Sorry if this writing isn't quite up to par for me, but I've been recuperating from a vicious attack of writer's block – and it's the worst kind, the kind where you have tons of ideas, but nothing comes out just right on paper. Hopefully this chapter marks the end of a rather long dry spell, and more chapters will come very soon.

Chica De Los Ojos Café asked for shorter chapters, so I've tried to break the story up a bit. Dusty, you wanted more of Robin; here he is, and rest assured there will be MUCH much more of him in later chapters. Sorry I kept you waiting so long with this update, but my life has been just jam-packed lately….. don't worry, I plan to get some serious work done tomorrow, and I'll get something up. Until then, enjoy!

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Night fell softly over Steel City, a shroud of darkness that was broken by the gleam of skyscrapers and city lights that continued to burn despite the hour, throwing the stars' own radiance back to them in the shadowed sky. The moon hung full over the unsleeping city, peering down with never-ending vigilance on both the crowded streets and the restless waters beyond. Filling the air with their dull roar, the waves lapped constantly at the base of the tower that stood like some steel sentinel bolted into the cliffs that supported the city above. Here the silence that had been driven from the bustling metropolis finally took hold; not a sound stirred the murky darkness that reigned inside the T-shaped tower, the roaring of the night sea only a dull hum beyond the thick concrete walls.

Inside the front room of the tower, on one of the tinted windowpanes that commanded an astounding view of the restless waters, a tiny red light flared to life, mimicking the fiery bloom of an explosion in the city far above that was neither heard not felt in the silent tower. Maybe the faintest tremor shivered through the solid rock of the cliff that supported it, or maybe the barest ripple of sound filtered through the thick walls, but it went unnoticed by the sleeping teens who called the tower home. And maybe a maniacal laugh drifted through the night – but it was soon drowned out by the klaxon wailing of the siren that shattered the idyllic peace.

Red emergency lights blazed in the ceiling, flooding the darkness of the front room with a bloody radiance as Bumblebee barged through the door, wings fanning madly, stingers out and clutched in both hands as though she expected to be attacked at any moment. When no enemy presented itself, she replaced the stingers and stumbled over the computer console that stood waiting against the far wall.

Her fingers blurred across the bewildering array of flashing lights and buttons, her eyes flickering across the screen, drinking in the frantic words that streamed across it. Police broadcasts, news reports, citizen calls, maps and images that chased the red locator dot through the steel warren of the city. There was a resounding crash from behind her, as though someone had slammed into the closed door at high speeds, and Spanish curses could be heard over the dying wail of the alarm. She could hear the rest of her teammates stumble into the room, but didn't even look up, her wings fluttering anxiously as she pressed a large red button in the center of the console.

Immediately the chaotic streams of information vanished, to be replaced by an image of a dark, deserted room, the mirror image of the one behind her. Wings blurring in her anxiety, she hit the speaker button and shouted as loud as she could at the computer screen; "Robin! Robin, wake up! Raven, Cyborg, Beast Boy, Star! Calling the Teen Titans! Come on, guys, there's been an emergency!"

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"I love you too, Raven. I love you too."

"Robin!"

Robin tossed and turned in his sleep, wandering through dreams of icy wind, where a blue-cloaked shadow ran always just beyond his grasp. "Raven," he muttered, hands outstretched, begging, pleading. "Raven….."

"Robin, wake up!"

He stirred, roused half into wakefulness by the insistent voice. Someone calling his name….. a girl's voice…. someone familiar. Very familiar. But who…..

Raven?

No, not Raven. Raven wouldn't be shouting, Raven never shouted, never let herself get angry. Then who was calling him, waking him from the dream that had seemed so real……?

"Calling the Teen Titans! Come on, guys, there's been an emergency!"

Emergency.

Even half-asleep, lost in the whirling of a fading dream, Robin knew that word, knew its importance, knew its pressing urgency and constant demand. He did not need to think; years of emergencies, years of battles and frantic calls in the middle of the night, had conditioned him so that he was moving before the word had finished burning its way into his brain. Rolling sideways out of bed, he hit the ground and came up with his steel-tipped boots in one hand. Dashing towards the door, he paused to throw his utility belt over his arm. Just as he reached the door, his hand flew out of habit to his eyes –

He stopped in mid-step, horrified, as his fingers grazed his skin in their quest to adjust the mask that was not there. Swearing softly, still not entirely awake, he turned on his heel and plunged back to the bed, ruffling frantically through the covers, looking for the lost scrap of cloth. Must have lost it in my sleep – damn thing, I thought I tied it on tight!

