Chapter 1:

A/N: Tis the season and seasons greetings!

I come baring gifts of a single chapter. Don't read it all in one go. Or do- Or, you know what, let's just post this thing.

Remember: This is a sequel, not a stand-alone. Please read my first story "Falling Apart" for context. This is also rated T: For questionable elements of course that did not fit into the Summary. Things like Language, definitely Violence, maybe some Blood, the occasional implication of other stuff. Unless something changes, it stays T, so make sure you are age appropriate. I wash my hands of all ill-advised ventures made by those foolish and underage.

I found that direct response to Reviews was just PM'ing those that responded, and not at all what I thought it would be. I thought there would be inter-connected conversations between everyone... but no. It's just a Private Message, though it was still fun. I'll try posting responses up top here next chapter, before the story, see how that goes.

Another year older and cooking sweet-and-sour chicken stir fry. A little Bioshock 2 to make me smile, a piece of pie to lighten my soul, and a cup of coffee to warm my heart. Doesn't hurt that I'm sick at home with a mug of tea either.

Disclaimer: The closest I've been to owning the Teen Titans franchise is the five seasons I purchased online to watch. Unfortunately, it didn't include bonus content :(

Without further adieu. *Que the dimming of the lights*

The Proposition:

Chapter 1:

*End Theme Song

Two Weeks Later…

An alarm was blaring with lost abandon as four men in heavy jackets, gloves, and red ski masks riffled through case after broken display case of jewels and jewellery of the local Saphyr Jeweller's, renowned for its preference toward adornments other than gold and diamond.

One thief held up a silver ring pinched between two fingers, the band laced with subtle hues of emerald embedded in its many studs. Grunting his approval, he pocketed it in the large duffle slung over his shoulder.

"Twenty seconds!" one of his partners warned, barely glancing at the digital display on his wrist, pre-occupied as he was by his own pilfering.

He snatched an arm full of displayed earrings, enjoying the thrilling rush of his heart pounding as he caught their gleam from the florescent lights above. Contrary to popular belief, not everything was diamonds and gold. Every thief went after those like they were going out of style. Better to take a safer road with a higher guarantee of reward, over risk and more competition; that made silver, emeralds, amethysts, and such the way to go. They weren't quite as valuable, but they weren't as guarded either, or as traceable. They were also much easier to fence.

"Ten seconds! Rap it up McLane! Allan! Jeffries, warm up the car!"

He did another sizable sweep with his arm, heaving every valuable he could into his duffel before zipping it shut abruptly. He was already bolting out the store's smashed front glass doors when he heard, "Time's up! Move!"

He hit the street, pulling open the side door to a non-stereotypical blue SUV and tossing his bundle in the back before moving around the street side to the driver's seat just as his fellow crew were exiting with loaded bundles of their own.

Their doors were slide closed as soon as the ignition turned over, the engine growling as it sparked to life. And with a puff of exhaust, the SUV drove off with the ease of a passing family vehicle, the first sounds of sirens just stirring at the precinct still a whole thirty seconds behind them. Even the Titans couldn't stop them now. They had planned it far too well.

"Good haul, huh Allan?!"

The criminal known as 'Allan' was currently eyeing a small stack of jewelry across a plastic folding table they had set up, appraising each one as if any ounce of it could be fraudulent, a pile of discarded cases and covers on the ground at his feet. The jewels, the metal, he wasn't sparing the smallest chain-link. "Not bad. Not good. The metal is of good quality, but some of the gems are fake. Decent, but they really did a number forging them. Almost couldn't tell the difference if I didn't have the eye for it."

"They're not chipped, are they?" their mutually elected leader asked, known to them as Davis.

"Is that 'broken' chipped? Or 'GPS' chipped?" Allan asked, now eyeing their prizes for signs of the latter, having already observed for the former.

"'GPS' chipped," was the reply. "I hear they sometimes decoy the gems to catch thieves. No one stops to appraise their loot while they're stealing it."

