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This time, her hand is ice cold on impact.
"No," Raven whispers. Her bare knees scratch against the debris on the ground as she falls down and clutches Tara's limp hand.
She hears footsteps behind her. Her eyes are fixed on Tara's face, wide-open and lifeless, mouth ajar.
"Raven," Nightwing says from behind her.
"No," she repeats, then squeezes her eyes shut. "I know," she says, voice shaking.
"Let go," he says, but it's not Nightwing's familiar voice, it's something deeper, more sinister, and she knows something different, now.
Raven opens her eyes and looks behind her. She sees her father's visage in place of Nightwing's.
He repeats himself, stepping closer. Her breath hitches.
"Stop," she says, shaking, squeezing Tara's hand harder, enough to bruise if she were still with them, with her—
Raven opens her eyes to sunlight streaming in through the window blinds.
Her room is cold. She tries to pull up the covers but they catch on the girl laid atop them.
Raven, before she can think, brings a shaky hand up to Tara's palm, the girl facing her on her side, eyes closed peacefully.
This time, her hand is warm.
Raven squeezes Tara's hand and sees in her mind's eye the same girl wrecked beyond anyone's recognition except Raven's.
Only Raven knows Tara's true self. The girl she hides from the Titans and Deathstroke alike. Only Raven knows.
Only Raven is able to end this and save the world.
Raven releases the pressure on Tara's hand and simply holds it, savors the warmth in it.
She watches the sun rise with Tara's hand in hers and pretends it doesn't have to end the way it has to.