Chapter 6

Ghost

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or anything related to Teen Titans. Unfortunately.

Before dinner on the day of their homecoming, Raven had talismans in place in each of the tower's many rooms and hallways. With the unexpected help of the rest of the Titans, crafting them all had taken much less time than she had anticipated. The whole event had turned into a kind of arts and crafts project for everyone, much to the empath's surprise, serving as both a group activity and a welcome bonding experience: Cyborg teasing Beast Boy good-naturedly over his craftsmanship while Starfire decorated her contributions with colorful hearts and stars and Robin focused on perfection and practicality, cranking out more than the rest.

Unable to do much, Jinx had at least managed to settle back into her usual demeanor, occupying her time equally between stepping around the room to broadcast her boredom and amusing herself by passing her various limbs through the others.

Overall, the feelings incubating among them did a lot to help ease Raven's tension after their experience. Uncertainty was still there, of course, simmering on a low heat inside everyone present, but she supposed she really couldn't have expected much else. More to the point, she counted herself thankful that the group seemed to have taken Jinx's condition in stride, or at least was making the effort to appear that they were. To anyone who wasn't an empath, the effort would have been a successful one.

Jinx, too, seemed helped a great deal by the warmth and casualness of the scene. Still, Raven could feel it in her, the honest, wide-eyed fear of one suddenly faced with the imminent implications of mortality. Raven had felt it often: near every hospital, every retirement home, some homeless shelters and other such places that lay in wait at the ends of the roads people chose to take in their lives.

Contrary to what people liked to say sometimes, or what fiction might have had people believe, no one was ever ready to die. Convinced themselves of it, perhaps. But in the moment? Never. Unless the person passing was unconscious, even if the minutes leading up to it were calm and smiling and peaceful, in that last, sometimes imperceptible moment, it always ended on the same frightened note.

It was the unknown, after all. Fear was natural. To deny it she considered, at best, naïve. At worst, petulant. In the end, all those aware of their passing were afraid. All sought comfort, to be held, a higher or more powerful, knowledgeable, even maternal something to soothe and assure them in the face of the ultimate unknown.

Something to hold on to, to let them know it would be okay.

Jinx had come close, closer than most people ever would, hadn't merely found out that she was dying but that she had died. For all practical purposes, anyway. As much as she trusted Raven—and Raven could feel that she did—there would always be doubt. Somewhere tucked and hidden, secreted away and shunned by conscious thought, maybe. But there would always be doubt.

And in Jinx's case, that doubt culminated in a black hole in the galaxy of her mind: dark, consuming, and horrifying, a single point of existential dread so utterly inescapable that it must never be engaged or acknowledged, lest it swallow her whole.

So, she didn't. Didn't think about it, didn't allow herself to dwell on it. She played. She sighed and grunted her boredom. She put her arm through Beast Boy's head and pretended her hand was a little mouth on the other side, mimicking his speech like a flailing Muppet and giggling all the while.

Comfort would come later, when Jinx sought it. Until then, Raven would not offer, would not allow herself to consider offering, much less allow herself to want it. For the next month, she would want, literally, for nothing, as best she could. To want anything was to influence Jinx's will with hers, and the very idea of it, of using someone in that way, sickened her. The fact that, in her rashness, she might have already done it made her ill to think about it.

Just that easily, with one slip, one lapse in judgement, one mistake, she had played puppet master with someone's soul to sate her own curiosity. No matter how she justified it or rationalized it away, for one night, just for a few minutes, she had risked someone else's afterlife and embraced more of her heritage than even Doctor Light had ever seen.

Whatever happened, whatever Jinx decided and whatever did or didn't develop between them afterward, as long as she lived, she would never forgive herself for that. Or, at the very least, certainly she would never forget.

Once all the talismans were finished and set in place, the group reconvened in the common room while Cyborg and Beast Boy set about preparing dinner. Robin and Starfire smiled softly and talked to each other on one end of the couch, probably their first truly relaxed moment since Raven had disappeared, while Raven herself sat with a book on the other end.

Jinx wandered idly over to the window, staring at it. A thought seemed to occur, and she held an arm out idly, examining her clothes. "So…"

"I wouldn't," Raven told her.