He stepped forward, onto something soft and yielding that gave way beneath his foot. Bending down, he scooped up the abandoned mask and settled it back into place, allowing himself a sigh of relief as the weight of cloth fell back over his eyes. At least I didn't walk out without it – if the others had seen me –

A part of his weary brain, separate from the superhero leader who was already scheming about what emergency could have wakened him at this time of night, entertained the idle thought. Beast Boy, seeing the infallible Robin without his mask, would have laughed, or made some snide comment about alerting the press, oblivious to the importance of what he was seeing; Starfire would be surprised, stare at him curiously, say "Oh, your eyes! Why did you not show them to us before?" with her touchingly innocent naiveté; Cyborg, with a deeper understanding the other two did not possess, would know that seeing Robin without his mask would make him vulnerable, and would turn away. Raven –

Raven had already seen his eyes.

The thought, the memory, struck him with physical force, halting his dashing progress down the hallway as images flooded into his mind, jerking him fully into wakefulness. A church, a once-sweet voice now harsh and bitter, a familiar song, broken windows, liftetimes of rain – the events of the past few days bombarded him, each wound to his heart torn open and bleeding again, all at once. The fog of sleep that had clouded the memories disappeared, and sensation returned in a rush, stinging and raw; claws, scales, darkness, excruciating pain, and the dead drunken stupor that had gripped him in the aftermath – and was beginning to overtake him again. He didn't want to look at the memories, didn't want to remember, didn't want to feel Raven's every word like a dagger in his heart –

His knees gave way and he collapsed sideways against the wall, gasping for breath, his mind spinning in a dizzying whirl of remembered pain. His breath caught in his throat, escaping in a harsh, ragged sob of agony. It was all too much, too fast – the mask was displaced by a single hot tear burning its way down his face –

"Robin!"

No!

Gritting his teeth, he shoved the memories to the back of his mind, pushing himself away from the wall with a tremendous effort of will, moving towards the voice that he could clearly hear calling him in the silent corridor. He would not cry – would not remember – would not feel. Not now. Now, he told himself firmly, he was Robin; the masked avenger, the invincible superhero, the fearless leader. Now, there was an emergency to be solved, and there could be no time for tears.

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Bumblebee watched in consternation, the moaning of her teammates ringing in her ears, as she saw the door open and a disheveled but fairly alert-looking Robin stumble onto the computer screen, hair even more wild than usual, steel-tipped boots in hand. "Bumblebee?" he panted, looking up at her in bewilderment. "What's going on?" In his haste to reach the computer console he tripped, falling to the floor and taking the opportunity to jam his boots onto his feet while he was down. Leaping up again, he raced to the console and began tapping frantically, doing something Bumblebee could not see. "What's the problem?"

"Prison break," she said shortly, one eye on the image of Robin, the other on the words scrolling down another part of the screen. "Less than half an hour ago –"

"Can't you guys handle it?" he asked wearily, absentmindedly adjusting his mask, which sat crookedly on his nose. The metallic doors hissed open as Cyborg charged into the room, eyes half-closed, sonic cannon charged and ready, followed by a drowy-looking Starfire. There was a flash of green as an emerald cheetah came tearing down the hall after the pretty alien, then a ringing crash as it ran straight into the closed door.

"Normally, yes," Bumblebee replied grimly as a clearly dazed Beast Boy staggered into the room behind Cyborg. "But the criminal's moving too fast. Way too fast. No way he's just on foot – he must have had some kind of getaway planned. He's already out of Steel City, heading west. We'd never catch up to him."

"And you want us to lay an ambush? Fair enough. Any idea who we're dealing with?"

"Nope. Hold on a minute……." Lights sprang frantically to life all across the computer console, and words flashed across the screen at a frantic pace. "Receiving police reports right now…….." There was a moment of silence, then Bumblebee began to swear softly under her breath. "Damn it, Robin, you're never going to believe this. Brother Blood's out of prison and headed your way!"

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"Brother Blood?" Robin grimaced, his expression matching Bumblebee's as she stared down at him out of the console. "Thanks, Bee. We'll take care of it. Gotta go." Switching the console off, he watched as Bumblebee's face disappeared before turning to face his fellow Titans. "You all heard that?"

Cyborg nodded, his face grim, his red robotic eye narrowed in determination. Starfire echoed his gesture, her hands already glowing green in preparation for battle. Beast Boy only blinked, still recovering from his encounter with the doors, and scowled, looking around at the otherwise-empty room. "Hey, where's Raven?" he whined, obviously disgruntled. "If I have to be woken up at two in the morning, so does she!"

"She probably didn't hear. After all, the alarm didn't go off, and her room is furthest away." Robin paused, his eyes narrowed behind his mask, doing a quick calculation. "I'll go get her. Cyborg, Beast Boy, Star, head to the east end of the city, see if you can lay some kind of trap. You'd get there faster than me anyway."

Cyborg nodded and headed for the door, Starfire trailing behind, while Beast Boy paused to throw a playful salute before following. Looking out the window, Robin saw a great green pterodactyl take to the skies a moment later, bearing a dark figure on its back and followed by a swift-moving silhouette as it flapped away into the night.

