Author's Note: Sorry for the long absence folks. Those of you who are fans of my other stories are already aware of the reasons for it, and those of you for whom this is the sum and total of your Dust Traveller experience you should just be aware that sometimes real life intrudes rudely into my writing time, and when I must sacrifice things on the altar of expediency writing comes first.

At least until I get the hell outta the navy.

In any case, I also postponed releasing this chapter until I was absolutely sure I had it down PERFECTLY. This chapter is a both a turning point plotwise and a turning point relationship wise, and it had to be not only in-character, it had to be spot on, and in keeping with the tone of the narrative I have established so far.

I had to redo it a couple of times because it wasn't Gaiman-esque enough.

In any case, there was a scene at the end of this that I'm going to save until the next chapter, because I think too many crazy revelations in one chapter can be a bad thing as well, eh?

This chapter is brought to you by Absentia, who devoted several hours probably better devoted to sleep reading over my manuscript and ensuring that he met with her obsessive fangrrl standards. I would say that if this chapter stands out as a shining example of my writing, that a good 50 percent of the blame goes to her.

If it sucks well, that's just me. Unlike a lot of people out there, I share credit but shoulder the blame.

In any case, I hope you all enjoy the story, and it's on with the show!


"Quan vey la lauzeta mover/De joy sas alas contral rai/Que s'oblida es laissa cazer/Per la doussor qual cor li vai/Ai! tan grans enveya m'en ve/De cui qu'eu veya jauzion/Meravilh as I quar des se/Lo cor de dezirier nom fon./Ai, las! Tan cuidava saber/D'amor, e tan petit en sai/Car eu d'mar nom posc tener/Celeis don ja pro non aurai/Tout m'a mo cor, e tout m'a me/E se mezeis e tot lo mon/E can sem tolc nom laisset re/Mas dezirer e cor volon./Anc non agui de me poder/Ni no fui meus de l'or en sai/Quem laisset en sos olhs vezer/En un miralh que mout me plai./Miralhs, pus me mirei en te/M'an mort li sospir de preon/C'aissim perdei com perdet se/Lo bels Narcisus en la fon./De las domnas me dezesper/Jamais en lor nom fiarai/C'aissi com las solh chaptener/Enaissai las deschaptenrai./Pois vei c'una pro no m'en te/Bas leis qu'em destrui em cofon/Totas las dopte las mescre/Car be sai c'atretals se son./D'aisso's fa be femna parer/Ma domna, per qu'elh o retra/(Car no vol so c' om voler/E so c'om le deveda, fai.)" -Quan vey la Lauzeta, Mediaeval Baebes

(Translation, as far as I can gather, bear in mind this is Medieval French)

"When I see the lark beating its wings for joy against the sun's rays, until it forgets to fly and allows itself to fall for the sweetness that goes to its heart, alas! such envy comes over me. Of those I see filled with happiness, I marvel that my heart does not melt from desire. Alas, how much I thought I knew about love, and how little I really know. For I cannot keep myself from loving her from whom I will gain nothing. She has taken all my heart, my soul, herself and all the world, and when she left, she left me nothing but desire and a longing heart. I have not had control over myself, or belonged to myself from the hour when she let me gaze into her eyes - in a mirror that pleases me so much. Mirror, since I saw myself reflected in you, deep sighs have been slaying me. I have lost myself just as handsome Narcissus did in the fountain. I despair of women, I will trust them no more, and just as I used to defend them, now I shall abandon them. As I see none that helps me, against her who destroys and confounds me. I fear and distrust them all, for I know they are all alike. In this my lady shows herself to be a woman and for this I condemn her. (Because she does not want what she should, and desires that which is forbidden...)"


Robin sat back on his R-cycle with both feet planted firmly and surveyed the dark warehouse with his binoculars at x5 magnification. Beside him, Raven leaned against a lamp post and clutched her stomach, looking pale and distracted.

It had taken them exactly 16 minutes to get here... a single dark warehouse in a compound several yards away from the piers and docks. This warehouse was special; it opened up to the sea with a large concrete loading dock out back and large double doors. Robin suspected that the warehouse was probably used to move valuable or fragile cargo that couldn't be packaged and shipped normally from the other warehouses. Regardless, it was quiet, removed from the other warehouses and well insulated.

Meaning it was perfect for whatever Slade was doing here.

