Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at

http://download.archiveofourown.org/works/5188754.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Category: F/M
Fandom: Teen Titans (Comics), Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Relationship: Robrae, Raven (Teen Titans) & Robin (Teen Titans)
Stats: Published: 2015-11-11 Completed: 2016-01-18 Chapters: 11/11
Words: 4313

Early
by Variesque

Summary

Homicide detective AU. COMPLETED.

Notes

The archive warnings are for the entirety of the story (11 chapters). Please note that there is
quite a bit of meat before any of the aforementioned warnings are truly put to use.

See the end of the work for more notes

 1

Early mornings were for cigarette breaks and black coffee, they were for cacophonies of slurred
curses and tired promises; never for sleeping. The sun didn’t rise on incorrigible behaviors; the
moon kept better secrets.

Raven fell asleep an hour before the sun began to loiter above the skyline. And when the light
casted thin tendrils into the ebbing darkness of San Francisco’s nights, a call rang into the
hollowness of her room.

“Wake up. We’ve got another case.” her machine beeped twice before replaying the message and
saving it to her inbox. She shuffled about her sheets and deleted the voice before opening her
eyes. The clock read 5:15AM.. She stepped toward the bathroom, subconsciously avoiding the
loose board she had all too often tripped over in her first year of renting out the space. Now
everything was slow and routine, a constant state of bleariness.

She didn’t arrive to work until 5:45am (a twenty minute commute she thought ridiculous, as her
apartment was nearly half that distance). The receptionist, Alicia, greeted her as she clocked in.

“Another early day, huh?”

“No rest for the wicked.” she whispered in a manner that suggested her tongue had glossed over
that excuse many times.

Raven set her bag down in the worn, plush chair situated across the way from the desk she shared.
An apple was thrown at her and she promptly caught it.

“Stop skipping breakfast.” the man behind the desk chastised.

“Stop calling me before I’m hungry.” she took a bite.

“You really want your only alarm to go on strike?”

“Hunger strike?” she retorted smugly.

“Ha ha.” Richard continued to flip through papers while Raven established her working space.
She broke the quietude first.

“What do we have?”

“You know Logan’s case?”

“The one with the decapitated girl?” she quirked an eyebrow and finished off her apple.

“Nearly decapitated. Anyway, two other bodies were found across the bay and he wants the extra
hands.” he walked over to her side of the desk and opened the case file.

“We don’t have much,” she noted, her eyes flitting over the photos.

A young girl whose head hung by a pulpy thread, approximately an inch wide, lay covered in
syrupy blood. Her eyes were open; faded green. There were two more victims, both vastly
different and with no physical connections.

“How do we know it’s the same person?” she asked, leaning closer to the stapled pictures.
“We don’t,” he sighed, “but it’s only been a week and there aren’t many leads. We have to
assume it’s the same killer. Shepard’s already got the body and the M.O. seems the same, but this
scene hasn’t been swept yet.”

“How long?”

“She’s had the body for a couple of hours now, ETD is 1am. And the toxicology report should be
in early this afternoon.”

“Are you sure Logan’s fine with us going to the scene before him?”

“He said he’d appreciate the help. Plus he’s got some reports to file from his last case.”

“Alright, where are we going?”

“Lexxxi’s,”

“Oh lovely, we get to spend all day at the raunchiest strip club in the city.”

“I’m keeping tabs on your money.” he smiled as he grabbed his coat.

“I don’t need money to talk to the girls.”

 2

There was an hour of silence; of breathing and thinking, of not speaking. Raven familiarized
herself further with the quickly developing case; committing measurements and statements to
memory. She studied the pictures so thoroughly she could recall the exact details at any time
(appropriate or not). And when Richard finally pulled the car into an angled parking space, he had
to shake her leg for her to realize they were where they needed to be. She noted several parked
police cars.

The air is wet and cold. It smells like salt and steel and smoke, but it is not unpleasant, Raven
thinks. She absently fingers the half-empty box of cigarettes in her jacket pocket before
concluding that she did not have the time. She shivers.

The club feels clean, with its distinct edges and sharp lights. Everything is dark and hot and a bit
sweaty, but it is not unpleasant, Richard thinks. The atmosphere is almost familiar, in a more adult
sense. He does not care for the waitresses or dancers beckoning him closer, he knows they are not
sincere.

Raven eyes the girls, but her expression is blank. She is not envious or disgusted, she is intrigued.
She has never been to Lexxxi’s; the ambiance is nice- it is different than she is used to. The girls
aren’t bruised and they entice the patrons with much more elasticity than her ex-coworkers ever
tried to.