Turning on his heel, Robin plunged between the metal doors and into the inky darkness of the hallway beyond. The utter lack of light cast a pall of shadow over everything around him, making it impossible to tell where he was; it seemed that the impenetrable darkness masked some depthless chasm that stretched away to all sides, menacing him as he blindly walked the narrow path above.

Banishing such errant thoughts from his mind with a shake of his head, he continued through the dark warren of the moonlit tower, letting instinct guide his steps. He did not need to see; not on his way to such a familiar destination.

Finally he slowed and stopped, looking around him blindly for the metal door he knew was there, hidden by the darkness. Some crazy part of his weary mind imagined that he could see a well of darkness thicker than the night around him where the door should have been, as though Raven's presence inside the room had drawn all light from the world around her. He shivered, almost able to feel the frigid cold of her façade seeping under the door, surrounding him in a silent layer of ice.

He raised one green-gauntleted hand to knock on the metal door – and stopped.

Part of him, the responsible leader, the masked crimefighter, demanded that he wake Raven and get to the site of the upcoming battle immediately, to help his team. Part of him screamed in fury at every second's delay – but its wailing went unnoticed, lost in the harsh sounds of Robin's breathing, as the rest of his mind spun as though in an effort to tear itself apart.

He could envision what would happen when he knocked on the door – maybe a harsh voice emanating from the depths of the shadows, commanding him to go away, or demanding an explanation for being woken at such an unholy hour. And he would explain that there was an emergency, a battle to be fought, a criminal to be captured; then the door would slide open, and he would find himself staring into the depthless violet eyes that seared his heart with every thought. And there would be a moment of silence, as he tried desperately, hungrily, to find any hint of warmth or compassion in that contemptuous gaze; a moment that would drag on into eternity as only cold indifference would meet his eye. And the harsh voice would speak again, an abrupt and irritable demand, so far removed from the sweet tones and gentle laughter he had grown to crave. Or maybe she would not open the door at all, but phase away through the walls of her room, leaving him standing stupidly in the hallway, waiting for a reply, but receiving nothing but a roar of accusing silence.

Slowly, slowly, the gauntleted hand dropped.

He could not face that silence. He could not look into those endless eyes, not so soon after they had pierced his heart. He could not meet Raven's gaze.

Another memory drifted its spidery tendrils across his consciousness, the words whispering in his ear, Cyborg's all-too-casual voice chilling his soul.

"She isn't well yet, she isn't healed. Not even close."

And she was wounded. Even if he could bear to be transfixed by that dark blue gaze, could he stand the pain he would surely see in her eyes? Would he be able to look at her, watching her moving slowly, painfully, tormented by the injuries she had sustained? Would he be able to contain himself when he heard the jagged edge of agony in her voice, or saw the blue sparks of healing magic that failed to alleviate her pain?

The hand that had been raised to knock on Raven's door hung limply at his side again, and he bowed his head in something like defeat, as though unable to look at the shadows that bore witness to his folly. His heart constricted painfully in his chest, and he felt waves of embarrassment and shame pounding at him, driving him back a step, away from Raven's door. He recognized the emotion, recognized the upwelling of ice in the depths of his brain, the sensation that coursed through him when he thought about facing Raven again.

Fear.

His lip curling into a sneer, he spun on his heel and slammed his fist into the wall in agitation. I'm not afraid, damnit! I'm Robin, I can handle anything, much less my own teammate! What is she going to do to me that I'm so afraid of?

Nothing. She's not going to do anything. It's not even her I'm afraid of. It's me. He stared at the bright green of his glove against the gray wall, knowing it was the truth. I'm afraid because I know that when I see her, I'll feel that demon in me again, feel her blood on my hands and her dying breath on my face. And if anything happens to her – he shuddered at the thought, hunching his shoulders as though to protect himself from the night's chill – if anything happens to her, it'll be my fault, and I'll be killing her all over again. Even if I'm not the one to strike the blow, it will still be my claws in her throat, my scales on her skin. And I'll die, going through the rest of my life as a walking, talking, breathing lump of muscle and bone, and nothing more.

He turned once more to Raven's door, telling himself firmly that he was intending to knock and rouse her, that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself and he was doing her more harm than good by trying to shelter her, even if she was injured. And yet he found that his feet would not carry him that one step closer to the door, and his hand would not rise, only remained clenched in a tight fist at his side.

He stood like that for an eternity, staring determinedly at the shadowy wall, the darkness staring back at him with a poisonous gaze, his hands hanging limp, his feet fixed to the carpet. Then, with only a parting glare for the night behind him, Robin turned and started walking, away from the door, away from the love and fear and anger and longing that it held.

A few moments later, the relative peace outside the tower was shattered by a mechanic screech as the R-cycle roared out of the garage, tearing towards the city and the growing blaze of fire that lay beyond.

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And so there you have it…… hurry up and review, because reviews inspire me, and the more review I get, the faster the next chapter gets out. And the next chapter is very, very evil…… Mwahahaha! coughs, clears throat No, I'm not insane…….. I just left my medication at home………