Robin and Starfire looked over briefly, but Raven's apparent non-sequiturs had become more or less accepted.

"I didn't even ask!" Jinx defended.

Raven flipped a page. "You exist as a representation of your self-image. Your clothes are a part of that. If you take them off, they could disappear."

"Friend Jinx would like to…remove her clothing?" Starfire asked.

"That's…what it sounds like," Robin agreed.

"Please. That is…unusual on this planet, yes?"

Robin raised an eyebrow at the implication of Starfire's question.

"For most people," Raven quipped.

Jinx swaggered closer, hands clasped behind her back and a Cheshire grin across her lips. "Or, maybe, it's not my will that wants me to take them off…"

The microwave in the kitchen short-circuited with a spark and a puff of smoke.

All eyes turned to Raven, who offered no outward indication.

"One-sided conversations, am I right?" Beast Boy chimed in from the peanut gallery.

"Soup's on!" Cyborg sang out.

Everyone rose from the couch and headed over to eat.

Jinx followed, still smiling. "Just think! I can't touch or interact with or even talk to anybody or anything else! I get to play with you for who knows how long!"

"Joy," Raven deadpanned.

"Hey, at least I'll get somethin' out of it. Who knew bein' a ghost was so boring? No wonder they're always moanin'…"

"Not a ghost," Raven corrected her. "Disembodied soul."

Jinx rolled her eyes. "Big whoop."

"Ghosts are residual psychic projections attached to places, people, or objects. You're a disembodied soul."

"Dude," Beast Boy said honestly. "There's no such thing as ghosts?"

Raven gave him an unimpressed look.

"We're still on for the movie later, though. Right?" he asked.

With a roll of her eyes, Raven started into a bowl of the stew Cyborg had prepared for everyone but Beast Boy, who had made himself something more suited to his tastes.

Jinx stretched her hand high in the background, straining comically and holding one arm up with the other. "Oh! Teacher! Teacher!"

Raven paused from her food and raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Jinx blinked endearingly. "Do I eat?"

"No."

"So why am I thirsty?" Jinx asked.

"It's psychological."

Jinx sighed, leaning quietly against the countertop while the others ate. Just like Raven had said, the moment she stopped thinking about being thirsty, she no longer was. In the other dimension, she really had been thirsty. And hungry. She knew that much hadn't just been in her head. But then, Raven had already said that her father had changed the rules there, given souls form or whatever. If the things that had chased them at the end were any indication, though, they still couldn't really die.

Her expression saddened somewhat as she recalled all the things she had experienced in that dimension: hunger, thirst, exhaustion, heat and coldness. Try as she might, she could think of no good reasons to allow beings that couldn't die to feel those things. But she could think of plenty of bad ones.

"What about sleeping?" Jinx asked.

Raven glanced over, although Jinx apparently hadn't seen, taken by the sudden shift in her mood and the subsequent lack of her usual abbreviated pronunciation. "I don't see why not. You won't actually be tired, but you can will yourself to be, like being thirsty. In theory, you could probably sleep whenever you wanted."

Jinx's emotional state tanked, and Raven quickly reexamined her words to find what she might've said wrong.

"So if I wanted to just…go to sleep…"

Raven put down her spoon and turned to face Jinx with her full attention. "If you want to do that, I won't stop you. You can go to sleep right now, and the next time you wake up, you'll be back in your body."

A few moments passed, and then Jinx's smile peaked out again. "And miss out on findin' out how to push your buttons?"

With a roll of her eyes, Raven resumed eating.

Cyborg shook his head. "Not gonna lie. It's a pretty messed up situation." He gave a look at where Raven's posture had indicated Jinx to have been. "But don't worry. Hang tight, and we'll get ya fixed up. Who knows? Might not even take that long."

"And until then, I get to tell people I live in a haunted house," Beast Boy added.

"People," Raven said.

Beast Boy took offense. "I have friends! Besides…you guys." He counted on his fingers. "The guy at the electronics store, the one other guy I see buying tofu sometimes, this weird guy who talks about lizard people in the government and feeds ducks at the park…"

Utensils held in place, everyone gave the green teen a questioning look.

