Chapter two:

Kaldur did his level best to ignore the sharp buzzing in the back of his mind. Fighting the insistent need to follow it to Robin's location. If anyone could talk Robin down, it was Wally. The two had been best friends for years. The difference in their ages had been too large of a gap to bridge when they'd first met, and culture shock had prevented him from falling into the "older brother" category like Roy had. So for now he contented himself to wait. Much as he preferred to track down his friend, Wally was better suited to this particular mission.

Zatanna nudged him, and he turned his attention to her. "Was that what I thought it was?" She whispered.

He inclined his head slightly, "Fox Spirit, though I have no idea what kind."

She groaned. "How much do you know of the species?"

"I know they are not Fae, nor are they Demons." He replied softly.

She nodded, "I think they are technically more closely related to Daemons then to the Fae or Demons."

"Aren't they elementals of some kind?" He enquired.

Zatanna shrugged, "I think that depends on the species of Foxkin."

"Fox Spirits are not a subject I know a lot about." He confessed softly. "Do you know if they all live about 900 years, or if that's only the one species?"

Zatanna blinked. "Oh Merlin," she cursed softly. "I have no idea. Either way it begs the question, how old is Robin?"

Kaldur rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked over at the rest of his team feeling obscenely grateful Rocket and her Mentor were currently off world together somewhere, so at least only the original team had witnessed Robin's transformation and subsequent breakdown. Maybe breakdown was too strong a word, but Robin was Batman's protégée, and he'd just turned tail on then and fled.

M'Gann, and Artemis seemed to be having some sort of silent argument which included a lot of excessive gesturing. Conner just looked annoyed. Wolf sat calmly at the half Kriptonion's side, head cocked as he watched the girls debate.

"He only just turned fourteen, weather that is Robin's actual age or the equivalent I do not know. Either way he is young." He replied then jerked his head sharply at the others. Zatanna nodded and they began to make their way over to the rest of the team. "M'Gann," Kaldur called and instantly felt his mind be drawn into the link.

I'm telling you, there is no way Klarion did that to Robin. Artemis said firmly into their minds. Did you not here what he said before he disappeared.

I heard what he said. M'Gann countered, but its Klarion. Chaos Lord who enjoys nothing more than sowing the seeds of Discord. All I'm saying is that he could have lied to drive a wedge between us. Why else would he make Robin look like a villain? I mean come on he looked a bit like Catwoman, or maybe Cheetah, just with a puffy tail.

Firstly, I'm not sure Klarion did anything to Robin. Zatanna said slowly. It sounded like he'd simply revealed something Robin would rather keep hidden. Secondly, Catwoman is human nothing more. Thirdly, what we just saw flee into the woods is a recognizable species of supernatural. I'm not saying this can't be an elaborate trick of Klarion's. But we should prepare for the possibility.

"You're telling me you think Robin is Fae and Batman conveniently never noticed?" Kid Flash demanded, suddenly appearing at Artemis's side, in a rush of displaced air and flying dirt.

Artemis squawked in indignation and wiped the peaty swampy slime off her face glaring at her boyfriend for the unexpected mud bath.

What's a Fae? Conner enquired curiously, ignoring the mud coughing his chest and shoulders.

It's a derogatory term for someone who Dates their own gender. Miss Martian replied promptly.

As one the team turned and looked at her mouths hanging open in astonishment.

That's gay, Artemis informed them all mildly

Actually Fay is an old fashioned way of insulting someone who's gay, Kid Flash supplied absently. Never mind. The Fae, in this case, are a species native to earth.

It's an old reference used to mean any of the Children of Underhill. Zatanna cut in when Wally trailed off. They are a species that existed long before humans. Most have the ability to appear human, wielders of Magic and the Elements. Although most are allergic to Iron. I'm surprised you haven't heard of them. The Gray Lords brought them out of hiding years ago in a spectacularly public manner. They have reservations in several large cities now. Father used to say the Reservations were most likely doorways into Underhill.

"Does any of this Matter?!" Conner interjected sharply. "Robin is our friend! He's missing, we find him. End of discussion!"

Aqualad sighed, and glanced at Zatanna wondering just how much information he should give the others. Conner is right. He said at last, Robin is our friend. The Swamp is a dangerous place, and he is not only scared but injured as well. We need to find him. The rest can be sorted out later.

Kid Flash visibly wilted. I looked everywhere I could think of. He said softly. He did the Ninja thing and vanished. Man I hate it when he does the Ninja thing.

Neptune's beard sometimes being leader sucked.

"I can find him." Kaldur confessed aloud in a deceptively mild tone. "Zatanna Can you make a cloak?"

"Easily, Why?"

"Because regardless of whether the form we saw was the result of nature or Klarion's meddling, Robin seemed uncomfortable with the idea of being seen like that. He may be more willing to come out of hiding, if he has another method of concealment at his disposal."

SSNHSSNHSSNHSSH

Robin shifted slightly hunching in on himself as the weight of despair settled on his shoulders like an oppressive cloak. His tail twitched, curling around him in an instinctive huddle he couldn't escape. He sniffled and buried his face in his knees, shifting further into the comforting darkness around him. The Mangrove forest was a trove of nooks, crannies and impressive heights all shrouded in the comforting grasp of an almost eternal darkness. He couldn't even begin to determine if he was cradled in the crook of a branch, a particularly large root, a small horizontal trunk or even the entangle mess of several trees. It was the way of Mangroves. Still he could feel the Forest's welcome. A strange, and persistent thrum in the back of his mind. The branches and roots around his hiding place draw closer, obscuring him in comforting, welcoming shadows.

