Fan Fiction ❯ Tried and Tested ❯ Part III: Win-Win ( Chapter 3 )

Edit: April 29, 2005: I am never going to be completely happy with my writing. Anytime I re-read it, I'm always going to find stuff to change. This time, however, I only changed a few words here and there and attempted to make a few scenes a little tighter. Nothing you would probably notice if I didn't tell you. I looked to make sure, but if you're seeing some words smushed together, it's FFN, not me.

A/N: Blame this one on all the people who reviewed again saying they liked Part II and wanted to see more. Yeah…and on my muse that just had to work this out to its conclusion, so here's where all the build-up's been coming…eheh…hope you like!

Disclaimer: I'll be lucky if I can pay back my student loans when I graduate in 3 weeks. Course I don't own `em…I don't actually own anything except Lola (my laptop) and she's kinda rickety in her old age and acts up on random moments. :grabs Lola possessively and turns wild, crazy eyes: Don't take Lola!

Special A/N: Okay, so I'm posting this on both my new Teen Titan dedicated account as well as on the old one. The new account will also have posted up (as soon as I finish editing it) (eh...make that at the very least in three days cause I just opened the new account and they don't let you upload anything for three days) a short, like one page epilogue to this story. Then that's it. That's all she wrote. The fat lady has sung. I'm putting this baby to bed, and…eh…any other euphemisms I can't think of right now. When I get back to thinking about it, I'll probably delete it from the old account and leave it up only on the new one. So, yeah…if you want to put me on your author alert to see what new TT goodies I might come up with, if you want to read the epilogue to this little puppy and if you just…eh…wanna? Here's the new one (as always, remove spaces)

www . fanfiction . net / emaniahilel

Very creative, no?

Win-Win
By Em

“Don't forget that I meant to win”
- Hammering My Head, Garbage

It had become a habit—a dirty little secret that he wasn't altogether sure she was unaware of herself. But he knew. And he knew that she had been right the night before: he wasn't the good little boy everyone always thought he was. If he were good he would not be thinking of what he was thinking…he would announce his presence and stop watching her like a stalker. But he was weak.

He knew she would be in there. He could already hear the music. He had stood at the door to the training room, hand positioned to open it, but hadn't been able to make himself go through with it.

`What would it hurt?' he thought. There was no one else in the Tower, the others having gone to a car show downtown. He had already admitted to her that he liked to watch. And shouldn't she come to expect that he would be there? He had been the other two times and he hadn't hidden that from himself either.

She had seemed even more quiet and withdrawn than usual all morning and every time he had been about to approach her, someone else came into the room and her look had seemed to warn him against speaking.

He was weak, he decided. Weak and a little bit addicted. There was something about watching her when she was unguarded that he couldn't deny wanting. And so he sat in the darkened control room, only the light from the monitors in front of him lighting his face. He watched her carefully, trying to look at her as a trainer and not as a man. It wasn't easy to avoid getting lost in watching how her body moved, but he had at least some modicum of self control and managed to focus on her technique, looking for flaws and her skill level. He had felt those blows come at him, he had seen her quick reaction time first hand, but watching her from a distance, he could easily pinpoint the technique.

He had not, however, realized that she had also been learning with tapes of his bo-staff training. He watched her as she went through several of the movements, the music through the system definitely rock, but slow, steady, just like her movements still were. It wasn't as graceful as her movements during T'ai Chi Chi Gun, but the potential was there.

He noticed the music for the first time as she twirled with the bo in a tight circle, but only because she seemed to almost be dancing, until she came to a dead stop and spread it out along side her, calling out a soft, “hya,” as she did.

“How does it feel to treat me like you do?”(1) This was more like the type of music he had originally thought she would go for. Dark, hard, and almost tortured. The guitar and drums erupted around her and she was back in movement.

“When you've laid your hands upon me and told me who you are?”

He grinned when he realized that she hadn't been lying when she said she had used his style just as a basis…this was her own style. She was doing the same moves, but the forms that he tended to use were changed.

“I thought I was mistaken…I thought I heard your words…”

Where he would have come out of a turn and swung down, she came out of the turn and swung to the side. Where in his own basic training, he would have twirled it and brought it before him, reading to deflect, she twirled it in her fingers to then swing it down.

The singer's monotone broke into a scream with the chorus, demanding, “How does it feel?” the bo-staff sliced the air, “How should I feel?” she turned on a crouch, “Tell me how does it feel to treat me like you do?” it sliced upward in an arc.

She twirled it in several spins before extending it in what would be a strong blow to her left, then right, then left again, all the while walking. He had seen this move, too. It was meant to tune his coordination.

“I still find it so hard… to say what I need to say…”

Her eyes were focused as the bo staff flew around her as if she were fighting an enemy that she didn't need her eyes to see.

“…but I'm quite sure that you'll tell me…just how I should feel today.

She stood with her arms close together, the bo in one hand pressed against her side and he knew the move she was preparing for too. As the music upped in preparation to repeat the chorus, she ran, long, even steps and pushed off the ground. His eyes recognized the misstep seconds before she took it, and although she sailed into the air and her form was good for maximum height, she hadn't caught enough push and she came down at the ground too fast to complete the kick-swipe with the bo. She fell onto the ground, the practice bo clattering next to her into the silence of the fading song and a muttered, breathless oath escaped her lips.

He watched her, wondering what she would do with the pain of the fall. She had come down on her foot hard and although she had managed to keep from twisting it as she fell, it had to hurt. The next song began and she just absently rubbed at her bare ankle. `Another mistake,' he thought critically. She should've wrapped her ankles before she began.

She could notice the smallest details of his moves, but she hadn't noticed that he always had his ankles wrapped when he first practiced to avoid injury? He frowned at her lack of thought to her own safety, but he found the worry being pushed almost completely aside as, moments later, she twirled to a crouch, wincing only a little. She stepped on her foot without limping and he realized both that it hadn't been too bad (not as bad as it could've been) and also that he was unaccountably proud of how she handled it. `As if you've had something to do with it, Rob,' he thought to himself. He had no real reason to be proud except that she had used him as a model. He hadn't done any training of her…yet.

The next song was already by the chorus when she started working the bo in twists and turns between her hands, limbering up her finger's dexterity and familiarity with the staff weapon and he could see the determination and focus on her face.