He became sheepish. "What? I…like being fed."

"And petted," Starfire added.

Beast Boy blushed a darker green, unable to deny it. "Yeah…"

Jinx giggled. "He's cute. Can I keep him?"

Raven shook her head. "You did not just say that."

"Say what?" Beast Boy asked, mostly out of reflex.

Raven hesitated.

Jinx grinned. "Yeah, Raven. Say what?"

"Nothing," Raven said.

With a shrug, Beast Boy went back to his meal.

"Chicken," Jinx taunted her.

"Beef, actually," Raven said simply, taking another spoonful.

"This is gonna be fun," Jinx decided.

After they had all finished dinner, Beast Boy led the charge back to the couch for the movie. He sat next to Cyborg, while Robin and Starfire took the middle, his arm over her shoulders and her just as pleased to have it there. Raven took note of the very prominent open spot between them and herself.

"We…just sort of assumed…" Robin hedged, seeing that Raven had noticed the empty space.

Jinx wasted no time in happily filling it. "They're so nice," she said to Raven. "Such good friends."

"Thanks," Raven said, legitimately thankful but no less uncomfortable with the public acknowledgment.

The movie played. Cyborg and Beast Boy riffed in amateur Mystery Science Theater 3000 tradition. Robin and Starfire got more comfortable, and Jinx did the same: nestled right up against Raven's side, sighing contentedly.

At one point, in response to something in the film, Jinx leaned up and whispered into the empath's ear.

A drinking glass cracked on the counter.

"Gonna start a tab for y'all," Cyborg commented, eyes still on the movie.

"You…do realize I can literally put you out in the cold. Right?" Raven asked.

Jinx batted her eyes in a, 'Who? Me?' response. "But my will is your will," she feigned innocence.

"I'm doing everything I can do rein in my will," Raven countered. "This is all you."

Jinx gave a sly grin. "But…it's impossible to tell—or so I'm told."

With a sigh, Raven dropped the subject.

As the movie reached its third act, Cyborg and Beast Boy's banter had mostly tapered out. Robin had sunken deeper into the couch, his legs stretched out front with Starfire's head resting between his chest and shoulder.

Raven, however, had found herself only half paying attention to the film on display. Instead, her attention was drawn to a curious, latent tension that seemed to have sprung up after her inadvertent cracking of the glass on the counter.

It was minute. Hardly worth noticing, really. But she had noticed it, perhaps because of how unwelcomed a change it had been to the easy peacefulness whose place it had taken, or at least intruded upon.

She thought back, considering the short interaction. Jinx's state hadn't changed. Everyone else's had. Then, she wondered: had she done that?

True, she had so seldom expressed affection at all around the others—let alone the propensity for romantic feelings—that they had no measure, no standard by which to judge her interactions with Jinx. Jinx herself, of course, suffered no such problem. Their relationship, whatever it really was, had developed with exactly the kind of dry snark with which she had jokingly threatened to put her out in the cold.

An obvious joke, certainly. They had all recognized it as such. But could it also have caused their tension, like someone not quite sure whether it really had been all in fun or if he had found himself caught awkwardly in the middle of a backhanded spat?

An interesting supposition and, if true, a nuance to relationships that she hadn't before considered: that actions between her and Jinx, while innocent to the two of them, might easily put others less familiar with their norms in awkward or uncertain, tense situations, wholly inadvertently.

Was it something Robin and Starfire dealt with?

Had Raven been a victim of it herself at any point, perhaps equally clueless to it at the time?

Intrigued, she decided to test her theory.

Slowly at first, to give Jinx time to react accordingly, she lay down in a lounging position with her head propped up a bit by the arm of the couch. Pleased as a peach, and as on-cue as if she had memorized the script, Jinx lay down in front of her. Raven's arm rested overtop of her—to everyone else, very visibly resting midair.

The theory held true as the tension between the others quickly evaporated, without any of them so much as glancing over. It was, however, shortly replaced by surprise, largely pleasant, at the uncharacteristically affectionate display.

Truthfully, Raven herself found it uncomfortable, unfamiliar. Still, filing away her findings, she returned to the movie, satisfied both that the nagging tension was gone and that she had nudged the edge of her comfort zone.