The World has always loved our family little kit. His maternal great grandfather had told him the one time they'd met.

He felt the tears prickle at the back of his eyes as his Great Grandfather's voice rang across his mind. He flung his head back and opened his mouth, giving vent to an inhuman cry of pain and loss, before tucking himself deeper into the forest's embrace. He buried his face in his knees again and forced back the desire to cry. He hadn't cried since he was eight.

He knew better.

Crying was a weakness he would not, could not allow himself.

Justin had taught him what happened to "crybabies" his first night in Gotham's Youth Penitentiary. Just as the sixteen year old had shown him what happened to "Freaks" when he'd thrown caution to the wind and transformed in a desperate bid to escape his sixteen year old abuser. He had nightmares about his time in that hell hole about it to this day.

Justin was a charismatic bully. A juvenile delinquent well on his way to becoming a hardened career criminal. Young though he'd been at the time, he'd run that prison. Dick knew the other boy had hurt people before and liked it, just as he knew Justin would likely never remember everyone he'd hurt, but Justin would remember him. He'd made sure of it when he'd raked his claws across the older boy's face.

It was the first and last time he'd ever fought as anything other than a simple human. Until today that is. He knew he was not stronger than a normal human, though he was faster and more agile. Even among other circus performers. He'd always been more agile. He honestly had no clue what he was though the tail suggested he was some sort of fox. He also knew he wasn't a Were. Werewolves were not born.

They were made, and he'd been born like this.

Sifting his shape came as naturally to him as breathing water did to Kaldur. His mother had found a fox kit in his bassinet for the first time just days after his birth. Not that it had mattered to the Circus if he happened to have a tail from time to time. Still the one time he'd visited his mother's family he'd learned the hard way that not all humans weren't as accepting as circus folk. He'd acquired full control over the change a year later, at the tender age of seven.

Which was part of the reason his current situation scared the hell out of him. During the frenzy of combat he hadn't stopped to consider the fact that Klarion had somehow forced him to transform. He'd simply been thankful he'd somehow ended up in the form that was the easiest for him to fight in. No matter what form he wore he was still growing, and having remained stubbornly human for almost half of his life, he had no idea what his conformation would have been like in either of his two fox forms. So he'd simply shoved the concerns out of his mind and been grateful that his center of balance hadn't changed in this form. He'd spent enough time in this form as a young child that he'd compensated for the slight differences effortlessly. Rising up onto the balls of his feet, as his Achilles tendons shortened, using his tail as both a signal and a counter balance.

It hadn't been until after the battle was over that he'd discovered the horrible truth. He was stuck, he couldn't transform.

To make matters worse the others had seen him like this. They knew he wasn't human. They'd never trust him again. He curled tighter into himself trying to ignore the very real terror coursing through his veins.

Just as he couldn't ignore call of the world around him, the shadows sang to him, a soft soothing lullaby soothing the aches and pains that threatened to engulf his very soul. Part of him wondered just how he'd managed to give all of this up. How he'd been able to force himself to ignore the constant comforting thrum of the earth under his feet, the energizing pulse of the air pressing in around him from all sides as he sailed through the air. He marveled at the scents his human nose had missed, the sights his sun dazzled human eyes were blind to.

Another part of him was extremely confused. Earth, wind, fire, and water had always sung to him. Fire and Air had always been the loudest, the one's he'd had the hardest time tuning out. But now something else called to him, its soft pulsing presence almost overlooked beneath the loud songs of the others. Yet it was stronger, drawing him irreparably nearer. Offering more comfort, more protection, than the others. Somehow resonating with his soul in a deep harmonic he could not ignore.

Alarmingly he recognized it. Recognized it from his nights at Batman's side. Recognized it from countless hours, shrouded in darkness, skulking after a target. Recognized the thrum of certainty that allowed him to fire a grapple line with absolute confidence into the dead of night even when the night vision and sensors in his mask failed. He'd somehow given up the others only to cloak himself in this softer, subtler, element.

Once a long time ago, he'd been something else entirely, but now as he felt the shadows draw closer, obscuring him in comfortingly cool arms. He found he didn't really care. After the deaths of his family, and the events that had followed he'd sworn never to be anything more than human. He pushed himself every day to be the best human he could be.

Yet at night he'd learned to embrace the shadows, and felt them welcome him exultingly into their inky void. Wrapping around him as comfortingly and protectively as Batman's cape on a stormy night. He was probably the only person to ever take shelter under the Bat's inky cape.

A long time ago he'd overheard his mother's conversation with her Grandfather. Heard her desperately trying to figure out what her son was. He still remembered the old man's words, and they rang through his mind now. "Only time will tell if he truly possesses the Lady's gifts or if he has simply inherited as small measure of it. We are the very soul of adaptability. If he is the Lady's child only time will tell and his actions, what and who he draws closest to will define him. He will become the instrument of his own making. In his case it will be Wind, like it would have been for you. I wish it were Water or Fire like most of our family, but we are all individuals. Our choices define us and the Clan is diverse because of it. How he presents will be a work of time, choice and adaptation."

He looked up, rubbing at his eyes as the world around him sang out in warning.

He was no longer alone.

Frantic he reached for his discarded mask, but it was too late. He locked eyes with Kaldur as the Atlantian rose up on a platform of water and crawled into his shelter.

Kaldur blinked eerie silvery green eyes at him, his third eyelid sliding across his eyes in a manner reminiscent of a crocodile. As the shadows around him drew still closer, offering him what little comfort and protection they could in the bright light of day, he suddenly understood his great grandfather's words.

He knew what he was.

He was the night.

He would have laughed if the realization hadn't hurt so much.