She remembers when she worked as a dancer; only sixteen, taking the most money, and spending
it wherever home could be for the night. She remembers how empty she felt, how full the alcohol
made her. She was following Richard, until she was not and someone asked her a question.

“Are you with the cops or do you want a drink?” a woman asked, raising a knowing eyebrow and
pursing her lips. “You look like you could use a vodka tonic.”

“You know, I really could, but it’ll have to wait until break.” she said, flashing her badge. The
redhead nodded.

“I assume this is about the poor boy found in the dumpster?”

“Yes, ma’am. Are you the one who called?”

“Yes, but Gabrielle found the body.”

“Were you out there at all earlier tonight?”

“No, ma’am. I’ve been making drinks for the last 17 hours. Always on my feet and only a sliver
of time to even take a piss!”

“Gabrielle, is she working tonight?”

“She’s about to end her shift now. She’s the brunette with the tits that looked taped.” She leans
further across the bar and whispers, “they’re not,” just before Raven thanks her for her
cooperation.

Richard sees Raven before she remembers they are not together. He walks in her direction before
gripping the edge of a booth for support. He was light headed and the scent of cologne and booze
and sex was much stronger than he recalled it being ten minutes ago. He exits the building for
fresh air and a cold bench to sit upon.
The metalwork bites through his pants, sends goosebumps scrawling up his thighs and to his arms.
His breath hangs around his head as faintly and fragile as his thoughts feel. His mind races with
questions and answers all clashing together in no order. He went back inside to ask Raven for an
aspirin.

“Thank you Gabrielle, call us if you remember anything more.” a hand extends to shake hers
whilst simultaneously handing her the precinct’s card.

“Of course. Come back whenever- I’ll see what I can have arranged.” Gabrielle winked before
gathering her things and leaving.

“I think she was insinuating something.” Richard said as Raven scribbled down her last sentence.

“I think she’s still in the work-mind-set and also that you were absolutely no help at all.” she
quips.

“You did say you were better at talking to girls than me.”

She groaned exasperatedly, “Come on, let’s make sure SFPD at least locked down the area.” she
took his wrist and lead him out the back door, as if she might lose him again. Or perhaps, she did
not want to be seen alone.
 3

“From what I understand, neither you nor your officers took proper statements or checked any
alibis.” Raven fixated an acerbic glare at the Squad Leader.

“We called you and prepped the body for removal.” he countered.

“And then what? Sat here with your hand down your pants and twiddled your dick? Look, I’m
here to do my job and if you don’t do yours you’ll be sitting in a jizz-stained building-issued squad
car until your wife leaves you for someone with more money and more hair.” she walked away,
heavy, pointed steps towards the dumpster.

“Was that really necessary?” Richard asked, taking rapid pictures of blood and other points of
interest.

“No, but he’s new and he needs to learn how to manage an entire squad without making
mistakes.”

“No one was that hard on us.”

“Maybe someone should have been.”

The blood had stopped dripping from the lip of the canister, but it was pooled, cold and sticky
underneath the leg. Without the body at the site, placement made less sense. One of them
complained how much easier it would have been had they gotten there earlier. They were ignored.
 4
Chapter Notes

The next couple of chapters are rather short, so here's a bonus chapter for this week
since I haven't been posting as often as I supposed I would have!

“We have as much as the other scenes,” Raven says to Logan, “which is not much.”

“At least you made the new guy piss his pants.”

“Logan, that is not important.”

“He cried and then called his wife.”

“Did Shepard send in the tox screen results?”

Logan kicked his feet off his desk and rummaged through some paperwork in the far left stack on
his desk.

“Uh, yea. It didn’t say anything we didn’t already piece together, other than, uh…” papers flew
from their respective stacks everywhere else.

“I’ll just get it from Shepard.”

“Yea, ok. That’ll probably be faster. I’ll clear this up in the meantime.”

“You do that.” Raven picks up a folder precariously placed on top of his thin monitor and waved
it in front of his face.

“Hey!”

She laughed as she walked back to the office, reading the toxicology report through the hallways.

“Hey, it says here that he had prevalent traces of methoxypropane in his nasal cavity and lungs.
Which is like, stronger than chloroform but more pretentious.” she said once she reached the
doorway. Richard’s head was on the desk and his breathing was even. She put the folder next to
his drawer and covered his torso with his coat. She let him rest; knows that he sleeps as little as
she does.
 5

“Why are you in such a hurry? It’s only been a few hours.”