He lowered the binos and glanced at Raven. She looked as though the very darkness of the deeds done here were polluting her being. Worse, now that he paid attention to it, he could feel the bond she spoke of, a curl of misery in his gut.

"Raven... can you do this?" He asked quietly.

She straightened almost immediately and gave him a decidedly cold look.

"I'm fine, Boy Wonder. Let's get this over with."

"You're lying." He whispered.

"No point regretting what you've set in motion now, Robin." She hissed, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I said I'm fine, and I'll be fine... you don't know me all that well."

-Yet.- Something in her whispered.

She hid her weariness behind a cool, composed mask. "Can we get on with this?"

He put on a similar professional mask, his "game face", if you wanted to call it that, parked his cycle, and advanced slowly on the warehouse, his eyes open for any possible traps or clues. He pulled out a recorder bead from his belt and pressed it to his vocal cords, turning it on. Not only would it pick up any ambient noise in a thirty meter radius, it also had the capability to pick up subvocalizations from his own vocal cords, meaning that he could dictate to it in a tone that no one else would hear.

He began.

"Date is September the 22nd 2018, 0442 hours. Initial inspection of the outside perimeter appears secure... no immediate evidence of tampering on the fenceline surrounding the property. Note to self: look into corporation owning the facility for any possible links."

He stopped outside the rusty gate, taking a moment to examine the lock. It was a thick masterlock padlock, the sort you used to lock a gate that trucks could be driven through. He looked back.

"Raven, could you give me a quick fly-by... see if there's anything unusual on the roof? Don't get too close... just a quick glance."

She gave him a no-nonsense sort of nod and took to the sky.

Robin continued to dictate. "Fenceline has only one entrance from the shoreward side, a large double door gate secured with a masterlock industrial padlock. Examination of the padlock reveals excessive amounts of corrosion, suggesting the lock has not been opened in some time."

He tried the lock carefully. It was secure and wouldn't budge.

"Amendment, lock has not been opened in some time."

He chose a likely spot and climbed the fence like a monkey. Reaching the top he flipped his armored cape over the concertina barbed wire lining its top, then rolled over the padding provided by his cape, pulling his cape loose once he was on the other side. The space age fabric was designed to stop bullets and lasers; as he suspected, aging concertina wire had had no effect on it whatsoever. He proceeded to walk towards the large, dark building.

Raven dropped soundlessly out of the sky and landed next to him, her cloak spreading out slightly in the early morning sea breeze. The first few faint rays of the sun softened her lines and shadows, making her look less intimidating. He raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing out of the ordinary that I could see. There are skylights, but those are covered with storm shutters and padlocks... they don't look like they've been opened in a long time. Only noteworthy thing is that the storm shutters don't perfectly cover the windows... and there's some light leaking through from the inside."

He nodded, and began a careful circuit of the building. As he walked he pondered the odd state of events which had led to this investigation. More specifically, the link that now existed, or he had become aware of, between the two of them. On the one hand, it made his job easier. Raven was better at hiding her emotions than anyone he knew, even Slade.

Slade didn't hide his emotions. There is no requirement to hide something you don't possess. That's what happened when you sold your soul for power.

So this link between them made her easier to observe and anticipate. He wasn't a fool, far from it. He understood that there was far more implied in his mandate than simple observation and, if the situation called for it, neutralization. His master had a vested, if still mysterious, interest in Raven's wellbeing, in her struggle. He couldn't say that he blamed Him... it was this very solitary struggle that had slowly coerced him into caring about her in the first place. That, and the sense of belonging she represented, a sense of empathy.

He understood what it was to watch from the shadows and deny one's true self for fear of what it might turn into.

Some called him the Watcher, and they were correct... he was. The image in a mirror reflects the truth of ourselves, but does it not also stare back? A strange but brilliant young Howard Phillip Lovecraft had felt his presence on the edge of his awareness... his title garnered for this inspiration was Nyarlathotep... as evidenced by the fact that one of this messenger of the Outer Gods forms was the Blind Ape of Truth, but then, troubled minds obsessed with Egyptian mysticism and esoteria lend fractured views of a clearer picture. An occult obsessed band called Blue Oyster Cult caught a glimpse of his image in their drug fueled imaginings, and from this they manufactured the song Harvester of Eyes... and this was perhaps the most unflattering, and in some ways, brutally honest, image of him.