Figuring he'd better get in there before she tried another dangerous move without adequate protection for her feet, he made his way to the main room, already numbering in his mind the faults they'd have to work through. When he opened the door, he was surprised to find her priming for her next attempt at the run-spin-kick-swipe move. He had not anticipated that she would try for that one again so soon. He didn't interrupt, however, and instead watched silently as she once again pushed off two seconds too soon and, unable to gain enough altitude, came down too fast to complete the revolution of the move.

This time, she took it with less patience as she came face to face with the ground again, beating her fist against it. “Damnit!” she exclaimed, turning into the crouch and reaching out for the bo which had rolled away from where it had fallen only to stop an inch or two from his feet. She searched the ground and found his feet, her eyes traveling up to find the bo in his hands.

He twirled it easily in his hands and watched her, his head cocked to the side as she stood up and faced him, surprise at finding him there in a moment of defeat.

“Looking for this?” he asked as the song faded into a softer sort of rock song.

Her chest was heaving with the effort and surprise but she didn't look pleased to see him. “I guess I don't need to ask how long you've been watching me this time, do I?” she countered, stretching her back in order to avoid touching it in an attempt to soothe the place where she fell. She had suspected that he might start to watch her at any moment, but why'd he have to see her fall? `Damnit all to hell!' she thought vehemently, not bothering to wonder why she was so easily angered today. It had taken her constant falls and slip ups to master all that she had already. She knew what it was like to miss something and try it again and again until she got it, so why was anger so close to the surface now? `Because he wasn't watching me before,' she answered herself.

“You don't have to teach this to yourself anymore, you know?” he said, walking into the room and shedding his shoes in a casual way. The bo-staff was still twirling and moving as he kept it, almost absently, in constant motion. It was what she had noticed in the tapes…why she had waited until she had got the other things before attempting to learn the staff. It seemed to be an extension of his arm, an extension of his movement.

“I don't like to fail so miserably in front of an audience, thank you very much,” she replied snippily.

“You're just going to get hurt if you do it the wrong way,” he pointed out casually.

“As opposed to any of the other things I taught myself?” she challenged.

He was almost in front of her now, and with a flick of his wrist, the tip of the bo had extended before him and stopped just inches from where her feet had been. Luckily, her reflexes had kicked in and she had stepped back when she saw it coming at her. She was angry that he had so suddenly attacked her, until she realized that the bo had stopped a good three inches from where she had been standing…he wouldn't have hit her, even if she hadn't moved.

He looked down at her bare feet. “Your ankles need to be wrapped to practice jump moves,” he pointed out calmly. His voice had already taken on that of the teacher. “Or you'll hurt yourself when you land wrong.”

Something about it only upped her anger. “Thanks for the tip,” she replied caustically.

He raised an eyebrow, but started walking again, the bo still moving as if he thought better with it in movement. “Most of your technique is good, but you rush into the jumps, you force the push off and then doubt yourself immediately once you're in the air,” he critiqued.

She clenched her hands. Why was she so angry? She couldn't figure it out. It couldn't just be that he had been watching when she failed, could it? No, she had been angry even before that. Why?

He must have seen something in her eyes, because the bo stopped moving and he started for the benches. “Come on, we'll wrap your feet and we can start with the bo if you like.”

She walked to the benches and he took her arm and sat her down, pulling the tape from its place nearby and crouching before her. When she realized that he was already unrolling the tape and started to grab her left foot, she stood up. “I can wrap my own feet, thank you,” she told him.

He looked up at her and casually hooked his hand behind her foot, pulling it out from under her easily so that she fell unceremoniously back into the bench. “Obviously,” he told her. “It's why they're so well wrapped already, huh?” he asked sarcastically motioning her bare feet.

She took offense to his tone and started to stand up again, but he must have sensed the tension of her body as she prepared to, because in one smooth motion he had leaned forward to cage her between the wall at her back, him at her front and his arms on either side of her where he braced himself a mere inches from touching her. His voice, when it came, was light and casual even if the meaning in it was as serious as sin: “You stand up again before I've wrapped your feet properly, Raven, and you'll force me to get physical.”

Then there was the quirk of his lips, which seemed to be begging for her to try him and she realized that the anger had been simmering inside her all day, and at her nearly overwhelming desire to wipe that grin off his lips, that it had been directed at him. This, she realized, was becoming a very bad habit. They teased and fought and tempted in these sessions, but hardly spoke out of them. Why should she care? Why should her mood be dependent on his attentions to her, she wondered?

He took her lack of movement for acquiescence and pulled away from her to crouch back down close to her legs. She looked down at the head of dark hair bent once again over unwrapping the tape and wondered, briefly (almost academically) on what it might feel like to touch.

As if to illustrate an answer to her question, his hands wrapped around her bare left foot and pulled it onto his lap.

She was aware of his cool fingers as if she had become suddenly hyper-sensitive to touch. Her hands clutched at the edge of the bench under her to avoid pulling her leg out of his hold while he tenderly wrapped the tape around and around, tight enough to hold but not too tight.

The music changed again and the next goth song suddenly felt overwhelming. In annoyance, she reached for the nearby remote control and pressed the off button, the singer's voice cutting off abruptly.

He looked at her at the sudden silence, then quickly went back to work, tying off the first foot and reaching for the other.

She resolved herself to allow it, but was starting to seriously think this wasn't such a hot idea. She had begun the day thinking to apologize to him for the words she had spoken so cruelly the night before, but her pride wouldn't allow her to approach him and it seemed every time it looked like they would have a moment to themselves, one of the others would interrupt. And when she had looked at him, questioning whether or not he would still speak to her, he had looked at her and turned to them as if she didn't matter. Her hands clenched around the remote.

Apparently, the motion brought his attention back to her. “Why the music?” he asked suddenly.

His words would've been intrusive, if it wasn't because his voice was so soft. She found herself blinking stupidly at him, being caught out of her thoughts but unable to recall what he might have asked.

“The music?” he pressed, glancing up at her and then back down to his diligent task. “You've got all kinds of music…” finished, he exhaled and slowly let go of her foot, sitting back on his haunches to look up at her. “You usually like quiet and peace and…” he grinned a little. “It was the music that woke me up that night, you know.”

He hadn't finished one complete thought in that whole attempt, she realized, but she knew what he was asking. And for some reason, she found herself trying to explain. “Music is emotion,” she answered. “It brings out things sometimes you can't or don't know how to say.”

She had answered without really thinking about it, and it wasn't until she had finished that she wished she hadn't.

He looked pleased. “So, what you're saying is that music is a way for you to experience emotion, then?”

She had started to answer, but realized that she didn't want to talk about music. She stood up and this time, he didn't stop her. “Robin…” she started, walking toward the center.