Then, it got nudged again.

She felt pressure on her arm and saw that Jinx had taken it, perhaps even absentmindedly, holding it like a stuffed toy while she watched the movie.

Luckily, nothing broke.

When the movie ended, the hour had grown late. The group said goodnight, each of them going their separate ways until the following morning. Jinx followed Raven to her room, where the empath opted for a brief meditation before bed.

"What am I supposed to do?" Jinx half complained, as Raven took up her hovering lotus position.

"You could meditate," Raven offered.

Shrugging off the suggestion, Jinx left Raven to her ritual and decided to roam on her own. She scrunched her lips in annoyance, staring at the warning talisman in the hallway as it wafted and jingled in some otherworldly breeze.

They all did that. Of the set of talismans strewn about the tower, the ones meant to indicate her presence, while blocked by solid walls, all reacted as soon as she entered their range and continued to float as long as she stayed nearby—intentional, she was sure, to put the others at ease and help curb any…voyeuristic tendencies of her own.

Kinda sucked some of the fun out of invisibility, really.

She wandered back downstairs to the common room, warning talismans jingling to announce her presence each time she entered a new area. The temperature dropped the farther away she got, but not unbearably so. With no particular place in mind, she eventually found herself in Cyborg's garage, the metal man himself pouring on the midnight oil as he worked on his machine. The combination of music and his work had apparently masked the jingling of her warning bell. She stood in the doorway, unknown to the room's occupant, watching him.

It wasn't the first time she'd watched him.

Years before, she had watched Stone at the academy. Her crush hadn't been any big secret; she hadn't really tried to hide it. Now, though, it raised a few questions.

It hadn't been the same with Kid Flash. Kid had been an emotional thing, missing any kind of physical attraction. That had been the whole problem. But Stone, that had been exactly the opposite. His physique, his prowess, his performance—all totally physical.

That had been real. Hadn't it?

It must have been. As she watched him, even with the illusory appearance gone, part of her still felt it.

So…what did that mean?

That she was shallow. Or at least, that her libido was. That was probably normal, though. Like, a lot of people probably worked that way, or could. The bigger question was how she worked that way at all—with him, specifically.

Mammoth performed much the same way, boasted the same kind of physique, could even demonstrate the same prowess, now and then. But she hadn't ever felt anything at all for him.

So…if it wasn't muscle guys, or big guys, or genuine guys, what was her type, exactly? For guys.

She must've had one, somewhere.

What had set Stone apart, back then?

She raised her brow at the thought and the answer she had to admit: nothing, really. Super strength, nice body, his personality, none of them particularly uncommon in the circles they occupied.

An exception, she supposed. Usually, she liked girls—strong types, not girly types. But there could be exceptions. Right?

And then, the thought: did there have to be a rule?

That one gave her pause.

Some girls she liked. Some girls she didn't. Most guys she didn't. Maybe some she did. Did it have to be any more complicated?

She felt a tinge of annoyance, maybe even anger: why did she feel like she had to justify herself? And to whom, anyway?

Somewhere in the midst of her debate, Cyborg's work had quieted down enough for him to notice the bell.

"Hey," he said, still working on some kind of calculation, since he couldn't tell where exactly she was anyway. "Sorry. Didn't notice ya come in."

For a split second, Jinx opened her mouth to reply; then she deflated when she remembered it wouldn't matter.

"Glad ya dropped by, actually. Been meanin' to have a talk," he said. "I know you're in a weird place right now, so I won't lay it down too hard. But me and Raven, we been through a lot. All of us have. And Raven, she's like a little sister to me. Know where I'm goin' with this?"

Realizing that she could, in fact, contribute to this part of the conversation, Jinx passed her hand through the yes talisman, which jingled in response.

"Good," Cyborg said, setting his work aside to focus on his thoughts for a moment. "Truth be told, I think this is good for her. It's been nice, seein' her come outta her shell these last few years. I just don't wanna see her get hurt. She's powerful, probably more than any of us, and she's strong. A survivor. Ain't nobody arguin' that. But she's new at this. Vulnerable. Inexperienced. Just…treat her right. That's all I'm sayin'."

