The world was bleak, nothing more than swirling hues of gray that seemed to still before her eyes until she tried to focus, and it shifted, eluding her. Try as she might, she couldn't see what was before her and the noises sounded so very far away. It was like staring at the surface of the water when submerged. Images flowed and ran together and the sound was nothing more than muffled gurgles, never coming in clear enough. She was backed against a wall this time, bound and helpless. No. No, this was no wall. The sound grew closer now, highs and lows growing more and more distinct, almost rhythmic. Her binding constricted and she let out a choked off sound, air escaping her lungs forcefully and Raven struggled in vain, winded. It wasn't a wall. This permeated her with heat, overbearing heat, and heaved against her. It rose and fell out of step with the low rhythmic sounds at first, then the movements began to slow and the sound began to grow faster, until they converged, image and noise syncing. The garbling echoes stopped their reverberation and the surging mass behind her solidified and suddenly the curtaining fog of gray collapsed to reveal a realm of flowing lava, ruination, and stone-gray death. Raven looked down at the strong metal encased arm firmly gripping her, unwilling to relinquish its hold, glinting with red light. She could not contain a gasp and immediately tried to squirm away. This cut off the sounds, the soft groans, emanating from behind the orange and black mask behind Raven's head. A firm tug of her long violet locks put her movements to a halt. She didn't look up, but the world quieted and the hold grew weaker. The tight hold on her hair was gone. Arms that were so evidently wound with thick muscle shrank and gave way to thin, sinewy ones. While they held nowhere as firmly, Raven knew they held on just as fiercely.

"Why didn't you tell me?" The voice was not low, deep, or melodious. It didn't inspire awe or fear, but pity with its tangible unhappiness. It was undoubtedly male, though by the tone and timbre, a young man. Knots formed in her stomach and it felt as if her innards had been wrenched from her body. Her words came out uneasily.

"I wanted… I wanted to think she wouldn't hurt you," she said truthfully. She never sounded this way normally. Her emotions were always in control, always in check and neither the good nor the bad ever seeped through her carefully constructed façade of ice. Something inside her softened at hearing the voice and she couldn't hold her feelings at bay.

"No, that's not what I mean, Raven. I mean why didn't you tell me how you felt?" The arms that engulfed her moved and her shoulders were held in their hands. She closed her eyes tight when she felt them move to make her turn about to face their owner and did not flinch when a forefinger and thumb gently held her chin in place until she felt the soft warm rustle of breath draw closer and felt it so tantalizingly close to her lips. The warm pulse of air warmed her slightly parted lips… But no kiss came. The breathing moved passed her lips, to her cheek, and slightly further still.

A cruel, throaty laugh against her ear and only cold metal greets her, presses against her cheek.

"Wake up, Raven."

Raven woke with a start, taking in a bit too much air with a choked off gasp and immediately began to cough uncontrollably, trying to calm the painful spasms of her diaphragm and lungs. She groaned, pressing her open hand gently against her throat, the skin beneath her fingertips warm and slightly clammy though her throat felt dry and irritated. She scanned her room as her eyes grew adjusted to the bright clear sunlight streaming into her rom through the slots of her blinds, casting white bands across her blanket and lap. Across from her bed, amongst her books was a glass of water she had sipped at before she had retired for the night. One hand still against her neck, she extended the other, and began to speak.

"Azar—" her mantra was abruptly cut off by another fit of painful dry coughs and she soon regretted even trying to talk.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos," she intones quietly, the words barely audible, but it is apparently enough to get the job done. The glass was engulfed Raven's dark telekinetic energy and floats soundlessly her, the water barely rippling. Even drinking slowly did nothing to ease the discomfort of swallowing. A few loud raps on her door startle her, watering spilling all over her bed and her legs as she jumps. From the other side of her door comes an energetic voice.

"Oh RAAAAAAAAAAAAVEN. Come on, time to get up! You never sleep in like this! I'm making breakfast! Scrambled tofu and veggie bacon! I know how much you love my cooking, riiight?"

Her body grows hotter, a manifestation of her annoyance at spilling the water, but it soon evaporates with visible wisps of steam.

"Fiiine. Don't answer. We'll see you downstairs," says Beastboy, obviously used to Ravens tacit responses to his enthusiasm. Raven sighs, left alone and conflicted, the dream and her memories weighing heavily on her mind. There is no use in sitting idly by, as she had already woken up too late to do her usual meditation which may have helped to put her mind at ease, but she knew better than to lag any further—after all, Beastboy is not above barging in to physically retrieve her.

Raven made her way downstairs after her morning rituals and ablutions.

"Good morning Raven! I hope you have slept adequately and that your dreams were not unlike the wonderful sucrose we enjoy putting in our morning 'cup of Joseph,'" Starfire says, as she starts to apply liberal amounts of relish to her French Toast.

"Star, that's… Nevermind," Robins starts, peering at the green-eyed girl over his paper. "Hey Raven, you okay? You're usually awake before all of us."