“Okay,” he said into the silence. She seemed like she wanted to say something, but didn't know how. So he would get her adrenaline up some more, hope that freed her up enough to say what she had to. He picked up the bo-staff he had set aside to wrap her ankles and threw it at her. She caught it automatically and looked at him, confused. “Let's see what you got,” he told her, grabbing another practice bo from where they were kept.

They fell easily into sync as he took her through several steps which she could follow in relative ease. And although he told her to keep her eyes focused forward when he was walking around her to better look at her form, his eyes remained on her, even when they moved side by side as she attempted to emulate the movement of the staff. And when she would stumble over a move or seem confused or as if she were not following, without her having to say a word, he would pick up on it and stop to help work her through it.

She was surprised to realize that he was a patient teacher. And it wasn't until, sweating from their efforts, he had paused in his inspection of her form to absently remove his t-shirt that she noticed it. He walked to the benches to drop it off before starting back to her without realizing that she was staring.

“Come on, Rae, you're not tired yet, are you?” he asked, coming back toward her.

She still didn't move. She was staring at the piece of black satin ribbon tied around his neck and glittering in the overhead lights against his slightly tan skin like a necklace.

Was that her…? She couldn't finish the thought. It looked like her ribbon that she had given him the night before. But would he have been wearing it all day? And what was this feeling inside her at the thought that he might have?

He must've noticed her eyes on it, for he fingered it around his neck. “What?” he asked almost defensively. “Once you give it away, you can't take it back,” he gave her a challenging look, “Are you going to tell me how I can use your token?” he asked teasingly.

Which brought her eyes back to his. She hadn't had any place to keep his mask except under her pillow, but when she had awoken in the morning, it had been to find it clutched in her hand.

She shook her head and put down the bo. She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't play this game…not anymore. It was getting too close. It was becoming too tied to her emotions. It was ceasing to be a game. “We need to talk,” she said without preamble.

He wasn't sure he wanted to talk. He knew what she meant and he had a pretty good idea of what she wanted to talk about. And what was more, he didn't want to talk about it. Still, he nodded and turned back to the benches, grabbing the water bottle and wiping at his face and neck with a towel. He didn't look at her. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost as unemotional as hers tended to be, “Are you going to run from me, again?”

Why was he wearing her ribbon? She had given it to him as part of the game, so he wouldn't feel she had something of his and he didn't… “I make no promises.” …hadn't she?

What about seeing her ribbon brought his on, he wondered? “I guess that'll have to do.” He sat down and drank half of the bottle down. Hadn't she kept his mask?

“About what I said last night…” she started, then faltered, as if uncertain of where to go beyond that.

He wanted to tell her not to worry about it, but he couldn't bring himself to. “Which part?”

She sighed. She hadn't thought he would make it easy on her. But damnit…not this hard.

She was enough in control over her emotions that she didn't let it show. “About you wanting a piece of me…”

`But I do…' the thought came unbidden into his mind, unbidden but clear. `Just not the way you meant it last night.' And last night he might have told her that too, but tonight was different…he could feel it.

“Do you really want to do this now?” he asked softly instead.

She lowered her head. “I think we have to.”

He didn't want to hear this. He knew her enough to know she would try to discount everything that had happened the last few days. And if she said those words, the friendly, neutral, pacifying words, what would he do? When faced with two options, neither of which you like, go for the one that'll give you the advantage. He wouldn't let her smooth it all over under a blanket of pretty apologies in the hopes it would all go away or they would go back to hiding. He wouldn't.

“In that case,” he turned to look at her, as if steeling himself. “I did go after you…” his voice was unapologetic, and he could tell it caught her completely by surprise. “I was angry at you, I did want to hurt you…” he exhaled. “But not last night,” he admitted. “Last night…” he thought about it and looked away. “Last night I just wanted you to notice me…I felt like you were slipping away and I wanted to let you know that I wouldn't let you go.”

She blinked, completely and utterly shocked. She found herself sitting down…hard. She had been trying to apologize to him. She opened her mouth, but he didn't let her speak…he wasn't even looking at her.

He shook his head. “I don't know what came over…” he stopped, mid-sentence. “No, that's not true. I do know,” he still didn't meet her eyes. “I wanted to see you smile, to see you angry, to see you out of breath and out of control…” He was playing with the cap of the water bottle still in his hands. “And I wanted to know that it was me that did it to you…that made you feel that.”

Raven was starting to feel her heartbeat pick up, the thumping, doki-doki echoing in her ears. He had never been so blunt, so honest with her. She should tell him she understood and that he didn't have to say anything more, then promptly apologize…then beat a hasty retreat, but the only thing that came out of her mouth was a whispered, “Why?”

“Because I'm selfish,” he answered without reserve. “Because you gave me a glimpse of what it could mean to be the recipient of that side of you that first night I watched you working out and I wanted more.”

`This wasn't part of the game,' she thought. The game, with all its innuendo and sometimes bruises, was just a game and that was something she could handle. But this…this was taking the game too far, playing with cards he should never play. And she was starting to get angry, even though she refused to question the reason why. She saw in her mind's eye, a thousand glances, a thousand of his smiles, a million of his casual touches and all directed at Starfire. He rarely looked at her and when he did, it was with nothing more than the eye of a leader, someone responsible for her welfare and for her activities as a member of a team that was his responsibility. She hated feeling jealous, she hated feeling like she was less than someone else in anyone's eyes but in his…

She clenched her fist. If he had just stuck to the game…if he had just played fair…she wouldn't have cared if he had ignored her, if he had just kept it light…and not…not tried to push so many of her buttons. If only he wouldn't have tried so hard to win.

“You are selfish,” she answered with more emotion than she would've thought possible just barely contained in her steady voice. His head shot up to look at her and she grew even angrier. What did he expect? That she'd let him play her on his own terms? The teasing, the sarcasm, the laughter…all those she could give him, that didn't matter, it didn't touch more emotions than were already touched by her having friends, but why did he have to make her feel like she mattered? Why did he have to make her feel like she was special…? She shook her head firmly. “You're selfish for wanting to make me feel, just because you can,” `And then taking it away' she added silently. Those other emotions she could handle, but not self-conscious, not jealousy. The vehemence to her outburst shocked him and she could tell, but she couldn't seem to stop. “You're selfish and cruel, Robin,” she didn't recognize her own voice anymore. Hadn't she just wanted to apologize? Where was this coming from? “to make me face things that I don't want to face just to see if you could.”

