Chapter Three: To Hear Your Voice
Still clutching the paper in his hand, Robin made out of his room, reading the poem over yet again out of the sight of the other Titans. "This is it," he said to the growing daylight.
Dressed in civlian clothes was not the way he had wanted to go about this, but it seemed the only way to connect himself with Raven. "I already said I will find her. I'm going to do it." Trying to stiffen his resolve hardly seemed to be working, but he could try, couldn't he?
First thing to do would be to track down her publisher, he mussed to himself, looking over the article for hints of the city in which she was residing. Finding one, fueling the fire that was already starting to burn in his eyes, Robin revved up the R-cycle and prepared to leave the Tower.
I hope none of the other try to track me down, he found himself thinking. For whatever reason, this was something he wanted to do alone. He wanted to be the one to find and bring back Raven, the one to make amends for the past he had inadvertently screwed up in the first place. It was my fault, and I have to say I'm sorry... Even if she won't take that, I have to let her know...
And so, breaking hard, Robin found himself in front of a rather formidable building- Seven stories tall, the local publishing company, his only lead, seemed as good a place as any to start.
"May I ask what you're doing here?" Asked a doorman. He hadn't seen him.
Swallowing and trying to make himself sound as normal, as much like a normal person as possible, Robin stood upright. "I have to meet with Saphire's publisher," Robin replied.
"Ah, the weird little one. Doesn't normally have visitors. I guess you can go up, he's in room five A on the sixth floor."
"Thanks," Robin said vaguely, trying to look casual as he made his way toward the elevator, still being stared at by the doorman, and leaned on a wall, waiting to make his way up to what might be the only way out of the guilt he was living with. "I have to know what happened to Raven..."
The metal doors slid open, revealing a plushly carpeted hallway. "Here goes nothing," he thought to himself, running a hand through his messy black hair, then raising it so that it fell against the door three times, loud, thundering knocks that could have controlled any and all destiny.
"She was right when she said her little friends were smart," her editor said, still staring at Robin like he had three heads or something of the sort. "She honestly didn't want to be tracked down, I don't think I should be talking to you about this..."
"Can't you give me something to go off of?" Robin asked. "I've come such a long way, and it would be such a shame to..."
"Oh, fine." Reaching for a nearby filing cabinet, moving with some stiffness, as if he rarely left his black leather chair, he began to dig through a file folder marked 'Personal Information.' A photograph, a lengthy bio, and a paper marked 'Classified' fell to the ground. Robin watched as the man, growling, picked up the photograph and the lengthy bio and handed them to Robin.
"You want to try calling her, fine." He paused, studying Robin. "Now get out of my office."
Robin rolled his eyes- Demanding and annoying though he was, Robin was never the less grateful for the number. "All right. Thank you."
"Whatever. Good luck with her, though. Sometimes I swear she's a demon," he laughed. "A regular pistil, that one."
"Yes... Always has been." And with that, Robin walked out of the office, wondering where in the world he was going to get the courage to call her.
Holding the paper, tucking it safely into his pocket with the poem, he strattled his motorbike and headed for home. The cool wind greeted his face. I have to, though.
I have to hear her voice and at least try to see her again.
I can't live without it. Raven, wherever you are... I need you.
Raventhedarkgoddess: I'm home sick, so there's a short update, look for a longer one in the near future. I love you guys, thanks for all the support.
