Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans. But every once in a while, I wish I did.

AN: Sorry about the delay in getting this up. It has been… Challenging to make it what I wanted it to be.

Saying Goodbye - Chapter 1

It's time.

I know I'm going to go. And I know I don't want to.

And yet…. It would be worse – somehow – if I didn't. If I just stayed here in the confines of my room, my self-imposed prison.

I look at the old analog clock on the purple wall. The kind of clock that I've seen before in police stations, schools and prisons. Fitting that it's on my wall. The second hand is ticking slowly along. Tick. Tick. Tick. In twenty seconds it will be four-thirty in the afternoon. In twenty seconds I am going to do something that I have come to love and to loathe.

I think ever so briefly about what would happen if I didn't go this month. If I just stayed here. It's a fantasy that I know won't come true.

Ten seconds, and I am standing up. I smooth the wrinkles out of my cloak. Not that it matters. No one will see me – the same as it's been every month.

Five seconds and I reach out with my right hand. Using the smallest part of my power, I tear a hole through space. An ugly black gash appears before me. I can't see the other side of the portal, but I know where it ends.

Three seconds, and I lower my hand.

Two seconds, and I lift my left foot to start walking to the portal.

One second before four thirty in the afternoon, and I enter the portal, leaving Titans Tower.

It's dark in the cave. I wait in the cool, dark air as my eyes adjust. In the gloom, I find the worn rock shelf that I have sat on one afternoon each month for the last 17 months. Today, it's been a year and a half since she "died".

I move to sit on that rocky shelf, thinking about the times in the past that I have been here.

It's my twentieth visit to this place. For the eighteenth time since the Titans said goodbye to her, I am here to watch. And the feelings that lurk below the surface of my mind are begging to come forth and let forth their wrath.

The first time I was here, she was alive, and I hated her more than anything that I have ever known.

The second time I was here, I was in the company of the others, and we laid flowers at her feet. I still hated her, but for different reasons.

My third visit here, a month after she died, I came to tell her something. I wanted to tell her that I had been hurt by her. That I hated her for betraying us to Him. That I hated her for telling Him all of our secrets. All of the things that I shared with her. That her betrayal was far more than simply allowing a bunch of robots into our home to destroy us.

And I wanted very badly to tell her that I was glad that she was gone. And that I hated her for what she had done to the team. What she had done to …. him.

In the days following her sacrifice, the team had become sullen and listless. Each of us, I believe, was blaming ourselves for the failure. Robin was angry that he hadn't seen through her. Starfire, hurt that she had been lied to. Cyborg had lost a good friend, and another person to play games with. I was angry that the others hadn't listened to me, and angrier still that I had been lulled into a sense of cautious amenity with her.

And Beast Boy…. He spent much of that first month alone in his room. As I went from my room to the roof, I would often hear the muffled whimpers of a dog behind his door. A dog that I knew would be green if I opened the door.

That first month after her death… I stood there in front of her, ready to unleash the full might of my powers and obliterate her statue. The only thing preventing me from doing it was a tiny voice in the back of my head which said, "If you do this, you will be giving yourself to your father."

The vengeful portion of my mind countered, saying that it would be a small price to pay, to see her obliterated from the world. But that thought was interrupted when I had heard someone coming down the cave behind me. I wanted my vengeance on Terra to be a private thing, so I had ripped a hole through space to the convenient ledge upon which I now sat.

Seventeen months ago I sat on this ledge, and watched as Beast Boy shuffled down the cave. His eyes were red from the tears flowing freely down his face. In his left hand, there had been a small bunch of asclepias.

Unable to look away, I watched as he had mumbled something to the statue before collapsing in front of it and sobbing. And as he cried in front of her, my hate grew hot. She had taken all the happiness from the carefree, fun-loving jokester of the team, and I knew then what it was to hate with all of my being.

Feeling my powers begin to rush away from my control, I used the last bit of control I had to teleport someplace over the vast Pacific ocean. There I screamed and let loose the pent up energy of hate freely into the sky. And as I finished screaming, it was there that I began to meditate. Trying to shore up the walls that I could feel my father trying to tear down.