“That's not it!” he insisted, alarmed that she would see it in such a way. He reached out for her and his arms found her shoulders. “I wanted to see those emotions take over your being, not because I could…”

She shook her head and shrugged out of his hold. “Now you're lying,” she pointed out and her voice was cold, the anger still there but overlapped with something that felt and sounded like disappointment, like he had just proven himself to be something even below selfish or cruel.

“No!” he tried to impart truth with his voice, but he couldn't. Did she really think that? Did she really think he was lying? That he could lie to her? He hadn't lied to her.

“You did,” she insisted. “You don't care about me…I was a challenge for you,” she was looking at him and the anger was there again. As much as it hurt her to believe it, as much as it brought back images of Malchior and countless other betrayals, it was the only possible explanation. “I was something you needed to figure out, something you needed to look at from the inside, you wanted to see if you could do what no one else could and make me crack.” And it made so much sense…it was so logical, that the logic was twisting her insides.

Her words bit into him like a slap to the face, ringing elements of truth in their wake. It had thrilled him that he could make her feel when she had managed to have control with others, it had thrilled him that he could get under that cool veneer…`But not like that…' he thought. Not the way she was insinuating, not as cold and calculating. “I…” he hesitated, looking at her. “I wanted to make you feel.” She scoffed angrily and he was certain of it now. “I wanted to be the one to make you feel, yes, so there was an element of my ego in there, I admit it,” his words were hasty, rushed…he was loosing her. And suddenly, she looked at him. “But only because I didn't want anyone else to be the one that you felt with…” he knew those weren't the right words, he knew he was muddling it up, not making sense, but he couldn't help it. He didn't know what to say to make her see.

“Same difference,” she said, her voice so cold…so hurt…”You wanted to be the one to crack me,” she said it like she had experienced people trying to do that before and like she had expected more from him…truth was, she had. “You didn't care what it would do to me…don't make it about me…it was all about you.”

Her words were like knives driven to the heart of him, pulling him apart like he had seen her powers do, laying him bare. And it really wasn't until that moment that he realized…”I didn't…” he admitted. “I was stupid, and selfish…you're right…” he looked up at her, “but not a liar,” he insisted. “I don't think I even realized it, but I didn't want anyone else to be the one to make you laugh, but not because of any sense of competition, Raven,” he spoke, begging her to understand but knowing he wouldn't blame her if she didn't.

“Then why?” she demanded. “What other reason is there, Robin?” she spat his name like a curse.

One second he thought he couldn't admit it and the next, she had pushed him over the edge and he felt if he didn't speak it, it would cook him from inside. “I was jealous!” he exclaimed, angry. “I couldn't bear to think of you laughing with anyone else, sitting with anyone else, showing yourself to anyone if it wasn't me!”

Something was breaking apart inside her and it was only in that moment that she realized how much of herself he had already chipped away. “That is competition!” she exclaimed. “Your being jealous is still about you never loosing to a challenge,” But she wouldn't let him know…couldn't…she had to protect herself. “And it's about you somehow, for some reason, deciding that it would be a challenge to make me feel!”

“You're making it sound like I don't care if I hurt you!” He couldn't believe this was happening. He couldn't believe she would think he would purposefully hurt her, that he would try to make her suffer! “Like I don't care if I bring you pain!”

“You don't!” she threw back. “You can't! Admit it, Robin, it's the only reason you bothered with me at all, it's the only reason you don't ignore me!”

“Ignore you!” their voices were echoing in the silent room, even the softer training music she had put while he taught her having long since stopped and faded. Anyone within a three mile radius would be able to hear them now, but neither of them noticed. Robin had stood, but he hadn't noticed that either.

The look in his eyes must've gotten to her because suddenly she wondered why she was fighting it? She couldn't get as angry as she was, she couldn't let him see…never let them see…

This was pointless, fighting with him, arguing…to what end? She shook her head minutely. “Forget it, forget me. Just forget I exist…” she turned around to walk away, “go back to ignoring me.”

His hand on her arm stopped her. “That's just it!” he said, clearly frustrated and angry and not at all willing to let it go. “I can't ignore you!” he exclaimed, just shy of yelling. “I can't forget you exist! That's why I challenged you! That's why I teased you! That's why I fight you!” he suddenly realized all he had said and the look in her eye…he was almost afraid to read it. “Because it was the only way I could get you to notice me!”

She flinched at the intensity of his words and pulled back. He moved back a little, and a small part of him thought of letting it go, of letting her go, but he couldn't seem to make his hand open. He couldn't stop the words swirling in his head…he couldn't stop. “When do I ignore you?” he challenged. “When I notice as you walk into a room? When I count every little thing that makes you smile even just a little or the things that make you frown? When I am aware of every blow you take in combat? When I count the hours you spend in my company as opposed to the ones you spend in your room?” He realized he was just barely stopping himself from shaking. He could feel it inside him, that shaking that came over him as he watched everything he had known and loved be taken from him and buried in a plot of land. It was the same frustration of knowing that everything was being taken away, and it was your fault, and you could do nothing about it.

“I try…lord knows, I try…” his voice had lowered and his eyes had closed, trying to block out the feeling, trying to stop himself from seeing her walking away, noticing the way she barely even looked at him as she strolled through, barely recognizing his presence. “You're not the only one that can be hurt by feelings, Raven,” he said it almost through grit teeth, but he instantly regretted it.

He watched the walls closing down around her, and in his mind's eye he saw her kneeling in defeat on her bedroom floor as she realized the man she trusted had used her and betrayed her.

It had nearly killed him that time. It had taken everything he had not to run to her, not to take her up in his arms and beat away her sadness. He almost laughed. Even then, he wanted to protect her, even then he wanted her to look at him and see something she didn't see in the others.

He had been afraid. And he hadn't known what to say, how to approach her. He hadn't known how to even be her friend. And he hadn't even been able to look at her, so he had run away, he had run after the threat and hidden inside his anger and his need to protect his city…

What a joke. Even then…it seemed like so long ago, and yet…just the other day…

When had he started to feel this way? He didn't know. Only that suddenly, he realized all the little moments he had felt, all the moments they had shared…and each and every time she had treated him like a stranger.

He had been such a bastard.

He only remembered every time she had brushed off his attempts at conversation, left the room once he'd entered, closed the door in his face and slammed down her shields and he remembered only feeling slighted and reminding himself that he didn't need to care.

He should have known it then, but it had been so much easier to think the feelings would pass…to think he was looking into things…to forget the way his heart had tried to warn him so many times and ultimately, too easy to believe she didn't notice anyway.