But he wasn't the first.

Oh no... not the first at all.

He had bits and pieces... memories of the him who had come before... of young men and women screaming, and the eyes... more than the eyes... the sight of his own grinning, arrogant face, of the terror and pain and disbelief, the betrayal that young life felt just before it was snuffed out.

His old master had destroyed him for what he had become; a failed and corrupt portrayal distorted from the truth by petty vanity, pride and spite.

He had deserved it.

Then he had been remade. Reforged, refleshed, reimagined. Call it what you will. He had stepped from the ashes of his old existence and into the cloak of dreams, once again the reflection of man's hidden self.

Then the Incident had occurred, and in the Master and his sibling's rush to mend the tear in reality, he had agreed to accept a task completely foreign and alien to him.

Of course, "agreed to" is perhaps a deceptive term. Yes, it was true that his master had ASKED him if he would do this thing, but it had occurred at a time when he was still trying to feel out his place in the Master's scheme of things... and finding himself at odds with the newly empathetic incarnation of reality.

All too often, he wondered if perhaps this task was really more of an exile.

If so, he wasn't bitter. He more than anyone understood the necessity of maintaining appearances.

Raven trailed quietly behind him, her face hidden by a cloak of midnight, a swirl of fabric here, a flash of leotard there. Her presence only felt as a suggestion of observation, rather than direct contact itself. As they neared the warehouse, light behind the heavy metal shutters became apparent, glinting like slitted golden eyes staring down at the pair. Robin seemed unaffected. Not for the first time, she found herself staring at him and wondering what he was thinking. His feelings were distressingly neutral for so dark a locale.

Studiously so.

Raven repressed a shiver. The ground itself seemed outraged; some great blasphemy had been committed here, something terrible and profane. She could feel the karmic wound like you can sometimes feel the sound of nails scratching down a chalkboard. Unpleasant, unnerving and most importantly, deliberately so.

Despite his colorful apparel, Robin was a wisp on the side of the warehouse, and she followed quietly. Once again she marveled at the sheer competence he demonstrated, his masked eyes catching details and painting them into a picture, ever alert, moving, aware.

They approached the back end of the warehouse and stepped onto the aged and weathered concrete dock. Rusted tiedown loops and a rickety wooden landing, no boats. Robin bent down and pressed a fingertip in a patina of fine grained white crystals. He looked back at Raven.

"Rock salt." He stood up and brushed off the granules, looking again. "Puddles. Fresh scrapes on the wood... there was a boat here."

She noticed something out of the corner of her eye and turned, spotting a dark stain on the concrete. She looked at Robin.

"Something here." She whispered.

He found what she was looking at and bent down. He scowled. "Blood. Tacky. Not old, maybe... half an hour, an hour at most?"

He pulled a small case from his utility belt and opened it, removing a pair of tweezers, a cotton swab, two small baggies, and a black felt pen. She watched in quiet interest as he dabbed the cotton swab in the edge of the blood stain, putting this in one baggie and marking it with the felt pen. Then he tweezed some invisible object out of the blood stain and held it up to the moonlight, his face neutral, studious.

"Hair. Black, straight. Not body or pubic hair... without a cross section I can't be absolutely positive, but I'm pretty sure this is head hair. Someone hit their head here. Hard."

He paused, considering this. "Drag marks in the vicinity... this is sloppy... not like Slade at all..."

"Who says it has to be Slade?" Raven whispered.

He turned to the warehouse. "It has to be."

"No... you WANT it to be." She maintained stubbornly.

"I..." He hesitated, then subtly firmed. "I do. One murderous psychopath is enough. We don't need another one."

Raven said nothing, merely watched him.

Inspection of the back door revealed that the chain and padlock securing the door had been cleanly cut, the links simply severed at an angle directly through one side. The work of a single stroke from a wickedly sharp object, rather than the bite of a pair of bolt cutters. The likelihood of this being a third or second party decreased significantly.

He turned to her with a serious expression, one gloved hand on the metal door. "Are you ready?"

She nodded mutely. His intense and yet simultaneously blank gaze left her strangely unnerved, and she fidgeted slightly. He turned his attention back to the door. He pushed.

