room and began to play idly with a large globe I had, spinning it slowly.

 

“So, how are you feeling? Better?”

 

“Yes, the meditation I performed after I was attacked managed to heal the severest of my wounds. Beyond that I'm as well as I was before I left that night.”

 

“That's great to hear. Um…you do understand that what Robin said…he didn't really…”

 

“Beast Boy, I've been on this team long enough to understand how Robin thinks and reacts to these sort of things. He was just looking for a target to vent his frustration at and that just happened to be me.”

 

“So…what he said didn't bother you?”

 

“Not in the slightest. I'm sorry if you expected me to be depressed about it. I just took Robin's comments for what they were: the ineffectual outraged remarks of a person whose pride has been wounded.”

 

“So, you're going to train with him in the morning like he told you to?”

 

“I don't see why I shouldn't. I think it's a good idea to see just what exactly I'm capable of after my accident.”

 

“Yeah,” he stopped spinning my globe suddenly, “about that accident, we've all been meaning to ask you about what happened but none of us have had the chance. Given everything that's happened today it's not hard to see why. I mean, first we couldn't ask last night cause' you needed your rest and all, then we couldn't ask you this morning cause' we all got called out on a mission, and then we couldn't ask you all day cause' you were gone, and then…” he was rambling.

 

“Beast Boy, relax, I get the point. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what happened myself. It all feels like some sort of bad dream that I can't seem to remember clearly. I guess that's why it doesn't really bother me.”

 

“Yeah, but Raven you do realize that the guy that tried to kill you is still out there somewhere. He could come after you again.”

 

“Somehow I doubt it,” Beast Boy looked at me awkwardly obviously not understanding my meaning. “In any event this whole ordeal has at least taught me to be a little more cautious when I go out for a nighttime stroll”

 

“Yeah,” he trailed off averting his gaze to the floor. “Raven, I'm really sorry about what I did. If it hadn't been for that stupid movie I rented then none of this would have happened. We almost lost you Raven…we almost lost you and it was my fault.”

 

“I was the one who left the tower Beast Boy. That was my decision and I made it with a clear mind so stop thinking that right this instant. I don't blame you or any of the others for this. The only one responsible is the one who attacked me. No one else.”

 

The green changeling then looked me straight in the eye with that same concerned expression he'd been wearing since we'd started talking. “So, you're actually alright with the fact that we might not catch this guy?”

 

I smiled at his words. “Beast Boy, people like the man who attacked me have a remarkable tendency to get just what they deserve. You can trust me when I tell you that that.”