In his nightmares, he still saw her there, how he had left her, in the floor of her room, alone. He suddenly found her eyes again and it was like looking at her then. It was the same look, the same kind of sadness…but no surprise…almost a look like she thought she deserved it and was only sad and tired at having to face it all again.

And he still didn't know what to say…

Beast Boy had stayed, then. Beast Boy hadn't had to pretend to ignore her, to pretend he wasn't, in some way, glad that she wasn't going to leave them. And he had hated the changeling, too, for knowing what to do. And he had hated himself, for not being able to speak to her about it. For not having the courage to listen to her speak about the man that had broken her heart.

He wasn't worthy of her…

He had been so much more aware of her silences and he had found himself wondering if she thought of the dragon. Malchior had teased her about crying and Robin had wanted to tear him apart then too, but not only for the hurt he was bringing her, but because he had seen her cry.

Her silences…it seemed it had been ages since either of them had spoken now and he could feel her breathing before him, her rapid pulse under his hand.

“Robin,” her voice was cold, but there was a hint of doubt there…a touch of something he hated hearing.

He found his voice again, he had to tell her everything.  “I hated Malchior for taking you away,” he admitted on a whisper, not sure he had spoken loud enough for her to hear. He felt her tense under him. “I hated him for hurting you, but I hated myself more for being able to do nothing…for not being able to approach you even then…” he felt her exhale slowly, apparently trying to get control of herself and he wanted to shake her, to keep her control from her, to make her feel as out of control as he was feeling. He wasn't making any sense. He didn't want her to go. “I try to not look at you when you're sitting there reading your book and you're just…” his hand tightened around her arm. “…so close…”

Her voice, when it came, was low. “You…” she faltered, as if she were unsure of her own thoughts. She swallowed, gathering courage. “You manage.”

He looked at her and his look was demanding. “Do you want the others to know?” he asked, his voice a low, almost growl and strangely intimate. “Do you want me to show them how much I wish I could make you laugh? How much I wish I could touch you…” he looked down at where her arm was almost limp in his grasp. He relaxed his hold and his thumb gently caressed the red spot where her circulation had left the mark of his fingers. “Like now?” His eyes traveled up her arm to her neck and finally found her eyes. “I don't know what to do or say to you, Raven, I don't know what you want!” his hand flexed on her arm which she had yet to move. “Would you have me to show them how much I need you?”

Her eyes broke contact first, lowering to his chest, trying not to focus on his breathing. “Stop it,” she whispered.

He let her go as if he had been burned. `What was he doing?' he wondered. Of course she would ask he let her go. Of course, he was acting like a mad man. Did he really think just because she had shared some parts of herself it was enough to tell her all this? Did he really think just because she asked she wanted this?

She stumbled back a little from the sudden shift in balance and when she managed to get a hold of herself again, she stepped back from him. “I don't know what game you're playing, Robin.”

She still thought he was playing? Still thought he wasn't sincere? He didn't know how to break through to her! He remembered the song from the night before, `No matter what I do, I can't convince you to just believe this is real…'(2)

“I'll admit it, okay?” she said, and her voice seemed tired and weary. “You got to me,” she met his eyes. “You got under my skin…you made me feel…now…stop it…let me go back to my apathy…you won…let me pretend...” she stopped herself. “…please.”

The please broke him and the anger faded leaving only a cold emptiness. She just wanted to pretend it was all a game. And he should have let her, it probably would've been easier that way. But he couldn't…he had said too much. Now, he knew that living with her rejection, with her pity even was nothing compared to living with her thinking that he didn't care. “I'm not playing a game, Raven,” he insisted, but he didn't know how to make her believe it. He didn't know why she wouldn't.

Her anger was like a bonfire, igniting and burning at him through her eyes. “You expect me to believe all this!”

He looked up at her, exasperated. “How can I make you believe it?” he demanded. “Just tell me! I'll do it.”

“There's nothing you can do!” she exclaimed. “Everything you've already done has shown me what lies those are…” she looked angry and hurt, the eyes she turned to him were much more raw than the ones she had for the days and weeks after Malchior. “You can't ignore me for years and then expect me to believe that…” she shook her head. “But what I don't understand, Robin is why you don't stop?” her voice cracked just the smallest amount.

“God damnit, Raven!” he exclaimed, throwing the towel still around him in a fit against the wall and knocking down a few water bottles as it went. “I didn't ignore you! I was always aware of you! I know all of your habits, I can set my watch by the times you make tea and meditate, I know every book you've ever read in the common room…I've read them myself just to see what interested you about them…I know every line of your face, every scar you've ever gotten, every bruise you've ever sported. I can differentiate between your uniforms, I've learned to read your moods by your sighs, the extent of your raised eyebrow, the twitches…I can hear your unspoken words in your stillness, I can read your silences like you read your books…this is not a game and I am not playing…” he looked at her…really looked at her. “Are we starting to understand yet?” And part of that question was for him as well as for her. Because he was starting to understand. Finally really starting to understand.

She was, to say the least, shaken. Shaken, stunned, yes, but something else was growing, blossoming, barely held back by fear and doubt. “Why…?”

“Why…what?” his hands ached to touch her again. His mind searched for ways to make her see, but he was loosing patience, loosing the battle with his need to hold her.

Ever so slowly, she started to register what he was saying. He must've been watching her for years. `But…' She brought her hands up to her head, dislodging the already tenuous hold her clip had on her hair and releasing it to float down over her face. She didn't care. The clip clattered to the floor, unheeded. `…that doesn't make sense…' “Why now?”

He shook his head. “I don't know…” he admitted. “From the first moment I saw you…you looked so sad, so lost and…” he shook his head. “You looked outside the way I always felt inside, but couldn't seem to show it. And when we came here, I always felt that even if we didn't always agree, you would understand me…” he looked around himself momentarily, as if lost in the past and trying to reconcile it with the present. “Even before the mind meld, I always felt…connected to you…”

She shook her head and turned away. She had to gain control of this…gain control of herself. Her heart was beating so hard in her ears it was making it hard to think, she wasn't even sure if she was breathing anymore or walking, sitting or standing. Was this a dream? A nightmare? Was she back in Nevermore? “That was then…” she whispered.

