Robin woke up that morning alone. He stretched out his arm across the mattress and felt the empty spot where a body should have been. He rubbed his eyes and put on his mask. Starfire was already awake and stirring around the warehouse.
His voice being huskier in the morning, he cleared his throat. "What'cha doin'?" he mumbled only half awake.
She turned her head to him, from where she was standing on the far right, across the garage.
She finished wrapping something, then made her way to him, and stood. She'd taken his cape and tied the baby on her back, to herself, tying it at the front of her torso, looking ready for a long trip. She stood in front of him.
He stood up. "No." he said plainly.
Frustrated she said, "Robin, I know you are aware that we are already weeks behind schedule."
"You're still not recovered, Star."

He walked to the stuffy, tiny washroom behind one of the doors, and splashed water on his face. Turning off the faucet, he no longer bent over the sink, but stood up about to towel his face.
Instead of starting a fight, she reached out and held his still wet face in her two hands, resting his forehead on hers. They both stood still, breathing for a moment. Water dripped down Robin's nose and onto the floor.
The intimate silence soothed them, assured them.
"You remember, yes?" she whispered and smiled. "I am stronger than I look."
He did remember saying that before. And another day is another day that the refugees could be found by the tyrants.
"Star…" he said running his thumb across her cheek.
"I can handle myself." she said. Then regretted it.
It reminded them both of Raven.