A hot shower. Patrick had forgotten the exquisite decadence of the experience in his time away. He basked beneath the pressurized jets of near-boiling liquid as it cascaded across his body. Hot water was easy to come by in the bush, but the clean, and consistent, pressure of the artificial streams massaged his skin in ways that nature never could. The grit and sewage of his earlier ordeal came off in sheets, leaving fair, sun-kissed skin in its wake. Black runoff pooled at Patrick's feet in a foul soup for only a moment before it fled down the drain.

Cleaned to his satisfaction, Patrick reached down and twisted a rather simple knob on the wall. With a creak and a hiss, the endless supply of the shower tamped shut. He stepped out of the shower and regarded himself in the mirror.

The smell of shit had left, but he certainly still looked the part. His mop of unkempt hair, long from his isolation, was a tangled mess of intertwined strands of brunette spaghetti. The grapevine of hair met his face and became beard, much patchier and very rough by comparison. For the most part, Patrick had kept the scrubby brush under control, cutting it back over the years when it got in his eyes or mouth, but the fashion still screamed of untamed wilderness. Deep black rings hung under his dichromatic eyes.

"Tan, at least," he said, marveling at his golden-browned skin. There were no grooming products for him at the sink. He made due by slicking his hair back with his hands, but the beard was hopeless.

The day could have gone so very differently, Patrick thought as he stared absentmindedly into his own green-hazel eyes. Police on the scene of Patrick's fiery arrival were all too happy to accept the 'meteor' explanation that Robin concocted for them on the spot. It meant less paperwork for them, after all. Quick thinking had saved Patrick from Jump City Central Booking, and likely from the immediate wrath of the Augustine Initiative. The Boy Wonder had no intention of letting this mystery go by uninvestigated.

Patrick stepped out of the bathroom wearing an outfit a few sizes too small. Khaki slacks that gave up slightly before his ankles, argyle socks of black and blue, and a polo shirt the clung uncomfortably. Some of Robin's old clothes. They'd do in a pinch, but there was no hiding that leader of the Titans was shorter and wirier.

The entire team sat expectantly on the curved couch of the sunken living room. Patrick walked in from the hallway to find them there. There were no words as Patrick approached. He stood in the area directly in front of the teens, one lectern short of a symposium.

Beast Boy and Cyborg seemed the most welcoming of the five. They regarded Patrick with a welcoming gaze, seemingly eager to listen, and accept, his impending explanation. Robin had taken a much more incredulous stare, the black outline of his trademark mask seemed to warp and contort with his furrowing brow. Starfire evaluated Patrick much as she did previously, the hurt and anger boiled over in her eyes. But it was Raven whose look was the most vexing. The shimmering violet spoke nothing to him. Her stare was fixated seemingly beyond Patrick's face, into his very head. There were no smiles. None of them seemed interested in speaking first.

Patrick gulped. "I guess it's been – uh – a while," he finally said. Starfire audibly 'humphed'. Small talk was going to get him nowhere. He sighed quietly, not even sure why he had tried, then took a deep breath.

"Remember the last night I was here?" Patrick began. The team nodded almost immediately.

It seemed so long ago, yet reverberated with brilliance still. His lips on Raven's, tender and soft. The punctuated 'thank you' for all she had done. But these were not the details the team needed to hear.

"I was… struggling," Patrick began again, "with something inside of me." Raven's eyes seemed to know exactly what he meant, but the rest of the team only grew more confused. "The complex where I found Raven, where I… killed our way out," he said. His voice became more distressed as he spoke. There was a lump in his throat as he finally spit out the 'k-word'. With a loud gulp, he looked at the team. Their faces had softened and they listened intently to his tale. Even Raven's blank stare began showing signs of interest and concern. Patrick hung his head and screwed up his courage to finish. "I liked it," he finally weakly said after a pause that seemed cosmic in scale.

Frowns met him as he finally admitted his shame. Judgment, shock, and disappointment, from all five members of the team. In truth, it was Raven's gaze that damaged Patrick the most. The indigo orbs cut with bewilderment for his sudden admission. He could feel himself shrink under her stare. But the hard part was over. All that was left was the exposition.

Patrick went on for several minutes more, explaining how he had spent the last two years as a dyed-in-the-wool forest spirit. He explained the daily meditations, the progress he had made. Beast Boy and Cyborg seemed a bit taken aback with all the mystical self-discovery talk, but Raven, Starfire, and Robin maintained their rapt attention. When he got to Wrath, he stopped.

"I couldn't beat it," he said, defeated. "Every time I summoned it to battle, I would die a thousand agonizing deaths to the flame and simply… wake up." He had taken to pacing around in small, tight, ovals as he spoke now, gradually becoming more comfortable opening up to his receptive audience. "So that's what I've been doing these past hundred-fifty or so days."

"But what about the hole?" Robin leaned in.

"It's coming," Patrick responded calmly. He explained his last night at camp, the tranquilizer attack, and waking up in a plastic room of melodic machines. His spoke of the familiar, cruel, face of The Director and the organization's name: The Augustine Initiative.

"When they…," he could feel tears beginning to pool in his eyes, no doubt the gloss visible to the teens regarding him, "When they got Sam…" A single tear escaped his best attempts to blink it back. It ran a rapid path down his left cheek and dripped from the tip of his chin. He stopped pacing, paused and sighed, "They ran tests on her blood." His voice shook with distress and outrage, "She was a demon, or had demon in her - I don't know. But Dr. Harquest said I was no different than her."

Raven noticeably raised a brow at this statement of fact. The rest of the Titans merely sat there, letting it all sink in.

"He said he'd get you again too, Raven – The Director, I mean," Patrick said, breaking another sharp silence that had invaded his long pauses. Raven's eyes widened almost imperceptibly with the sudden mention of her name. She shuddered visibly with the thought.

He continued on with as great of detail as he could muster about the cell he was in. Nothing was spared. Patrick explained the bindings, his and Sam's subject number, the name spoken by the director, 'Psimon'. Robin was very clearly taking in-depth mental notes for further analysis, but the mention of that name seemed to grab everyone's attention anew.

"After she tried to cut my arm off, I… well… I can't say I honestly know what I did," Patrick said. He described the uninvited appearance of Wrath. With exacting specificity, he painted the curious colors and behaviors it displayed. "It just worked," he said exasperated, "More power than I had ever felt. So I flew up. ...I don't remember landing in Jump, though…"

Patrick stopped speaking, letting the team digest this past two years of history and the name of their new enemy. Robin opened his mouth, "But the test you describe… your arm is fine."

"You can still kind of make it out," Patrick responded as he rolled up his sleeve. The arm was nearly immaculate. No scab, just skin. But for the astute observer, three notches of paler-than-tan skin stood slightly out against the backdrop of his browned flesh. "Seem to have also lost a few scars along the way," he added. It was true, his forearm, once a minefield of zig-zag lines, was now smooth. Gone were the fifty three cuts of his impetuousness.

No one spoke for a few moments. The team seemed intent on processing still. Beast Boy's face contorted as he tried to puzzle out the experience that Patrick had just laid out. The rest of the Titans were much more stoic with how they handled this new information.

"Guys, please, you have to understand," came Patrick's voice, shattering the mute. "It wasn't safe for me to be here. I couldn't be sure that I wasn't going to lose it and just start glassing the city if shit went wrong." He continued to ramble on, desperately pleading understanding to the team.

Robin rose to his feet and walked closer to Patrick. "You don't need to do this alone," he said finally, clapping his right hand onto Patrick's left shoulder. His words shook with understanding, sincerity… with comfort.