“You were so unapproachable,” he said, hoping his words wouldn't hurt her. “But it wasn't your fault, I just…” he watched her back and hoped she would turn, willed her to turn, and so he continued speaking, even though he no longer remembered what he had started out trying to say. He just let himself go. “I never knew how to approach you, even then and I was always afraid showing interest in you would only scare you away…” The clip she had been wearing caught his eye where the teeth like grips seemed to grin at him. “I didn't know how to talk to you.” He was suddenly reaching down and grabbing it, looking at it. It was just a clip. “And I couldn't ever seem to think of a way, even though I always, always wondered…” But even though it was plastic, it smelled like her shampoo.

She felt the name on the tip of her tongue, but didn't know how to speak it. She felt several of her emotions screaming in agony as she desperately pushed them away in order to control them, in order not to release her tears. “Starfire…” she spoke into the silence, the name coming out stilted and as if he had forgotten how to pronounce it. She met his eyes, daring him to counter that, but he looked sad instead of caught, guilty instead anything else she might have thought. “…would disagree.”

“Starfire…” he repeated softly. “Was a stupid mistake,” he spoke quietly.

He was playing with something in his hands absently and her attention was caught by it for a moment. She realized it was her clip and anger broke through. “Was she a game, too?” she asked, the anger starting to rise. “Do you know nothing but games?” Loyalty to her friend and other things was warring within her.

He looked up at her and exhaled. For a moment, he looked defeated. “She wasn't you,” he answered and there was such pain in his voice that she was almost tempted to believe him. “And at first…I thought she was enough…I thought…” he looked back at the clip, his hands investigating it, his eyes roaming over it as if he had never seen another like it. “…it would go away…that I could smother it away, make it something else, but I couldn't dictate my feelings for you…I couldn't change what I wanted…”

“You expect me to…”

“I don't expect anything!” he interrupted her suddenly, the raw emotion in it making her start. “Not anymore,” he said softer. “But I need to have you at least hear me…” he turned away from her then. “When I thought you hated me…something inside me snapped and I thought I could never be close to you…” he tried to make his voice sound as steady as possible, but he wasn't sure how well he managed. “I thought you were disgusted with me, even if you might have forgiven me, I thought I was no better than someone you just tolerated…and I…” he forced himself to turn back to her, to look, if she wouldn't turn to him, at least at the graceful line of her back. “I was afraid…” he admitted. “Afraid to see that look in your eyes again.”

She turned slowly to look at him and he fought his first instinct to look away, managing to meet her eyes. “Everything…it all became so hard to suppress…to keep from giving anything anyway…especially the day of your birthday…” His hands clenched into tight fists, the plastic of the clip biting into his hands, “When I thought of Slade taking you away…” he grimaced as his knuckled turned white. “I would've happily done things to him…” he winced and seemed to be remembering the darker parts of himself, “…things to him that I had only seen in my worst nightmares…” he shook his head. “I never wanted to kill someone so much in my life…to obliterate him…end him…I never had so much hate inside me..."

There was a barely audible 'crack' and his hand opened to look down at the clip as if he had forgotten he held it.  His hand shifted and sighing, he crouched down to put it gently back on the ground.  He looked at it standing there, almost as if he were trying to figure out its secrets, but he wasn't really seeing it.  "So much hate..." he whispered, shaking his head and standing.  "At the same time that I wanted to protect. Never.” Her eyes were confused, conflicted. “But I knew that I couldn't tell you anything…I couldn't even show you a bit of that, or you'd never trust me again…”

She seemed on the brink of speech, about to tell him something, but he didn't know that he wanted to hear what it was and so he barreled on.

“I realized you brought out all of me…the dark-the bad, the jealousy and the hate and the need and that scared me…” he looked tired. “But you also brought out the good in me, too… I wanted to be better for you, I wanted to deserve you, I wanted to make you smile, bring you joy…” he sighed. “I wanted to protect you, but I would kill for you…” he seemed like he was loosing track of his thoughts, “And I was afraid that you'd shun me, you'd hide yourself away…if you even suspected…I couldn't let you suspect…so I hid it all…I pushed it all into the deep dark places where I put things I don't want to see and I tried never to let you know that I did notice you, I tried not to let you know how much it hurt me every time you didn't seem to see me."  He shook his head.  "But if I acted like I didn't see you it was because I was only too aware of you. If I acted like I ignored you it was only because I was aware of each of your breaths.”

“You don't…” she started to stop him, fighting within herself to keep control of whatever emotions were left. “…have…”

He shook his head and continued. “The other day, in here,” he looked around, as if he could see the shadows of the passed few days, “it just seemed to bring it all together…I was having fun with you…we were so natural together, so easy, but at the same time, I was so aware of you…am…” He shook his head. “I couldn't deny that I wasn't just interested in you as a person, but that I…that I wanted to be around you…” he brought a hand up to the back of his neck. “And I had found a way…something to share with you…a secret between the two of us…and all those other feelings…they…they came to the surface and I couldn't hide from them anymore. I couldn't call them anything else. They were just there…” He finally met her eyes again. “And I don't want to let them go anymore.” He tried to read her. “I didn't want to hide them anymore.” He took a step toward her. “And I wanted you to feel the same…” another step closer, “So, yes…I pushed you…yes, I wanted to be the one to make you feel…” He stopped physically advancing when he saw her take a step back, but he couldn't stop the words now…not anymore. “Yes…I was jealous of anyone else who would dare…”

Raven shook her head. “I can't do this…” she started to walk away, to go through the door and not have to face what he had said, not have to decide if she would trust him, believe in him…not yet. Not now.

He was on her again before he had even realized he had moved. He caught up to her just as she was about to cross the threshold. She fought him back momentarily, more out of surprise and denial than any real attempt to fight…he knew…she was better than that…if she wanted out, he probably wouldn't have been able to hold her so easily. He captured her hands and pushed her against the wall of the door through which she had tried to escape. He wouldn't let her leave, not yet, not before he told her. Not now.  There was so much more he needed to say, but just a few more words he had to say before he let her go if that was her choice.  She looked at him in surprise as her back hit the wall and her hands were immobilized at her sides. Just three...more...“I. Love. You.”

Her eyes widened and she started to struggle again, flinching as a few things smashed against the wall behind her as she started to lose herself to her emotions. “Don't,” she said, her voice strained with the effort of controlling something inside her. Her heart was beating fast, and the adrenaline was rushing in her ears, but it wasn't enough. And she was so afraid of her powers…so afraid of giving in.

“Don't what?” he asked.

“Don't…” she looked at him and the plea was there, in the depths of her lavender eyes, as if she were drowning. “Don't…” she faltered.