It opened, light flooded the night. The first thing to hit was the smell... an overpowering carnal stench of death and the sad clinical facts of human life at its end... a foul mix of fear, sweat, blood, and the contents of voided bowels and bladder. A deeper, gassy scent rose in the air however, suggesting further, more grisly levels of carnage.

As well as the faint, distinctive odor of sulphur, and brimstone, just barely detectable above the miasma of human misery and pain.

A moment of blindness from their time outside, and then the contents of the room were laid bare.

Raven stood with her mouth open, numbed to her very core.

Robin was right. She didn't want ANYONE to see this.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He stepped into the room after a moment's study, carefully picking his way around the puddles of gore. Raven blinked at his quiet acceptance of the carnage, and carnage it was. It was like... some macabre and terrible masterpiece... a butcher's work of art.

A ring of about two dozen men laid out in a broad circle, each with their arms stretched wide and legs together to form a "T", toes pointing towards a gory, blood-soaked center. Far more disgusting and profane however, was how each man had been killed. A surgically precise cut had been made into each man's abdomen, and their bowels had been carefully pulled out and worked like a daisy chain into a solid unbroken rope of entrails that formed an intricate and seemingly patternless mass strewn about the room.

Combining the large and small intestine, there are approximately 25 to 30 feet of entrails in the average human body.

It looked like every inch of it was being used here.

Aside from this blasphemy, each man looked utterly terrified, as though they had seen this fate coming and been powerless to stop it. Dead eyes stared sightlessly into the distance, focused on some terrible truth.

The universe didn't care.

Raven floated up from the ground, unwilling... no, unable to touch it. She had thought herself untouchable... she had thought herself in complete control, calm... serene... austere.

Not for this. Not by a long shot.

To his credit, perhaps, Robin was not as unaffected by the terrible sight as he seemed. He had paled, his face even grimmer than normal. In fact, had she ever seen his mentor or had the opportunity to travel to the future like Starfire, she might have recognized the harsh set to his features.

He and the Bat had always been a bit more similar than either of them would care to admit.

Still, she knew he was just as horrified, angered, and shocked about this. She could feel it now, pulsing along their link like an aching tooth.

He removed a device from his utility belt and bent down, touching its absorbent end into some of the blood that hadn't had a chance to dry yet. He shook his head.

"I count twenty two... odd number... no significance that I can recall... does it mean anything to you?"

She blinked, startled by his question. She thought back. Twenty two... twenty two... no... no... that didn't ring a bell... but it was so close to...

"Are you sure? There isn't...?" She asked, counting for herself.

"Twenty two... by my count... why?" He asked, looking at her hovering there.

"Twenty two doesn't mean anything... at least not to... you know." She found herself loath to say his name or even mention his relationship to her in this place... it STANK of evil, but that made no sense...

"But it's close to something, isn't it? Don't hold back on me... we need to know what we're dealing with." He was now staring at her intently. The machine in his hand beeped quietly. He looked down at it.

"Typical chemical composition of human blood, nothing special there... no common diseases. Blood type B+. No alcohol..."

He paused.

"Toxicity reports large amounts of coniine and coniceine... that's... not healthy."

Raven looked up suddenly. "What kind of chemicals?"

He looked down as though deep in thought, then snapped his fingers. "Coniine and Coniceine are alkaloids, I think. Piperdine alkaloids to be precise... pretty common in-"

"Hemlock." Raven finished for him. "I'm right aren't I?"

He considered her carefully. "Yes... there are a couple of other plants that it can be found in but it matches... something significant about hemlock?"

She looked at him levelly. "It's a common plant in certain black witchcraft and black vodoun practices chiefly because it is very easy to find and easily administered to an unwilling victim... but more importantly, before it kills, leaves the victim in a pliable... but still... aware... state." She turned away.

He waited patiently.

"Which is a particularly useful trait for rituals requiring a cabrit sans cor." She finished.

He frowned. "Goat... without horns?" Realization glimmered and he looked down. "Oh. Human sacrifice."

She grimaced and turned suddenly. "This is all WRONG. SOMETHING happened here... something terrible, but there aren't enough..."

He watched her for a moment, then did a double take. Walking towards her, he put the machine back on his belt and knelt on one knee near her looking down intently.

He slowly panned his gaze upward.

"Raven." He said intensely, looking up at her. From his kneeling position he appeared to be genuflecting or paying homage to her.

She blinked. "Robin... what are you..."

