This is my first attempt at an ongoing Teen Titans story, and WILL BE A RAVEN x ROBIN fic. I hope you enjoy.

The story starts out on the Birthmark episode.

Prologue: Fatum

With their mental bond, Raven knew Robin better than anyone: his name, his feelings—his thoughts. It frustrated him because he knew so little of her. He felt as if he were walking down the street naked. It was his opinion that at the very least, the rest of the population in that mental landscape could have the decency to reciprocate the gesture. Never mind that the remaining population consisted of one— Raven. Not that he couldn't shield his mind, and didn't trust her. But when Robin noticed the circles beneath her eyes that mirrored the ones he bore beneath his domino mask, he had demanded that she teach him that mental construction. She had taught him how to build that mental barrier, brick by brick. But if Robin's shield was of stone, it was an old, cracked, and penetrable wall; whereas, Raven's mental shield was a 12 inch thick wall of pure diamond—radiant, strong, and inescapable. Needless to say, Robin's thoughts still leaked through. While not perfect, it did prevent him from barraging her with an onslaught of thoughts. Even so, Robin guessed that she would somehow know what he was thinking regardless.

It was the night of her birthday when she lost her temper that his frustration similarly peaked. He had confronted her in hopes of opening her mind to the idea of sharing each others' thoughts, worried that she would cast him aside in her time of need. She cautioned him of the dangers within her mind, the darkness, and the solitary secrets. She didn't tell him no, didn't tell him to go away, and reminded him that he above everyone else knew her mind, yet even so, Robin knew that his trust had been rejected. Yet he held no spite, no grudge, only remorse that she would isolate herself thus. And so it was a relief that night, despite the havoc of that time, when she showed her trust by telling him the secret that had lay with her since her birth. It was not a sharing of a life story, but it was enough.

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That night had been one of fighting, of confusion, and defeat, for no one doubted that they had somehow lost. There were no casualties, no kidnappings, and no serious injuries, yet each knew that something was different now. Something was wrong—and something inside them told them that someone was already lost. They celebrated their Raven's birth with smiles on their faces, each genuinely glad for her presence and for her friendship. They shared many laughs that night, many at the expense of Beast Boy. They celebrated as if they would never see her again.

Raven received many gifts: clothing from Starfire, a tool kit from Cyborg, some video game involving monkeys from Beast Boy (Raven suspected that the gift was actually for himself), but it was the Boy Wonder's gift that produced a smile on her face that night. A curl at the edge of her lips that said, 'I know what you're trying to say.' The figures on the music box were carved in glass: a bird bath, with Robin's dancing around it as the music played. Her only comment was, "Tweet, tweet?" He flushed, but smiled.

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Slade knew that had he all his senses, all his feelings, he might have gagged on the overpowering stench of brimstone; he might have sweat in the sweltering heat of the fiery caverns out of dread and fear. But he felt nothing, nothing but this ever present darkness lingering where his heart should have been. He knew that this deal was irrational, to gain back what he had lost, he would sacrifice all of humanity so that he alone could walk the earth, unharmed, unchallenged- unstoppable. It was irrational, it was insane, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it. What was there to live for if everything else was at its end? But he didn't care: he had no body, he had no rationality, no mortality. He longed to be human again. And nothing in the world would stop him.

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She floated within the room, cross-legged and sitting on nothing but air, eyes closed from the blue runes that lit the walls. She was still, silent save the harsh breathing that she attempted to control, feeling as if she had physically breathed the fumes of the underworld rather than just mentally. Father, she had called him, pleaded with him: "Father, I don't want to" as if she were a child and it would make a difference. As if they were a normal family. Her eyes opened, staring blankly at the walls, brooding.

Were her relationship with her father a normal one, or perhaps even something resembling affection, she knew that she would do anything: anything for her family, just as she would do anything for her friends. Her friends had hope; they believed in her, believed that something could be done, and that they could protect her. Raven thought it ironic that still, she would do the bidding of her father. She glanced at her hand, clenched since Trigon had contacted her. Tentatively—cautiously, as the fear and doubt crept through her heart, she opened her palm, and looked. There, in the well of her hand lay the penny that Beast Boy had given her.

'Heads' she told herself. She breathed deeply, flipped it once and caught it: heads. Once more, she tossed it, cradling it in a makeshift cup: heads. She took a deep breath, and stepped outside of the room. Raven would do anything for her father. She clutched the coin tightly in her hands. She had no choice.

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Robin clutched her hands in his, trying to convey his belief in her, his desperation, and his fear. He let all barriers drop, hoping—praying that it would change her mind. She pulled her hands away, and suddenly in the back of his mind, he could feel their connection click into place. He could feel that ever present wall draw back and reveal her.

"And as my friends, you have to let me go."

She had said, and for once, since the establishment of their connection, he wished that she had not exposed herself to him. He was bitter that she would do so now when nothing else could be done.

He felt her resolution as she formed a shield separating herself from the others. He felt the sorrow as they desperately attacked the shadow wall, he felt the remorse she felt in response to the bitter feeling that resided within his own heart.

This mental language was foreign to Robin. Yet at the same time, it was something he instinctively knew and understood. There were no words, no images, just real and almost tangible concepts. If asked to describe it, Robin would simply say, "understanding," because in this language nothing could be misunderstood. There were only thoughts and emotions and knowledge. In that brief moment where she had opened her mind, and before the portal engulfed her, he had understood her better than he had ever done before. He felt her despair, knew how futile everything was, felt the overwhelming love she held for her family, and beneath the fear and the pain, he could feel her hope.

Robin watched that coin fall with dread, as if he were watching her body plummet towards the ground and he a helpless spectator—again. And when that coin struck the stone floor, with the sound of its clattering muted amongst the roar of evil, he felt in the back of his mind, something important, something essential, wink out of existence. He didn't need to see the coin to know which side it had landed on. "Heads," he bitterly whispered as he braced himself for the fight to come.