Hmm. I just randomly got this idea while I was sitting in front of the computer staring at my pretty tropical island desktop about 30 seconds ago. So I decided to write it and post, since I have yet another vacation coming up tomorrow. Thanks to Cherry Jade and Darkofthenight for reviews…here's Chapter 7 in Just Another Moment along with a disclaimer: I don't own them.

Oh yeah, and we're back to Raven and Robin.

The Grandfather Clock

Titans' Tower stood high above its island, half shadowed from the dusky evening light. The activity inside had gone to mild chaos, inasmuch as it was the end of the day and everyone was winding down. Beast Boy and Cy sat glued to the Gamestation, waging the almost ritualistic simulated battle. Yells of "Booyah!" rang intermittently through the metal halls, signaling victory for the humanoid. Starfire was in the kitchen, making the pudding of who-knows-what. Raven holed up in her room, not caring to interact with the individuals she was incarcerated with on a daily basis. Only one was missing: their leader.

Robin left the Tower quickly and quietly, hoping no one would notice and be inclined to ask questions. He was headed for the outskirts of Jump City, somewhere the Titans rarely went. It was a habit of his, kept secret from the others. He liked the solitude, away from the business of life in general. In fact, the old cemetery held all the stillness of death and everything after. Something they wouldn't understand.

Having reached the edge of the sleeping metropolis, he looked back at it, the place they'd worked so hard to protect since the beginning. A brief smile ran across his face before he turned away, heading down the narrowing path, toward the wrought-iron gates. They creaked as he pushed them open, a prolonged high pitch that spoke of times long past. His footsteps crackled over the small stones filling the walkway, winding through the graves. Many of them were yellowed with the passing years, yellowed, collapsing, overgrown. Despite this, the engravings were still mostly visible. Often, he would read them and marvel at how old—or young—they were. He did this now, kneeling in front of one and letting his fingers fall over the marks, almost as if it were Braille.

"William Bennett, beloved husband and father. 1753 – 1825." That would make him…73 years old. "73," the masked teen said quietly.

"Pretty impressive for that time, huh?" He spun around. Two violet orbs gazed out from the shadows cast by a blue hood.

"Raven?" She moved beside him.

"Logic would suggest." No inquiries came as to why he was out there. Just: "I used to do this too."

"Why don't you anymore?" The demoness shrugged.

"I don't know." As if remembering something, she crossed over to the tree that stood in the middle of the graveyard, as ancient as the world itself. Curiously, he followed her, stopping as she observed the headstones surrounding its thick base. Selecting one, she crouched by it, reading aloud: "Maggie Becker, 1621 – 1669. This is it." Her arms made a wide sweeping motion. "This is the Becker family."

"Family?" He studied the tombstones. Sure enough they were all marked with the same surname. "So?"

"So one is missing." She gestured at the stone nearest her. "This is the first and that—" she pointed, "is the last." He went over. "Marybeth Becker. 1950 – 1956. "Damn." He whistled. "Six years old."

"This family spans four hundred and twenty-nine years," Raven said. "And right in the middle are 70 missing years. The average human lifetime." Seeing his expression, she added, "I spent a lot of time here."

"Obviously," he muttered. They went to the middle of the array and began searching for the lost member, shrouded in quiet. Robin's foot struck something flat and hard in his hunt for the missing. At a glance, his foot was being swallowed by weeds. Clearing them away, he saw his shoe resting on an aged concrete slab. "Raven?" She came over. "I found something." The plants and vines snapped as he pried it up out of the dirt.

"What's the date on it?" He checked…and stared. "Robin?"

"There is none. " The surface was smooth, not a mark marred its face. Both teens eyed it dubiously.

"Whose is it?" The wonder shrugged.

"Somebody who wanted to remain nameless."

"Or," the empath contributed, "somebody else wanted nameless." They looked at each other. Far off, a hollow chime echoed through the air. Then another. One by one, the hours of midnight were marked by this bell. The sorceress shivered. All of a sudden, bad feeling crept around them like a malevolent fog. "Robin, I don't think we should be here any longer." He set the marker down in front of them, and reached to wrap his arms around her. She let him out of fear and a need for security. The last strikes died into the distance and the boy wonder sighed.

"There was a grandfather clock in Wayne Manor. Alfred used to wind it every so often." She listened intently. It wasn't often he talked about living in Gotham City.

"Maybe there was something wrong with it; I never knew. But it always sounded empty. Just like the one we heard. Just like that."

"What happened to it?"

"Alfred got rid of it one day. Said that it was getting wrong." He paused. "I remember it would chime like that at midnight and just stop. No more sound. Like it died or something. Like that was its last word." His arms tightened around her. "Never found out where it went." She flicked her eyes to the hollow left by the stone. Beneath the dirt there was something else.

"Look." The dark girl retrieved it and dusted it off, paling when she saw what it was. Roman numerals stared blankly out at her, etched on the face of a grandfather clock. Two fancy hands were positioned on its once-white countenance – both pointing straight up at midnight.

Raven dropped the clock onto that blank headstone, now seeming to mock her. Robin had found something else: the pendulum. "I bet that whole clock is buried there," he murmured. Upon seeing her unease, he pulled her close again. "It's okay." Still the clock watched them solemnly. Without a word, they left it, looking up into the starry blackness.

Three days later, the phone rang at Wayne Manor. Alfred picked up.

"Wayne Manor."

"Alfred, it's Robin." The elderly man smiled.

"Ah Master Dick. How may I help you?"

"Do you remember that clock you had once?"

"The grandfather clock, yes."

"What did you do with it?" Bruce's butler thought a moment.

"Sold it to some chap who dumped it later. Shame, really." The other line was silent for a time.

"Where did he dump it?"

"Couldn't say, Master. My memory isn't all it used to be."

"Thanks anyway Alfred. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Master Dick."

Robin turned to the half-demon beside him. "That marker was new. And now I know why it didn't have a name." He hesitated. "It was the grave of a grandfather clock."

"But…why?" she asked.

"We may never know."

Okay. So THAT was totally random and made no sense whatsoever. I probably should have called it The Ghost of the Grandfather Clock. But review it anyway. You know you want to.

Much love – the RavenStar