"I was just tired," Raven replies, trying to mask how hoarse she sounded. Her voice is nothing more than a dry whisper, barely perceptible over the sound of the chair's legs scraping against the floor as she took a seat at the table.

"Are you ill?" Starfire says, her voice full of concern, her upper lip covered in an uneven layer of relish.

Raven, while thankful for her kindness, cannot help but feel a little defensive. She knows that the team would want her to take it easy, something she is unwilling to do with Slade back.

"I'm not sick, I'm fine," she insists, though her voice's scratchy nature betrays her.

"It doesn't sound that way, Raven," Robin starts, putting down his paper. Raven is well aware that Robin, as the de facto leader, would surely make her stay home should she be sick.

"I'm not sick!" she says, trying to use a more firm voice, but it simply makes her throat ache more. A small red dot moves along her forearm and soon a quiet beeping is heard. She turns to see Cyborg reading over the text across the small screen on his mechanized forearm.

"Not according to my laser thermometer. You have a fever of 101, Rae," he says, pressing a few buttons to clear the data. A mixture of annoyance and defiance was bubbling beneath her surface.

""Wait, Raven's sick? She can't be sick! She never gets sick!" Beastboy frantically exclaims.

"I can handle it, it's not a big deal for me," she tells them, standing to make her way over to the sink to fill a mug for a cup of tea before she stops in her tracks as a plate stacked high with fluffy pale tofu and unappealing faux bacon completely devoid of any color is shoved into her face.

"Now you really have to eat all this! Come on, I promise it'll make you better in no time!" Beastboy tells her, pressing the plate into her hands.

"… I'll pass," she replies tersely.

"Come on! I swear, it'll fix you right up. You'll need all the energy you can get!" Beastboy says enthusiastically, giving her a toothy grin, his canines pronounced and pointed against the line of straight teeth.

"I said no," the violet-haired girl repeats, turning to rummage through the cupboard to find the box of ginger tea she reserved for times she felt under the weather or wanted something a little stronger than the usual Early Grey or green tea.

"But why? Come on, don't be such a grouch," her diminutive green teammate tells her. By now, Raven was starting to lose patience. Her mind is swirling with thoughts: her encounter with Slade, the dream, the nagging dry pain in her throat that she desperately wants to remedy with tea and honey, and now the insistent noise of Beastboy. Robin, Starfire, and Cyborg always go silent during these moments, knowing full well that any reprimand to Beastboy would fall on deaf (pointed) ears and would only spur him on to be more aggressive in his requests. The shortest member of the team simply refuses to stop extolling the virtues of the soy proteins and artificial meat.

That same voice Raven heard in her dream, before it went so bad. His voice was so pained and imploring, full of emotion and something Raven knew too well: yearning for comfort, companionship, all in a way that went beyond simple friendship or the camaraderie she felt for Robin, Cyborg, or Starfire and that they returned. Though reality is far different now and Beastboy's voice was the same as it always is: hyperactive, noisy, always obstinately refusing to cease.

Worst yet, oblivious… Oblivious to everything. The mug in her hand begins to steam, the water heating rapidly, starting to boil and finally the ceramic can no longer absorb the heat and shatters, sending shards all over the kitchen, giving off tiny clinks as it hits the floor, the countertop, and the table.

"I SAID NO!" she yells, the pain in her throat forgotten. She didn't mean to snap, she really hadn't, and for once Beastboy is silent and Raven couldn't decide what was more painful, the truth she could never confess to him or the way he genuinely looked hurt.

"S-sorry, I just…" Beastboy starts, unsure of how to proceed, possibly fearing her lashing out.

"Raven, what's wrong?" Robin asks, the others looking equally as stunned. Starfire is already starting to levitate from her seat, ready to make her way over to offer her assistance.

"I… I just…" Raven groans, touching her hand to her forehead, half to hide her own shame, half to shield her eyes from the bright light of the kitchen lights overhead and the bright sunlight coming through the windows. It is suddenly much too bright and she feels herself suppressing violent shivers. Vaguely, she realizes how her skin simultaneously feels so damp with sweat beading on it, but still blazing hot.

Like… fire… Like the dream… The vision… She feels her stomach churn in revulsion. Like Slade.

"Raven?" Beastboy asks slowly, his voice no longer sounding as wounded, her outburst forgotten, but now instead sounds fretful.

It's enough to break Raven out of her trance and she looks up at him, though her eyes are glazed over.

"I…" Raven starts, her voice trailing off as she looks to the worried faces of her teammates, though they were going in and out of focus.

The girl was falling again, she knew, but this time, it wasn't Robin's secure hold, strong for his age and size that catches her. These arms were smaller, thinner, less used to the strain of carrying someone's weight, much less when caught off guard. Even as she begins to lose consciousness, Raven smiles.

At least being in his arms for real felt like they did in the dreams.