Allan carefully considered his associate's inquiry. They were currently laying low on Jump City Bay's Northern-most wharf, hiding in one of the many abandoned warehouses of Pier 12. The old 1930's shipping port hadn't seen usage in over a couple decades. At one point there had been plans to restore it as a historical site, but now it sat, untouched except for the far and few spreads of graffiti. Like many of the old piers before it, it would be neglected until some rich entrepreneur bought it up for whatever money-making venture they had in mind. Until such a time occurred, it made a perfect hideout; unless of course the gems were baited for police, then they were in trouble.

Having finished his re-appraisal, the falsified gems Allan had separated were confirmed clear of devices. "They're clean," he assured, pulling out a piece of finery he hadn't viewed yet, continuing with his work unperturbed, but with their new warrant in mind. "Well, they're dirty, since the jewellers were trying to sell them as is."

Their driver, Jeffries, was currently under the hood of the mid-sized SUV, checking the engine religiously as he examined it, like it's first use since its most recent tune-up already ran the possibility of significant wear-and-tear, despite how smoothly the job went. He glanced up at Allan comment, shaking his head slightly as he returned to his fixation.

McLane had an entirely different table set up; the guts of an unmodded Glock strewn about as he went through maintenance for his unused "baby", making sure to swab her clear of any dirt, dust, or grime she may have acquired. Unlike Jefferies, his work was less OCD, and more humble repetition as he removed any excess residue with the finesse of an artist. He regularly used his firearm after all. Not on jobs of course, but in his downtime.

Meanwhile, Davis took Allans' words to heart: they were in the clear. As at ease as he felt though, he fiddled with an object in his pocket nervously, watching every shadow cautiously as if expecting company. Sure, the job had gone well, but that wasn't a good enough reason for him to let his guard down.

Unbeknownst to the criminals' present, a small black disc sat magnetized under their SUV's bumper, a small flashing red light indicating its transmission. Its owner watched from the shadows, peeking out from behind a stack of dust-ridden, forsaken steel beams that would never know use. He eyed an opened box where he knew lay a few stacks of carefully crated automatic weapons. Next to it were boxes of clips stowed with a genocide's worth of ammunition. Presumably a precaution should their base of operations be compromised.

It was the same MO: targeting precious metals and gems other than the commonly stolen gold and diamond. Their heists were methodically planned, in and out quickly; no weapons were carried to the sight of the crime, presumably to lighten their carry-weight and maximize their haul, and to negate any chance of tracing a ballistic round should one be fired; little-to-no security resistance; no trace, no fingerprints, no plates, and no identifying traits except for their red masks. Even their used names were pseudo. Until that night, there had been no solid leads. All it had taken was a stroke of chance and quick thinking; a transponder and an hour ride later, there they were.

The figure listened intently, narrowing his masked eyes as they continued to speak.

"He should have called by now," Davis exhaled stoically, appraising his team. Unlike their leader, they were more at ease, going through the motions of a job well-done. It had been flawless before, and it should be no different then. "I'm telling you, he should have called."

"Davis, sit down," Jefferies offered, pointing to the opened driver-side door with a socket wrench held in an oily hand. "He probably just got held up. No need to get all fidgety."

"Yeah. You're probably right."

As Davis accepted his companions offer with a sigh, the figure slinked back into the shadows. 'Who is He?' the figure wondered, holding up a thin cylindrical-shaped object, the silent release of pressurized gas puffed as a grappling hook was launched. Once the line had grown stiff, he pushed a button, the retracting mechanisms pulling him soundlessly into warehouse's steel rafters. Now with a bird's-eye view, he balanced swiftly and carefully until he stood above their vehicle. His stick-like weapon in hand, he pulled another from its twin-sheath scabbarded along both his shoulder blades. With two felons in his appraising view, and the other two hidden but within line-of-sight of those exposed, timing was everything. He just needed to-

A catchy chime rang from just below him, startling him from his wind-up to pounce. Teeth grit in quiet agony as he reeled, trying to keep his balance as he teetered dangerously between stability and falling. Before he could plummet forward, the toe of his boot shot back, hooking precariously against the steel rafter as he hung over the edge, breathing silently in relief. But his leg was already feeling the burn as it held him, and it was beginning to strain.