He wasn't looking at her. He was looking past her.

She looked up.

Another terrified face, this one gazing downward, the mouth open in a horrified scream. No hemlock for this unfortunate.

No sir.

He hung oddly from the cross beam, his blood had dripped down from his trunk and made the spatter pattern that had drawn Robin's attention. The way he hung was odd, boneless... too boneless.

It took her a moment, but then she realized why.

He had been flensed. With the exception of his skull, it looked as though someone had been wearing the victim as a suit, and then discarded him when he was no longer needed.

"Twenty three." He said quietly.

She rose slowly, dreading what her intuition was telling her but completely certain what she'd find. At a height close enough to the body to touch it, she looked down. She knew what she would see. She didn't want to see it. Of course she knew what it meant.

From this angle it all made sense.

She wished it didn't.

"By their mark shall ye know them, and all that observe it be curs'd. As a foulness shall ye know them, their talons clench about your throat though ye know them not by name. Begotten upon no woman, sired by no man."

He frowned. "What does it mean?"

She closed her eyes.

"It means I'm sorry."

He blinked. She could feel his confusion across the link.

"Sorry? What do you-"

"It means we're SCREWED alright? It means we're screwed and it's... She hesitated. "It's... damn it!" She snapped, exhausted and heartsick and confused and just plain scared in a way she hadn't been in a long time.

She usually wasn't anything... but today had been too long, her barriers were too frazzled, and too much craziness had happened today, and she couldn't get enough air and the room was spinning and they were all looking at her accusingly and-

She had no recollection of falling. Nor did she feel the impact.

He was always quick. That was one thing that hadn't changed, no, had become even more true after the Incident. He stood and caught her easily as she fainted, having expected something like this after the sudden rush of exhaustion and strangely, remorse he felt through the link.

He sighed. She always did blame herself first. He wished he hadn't needed to bring her here. It would hurt her, he had known that. Which is not to say HE felt any remorse about doing it. He'd done the right thing.

She knew it too.

He also knew that if he hadn't brought her here, had waited or ignored his intuition that he would need her for this in order to spare her, she never would have forgiven him. How odd, how these relationships worked.

He carried her outside, stepping carefully over the offal and looked down at her, his face soft... or at least, softer. She weighed next to nothing. Ate like a bird, then held in every bit of stress and emotion like a pressure cooker.

It was a wonder she had any vitality at all.

He made a mental note to force her to eat a larger portion the next time he had kitchen duty. She wouldn't like it. In fact, she'd hate it.

But she'd do it. She'd do it if he asked. He knew that now. He hadn't before.

Disturbing.

He set her down carefully outside the warehouse and turned, considering the mess on the floor. Those words sounded familiar, like an itch in the back of his mind. Twenty-three had long been a number of conspiratorial and mystical significance... something like the number 13 or the number 7 for things supernatural. Twenty two men in a circle... twenty two forming a circle...

One man above. What was his significance?

A circle... representing what... endless evolution? Infinity? Perhaps an opening... a portal... a gateway?

A gateway... with an observer...

He frowned. A helpless observer, a guide... like a drowning man in a storm lashed to the wheel of a ship, guiding it inexorably towards the rocks ahead...

He walked into the room and reached into his belt, tossing a line upward. Carefully, hand over hand, he climbed upward, nimble as a spider.

He looked down. From this angle the mess on the floor made sense. A pattern, intricately worked. It hurt the eyes to see it, hurt the mind... and more importantly hurt the soul.

He was rather glad he didn't have one of those to hurt.

To his far too canny gaze it stood out, blazed forth like a beacon, but an expended one... the remnants... the evidence of a signal fire.

It was the Mark of Scath, and something more.

Much more.

Carefully, he pulled himself up onto the crossbeam, leaning over the empty dead man like a ghoul. He carefully turned the corpse over until he could see the face.

The face, and the bulging eyes...

He shook for a moment. He didn't sweat, but his breath suddenly came in gasps.

He was like an addict contemplating a needle. Like an alcoholic staring at a bottle. That same old hunger... he had almost forgotten what it felt like. It was tinged with excitement, and the ever-present curiosity to see what could not be seen, lay bare secrets taken to the grave... but also more than that... it bordered on the sexual, on religious ecstasy.

He had made it so hard. No... he tried to make it hard for himself.

Despite his self-flagellation, it had always been sooo easy.