“Don't love you?” he asked. In response, she closed her eyes as if he had hit her. “I can't,” he said simply, and he suddenly knew it was true. All of it was true. No matter what else happened, he couldn't stop. “Ask anything of me, Raven…anything and its yours…” he whispered, his voice almost hoarse, almost tearful. She looked at him. “Ask me to leave the Titans,” he offered. She opened her eyes wide and opened her mouth, but he hurried to stop her. “Ask me not to fight Slade, ask me to forget about revenge…ask me anything, but don't ask me not to love you, Raven,” he whispered, leaning in close to her, unable to resist her closeness. “Ask me never to say it again if it repulses you…ask me to go back to pretending…” he spoke almost against her pulse. He could feel the rise and fall of her breathing. “But don't ask me to tear out my heart…I can't…” he pulled back and looked at her, reaching one hand up to tear off his mask and look at her unimpeded. “This is me…” he whispered hoarsely. She looked into his deep, crystal blue eyes and felt like they would drown her with their intensity. He had let go of one of her hands, but it had remained limp at her side. He took it and lifted it between them, pressing the mask into it for the second time. “This is yours,” he told her intently. “Ask me never to wear it again, bid of me whatever you want, I'll be whoever you want …” He inhaled and searched out her eyes. “But don't ask the impossible…” he shook his head. “I can't stop loving you…I never could.”

He felt it as random objects crashed into the wall around them, some smashing into a million pieces, but he saw nothing but the surrender in her eyes, the release and without further thought, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in his, taking in her breath, her very taste as if he were a drowning man gasping for air.

The lights of the training room sparked and exploded in loud pops and hisses, a few more objects made their kamikaze runs against walls, a few hitting his back where he shielded her, but he didn't move away from his soft exploration, didn't even register the pain. And then her body relaxed against his and everything settled, the floating objects which had been ignored falling with a thump onto the ground, once again immobile.

He started to pull away from her, scared suddenly at her surrender, wondering if he had done the unthinkable, if he had pushed her too far, but as his lips left hers, her gasp came in a nearly imperceptible sound in her throat like the sound of release and her free hand searched for him, grabbing at the black ribbon around his neck. Her hand clenched around it, grinding mask against ribbon, and it was all the invitation he needed before he pressed against her again, offering her his mouth and begging that she respond.

When they finally broke apart, the only light around them was the intermittent on and off of the track lighting above them and for moment upon moment as they looked into each other's eyes, the only sound was the pop and fizz of the circuitry and electricity as it tried to decide what had attacked.

“I can't…” she whispered, something like tears in her voice. “I'm sorry…but I can't…”

He pulled away from her to look in her eyes. They spoke of goodbye. He felt true panic for the first time in his life…the kind of panic that freezes the blood in your veins and makes you forget to breathe. “Can't what?” he managed. “Raven! What are you saying?”

“I can't love you…” She looked around them. “Look at this…I can't…”

He wouldn't let her go. Slade, the other Titans, her father, her damn emotions and anyone else who got in the way be damned. He wouldn't. If she didn't love him or even if she really hated him, that was one thing, he could live with that, but he couldn't live with her goodbye…he refused to let her go just because she was afraid.

He brought her eyes back to his. “You don't have to…” he caressed her cheeks with his hands, wiping away the tears, trying to think passed the fear, trying to find the right words. “Just let me love you…” he told her. She opened her mouth to argue, but he pressed a hand softly against her lips, slightly swollen from his kiss. “Don't tell me to stop…” he asked. “We'll rebuild this…” he motioned around them. “We'll fix it…we always do…just…” and now his eyes were pleading. “Don't tell me not to love you…” he saw it in her eyes.

She wanted to love him, but she was afraid. He could work with that. He could show her there wasn't anything to be afraid of. If he had to wait until she meditated every time he did it, he'd tell her he loved her at least once a day. If he had to get her adrenaline up and let her use him as a punching bag to train, he'd kiss her at least as often…if he had to jump off a cliff with her so she could, he'd do everything in his power so she could feel.

“And I don't care…yell at me all you want,” he told her. “But let me touch you…” he wiped at her cheek a little more. “Laugh at me if you want, laugh at Beast Boy, at Cyborg's laugh, laugh only for me, laugh with me…it doesn't matter…” he looked sad for a moment, sad and resigned. “Pretend this didn't happen if you must, take away my air, but don't take away your laughter, your scowls, your eyes...don't take it away from me, I couldn't…” he leaned down and rested his forehead on her shoulder, unsure how to continue. He was never any good at this kind of thing. He was clumsy and stupid and he didn't know what to say, except what was the biggest fear in his heart, “Don't go, don't say goodbye,” he met her eyes again and pulled her hair away from her face. “Be mad at me if you want, laugh at me if you want, but don't take away you from me, don't take away the chance to see you, to maybe touch you…and just don't…” his voice wavered a little and he inhaled to steady it. “Don't hate me,” he said, his tone making it sound like an order. “Don't ever look at me with hate like that again.”

He searched her eyes and knew just the moment when she gave in, the split second before she nodded as if she didn't dare her voice to speak.

He found himself suddenly unable to hold his legs under him and he fell onto his knees, still in front of her, the fear escaping in a rush, leaving him only with all the other feelings inside, pushing for attention, and gratitude holding it all together. She wouldn't leave him. She would give him a chance.

He felt her hand tentatively touch his temple, unsure. Slowly, his eyes rose to meet hers and what she saw there gave her confidence and her fingers slowly caressed his temple, as if marveling in the touch of him, surprised that he had yet to turn away. Her fingers traveled into his scalp to feel his hair between them and his head leaned into her hand for a brief moment, her eyes going soft and understanding and he felt as if he had been blessed by a Goddess.

In sheer gratitude he did the only thing he could think of: he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her away from the wall and into his embrace. Wanting to be close to her, he leaned into her, pressing the side of his face to the flat of her stomach, closing his eyes at the echo of her heartbeat that traversed her body, and locked his arms behind her as if he would never let her go. If he was never blessed with any other grace from any god ever again in his life, he could have lived there happily for the rest of his life, knowing she had granted him this embrace, she had let him hold her.

Eventually, she realized that in this game neither of them had planned to lose, both of them somehow managed to win...

And her arms slowly curled around him and returned the embrace, pulling him even closer.

Notes:

(1) “Blue Monday” by Orgy.

(2) “Faint” by Linkin Park. (They fought to in the last part.)