The yes bell jingled.

"All right. I'm gonna get back to work." He put on a smile. "Pretty special somebody countin' on me figurin' this out—couple of somebodies."

Jinx took a step back, out of the room, and the warning talisman fell idle as Cyborg returned to work.

After a minute or so, Jinx left, still mulling over the metal man's words. Stuck in the haze of her thoughts, she found herself outside another room before she realized it, the door open and Beast Boy inside amid a hurricane of clothes and other debris. Lying on his bed, he held his communicator up in front of his face, staring at it. Instinctively, Jinx took a step forward to get a better look.

The warning talisman jingled.

Beast Boy jumped, startled, and closed his communicator.

He looked around uncertainly. "Um…hello?"

Displeased at her inability to snoop, Jinx nonetheless reached up and waggled the warning bell a little more.

"Hey…" Beast Boy said. "I, um… Come in…? I was just—" He seemed to fumble for an excuse, but then sighed instead. Taking out his communicator again, he opened it. "This is Terra," he said.

Invited, Jinx moved to look at the picture of the young woman's face displayed on the communicator.

"We were…kind of a thing, for a while," Beast Boy said. "But she, uh… She's not…with us, anymore."

Heart thoroughly wrenched by the funnyman's uncharacteristic sullenness, she sat alongside the bed. Joining Beast Boy in staring at the bright, smiling image, she found her mind occupied not as much on the woman herself as on how exactly she had come to not be with them, anymore. As she did, it became very apparent that she was not the only ghost in the room.

"Hey. Can I, uh…ask you something?" Beast Boy inquired, closing his communicator once again.

Standing up, Jinx moved back to the talismans and jingled yes.

Beast Boy looked away uncomfortably. "You and Raven. It isn't, like…a fling, or something. Right? Like, I didn't really get all the soul-y, will-y stuff before, so maybe this is stupid to ask, but…you're not just messing with her. Right?"

Suddenly put on the spot, Jinx did the best she could and answered to the best of her ability by jingling the no bell.

"Cool," Beast Boy said. "'Cuz, I mean…I'm the funny guy, and even I know how much it hurts to think you're getting close to somebody, and then… And Raven, she doesn't even really do relationships, y'know? So if she's giving it a shot, then she must really feel something." He smiled softly, looking down. "I'm glad." He chuckled. "Just be careful, okay? She can get some serious distance when she's mad. Think I almost made it to the other side of the bay, one time."

Unable to help herself, Jinx smiled too. She jingled the yes bell.

Beast Boy gave a slow nod, one of finality. "Cool. Well, I don't mean to be rude, but…I think I'm gonna go to bed. It was nice talking to you."

The yes bell jingled.

Jinx stepped back, and Beast Boy watched the warning talisman fall lifelessly. Then, he closed his door.

Curious now, Jinx drew upon what memories of the tower she could muster and made her way to Starfire's room. Her door, however, was closed. Jinx passed her head through to peek and found the Tameranean on her bed, brushing her hair.

Starfire's face lit at the jingling of the warning bell. "Friend!" She whirled around, then lost some enthusiasm. "You…are here, yes? It was not merely the wind?"

Passing wholly into the room, Jinx jingled the yes bell.

Starfire swooped over, considering afterward. "I…do not know where you are. Still, we may talk! I have so many questions concerning how you and friend Raven came to—" She considered again. "And…you cannot answer." Gradually, her feet sank down to the ground. "But…even so! I may talk, and you may respond where you are able!"

The yes bell jingled.

"Glorious!" Starfire proclaimed, spinning once in place. "Oh, truly. When you are returned to your body, I will have many questions. Are you well?"

Jinx kind of…shrugged to herself, a little bit. She jingled the yes bell.

"Most welcomed news," Starfire said, returning to sit alongside her bed; she patted a spot nearby, offering it to her guest. "Oh," she realized. "I suppose you must remain near the bells. Yes?"

The yes bell jingled.

"My apologies. It is…quite strange, entertaining a guest who I cannot see. I imagine it is difficult for you, as well."

The yes bell jingled.