"Hello?" Davis answered, unaware of the battle that had waged just above his head.

Relatively safe despite his awkward position, the figure above put a finger to his ear to augment the sound of his wireless earbud as he listened in, the perp's phone software already cloned via a remote interface in his mask.

"You've been followed," a voice stated from the other end, causing both listeners to stiffen, though for different reasons. The tone was put through a single filter, giving the voice a static drone that made it sound both mischievous and cunning.

"Who is it?" Davis asked, becoming visible from above as he stepped down from his seat in the car, his words and actions instantly grabbing the attention of his associates.

"I don't know. But if I had to guess, I'd say it was a little birdy, come to play," was the reply. "Don't even try to look for me. Either get rid of the nuisance, or rot in jail. You were too careless, and I'm not exposing myself to save you. You know the drill." With that, the click of hanging up silenced both ends of the line.

'Shit,' the figure thought, equal parts of him fretting over being discovered, and hearing the voice on the other end. He should know, it was a voice he had designed.

The phone snapped closed. "Boys, we have a guest. Let's make sure he doesn't walk out of here. Otherwise, we might miss out on payday."

The figure watched as they nonchalantly began moving toward the polymer case of automatic weapons, eyeing the shadows carefully… and looking everywhere but up.

'Now.' He lifted the toe that held him in place, his center of gravity propelling him down as he flipped once. A grappling hook launched from the end of one of his sticks, swinging silently from it as his descent slowed considerably. As soon as he landed with a Thump atop the vehicle, time slowed.

His grappling hook disengaged as he threw his other weapon at the villain closest to the weapons with extreme precision, jumping down from the car roof as it conked one in the back of the head, ricocheting off and into the face of another. Twisting around, he pulled out an oddly shaped blunt, letting it fly. One more was knocked down before the last of the crooks reached the crate, swinging around to introduce a gun barrel. Half a second too late, he clicked another button on his weapon, instantly releasing an explosion of obscuring cloud from the butt end.

Bullets Whizz!ed as they met the cooler air, hitting listlessly into the smoke as it peppered their ride full of holes, shattering some of the vehicles windows from the inaccurate hail. It only took a moment for the smoke to clear, but by that time, the figure had disappeared.

"Come out, come out!" McLane shouted at the shadows, his eyes peeling for movement, or any foreign shape as his comrades stood to their feet, groaning at the bumps they undoubtedly felt, and the promise of headaches yet to come. "Show yourself!"

A warble whispered as something sliced through the air, hitting him in the back of the head as his fellows began to stir for the guns, clips loading quickly as they pulled the shutters back with resounding Chuk-chuk!, depositing the first round into the chamber. They immediately turned toward the direction it had come from, opening fire into the darkness. They spread their aims co-ordinately, covering as large an area as possible with bullet spray without risking hitting each other, firing until the trigger clicked.

As Davis and Jefferies bent down to pick up another clip for their respective weapons, Allan continued to stare down the sight of his barrel at the general area they had fired. "Do you think we got him?"

The fallen cylinder flashed in an explosion of sound and light, blinding and disorientating him as he vaguely saw a shadow fall right in front of him, grabbing the loose barrel and butting it against his nose. He barely had time to wince before his world spun, and he landed on his back with a grunt.

The figure retrieved the second of his stick weapons, somersaulting over the ground as he came up behind two startled men attempting to reload their guns. He gave them a smirk before each of them felt the end of each stick in their sides, seizing as a jolt of electricity passed into them. Both fell, jerking slightly at the disruption to their nervous systems, wheezing as their breaths lodged in their throats.

The cocking of a gun alerted him, the tick of cold metal touching the back of his head as the first man armed steadied his aim, one hand absently holding the back of his head where he was struck. "Slick moves buddy," he complimented with a wince as he pulled away his hand to check for blood. "Almost had us there. Now, drop the toys, and turn around. Slowly."

