Robin sat in his chair and sighed, rubbing his eyes. Nothing had come up in the scanners. Not a single crime, not a single disturbance. It was going to be a quiet afternoon. He should be happy about that, but he felt…restless. "Must be something wrong with me," he muttered. "A drink. I'll feel better after a drink."
He stood up and went a small refrigerator in the corner and retrieved a bottle of syrupy, viscous liquid. He frowned at it but removed the stopper, pouring the drink into a nearby mug. As he was taking a sip, he heard the knock on his door and said brusquely, "Enter, Raven."
The door slid open. "How'd you know it was me?" the mage asked.
"I heard your footsteps," Robin answered matter-of-factly.
"You must have very good ears," Raven commented. "But that's hardly enough to tell you who was outside your door."
"Beast Boy tends to move at a hustle, so his feet have a scraping sound to them. Cyborg is heavy-footed. Starfire rarely walks, since she prefers to fly, and her flying powers leave a small wake that can be heard. Your step is very distinctive because of your soft-soled shoes. I should know." He smiled sardonically. "I used to wear them. 'Pixie boots,' a friend of mine called them. Hated it."
Raven shook her head, amazed at his deductive skills. But then again, she mused, he was trained by the best. "So you hate my boots?"
Robin smiled cavalierly. "Nope. You make them look good." As if hearing his own words and their implication, he faltered and said hastily, "I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I meant I made them look real bad." Suddenly, he stopped looking like a distant, overworked superhero. Now he was just a flustered teenage boy. The contrast was startling to Raven. She shook her head again, still amazed, but now for different reasons.
Then Robin regained his composure. The detective came back. "What did you want, Raven?"
She spoke truthfully, without bandying words. "I'm concerned." She padded over, planting her hands on his desk, and leaned forward to accentuate the import of her words. "You're working too much, Robin. You're overextending yourself, and it worries me. The others haven't noticed yet, though I think Starfire might have an inkling. She cares about you." Robin made no comment.
Finally, the young detective said, "I don't think you should waste your time worrying about me, Raven."
Raven cut in sharply, "As leader, you can tell me what to do in a fight. You can tell me who to save and who to support. But don't think for a minute who can tell me what to think, Boy Wonder." She stood right up to him and poked him hard in the chest. He probably didn't feel it. The red vest he wore was made of Kevlar. Her finger hurt from poking him. But Raven pressed on, "You know what I think? I think you're getting too involved in this—in being a hero, in being a detective. Settle down, Robin. You need to relax. If you work yourself to death arresting every third-tier burglar, you're going to trip up. Not even the Batman can keep up a pace like this forever."
Robin's jaw seemed to lock up; he was grinding his teeth. "You'd be surprised at the paces Batman can keep. And you'd be surprised at the ones I can keep."
"You're missing the point."
"Raven, thanks for caring, but you don't need to worry. I'm fine and I have it in control. This is what I've been trained to do—what I've been doing all my life. I'm good at it."
The magus sighed. "I know you are, Robin. Just…take it easy, okay? If for no other reason than because you'd be tired. And a tried crimefighter isn't a help to anyone."
Robin suddenly rested a friendly, companionable hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Thanks. I'm sorry I got a bit snappish. Look, I have…well…I guess not work, but some relaxing to do."
"Sure," Raven said with a small smile. She left his room and when the door slid shut, she leaned back against it. She was still worried, but at least she had said her piece.
Her musings were interrupted by the blare of the crime alarm. Raven mentally cursed the device. "He's supposed to be getting rest, you inconsiderate pile of wires," she growled, rushing to the living room and knowing that Robin would only be seconds behind her.
She entered the living room, looking up at the wall-sized TV screen. A white-haired man with a bold chin, strong moustache, and glasses was displayed on it. Raven recognized him from photos: Commissioner James Gordon of Gotham City Police.
"Teen Titans," the commissioner said, worry lacing his every word, "I need to get in contact with Robin. It's urgent."
"He's in his room," Beast Boy answered, "but he should be coming out, what with the alarm going off like crazy."
"So you're Commissioner Gordon?" Starfire asked. "We heard a lot about you."
"We can go through the pleasantries later," he said.
"Indeed we can." Everyone's attention turned to Robin, who had just entered. "What's going on, commissioner?" He spoke so confidently, acted so in control. No one would have suspected that he was running himself ragged. Always such remarkable discipline, Raven mused dryly.
"It's bad, Robin," the man on the screen said ominously. "I just received intel from the Justice League's mainframe computer. Batman and the Justice League have disappeared. According to their mainframe, the League was staging a rescue operation—Batman was apparently gravely injured. We've received no word from anyone since." The Titans listened in growing horror. They knew the implications: what force on Earth could have taken out all of the Justice League? "And that's not all," Gordon continued, "This was placed in my office a few hours ago, mailed to me under instructions from the Justice League computer."
A note appeared on the screen. It read, "Un dessein si funeste, S'il n'est digne d'Atree, est digne de Thyeste. They are to be found in Crebillon's Atree."
Raven's eyes widened in recognition, but Robin recognized them faster. "Those are the last lines of Edgar Allan Poe's 'The Purloined Letter.' Commissioner, where did you find this note?"
"On the mantelpiece in my office. There were instructions to put it there upon delivery."
Robin nodded, as if expecting that answer. "I'm sorry that you had to be the bearer of bad news, commissioner. Robin out." He abruptly shut off communications. To the Titans, he announced, "Let's get moving, people. We have work to do." Raven thought he was looking directly at her when he said that.