"Do not worry. I am sure friend Cyborg will do all he can to ready his machine as quickly as possible."

Jinx smiled in agreement; she knew he would. Probably he didn't know how not to.

She paused. Was that it? What set him apart. Caring about people? Stone hadn't, but she supposed that could've just been a crush, some stupid adolescent thing. But whatever she still felt, she did still feel something. And Cyborg sure cared. So had Kid Flash.

Maybe.

"I said that I will have many questions when you are returned to your body," Starfire continued. "That is true. But for now, I will begin with this one: you find Raven attractive. Yes?"

Interest piqued, Jinx jingled the yes bell.

Starfire giggled. "That is good. You have told her this?"

Jinx thought back. Then, after a few seconds, she jingled the no bell, somewhat disheartened. Everything had happened so naturally, so spontaneously, and then so quickly after that, she really hadn't ever actually said that. Implied it, maybe, but never said it.

"I see," Starfire said. "Friend Raven has indicated that you shared an intimate experience. In light of that, I understand if this may seem unnecessary, but I wish to ask something of you."

The yes bell jingled.

Starfire's smile shrank to one gentle and small. "My people are taught to embrace ourselves: our bodies, our feelings, to be proud of who we are. I have tried for many years to help Raven to do the same, but she is…humble…and has difficulty accepting compliments of any kind, especially those regarding her appearance." She looked up toward the talismans where she imagined Jinx was standing. "Please, tell Raven that she is beautiful. From us, it would not matter. I have tried. But she deserves to hear it from someone she will believe, in a moment when she will believe it."

The yes bell jingled again, and Starfire smiled a little more.

"Thank you," she said. "Since Robin confessed his feelings for me, he and I have been most happy. I wish such happiness for all my friends, including for you and Raven. It is…different, when he compliments me out there, and when he compliments me in here, where only he and I can hear. Truthful. Sincere. A warm, wondrous feeling. Sadly, we cannot give that to her—but perhaps you can."

The yes bell jingled.

"Again, I thank you," Starfire said. "Thank you also for speaking with me." She giggled again. "Even if it is not by choice, you are a most excellent listener. I wish you a good night, and I shall greet you in the morning."

Jinx jingled the yes bell one more time before taking her leave.

One left to complete the set, she made for the boy wonder himself. She found his door open, Robin himself typing away at a computer terminal inside.

"Glad you're here. We need to talk," he said.

At first, used to the setup by this point, Jinx hadn't thought anything of the acknowledgment. Only after, however, did she notice that she hadn't yet entered the room—or set off the warning talisman. Her brow furrowed questioningly.

Robin stopped in his work and swiveled in his chair to face the door, fingers folded and one eyebrow raised. "Do you really wanna know?"

Grumbling off Robin's sometimes uncanny resemblance to his former mentor, Jinx merely stepped inside and swatted the no bell.

He sported a brief smirk, then returned to business. Taking another wheeled chair that seemed to have no other earthly purpose in the room, he pushed it over toward the talismans. "Have a seat."

Jinx complied.

"Am I the first person you've talked to?"

The no bell.

"Am I the last?"

The yes bell.

"Okay. So I can assume you've got a pretty good idea of how we all feel."

The yes bell.

"Good. Now, let me make this clear, because you and I are going to have a different conversation: nothing I'm going to say in any way contradicts anything else you've heard. We care about Raven. We care about you. We're supportive—myself included. And while I can't and won't speak for anyone else, I respect what you've done in turning your life around and would bet money I'm not the only one. All that said, here's something you probably haven't heard yet tonight: Raven is dangerous."

Jinx straightened up some, caught somewhere between surprised and, almost, offended.

"That's not an insult. Ask her, and she'll tell you herself. You know there's magic involved. But how much do you actually know about how Raven's powers work?"

Robin waited, and so did Jinx, unsure of how to respond to something that didn't allow for a simple yes or no. Eventually, she settled on the best she could do and jingled the no bell.

Robin picked right back up again, as though he had anticipated she would stumble over the response and had been ready for it. "Raven's powers are driven by her emotions, but it's more complicated than that."

Jinx rolled her eyes at the word that seemed to follow Raven like an aura: complicated.