He dropped them. As soon as polymer cylinder struck concrete floor, he moved. Rolling from his center of gravity in mid-air, he kicked the weapon sideways as he landed facing his would-be captor, striking decisively with an open palm to the man's sternum.

A weak groan escaped the last felon, the wind knocked out of him, preventing him from screaming about the dislocated trigger finger he now sported as he fell to the ground, gasping.

"Wow. That was actually impressive. I didn't plan on butting in, but now I'm curious."

The figure spun around, met with the echoes of weak and mock clapping as he stared face to face with one of his past's personal demons. The voice filter hadn't changed over the years. Neither did the skull-shaped mask; or the two blood-red slashes across the forehead, one extending over the right eye, creating an 'X' across his visage.

"I like the new look too," he complimented, looking him over with a hint of admiration. "Does it come in your colors though? Straight black just doesn't suit you."

He growled as he shot forward, engaging his nemesis in hand-to-hand combat as a distant green and blue explosion sounded the arrival of the cavalry. They were matched; strike for strike, kick for kick, both in perfect synch as one went solely on the offensive, and the other on the defensive.

"I have to say, I didn't expect you to catch up with me. All I had to do was sit back and plan the heists, and it only took you what? Two years to track down my little gang? Kind of disappointing, hey-?"

"Robin!" A pair glowing green eyes, shimmering red hair, and bright bronze skin flew higher in the warehouse, glancing down on the two engaged in continuous combat in worry.

"Star!" a voice called from the other end of the warehouse. "Where's Rob at?"

"Oh! How sweet! You even brought me a date and a chaperone," the masked villain taunted smugly, counter-kicking his opponent away suddenly. "Unfortunately, you know what they say. Three's a crowd." Reaching down, he pushed the small red x on his belt, fizzling like static before disappearing all-together.

Standing firmly, he sighed as his tensed fist slacked, and his newly acquired frustration calmed, fading as a gentle hand floated down to rest on his shoulder. "Are you thee alright?"

He turned, smiling for his girlfriend. "Yeah Star," Robin affirmed, doing his best to hide a wince as the adrenaline wore off.

"No. You are not," she stated, looking where her hand rested suspiciously. "You should not have engaged until friend Cyborg and I provided the distraction."

He grumbled an apology under his breath. Even as a bright blue glow began to heavily approach them in the dark, the whine of a sonic cannon dying down. "Hey man, not cool. Next time, a little more warning before you send for us," their half-robotic friend complained, one bright red eye turning toward the downed criminals. "And before you go testing out new toys!" he cried, sliding to a halt in front of the dropped sticks, picking them up with the love and care of a father. "These babies weren't ready! I still had some diagnostics to run before they could be field tested!"

"Good news, Cy: They work," Robin stated with a grin at his friend's antics, rolling his shoulder slightly in discomfort. "The suit works too." His mood soured slightly as he glanced at the stolen jewellery, still laying on the table it had been examined on. "It's a shame to find out that Red X never retreated into the woodwork. He's been pulling strings from the shadows this whole time."

"I am glad friend Cyborg's design has served you well, Robin," Starfire stated firmly, "and it is truly unpleasant that thee Red X has been revealed to be actively villainous these past couple years, but it is apparent that you are injured." She grabbed his arm firmly when he tried to pull away. "When we return home, you will let me look at it, yes." It was a statement, not a question.

From his peripheral vision, Robin could see the reflecting glint of Cyborg's insinuating grin in the dark. "Any excuse to get his shirt off."

Hoping the dark was hiding the red creeping from his face, he cleared his throat. "Let's go ahead and call the police. Let them know that we caught their jewel thieves."

"And the Red X?" Starfire inquired.

"We'll try to pick up some leads tomorrow if we can," he replied reassuringly. "But right now, we all could use some shut eye."

"Good," Cyborg stated, followed by a king-sized yawn as he put the stick weapons in the spare compartment in his arm. "I gotta make sure you didn't break anything on these things anyway."

Robin smiled gently as he activated a silent call to their friendly neighbourhood police, dispatching their location quickly.