So simple. Like putting on a mask. Or a pair of sunglasses.

He didn't want to do this. He had left this behind him. By necessity... it was too much of what he had been.

Once.

He reached up carefully, with agonizing slowness, and removed his mask.

He tucked it onto his belt with exaggerated calm and thoroughness that he didn't feel. His fingers found their way to a seldom-used pouch.

His hand, normally graceful as a surgeon's, shook as he removed the pouch's sole occupant.

A thin bladed, strangely curved knife.

His eyes were closed.

He froze... hesitated. He swayed ever so slightly.

He stilled. No time for doubts and second-guessing. He needed to know. He needed to know for all their sakes. He could hardly ask her to face a part of herself she loathed and not do the same himself.

A part of him whispered that maybe he didn't loathe this as much as he should...

He ignored it. Mostly.

He opened his eyes.

They smiled.

He did not.


Technology, Robin reflected, was a wonderful thing. It enabled men to cross continents in the space of hours, to speak with their loved ones across great gulfs of distance. It healed the sick, cured the lame and made life better for most, if not all, of those concerned.

It also enabled one to carry an unconscious half-demon while controlling ones fine movement on a motorcycle with only one's legs.

Robin had taken a few pictures of the scene for his records and for later perusal, but he had already gleaned all of the information from the atrocity that he required. An anonymous and untraceable phone call to the police station would ensure that the dance of guilt and investigation would begin here. Despite finding the scene only an hour after the deeds had been done, Robin couldn't help but feel he'd failed, and failed badly.

Something dark and ominous had been born in his city today... something that every fiber of his body rebelled against.

He clutched Raven a little more closely. If his grasp was slightly protective, he was too busy concentrating on the road to notice.

She hung in his arms like a dead weight, not sleep aware, not even a little bit. The term he believed fit the closest was dead to the world. For the first time in what felt like a long time, but was actually only a span of hours, the link between them was silent.

His first indication that she was waking up was the strange fluttering of disorientation in his gut. Cautious, he carefully flicked off the autopilot on the R-Cycle and brought it over to the side of the road. She contracted in his arms, a very light moan of confusion and trepidation escaping her, then she stretched.

Her left hand struck his chest, jerked back as though his costume had burned her, then strangely slid back and explored the territory it had retreated from.

She slowly opened her eyes and stared up at him.

He had just a moment, just a fraction of a second to take in her completely unguarded expression, lips slightly parted in surprise, cheeks ever so slightly dusted with pink, eyes wide.

The moment passed, and her expression became a mask once more. She raised one finely arched brow and thinned out her mouth in what was almost a sardonic smile but not quite.

"I'm going to assume there is a completely rational explanation for this Boy Wonder, and not pound you into the concrete."

Despite himself his expressionless mask twisted into a small grin.

"How do you feel?" He asked.

She winced. "I would say like death warmed over but I don't even feel warm. Not that I don't appreciate the support, but would you mind putting me down?"

-Am I flirting!- She almost jerked at the sudden realization. -What the hell is wrong with me?-

He wondered at the sudden flash of embarrassment from her along the link. She showed no sign of it physically of course. Still grinning, he eased her off his lap and helped her to the pavement.

If he hadn't held onto her shoulder she would have fallen flat on her face.

-Whoa...- She thought as the world suddenly tilted fifteen degrees and whited out a bit -Maybe not... such a good idea.-

He gripped her shoulder and watched her carefully. She felt concern from him, but he said nothing.

"I know, I know," she snapped, just a trifle irritated. "I need... a little help." She allowed. Grudgingly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you think you can hang on?"

She narrowed her eyes at him slightly.

He shrugged, then moved forward on the seat a bit. He looked back at her expectantly.

She sighed, then moved his cape to one side and sat down gingerly behind him.

Precariously so.

"Raven... you're gonna have to get closer than that." His voice was studiously neutral, but she could feel the light warming of amusement trickling from him.

She refrained from acknowledging his childish amusement at her embarrassment and instead leaned very close against him, her hands going to his waist.

She was rather glad he couldn't see her blush.

He started a bit, a barely noticeable intake of breath, then covered the action by turning back to the road. "Ready?" He whispered.

She muttered something unintelligible in an affirming tone of voice, not trusting herself to speak.

