BBRae Week Fall 2015

Friday: Sunset

Raven tossed and turned. She went one way then another before popping straight up in her bed. She pushed her hair away from her face and looked around for what could have awakened her.

Her dark room was in order, nothing out of place. She waved a hand and her curtains parted, revealing the waning sun.

She frowned. Why was she sleeping during the day? Images of a brutal fight with that stupid computer chipped villain draining her powers flew through her mind. She had needed to rest.

She took a deep breath and left the bed. She was feeling much better now and dressed to see what everyone else was doing. She checked the common room and saw Starfire and Robin watching a movie on TV. The duo told her that Cyborg was in the garage and that Beast Boy was M.I.A.

She left them to it (the feeling she had upon awakening wasn't occurring in the common room) and wondered who to check on first.

She knew dealing with Beast Boy usually gave her a headache and wanted to delay it as much as possible but took the logical approach. If she got him over with, she'd be able to relax with Cyborg after.

She lowered her empathic shields to pinpoint his exact location (a handy power when it came to individuals she was close to) and found him on the beach. She went outside and saw him sitting on the rocks, watching the sunset with an old light brown guitar in his hands.

She hovered over to him, her cloak blowing around her. Strains of music reached her ears as soft yet slightly rough words carried on the wind.

She didn't know the words, literally not understanding them as she levitated over to him. She sat on a rock next to him.

He continued strumming and lowly singing until the song drew to a close. Then he looked over at her.

His eyes matched the emotion that had woken her up. Sadness. "I didn't know you could play the guitar."

"It was my dad's." He plucked a chord.

"How long have you been playing?"

"Since I was four."

"That's a really long time." She didn't really think she was good at making people feel better but he was her friend after all.

"Yeah. My dad taught me after I got sick. He wanted to make me feel better and he said playing an instrument always got the girl." He strummed again.

Even though he was looking at her, she knew he didn't see her. "That was a beautiful song."

"It's not really a song." His gaze sharpened and he focused on her face. "The words are an African lullaby and I just put music to it."

"African?" She frowned in confusion.

"I was born in Africa. I know Afrikaans and Swahili."

"Really?" She was blown away. "Why haven't you ever told any of us?"

"Why haven't any of you ever asked?"

She blinked. He had a very good point. "You don't like talking about your past."

"Do any of us?"

Another good point. "Will you tell me more?"

"Like what?" He strummed again.

"Tell me about your father."

He smiled. "He was the best man I know. He was strong and confident but a total romantic. He used to pick flowers for my mom everyday and write her songs. They weren't any good but he made it sound good."

"He sounds like you."

"I wish. He was brave and smart and compassionate. Everyone loved him. He was the best father anyone could have asked for."

"You're describing yourself. And one day you'll be the best father a child could ask for."

"You really think so?" He looked at her with hope.

"I truly believe that."

He smiled at her warmly then looked out at the sinking sun. The water in front of them was a beautiful mix of dark blue, red, orange, yellow, peach and purple. It was nearly dark. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She looked at the water as well. "Tell me about your mother."

"She was beautiful, classy, well read, a lovely singer, great with animals and people in general. She had a sharp tongue and even sharper wit. You actually remind me of her a lot."

"I do?" A light blush stained her cheeks.

"She stood up for what she believed in, even if no one else stood with her. She spoke her mind. She was really wise. People liked being around her because she would always tell you the truth, even if you didn't want to hear it. And she was fiercely independent. She was with my dad because she wanted to be, not because she had to be."

She smiled on the inside. What a woman to be compared to!

"She was fun and had a great sense of humor. And I think she would have liked you."

Her breath caught. "You do?"

He strummed the guitar again. "I do."

She looked at him and noticed he was looking at her how Robin studied the newspaper. "What?"

His gaze flicked to her mouth and he strummed again. Then he looked back at her eyes. "Any more questions?"

She blushed but didn't pull her hood up. "How many songs do you know?"

"Quite a bit. My parents liked the old crooners. I kept up with it all my life. But I kinda have a thing for seventies and eighties soft rock. Foreigner. That's my band."

"I meant in Afrikaans and Swahili."

"Oh. Quite a bit. I know a lot of lullabies. In French and Spanish, too."

"You know French and Spanish lullabies?"

"My mother spoke French and my father spoke Spanish. French was even my mom's minor in college."

"What was your first language?"

"For my first word or my first sentence?"

"They weren't the same?"

"My first word was French for cookie. My first sentence was "I want ice cream" in Spanish."

She let a small smile grace her features. "It's always about food with you."

"Hey! Africa's hot!"

She smirked and looked out at the softly rippling water. It was completely dark now. "Tell me more about you."

"What do you want to know?"

"What makes you tick?"

"I don't have ticks!"

She frowned. "I didn't say that."

"I know. Small joke." He laughed.

She pushed his shoulder. "You're not funny."

He strummed the guitar. "You know I'm funny. One of these days you'll admit it."

"Not likely." They sat in silence for a while before she turned to him. "Can you sing me a song?"

"Sure. What do you want to hear?"

"Another lullaby."

He started strumming. "Anything for you."