This is my only explanation:

Arfgdm, fmdk dmgro mfber! SDFGFHGJ. Dfsgherfg , fgb rg r eamfsdfgkf l emgsfdgfk gk rmge! sdFDGFG!

And I apologize. T_T

Edit: The fuck kind of explanation is that? That's why this is drivel.

Raven frowned at the large screen in Robin's private quarters. He hadn't sent a transmission in two days, and it worried her. Starfire would have said it was something good, but… Well, the dark-haired girl didn't want to worry the redhead, or anyone else, and had just kept the little worrisome tidbit to herself. She tapped impatiently at some keys, watching the screen. Gizmo's transponder was only supposed to activate one way – for obvious purposes. In case they had found Ahriman and the transponder went off when they were gathering info. But surely Robin would have sent BeastBoy out or something, just to give them a quick thumbs up?

Gizmo was more than good at programming. The kid was a mastermind.

Luckily, Raven was smart – and she knew a thing or two about computers that would have probably even surprised Gizmo. Within forty five minutes, she'd altered the programming and tinkered with the satellites just right, and the signal was outgoing to her teammates. It crackled with static and remained black.

"Failed Transmission: Code 14."

Raven frowned, at tapped the keys.

A loud beeping woke Robin up. He reached over the green shin he'd been using as a [n uncomfortable] pillow, and into the backpack. His arm trembled as it extended, as even these muscles were exhausted. The T-Comm blared even louder once it was outside of the insulated innards of the backpack. Tired fingers pressed blindly at the buttons along the side, head buried between a leg and arm, face to the dirt. It stopped beeping, and there was a soft, white-noise static.

"Robin?"

Robin didn't speak, but dropped the T-Comm. It was too heavy. He sighed before he said Raven's name. "Is everything okay out there?"

"Yeah."

"Why haven't you-"

"Because."

"You know that's not an-"

"I know."

For a moment, there was only static and buzzing of insects. Robin heard the ocean fizzing and birds chirping somewhere distant.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah. Maybe. I dunno."

Raven frowned. The screen showed the top of the tree they were under, and water was dripping onto it. Ferns. She couldn't see the guys anymore, and that irritated her.

"Report again tonight," the oldest Titan commanded. She ended her half of the transmission, but kept the camera rolling on their side. She needed to know they were safe and not being coerced to speak. Beastboy hadn't said a word.

On the ground, Robin sighed loudly. A SladeBot watched from a high tree, out of sight of the T-Comm, and another from a low bush. BeastBoy didn't move, as he was still sleeping.

'Get up,' Robin's brain told him, 'Eat, drink. Definitely drink. Stretch. Move the lactic acid around.'

He laid there. Telling himself to get up. Vacantly, he wondered how long, exactly, he'd been laying there. His feet were numb, and his back was twisted oddly as he slept. The ground had dug into his knees, hip, and elbows, and his fingers tingled. He took in a deep breath, and rolled off of his side, onto his back. A branch poked painfully into his back, but at least it woke him up a little more. He laced his hands over his chest, and popped the knuckles, bending the fingers back and forth. Swirled his wrists. He started again at his feet with as much as he could, and lifted a leg up. Contract, expand, repeat, repeat. Soon, the muscles felt less taut, and he sat up slowly, breathing heavily. Although he was used to extreme exertion because of his rigorous training, the eccentric feeling of sluggishness that came after the episode never failed to shock him. He felt slow, like he was trapped in molasses-thick air.

Regardless, he ate a little of what was left in the bag, just a bit, and drank almost a full bottle of water. He felt faster after this, and looked over at his dead-like companion. The tiny green chest shallowly pulled itself up and down.. Up and down.. A pale hand, lined deeply with mud in the crevasses and nicks, reached into the backpack, and extracted a spare tee shirt. No use in letting him get bug bites.

Robin stumbled over to his teammate, with the shirt and the leftovers of the bottle of water. Noting that some of the food was gone (the rest was being attacked by ants) and that some of the water had been drained from the earlier bottle, Robin was mildly pleased. He ripped a sleeve off of the tee-shirt, and wet it.

There were lots of long, dark lines of mud across BeastBoy's chest, and he had a sick feeling he knew what they were, and knew that he should probably at least make an effort to clean the kid up some. He dabbed gently at the highest line.

The mud had mostly dried, and gave way easily. A dark, greenish-purple flesh showed under the skin. Maroon stained the tee shirt a bit as he went, and tiny rivulets of blood ran down the slender chest. But, Robin thought as he tore off the other sleeve, and wet it, it would be better for the scab to be clean, rather than form over mud particulate. There could be foreign fungus or bacteria in this soil.

The boy in front of him stirred. Robin's jaw hardened, and he tossed the other sleeve toward his pack. But BeastBoy didn't wake up, just lolled his head to the other side. Robin grabbed one arm, and stuck it through the shirt. He felt like a doting mother, and felt… something else.

He wasn't sure what it was. But it didn't matter. This seemed kind of feminine. Dressing your friend. Yeah, pretty maternal. He pulled the shirt over messy, dirty green hair, and leaned the changeling towards him. The tree had imprinted into the back, only slightly, for lack of any fat or muscle or… anything on his back. It left scratches. Robin pulled the shirt down, thinking he probably should have done this earlier. It was his responsibility to keep his team safe, and on this foreign island, any kind of fungus or bacteria could make its way into the system, and there wouldn't be anything he could really do about it, except try… Well, he was doing his best.

'Are you really?' his mind chided, 'Are you really even trying? He's been mutilating himself for only god knows how long. You made your teammate run off. He probably thinks you're a sexual predator, or…a stalker or something like that. Doing a reaaaaaaaaaaaalllly good job. And now, you let him get even more banged up, probably get some weird-ass disease, and he'll probably die. Good work, buddy! Go team!' His head drooped.

"Well shit," he said to himself, "I'm just a kid, too."

'Yes, and you were raised by the Batman. You should know better, Robin. You should know this.'

He didn't have a response to that.

He leaned back, adjusted the towel on the green guy's lap, and plopped down on his tail. Nothing left to really do now but rest up and wait. Maybe think of some kind of cover. Something would come to him.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaannnd I dunno where I'm going with this. Still. =w=UUUU BUT. I will be popping something out tomorrow, hopefully, with my/kindofborrowedinternet? Because I have the day off. I'm soooo sorry, gaiz… T_T You…you understand, right? Horribly hard life of a college student with two and a half jobs… Right? D:

Edit: You were supporting people who weren't working, but jeez, don't be such a slug.