“Now I’m hungry.” she says, entering the passenger seat and waiting expectantly for Richard to,
in turn, drive her somewhere for food. He rolls his eyes, chuckles to himself and forgets that his
head had been hurting.
 6
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“Richard, I need to talk to you.”

“Sure thing. Breakfast at the cafe?”

“Sure thing…” she says quietly into the receiver.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yea, sorry I got distracted. Half an hour?”

“Yea…” he sounded mildly worried, but Raven hung up anyway.

Nerves , she thought with disdain. She took a shower, scrubbed her skin until it was angry and
red; waited under the water until she ran out of time.

Richard was there before her, he always managed to beat traffic before she could. He was seated
at a two-person booth next to the window.

He saw her reflection, meant to greet her first. But she smiled in the elusive way he'd only ever
seen; with her lips sucked against her teeth, mouth quirked slightly. He recognized the slant,
softness of her eyes and felt a particular swell in his chest. He was nervous.

“Hey, did I keep you waiting?”

“Not at all; haven’t even ordered.” he smiled reassuringly; she smiled back, thin and much less
honest than the one he’d seen in the window.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I, uh,” she stumbled with her words, something he had never known her to do (unless drunk). “I
have to tell you the truth.” she amends.

He says nothing, thinks his pulse might stop in its tracks. She continues, with newfound steady
breaths.

“For the last 2 years I’ve felt sick,”

The waitress interrupts (unawares) to take their orders. She takes her coffee black and he takes his
with a splash of cream and two sugars.

“Have you gone to the doctor at all? I know you to invalidate your symptoms until they fester.”

“Yes, I have, and it’s not,” she searches for a word. It’s not treatable. It’s not physical. It’s not
real sickness . “It’s not clinical.”

“Jesus, Raven. Is it terminal?”

“No! No. Look I-” she takes a deep breath, pressures the inside of her elbow; the way she does
when she does not want to admit something. “The past 2 years I’ve felt dizzy and lightheaded and
nauseous.”
 Their coffees came and Richard did not dare say a word; lest she spook like an animal and close
within herself. He did not think of her as cornered before, but he had never seen her so skittish.

“For 2 years I did not know what was wrong with me. I did not know how to help myself unless I
dissected myself.” her coffee is hot but she takes a sip; scalds her tongue.

“It took me 1 year to realize that those feelings were strongest when I’m around you. It took me
about 6 months to think about what and how I should tell you. And it took me about a week of
impulsive behavior and thoughts to call you today.”

“Are you saying…?” he did not want to assume, and unless she spelled it out, he would not
believe her.

“For a detective, you sure are dull sometimes.”

“If I’m correct about what you’re implying, then I want you to know that I love you more than
anything, but not in the way you want.”

“I know.”

The rest of their breakfast is comprised of their causal silence. He drove her home, kissed her
forehead the way he always had before. It didn’t feel any different to her, and she supposed that
was good.

Chapter End Notes

It might seem sudden for Raven to confess to Richard, but as I've stated, there is a
massive index of context I was not able to provide in this segment of the story.

Richard and Raven have known each other for 7 years & have been partners for 5; I
think with Raven's ability to stifle any emotional experiences, that might cause her to
project her inability to process her emotions onto Richard, as he was the only stable
person in her life for 6+ years.
 7

It had been a month. There were three new bodies and no new information to lead them anywhere
substantial. They could only wait.

And during an menial, unimportant week, Raven and Richard had decided to visit the residences
of the victims. A last resort to understand why they were chosen, and if there was anything to
understand at all.

Samantha Giles was the first found; washed up on a river bank that was hardly large enough to
cover her body. She lived two hours west of San Francisco, nestled in a small county made of
dilapidated buildings and sour people.

“Did you bring snacks?” Raven asked, looking through her own bag, apparently devoid of snacks
and then repeating the process in his.

“Are you only ever hungry for snacks?”

“Do you have my goddamn Sweet & Salty bars or not?”

“Front left pocket.”

“Thank you.”

She ate and then she slept; he let her rest, knows that she sleeps as little as he does. He toyed with
the idea of making her drive the next 40 miles, but felt rather restless and further felt he would not
be able to idly sit in the passenger’s seat without annoying Raven to the point of violence.

Samantha lived in an apartment building with two rooms and 1 ½ bathrooms. The money was
nearly the same as Raven’s 1 bed 1 bath, though considerably more decrepit. The doors were
rusted and no longer stayed locked, the windows were either covered in aluminum foil or missing
shards. The landlord claimed to know nothing of the tenants who paid rent on time. The building
smelt like mold and smoke and heavy perfume, it was old and crumbling around the edges;
everything was a shade of yellow or brown but it was not dirty.