It was only once he had finished that he frowned, noticing something, or rather someone, was missing. "Um, hey Star, where's Raven?"

In the still of night, it grew even quieter, if that was even possible, despite the clicking of the handcuffs Cyborg was putting on their captured crooks. The atmosphere was heavy, laden with heartfelt sadness and anticipation. "Friend Raven is doing the searching," Starfire responded dejectedly.

"Again," Cyborg confirmed, his features drawing out in a sad frustration. "It's only been a couple weeks Rob. Give her time. She's taking all of this the hardest." And without another word, Cyborg turned to leave, making his own way back to their home.

Once he had disappeared, the sound a car engine racing off the last indication of his presence, Starfire snuck her hand into Robin's, squeezing slightly. "I fear it is friend Cyborg who also taking it 'the hard'," she said sadly.

It was a low-spirited drive back at the Tower. Sure, they had had their fair share of gloom and doom in the past. But not like this. This was personal; the air stagnant, as though someone had died.

After Robin had dealt with the police, explaining the situation and the villain behind the thieves' success, it had been a long ride back to their home. Starfire had insisted on riding behind Robin on his motorcycle, too sad at that moment to fly, and the silence had persisted save for his bike's engine as he accelerated. Once they had gotten back, it was dark and quiet… like it had been the evening he had disappeared. Before Robin could walk back to his Evidence Room, Star pulled his hand slightly, silently reminding him that they had business to discuss.

And there Robin sat, in the brightly-lit newly refurbished Common's, having peeled back the torso of the new uniform, his empty sheaths laying on the coffee table; Starfire standing with gentle fingers probing at the large black and purple bruise Robin now had on his right shoulder.

"You are lucky," she affirmed, gently bringing out a balm she had collected prior to their sit-down. "Friend Cyborg's design prevented the bullet from breaking through your attire." And she was silent again, gently scooping a slab of the oily medicine with her fingertips before massaging it into his shoulder. He grimaced, but otherwise made no complaint as it began to leave a cool sensation on his skin. "You should not have acted without us."

There was the meat of the issue.

"X tipped them off that I was there," he explained, holding a gentle and patient tone he had only ever used when she asked him a question, as if he had all the time in the world to answer her. "If I had waited, then they would have been fully armed and prepared when you came in." He gave her one of his gentle smiles. "It was worth it. A bruise on my shoulder beats a bullet wound on you or Cyborg."

Her eyes narrowed playfully, visibly conflicting with the worry she felt. "As friend Cyborg did the saying, 'Anything to remove your shirt'."

His smile turned into a cheesy side-grin, a heat blooming welcomingly in his chest. "Just attempting to anticipate your every desire."

Her face moved closer to his, their noses lingering mere millimeters apart, her gaze softening, but her tone still hard. "I desire for my Gen'da'hen to be the 'safe and sound'."

"As do I." They lingered there, caught between the serious and affectionate auras about them; neither pressing ground, neither backing down. Such were the two stubborn lovers. They settled for a whole minute, just staring into each other's eyes.

Swallowing nervously, Robin closed his eyes as he moved the remaining two percent separating them, planting a kiss chastely on her lips before allowing his forehead rest on hers. "I love you," he whispered softly, unsure if he had even spoken at all.

A gentle glow reached through his eyelids despite the overhead lights, as if someone had turned on a night-light, a warmth budding in his chest as he realized he had indeed spoken out loud. He opened his eyes slowly.

Starfire looked radiant. Her bronze shimmer turning into a golden glow, as small particles of lingering solar light seemed to disappear into her pores. But her smile is what caught him. Soft, shy, happy. "I believe thee correct term is, 'What is thee occasion?'," she asked. Her entrapping eyes were curious, bright, and curiously bright.

"Hmm?"

"You have given me the affectionate words 'I love you'," she replied shyly, her index fingers fiddling nervously with each other. "I cannot remember if today has an occasion of thee special kind or not. I am sorry for forgetting."

