Disclaimer: Yeahhhh. Not mine.
Notes: I've never written anything for Teen Titans before, and this is by far the biggest fandom I've ever written for, so this is kinda weird for me. This will probably get buried in the crazy archives of however many stories are in this section, but I thought I'd post this anyways for shits and giggles, and whatever reviews you guys are nice enough to give me! This is inspired by the teentitansheadcanons on Tumblr, and I thought they were amazing inspiration if anyone wants to check them out. Mine is based off #575: When Beast Boy tells all the Titans about what happened to him with his family, they all take a trip to Africa and each of them writes a letter to his deceased parents and put them in a box. They bury said box near the waterfall they fell in.
Enjoy, and please review! If you like it, if you have advice, wanna chat, whatever. S'all good. I am continuing this as a series of one-shots — it'll have a heavy BBRae feel, though I'll take suggestions and I'll probably do a few RobStar too. If there are any headcanons you want to see, let me know!
Robin's letter was written on the notepad he always kept with him, cop-in-training that he sometimes seemed to be. That notepad had been through nearly every battle Robin had, and the pages were wrinkled from rain and urgent fingers scribbling out critical messages. He wrote, in his thick, solid handwriting, about how Beast Boy was the comical glue of the Titans. About how brave he was, how proud they should be of him, their boy, and that they should know Robin would do absolutely anything for him.
He folded it decisively, the same way he did everything, and set it in the box.
Starfire's was scrawled in an odd, somewhat loopy writing on a scrap of paper she'd seen blowing about above the ocean on the flight over. It had seemed to dance so merrily over the waves, remaining completely untouched by the water, that she knew she had to use it for her letter.
As for what she wrote, she couldn't say. She knew she mentioned her parents, that she had also experienced the loss of a mother and a father and that a person as wonderful as Beast Boy deserved better than the destiny of an orphan. She said other things, she was quite sure, about parents, about love, and friendship, but she couldn't recall them or even read them after they were written, could hardly keep the pen she'd borrowed from Robin straight for all her crying. Her words were blotched with tears — and after Fate had taken such a bother to keep salted water away from the paper. She knew some origami from Beast Boy, and so with trembling fingers she folded her slip of damp paper into a crane.
It, too, fluttered gently into the box.
Cyborg had taken paper specially for his letter. He'd packed it gently with some recharging equipment he'd need for a long trek without outlet access, and as they all sat by the waterfall, he carefully removed it from its wrapping. It was the softest and smoothest paper he'd ever touched, and it felt so hopeful against his metal fingers. A blank page could change the world, he suddenly thought, as he reached for the quill and ink he'd brought with him. His mother, before she died, had taught him calligraphy — it had seemed ridiculous then, his huge hands making the delicate strokes, and he had resented her lessons. Now, however, he was thankful, and he wrote in perfect letters that he wished they could have known the person Beast Boy had grown into. He told about their friendship, how sorry he was for the parents to not be with their child. He ended it with a guarantee that no one could care for their boy as much as Rob, Star, Rae, and him could.
He slipped it into the matching envelope and set it lightly on top of the others.
Raven watched silently as the others started and finished their notes, biting their lips and tearing up and pausing and looking at the gorgeous stretch of waterfall that had taken two lives away without a thought, because nature was cruel and beautiful and it couldn't help it and it wouldn't want to even if it could.
Finally she sighed very quietly and reached for her notebook. The pages were off-white, and very old — it had come from Azarath, and was who only knew how many years older than her. It had her everything in it, every thought she felt she couldn't share with the world, and sometimes it seemed the ancient spine would split from all the emotion pushing at its binding. Softly her fingers flipped it open, and just as softly they tore out a page.
Her eyes settled on the vast emptiness of her unwritten letter, pen in hand. She wondered how everyone had decided what to say. Her mind had considered a thousand ideas already, but she didn't particularly like any of them. She glanced over at Beast Boy, who was standing with his hands clenched, eyes jammed shut as he listened to the roar of raging water. She could feel the grief pouring from him. Every emotion was different, but sorrow felt like something sitting on her skin, winding around her ribcage and pressing down on her lungs. His was so dark and strong she nearly couldn't breathe.
Eventually she inhaled deeply, her heart in her throat and her feelings dangerously close to the surface. The pen tip began to brush the paper.
"Thank you," she wrote simply, "for bringing your son into this world."
She knelt to place the letter into the box and then stood. Her feet, unbidden, carried her to Beast Boy, and though normally she would pause and only stand beside him, her hand had a different idea. It reached for his fist, and when her fingers brushed his, his eyes opened.
He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. She looked at him, her gaze steady, and he looked back, and his hand squeezed hers. Their eyes turned to the waterfall storming down upon the rocks, moving frighteningly quickly and pounding loud and angry in their ears.
His arm slipped about her waist, and for once, she decided she didn't need to push him off. Instead, her own arm moved around him, and they stood like that for a minute until their fellow teammates drifted over. Starfire was the first, and she landed with a quiet sound. She reached for them, and they for her, and Robin stepped in too, Beast Boy's other arm curling around him. Cyborg enclosed them all with his heavy hug, and some of them were crying, but even if they weren't, they were all thinking the same thing, and that was that even though none of them had families anymore, it didn't matter. This was all the family they needed.