Samantha’s room was less messy than the hallways or the rooms left open. It was off-white and
clean; it was not organized. She had clothing scattered around her floors and toiletries littering the
counter and tile. The dishes, however, were done and put away.

“There’s a layer of dust on the floor,”

“She’s been gone longer than we thought.”

A uniform stream of water ran in the bathroom, amalgamated at the sink base. Raven stopped just
before the water touched her shoes.

“Is the faucet on?” Richard called from the other room.

“No,” she whispered; she modified her volume, “no, it’s leaking from the pipe.” She leaned down,
scrutinizing.

“Doesn’t surprise me. This whole block seems to have water issues. Among other things.”

“Yea… Hey, come check out the water heater downstairs with me when we finish up here.”
“Why? You think there’s anything worthwhile? We aren’t health inspectors so I really don’t see
the need-”

“Just trust me, Scully. I’ve got a feeling.”

“As long as it’s out of this world .” he chuckles. She rolls her eyes (reminds herself she’s
technically responsible for the not-so-witty comeback).

Later, once they can only confirm that Samantha had not been home in quite awhile, they leisurely
narrowed their path to the basement.

“You know, I really don’t want asbestos poisoning. Or any other form of fungal infection.” he
admits before the rusted door. Raven turns and looks at him dubiously, then tugs his scarf over his
mouth and nose.

“Then don’t breathe.” she smiled, opening the door. Richard had made some sort of facetious
grunt before following her inside.

They separate, investigating opposite sides of the floor. From the walk upstairs and the so many
things that occupied the area, they forgot about the water heater and it’s failure. 10 minutes into
their respective searches, Richard comments into the faintly lit room.

"Well, blood is thicker than water." he'd said in passing, rummaging through various, seemingly
familial, paraphernalia.

"That's wrong," she replied, running her flashlight over the dark corners along the ceiling.

"What?" He stopped his ministrations to question her.

"The actual idiom is 'the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.' Originally it
meant shedding blood with fellow soldiers on the field was more important than biological
bonds." She ran her fingers over what was assumed to be a water stain. When the wall pushed
back too far, she began tapping and scraping.

"That's good to know, thanks."

"Anytime. Now would you hold your light here?"

“Jinkies, are you on to something?”

“Oh my god, shut up and hold the damn flashlight.”

“ As you wish .”

The wall began to peel away; layers of dust and abandoned cobwebs lingering between the space.

“There’s…” she shoved her fist into the hole she made, pulled it back toward herself. Once it was
near enough to her knee, she kicked in the wall until Richard could tell that there was indeed
something else.

“It’s a door.” he finished, then began to help her remove the drywall.

“Do you think it leads anywhere?”

“We’ll find out.”

The wall was cleared enough for the two to traverse over the debris and pry the door open. It took
them both to push it in. They fell on top of each other in a pile of bruised skin and sore bones.
Dust flared angrily and choked them as retribution of its disturbance.

“Anyway, as I was saying about fungal infections,” Richard began, pulling her up and wiping dirt
from her face, only to smear more upon her cheek with his own dirty hands. She swatted his hand
away and shook the dust from her clothes.

“I don’t think anyone knows about this room. It almost seems older than the building itself.”
Raven observed the pastose grime along every surface and coughed. It seemed so small to her too,
10x10 at most.

“It’s just concrete, too. Looks like someone wasn’t big on interior design.”

“You wouldn’t need to be if this was just a storage room.” she said, picking up a stack of papers
on the desk that sat near the door. Her eyes widened, and she began to furiously look through the
other papers.

“What? What is it?” Richard asked urgently. She threw a packet at him.

“These are…?”

“These are pictures and details of the past 5 bodies we’ve uncovered. Only with different victims
and 3 decades before us.” Raven said, running her fingers over the filthy photos and staining her
fingers with soot.

“Someone was being praised for this? Like, like some sort of…” he could not find the words, his
mind answering all of his questions and none of them at all.

“Tradition.” she spat.

In the end, nothing came of the dark, concrete room other than more questions no one could
properly answer. And, while not forgotten, the room was left alone, as there was no way anyone
could have gotten ideas or information swallowed in the depths of dust and dirt and grime.
 8
Chapter Notes

Only 3 chapters left! Let me know what you think will happen & if you like the
direction of the story so far!

It was early, and Raven woke him up.

“Richard! I think I’ve got the guy! I’m down by the wharf on 56th. Get here quickly!”

“Don’t move! I’ll be there in 5. I’m calling backup.”