Her grip tightened when he took off down the street, the wind whipping by the both of them and dragging her hood back from her face, forcing tears to her eyes.

She shut them, turning her face from the cold wind.

-Ah hell... might as well make the most of it- She thought suddenly. -Disgusting is going to have a field day with this.-

She leaned her face against his back, pressing her cheek against him. She warmed almost instantly.

It was... nice.


He said nothing as they made their way from the parking garage to the habitable levels of the Titan's Tower, and for that she was infinitely grateful. Perhaps it was her exhaustion, or perhaps the horrible events of the previous night had worn thin her emotional barricades, but when he gently provided a shoulder to lean on as they walked towards the elevator she took it without comment.

They didn't need to say anything. This was hard for them both. For the umpteenth time tonight Raven wondered at how much had changed between them in so short a time, all because of one careless gesture.

No... she reflected, that wasn't right. No it wasn't right at all. Things had been changing between them for some time now, it was just that they could no longer ignore it.

The elevator opened, they stepped in and she drew away, using the support bar for its intended purpose and a little bit more. Implacable as always, Robin stood his ground.

The trip upwards passed in silence, all too soon they were at her floor.

She stepped away from the bar and stumbled, jamming her shoulder against the side of the elevator. A potted plant across the hall shivered slightly and turned over, spilling dirt.

She stared at it as though it had murdered her dog.

He stepped forward and she jerked away, nearly falling into the hallway. She gave him her coldest look. The one that made Beast Boy turn into a mouse and flee like a little green billiard ball.

"I don't want your help, Boy Wonder." She hissed slightly. Which was, of course, a lie. Still, she was protecting him from herself.

"No, but you do need it." He observed.

She took a stubborn step into the hallway and collapsed in a crumpled heap facedown.

He crossed his arms and watched her.

"It's not such a bad floor." She reasoned. It sounded remarkably weak even to her. "I could get used to this."

"Raven..." He sounded tired. For the first time.

"I'm not just being stubborn. It's not... not safe."

"I trust you." He reasoned.

"I don't trust me." She snapped back.

She didn't hear him move. One moment he was behind her watching her in exasperated silence, the next he had scooped her up and was carrying her towards her room. She growled.

"I'm going to kill you." She said darkly.

"I'll take a rain check on that." He muttered, his breath stirring her hair slightly. She violently suppressed a shiver.

"Why don't you ever listen to me?" She groused.

"I always LISTEN to you, Raven. You should know by now that how I interpret what I hear is another matter entirely."

He paused at her door and punched a few keys. The door opened with a swish and he carried her inside, pausing to turn on the light.

"Remind me to change my combination." She muttered.

He said nothing as they crossed the distance to her bed and he laid her gently on it.

It felt like heaven.

"Pajamas?" He asked.

Her eyes widened and she turned her head to regard him. He watched her intently.

"Get the... hell out!" She exclaimed, squeezing shut her eyes.

After about five minutes she opened one and looked in his direction.

He was still there.

She closed it again.

She sighed.

"Third drawer, left hand side. Sweats and a tee-shirt."

She heard him move.

"Third drawer, Boy Wonder. Only the third drawer. Open any other drawer and I will put you in it."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He muttered, laying something soft that smelled of laundry soap next to her face.

She opened her eyes and looked at him.

He turned and crossed his arms.

"You can't be serious." She muttered.

"As a heart attack. Let me know if you need any help." He offered mildly.

"Are you enjoying this?" She asked incredulously.

"Frankly? No. The only reason this is taking so long is because you're drawing it out. Accept the fact that you can't hide your exhaustion from me and that I

CARE, and move on."

She blinked.

It took almost more effort to change than she was capable of, but she managed it. She'd be damned if he saw her in such a pathetic (and frankly embarrassed) state. When she had finished she was pale from the effort. It wasn't hard to figure out why she was so weak. Earlier today she had performed a major Warding and Binding, in an effort to gain some insight into the Boy Wonder by reading that old book. She had been up for eighteen hours now, and those eighteen hours had included combat, healing, an empathic... bonding of some sort, and an hour and a half of shielding against the worst taint she'd felt since... since Trigon had come to Azarath.

She was operating on the dregs.

"Robin..." She managed.

He turned and watched her. His face was soft. "Yes?"

She just watched him wordlessly, unable to ask for help.