Final A/N: It's strange. The reason this chapter came up so quickly after the last one is because I had this image of a scene that I thought would fit very nicely as a way to round it all up. But as always, Robin and Raven both surprise the hell out of me and take the story in directions I would not have thought they would. The whole confrontation anger things wasn't even in the cards when I started writing this, but Puck (my muse, remember?) wouldn't let me change it. (hate muses with a mind of their own…Puck sticks his tongue out at her) I went back and thought, “Well, maybe I can add it in here up top?” but Puck still won't let me. Hmmm…seems he's become rather possessive with the way he sees them.

Truth is, I wrote up like three distinct fight scenes, and more than a few versions of the conversations between them and none of them really made me happy. I had to go back and read through it again and again and I think Puck was punishing me because I had started to feel overwhelemed by the mushiness of the whole thing.

Ultimately, although the characters might seem a little OOC, I think this is a pretty good testament to the different aspects of love. They didn't know how to treat each other and so they went stumbling through until finally, they came to some understanding of each other. Hnh…what a way to go!

And gawd…that was a sappy ending, wasn't it:grin stupidly:

Anyway, there's a very short, one-page epilogue that'll be posted along with this, but only in the new TT account, so go there to read it. (Or, if you are there, then…eh…welcome!)

Special Note: As I was writing Robin's declaration, when he's asking her not to go, I was reminded of a poem by Pablo Neruda (one of my favorite poets). So, I have a slight nod to him and in case you don't know the poet, it's where Robin asks her not to take her laughter. The poem, “Your Laughter”. It's beautiful and I think it fit perfectly to what Robin was trying to tell her, so I just couldn't help but put it in there. I do want to mention that that whole conversation wasn't inspired by the poem. In other words, I didn't read the poem and go, “Oh, I should have him saying something like this!”. No, Robin just said what he said and halfway through it, I realized it sounded like Neruda's poem, so, yeah…just added that line and it's not even a direct quote. But you should go and read his poem. It's originally in Spanish, but he's got the translations out there.

Special Note 2: Okay, so I mentioned above the pieces that I had written that I didn't add? One of them was a short scene as to how the others got out of the Tower and other little random bits and pieces that I either changed or though I didn't need, but they were concise little snippets of scenes, so I felt really bad about just deleting them, so I saved them and kinda titled it my “deleted scenes”. I was wondering if I should take up a page out of Jasper Fforde's play book and post them up somewhere so you guys can access them and see what was and wasn't shown but only insinuated and what might have been? I don't know where I'd post it, except maybe my scraps section on dA…but anyway, if you guys'd be interested in seeing that, then let me know when you review!

Thanks: Didn't get as many as last time. What happened? Did I lose ya? Big hug and loads of cookies to those of ya who did. Anyway, here's the personal responses.

Maiathestrange: Eheh…thanks! I would love to know what else you have to say, though, but thanks a bunch for the inspiration! Hope you like this one! And remember, I'm switching accounts on ffn so if you want to find the epilogue, you'll have to go to the new one…it's up in one of my A/Ns…somewhere…

AzngrlOT: :throws chapter at her: BREATHE:sweatdrop: Please don't do that to me! I'm studying for finals and graduating and I've got enough stress without thinking you might turn all sorts of colors on me and pass out:grin: But I'm glad you liked it! And I hope you like this one, too!

Cherry Jade: Yes! I know exactly how you feel about BB/Rae. I feel the same way. And I haven't been reading/writing TT fanfic for long, but I swear it gets on my nerves. Nothing against the green dude, but…yeah…k…I'll stop. Thanks for reviewing! So glad you liked it. Hope you still like it now that it's a…three shot:thinks: Is that even a category? Ah, call it a small mini-series? A short story? Eh, whatever. `member to check out the new account for the Epilogue!

Broken Outcast: :falls over dead from laughing: Oh…wow…your review just made me laugh so hard, I found it hard to focus on studying. I've only ever had one other person ever cheer me with pompoms…so you caught me seriously off-guard! I'm glad you liked it. And it's cause of reviewers like you that the story ever evolved from a One-Shot, so…yeah! Check out my new acct for the epilogue…eh…in a few days…when I post it up there…

Gothic Kid 13: I don't think there's any song of Evanescence's that's bad. My Immortal is very good as well so is Taking Over Me. Those are the ones that I've been listening of theirs lately, but that's only because I went on such a “Whisper”, “Going Under”, “Bring Me To Life” fix when I first got their CD. Eheh…anyway…thanks for the review, glad you enjoyed it and I hope you like this one, too!

KitsuneAkurei: Yah…I felt a little like I kept repeating things too. If you happen to find the specific instances that made it feel that way for you, please let me know so I can go back and try to fix it? Thanks for the constructive criticism! And thanks for reviewing!

Jurodan: DUDE! You always manage to point out exactly what made me feel a little `eh' about what I post! It's uncanny, I tell ya! And as for the songs, I always feel like I'm disjointing the songs, and either going too fast or too slow in my action when I use lyrics to intersperse them like that. I have yet to find a way to make that work to the point where I'm satisfied. Except like when they're actually singing, which I tend to keep away from mostly. I hate writing combat. And yet, turns out to be almost all that this story was about, huh? Go figure. I really hate it though. I figure I can see it in my mind's eye but I always feel like maybe I'm describing too much or not describing enough…blech. And…Kama Sutra! Jajajajaja….that tripped me out. I always like to investigate new angels to things. The only time I try my hand at a plot device already used is when I think I can do something like this with it, or when I just want to see if I can, like the dreaded “Blanket Scenario” fics or “Mary Jane” stories. I haven't really posted any of those, but I will some day…just to see if I can:grin:

I don't usually update so quickly or crank out the chapters so quickly either, but it seems that my muse had these scenes and wanted to get them out. They're almost independent little snippets too, so I don't have to worry too much about taking them from one scene to the next which is what takes me a long time to figure out in other fics. Anyway, the speed of these updates and the length…that's just been a fluke, I think.

Anyway, thanks for the GREAT recommendation! You're a peach!

The paper's mostly done (feels like Miracle Max: ”…mostly dead.”) but I paused it to study for finals (the first of which was today…or, today as I respond to these reviews, being…eh…Thursday.) Not due until the 10th, so I'm hoping to get back to working on it after my second final tomorrow and finish it up before my last final on the 10th…while somehow managing to study for said last final. :sweatdrop: Thanks for remembering!

Firehottie: Thanks so much! I hope this part doesn't disappoint!

Dragon Huntress: :blush: I don't think I've ever rocked anyone's socks before. :P I'm glad you liked it and I'm glad you liked the music. I was worried it might've been too much. I hope you like this one, too! Remember to go to the new account to check out the epilogue!