“Yea.” she hung up and he had never felt so apprehensive. He pulled out of the parking lot and
sped his way down the thin avenues. He did not see her when he reached her coordinates. His
stomach dropped and he blamed it on skipping breakfast (“The one day!” he thought).

He saw her car, and where her footsteps had sunk into the sand. He followed carefully, knew she
was undetected at the time of her call. He followed her tracks for a while, cursed her for not
staying in one place. When he saw where her footprints disappeared into a conglomeration of
another set of tracks and eventually the scrape and drag marks of her shoes, his blood stung his
skin. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so angry in his life.

He suddenly feels lightheaded again, stumbles forward, trying to catch up with the marks in the
sand. A hand pulls around his neck, and he is breathing something sticky. And then he can only
remember that’s he’s terrified for Raven, but does not remember why.
 9
Chapter Notes

This chapter is probably the most intense in the entirety of the story; its very graphic.
The next 2 chapters are very short so I may go ahead and upload them tomorrow in
one go!

Richard wakes up, cold and shifty. He is not bound to anything but he cannot see clearly and he
does not know where he is. His muscles are sore and his bones scrape against his skin. His head is
filled with the dull tear of rusted metal. This is what dying feels like , he tells himself, as if it were a
consolation. Maybe, he hopes, this is just another one of his late-night self-pity hangovers and
when he blinks the sleep from his eyes, Raven will be there, a glass of water and a Blowfish to
help ease the pain; massage the fatigue and worry from his bones.

He remembers then, that he is trying to find Raven and that she will not be helping him if he
cannot locate her first. His vision clears, eventually, but he cannot move. He knows he is still at
the wharf, he can hear the waves and the seagulls and the distant call of people above him. He is
staring at a blank wall, wooden and eroded from the potent sea winds. The place feels small, with
the wind echoing so loudly and closely. He holds his breath and manages to turn himself in the
other direction.

She is facing him, eyes open but not in shock (in fierce obstinance); she does not see him. Richard
can see the gray-blue hue of her irises; can see himself in them. He does not remember crying, but
he knows he must have (why else were his eyes so sore and his skin so tight?). Her head lay on its
side, strategically placed to stare directly at him; to haunt him. Her blood was still warm, not
oozing, but rather slowing like the tide. Scraps of trachea and skin were jarred and littered around
her neck- jagged and sharply cut.

Her body was there, and had he not willed himself to look at the blood, he might not have noticed
its state of detachment. He reached for her hand, gritted his teeth from the white-hot pain burning
through his nerves. Her fingers were still malleable and he found himself intertwining their hands.
He might have laughed, remembering how much she hated it when he hugged her in public or had
to hold her hand for whatever security matters.

“I’m not getting paid to hold your hand.” she would say.

“If only your job was so lovely.” he would say back.

He remembers whispering something through his tears, repentance, maybe. But he would not
remember those words for years. Not until he slept and her voice cradled his woes.

Police sirens sounded and he could hear gunshots. The door was kicked in and the officers found
him lying in blood, crying and murmuring to a dead girl that lay beside him. His focus was not on
them; he saw swathes of blue and black and thought the walls were moving around him. He
screamed when they raised his body away from hers, but he could not fight them.
 10

Richard had a shock blanket wrapped around him as he sat between the doors of the ambulance.
His Sergeant had told him that he was sorry (as if he had cut off Raven’s head). But his voice
hardened, and he said he’d come bearing other news:

“Grayson. Richard . The second persecutor got away and we are still actively searching. But
you’re off the case. I don’t want you mucking about trying for revenge.”

Richard was too tired, too upset to be bothered. He nodded weakly (not from the
methoxypropane, that was wearing off) but from the mass of rapidly congealing emotional
exhaustion he felt stunt his physical being.
 11

That night, he went to Raven’s apartment; inhaled the gentle scent of her soap that lingered in the
air. She had so few things; he’d forgotten how sparsely she kept her rooms. He found her carton
of cigarettes, always hated her habit, told her it would kill her.

He had never smoked before, and the smoke stifled his lungs, compressed them. He puffed
outside the window, listening to traffic and the people on the streets. When he’d finished, he
flicked the butt onto the sidewalk and turned to her bed. He fell asleep, hugged the pillows more
than he used them. He’s never slept so soundly and he never will again.

End Notes

This was all written in one go & is rather sloppy. Let me know if I've made any mistakes
(continuity or otherwise) so I may mend it! I also have a very extensive backstory thought
out for this, though it will only be vaguely alluded to in the actual piece. If you're curious,
ask me! I love going on about it.

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!