This isn't even a proper chapter guys, you'll get another one this week, and it'll have plenty of Dick-angst. This is basically here because I realised that I forgot that Raven could read minds. My bad. Take this crummy explanation. I'm also using it as an opportunity to break my one-point-of-view rule, with my favourite character ever. Since it's not a proper chapter and all. I hope I do her right.

AND WHO IS THIS FABBY LADY? .com/watch?v=yivtn1qRo20 (watch this video seriously it's awesome)

I don't think I did it right, but I had to try. Such a massive fan-girl guys.

(Also I'll thank you all properly next time cos I am essaying right now, but c2ii you crazy person, you compared me to Hanna Sedai. That was a wonderful way of proving your madness. Thank you.)

Totes own nothing

0000000000000

I think of myself as a compassionate woman. I must. If my standards fell there would be nothing to hold me up, I would crumble into something inhuman. That will not happen.

Because it is difficult, to be as old as I am and to know people as I do and not to see their flaws above their graces. So I keep compassion in my heart. I work against each tiny tragedy.

I draw my strength from warmth.

Batman takes his from the cold.

It seems, sometimes, as if he won't believe in anything good. He's too stubborn. He would shatter the world to change it, rather than wait and work and coax as we others do.

Taking in the boy, training a child soldier, it confirmed what we were thinking. I disapproved. No, more than that, I flew to Gotham, ready to beat him blacker than his own shadows but-

Then, there they were, on a rooftop, some goons tied up in a heap, the boy doing somersaults and making puns

-and Batman was smiling.

Compassion is a dangerous thing, I was blinded by it. That man who had been so hollow was healing himself, and I saw that that would be good for the world, and that it was good for him and I stepped back again and left him with his ward.

And I knew, even then, that something like this would happen.

I didn't stop it. Not even when, some months ago, Robin left home and set up his own team. More children. But Batman was worried already, and beyond that so proud, so I watched but didn't intervene. There were other problems- burning forests, super villains- but I let the inevitable tragedy of the Titans go. It was unforgiveable.

We were alone in the Justice League headquarters. It was a little past five in the morning. Between us we'd found a comfortable silence. An alarm went off, not exactly uncommon, and I glanced towards the dashboard. One of the smaller heroic groups was contacting us.

Batman didn't respond, he rarely let anything distract him, so I moved to check.

"It's the Titans."

Behind me he stiffened, the papers in his hand crinkling. Pride and fear, like any parent. I prayed for it to be good news.

"I'll speak to them."

I nodded and left him alone. I didn't listen to what they said- Batman and Robin deserved their privacy as much as any family. It was the hard smack of the communicator on the control board that told me something was wrong.

"What is it? Batman-" he had hunched over, fists clenched on either side. I thought the worst. "Robin- is he-"

"No. There's been a complication. I'm going to Jump."

"Batman-"

"I'll be back later."

I touched his shoulder. "I'll be here."

Batman took his strength from the cold, and when it wasn't enough he had no idea how to ask for warmth.

After a quiet night (a collapsing bridge, a rampaging minotaur) I returned, and a little later, so did he.

Staggering, tight faced, pale where his skin showed. Shaking. I stood my ground and blocked his way.

"Talk to me."

And he did, for maybe the first time, Batman shared. "Robin has…" he shuddered and composed himself, "been stealing. For a criminal."

He went on, for maybe five minutes, standing still next to me. I had never heard him speak for so long uninterrupted. The Titans, the criminal whose colours Robin had been wearing, Robin himself locked in a cell. "He wouldn't speak to me."

I hugged Batman, one arm round each shoulder, a proper wide shouldered embrace. Again, he has no idea how to ask for warmth.

He cleared his throat, looking down, inhaled and seemed to grow a little taller again. I let him go. "I have to make arrangements."

"Arrangements?"

"To take him to Gotham, Blackgate has a young offender's facility."

"You're sending him to prison?"

"He knew my code."

"Batman-"

"I don't know what else to do!" Inside his cowl, I heard his teeth grate. "Maybe it'll help him, if I can just get him to talk to me-"

"How about a mind reader?"

He shook his head. "They have one in the Titans. She tried, but without letting him know what she was doing, she couldn't push too far."

And if Robin had turned against Batman, they way to win him back was trust. Not mind reading.

"Maybe someone more advanced could get further-"

"I don't want to hurt him."

I didn't press it. People who come from science find it hard to trust magic.

Batman moved, but I caught his arm. "Whatever has happened, whatever teenaged rebellion this is, it won't last." Batman stayed stern, so smiling, I released his wrist with a squeeze, "I promise."