She didn't need to. He carefully gathered her up, pulled back her covers and tucked her in, drawing the covers back up to her chin.

"We need... to talk." She said idly as he snapped off the light. In the dark she was completely unable to place his location.

She waited for the door to open.

It did not.

"I know." He said finally. After a long moment she felt some movement on the bed. She almost started, before she realized he had sat down next to her.

She was quiet for a long moment, pensive. Calm radiated from him. That, and a strange form of resignation.

"What are you?" She whispered.

She felt him move slightly in the darkness, but all was pitch black. He was still sitting, but she got the impression that he was looking at her.

It didn't disturb her as much as it should have.

"Once upon a time..." He started.

She frowned, almost asked a question, then realized this was as close as she was going to get to a confession. She waited for him to continue. It was oddly hard for him.

"Once upon a time there was a wonderful boy who everyone thought could do anything..."

"He could fly without wings, he could see things that other people didn't want to see... go places others could not. He and the knight to whom he was a squire. He had never wondered why he was able to do these things others could not. Of course, if he thought about it, perhaps it was because people thought he could."

He paused, his voice tremulous and slightly sad. She waited spellbound.

"Little boys aren't REALLY supposed to fly, and little boys aren't really supposed to fight monsters. Fighting monsters is for knights and other monsters, not little boys. It was inevitable that he would make a mistake. One day, a beautiful Lady came to the little boy... and the little boy saw that she was sad, and asked her why."

"Your story is ending, but not because it should be that way."

"The little boy didn't understand, even though he was very, very smart, so he asked what that meant."

"You see, the little boy couldn't keep up with everyone's expectations, but he was a good little boy and he tried very, very hard. So hard, in fact, that one day his little body couldn't keep up anymore. The Lady asked the little boy if there was anything he wished, anything at all and the little boy said..."

Another pause, as though this were difficult for him.

"The boy said..."

"I'm very tired, and I would like to sleep, but who will the people have to expect things from now? They will all be sad if there isn't a wonderful little boy to fight monsters and fly and see things people don't want to see."

"The Lady smiled sadly and said, I'll see what I can do... don't worry. You can rest now."

"There was a fluttering of wings... And the little boy was gone."

"The Lady went on a journey. It was not a long journey, no journey was ever too long or too short for her, they were always just the right length. She traveled to a place you can search for your whole life and never find, though you visit it nightly. She went to her Brother and told him the story. Her brother's heart was hurt, and he asked of his realm, is there, anywhere, one that would give up his dream to tell a different story? One by one those who lived in his realm answered."

"No my Lord, for I am a Raven, not a little boy."

"No my Lord, I am a Librarian, not a little boy."

"No Boss, I've got too much damn work to do already."

"The Lady's Brother turned then to the lowest depths of his realm, to a place seldom traveled, and found one who had not answered his call."

He lived in a closet, sometimes in a mirror, and he knew that he was a monster. Not the bad sort of monster, not the hurt people kind of monster, but the monster who shows them their faults. He wasn't always the good sort of monster though."

Robin paused again for a very long time and Raven almost reached out to him. Almost. After a moment he continued in a whisper.

"This made him very sad. And the king of stories asked him, why did you not answer my call?"

"The monster was silent."

"The King of Stories would not be dissuaded. He asked the Monster, Will you be the wonderful boy?"

"The monster, after a long moment of deep consideration, replied."

"I don't know how to be a little boy. I nearly don't know how to be a good monster."

And the King of Stories said... just look into his eyes, and you will have your answer."

"So he did. The end."

Raven watched him in the dark. He seemed frozen, as though awaiting judgement.

"So which are you, Robin? Which is the real you?" She whispered.

"Both. Neither. Sometimes not even I know." He whispered back. "But I know... what I'm trying to be."

She reached out and touched his hand and he did not jerk away.

"I don't want to go to sleep, Robin. I know he'll be waiting for me. After a day like today... he always is. There is... there's no mercy in him." It nearly hurt to reveal this, but she couldn't help herself.

He squeezed her hand, the dark making both of them more honest than either of them would care to admit. After a long moment, he stood up and released her hand, the sudden flood of light creating a silhouette that both matched him perfectly and didn't match him at all.

"All you ever had to do was ask, Rae." He said quietly. With that enigmatic statement the door slid shut, leaving her alone in the dark.

Despite her best efforts, she fell asleep almost instantly.