Robin felt bad. Never mind that he didn't know what special occasions she was talking about… except maybe their three-year anniversary as an official couple coming up in nine months ('Eight months and seventeen days, actually,' he corrected himself). Thanksgiving was coming up in about four months and then Christmas…. Okay, so he knew some special occasions, but that wasn't what made him feel like a Dick.

'Is that the only time I've told her I loved her?' He felt like an idiot.

"It's not your fault, Starfire," he comforted, pulling her shoulders down next to him until they were sitting side by side. "It's mine."

Her pursed in confusion. "I do not understand."

"Today isn't a special occasion," he answered, frowning at his own stupidity. 'I should have paid better attention,' he thought simultaneously. "I just said it. There was no reason to, except that… I meant it. I wanted to say..." He swallowed nervously. "I love you."

Her eyes widened as his words, processing the weight of what had happened.

Before he could open his mouth to apologize for not realizing his mistake sooner, she had tackled him, her mouth enveloping his passionately as her hands gripped his still bare shoulders. He held in the wince as she put pressure on his bruise, unable to do anything but sit there like a dead fish with its mouth open. He could feel several inches of her tongue enter, meeting his tongue with far more care; like a kiss within a kiss. After several moments, she detached, her cheeks burning lushly.

"You have made it a special enough occasion," she said sweetly, keeping their eyes aligned as she continued to give him her smile. "It is the first time you have done the saying 'I love you' when no occasion could call for such words." She leaned in again, gently placing a hand to his beating chest. "And I love you, Richard Grayson."

Robin shivered at his name, accepting her following kiss, and returning it in kind. Neither desperate, nor heated; it was deep, and savory, made all the more so as he pulled her into his embrace. There was no raging flame of passion. There was no merry making of love. Only intimacy. He held her there with him in that moment, savoring the small victory he felt as they began to snuggle the rest of the night away there on the couch. But more importantly, he savored the realization it had taken him far too long to notice.

'I could spend the rest of my life with you,' he thought absently to her. It only took a moment for that thought to sink in. And it only took another for him to panic as those words replayed in his mind, infecting his thoughts for the remainder of the night.

A/N: Ooooo! That one thought that keeps you up at night. "Did I hear the window break?" "Did I set the coffee pot for tomorrow?"

Once again, this is a Rough Draft, so if there is anything that needs edited, or is connecting in a weird way for you guys, let me know and I'll try to clean up the text. I do accept grammar and spelling errors too. (A Copy 'n Paste, brought to you from the desk of SteinMon1920518)

As always (and I'll just keep posting this because its true), keep posting your constructive criticisms, as they will help me know what to look for in my future writings, and for the days I decide to do a hard edit. A writer should never stop growing, and I have no intention of stopping now.

Notice anything interesting readers? Heheheheh!

Just a little something I cooked up. I've read a several Fanfics where Robin just sort of becomes Nightwing, and very few where we see the transition... and even fewer explain where he got the suit and toys. This was a part of my contribution to Robin's skill, and Cyborg's input. But it's not over yet *wink, wink*

Also, I never saw Robin or Starfire in the [Cartoon] as the kind of people that would give into unbridled passion when they realize they have something good going. They may have had trysts in the past, but when they notice that they found someone they love unconditionally, it becomes something to preserve and cherish. Maybe my point-of-view isn't realistic (what is "reality" if not a myriad of self-imposed delusion), but it's what I think blooms the flower so to speak.

Plus, there was some stuff I noticed from their pasts that I think would make them both hesitant when it comes to advancing into a physically intimate relationship despite the five-season build up of their relationship. Just sayin'.

But Oof! Robin is now left alone with his thoughts.

And what was all that about Raven? Bum-bum-buuuum!

Tamaranian Translations (Original Translation):

Gen'da'hen - quiet literally: "one whose heart is shared"; lover; beloved; true love; soul-mate; used on Tamaran between two couples in a very deep, emotionally bonding and emotinally intimate relationship.

*End of Translations

Please indulge my curiosity, and let me know what parts you liked, what parts need work, and overall what you guys think about it :D

Tune in next time for The Proposition - Chapter 2