"People like Starfire have abilities that are connected to their emotions. If she wants strength, she feels one thing. If she wants starbolts, she feels something else. Flight, something else. Each ability tied to a different emotion. Raven's powers are driven by hers. Think. Has there ever been a time when she asked you to do something, or to stop doing it, that didn't quite seem to make sense?"

Raven's face appeared in Jinx's memory, looking up at her from below, flushed and saying they needed to stop.

"Courage, fear, anger, hate—they all draw on the same power and only serve to control how much of it is released. For Raven, being too happy is just as dangerous as being consumed by rage. While one might be more likely than the other, they both have the same explosive potential."

Jinx's stomach tightened at the look Robin gave then, his eyes narrow slits beneath the mask, his mouth a hard line and his jaw set, deadly serious.

"You know who I am. You know who I worked with, and you know who he works with. Know this: Raven may very well be the most powerful being I have ever met, and so as good as she is and as hard as she works, there will always be a danger there. She knows that. We know that. You need to know it, too."

Jinx relaxed some when Robin's body language softened.

"Since she beat back her father, she's been making an effort to be more in tune with her emotions, but it's a process: learning not just how to feel but how to feel safely, familiarizing herself with each emotion, its levels of intensity, and the amounts of power each of those brings to the table. But she's trying. And if what she says happened really did happen—and I have no reason to believe it didn't—then she's willing to try with you."

Her heart fluttered a bit.

"That's both a compliment and an endorsement—pretty huge ones, coming from Raven. But for you, it's also a responsibility. Raven doesn't do things on a whim. She commits. She'll work with you, do her best to extend her comfort zone as she acclimates to new feelings. But you can't push her," Robin said very clearly. "Help her. Guide her. Ask her. But don't…push her. Do you understand?"

Jinx jingled the yes bell.

Robin seemed to soften even more. "Sorry to be so serious. But it is a serious issue. She's come a long way, and I think this is a good step, provided you don't push her into something she isn't ready for. For what it's worth, I don't think you will. Raven trusts you, so I trust her with you. But we had to have this conversation."

The yes bell.

"I'm glad you agree. Also, don't forget: you aren't alone. We're all behind you. Now, since I have you, there's something else I'd like to discuss. When you get your body back, I assume you'll want to be nearby. So if you don't want to find a place in the city, let me know. We've got plenty of spare rooms."

The yes bell again.

"Well, from what I understand, your feelings may change once you're back in one piece. If you're still interested then, we'll get you set up. You've got experience working with a team already, experience in leadership—it shouldn't be a problem. So. Is there anything you need?"

The no bell.

"All right, then. In that case, I'm glad we talked, but I should get back to work. Between dinner, the movie, and getting those talismans up, I haven't had a chance to file a report today. Have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow."

As Robin did just that, Jinx rose from her seat and vacated the room. Her head swimming in all the talks she'd had that night, Jinx headed to the common room for some air, or space, or…something.

She walked up to the window and just stood there, mulling over it all. She just…couldn't process it. Not really.

Her whole life, everyone she'd met, everyone she'd worked with, everyone she'd ever known or lived with or looked up to—nobody had cared that much. And it hadn't been forced. Like, not at all. They hadn't said all that because they felt like they had to, out of some sense of obligation or duty or requirement or because anybody expected them to or because any of them had anything to gain, no. They'd just said it. Because they'd wanted to.

Because they cared.

She understood then, more deeply and perfectly than she ever had before, the difference between heroes and villains: heroes cared.

No. Good people did.

That kind of support…

That kind of connection…

Suddenly it wasn't such a mystery anymore, how Raven had managed to overcome her heritage. With people like that behind her, pulling for her, cheering her on, picking her up, how could she fail?

Surreal.

Absolutely surreal.

One of them had lost his body, struggled with his humanity. One had lost someone. One was living on an alien planet, and one was…well, Robin, whatever that meant. Every motivation, every justification to be selfish and self-centered that anyone could've ever asked for, every excuse in the book to hold a non-stop pity party, shut people out, and not give a damn about a world that didn't seem to give one about them.

And none of it mattered.

All of it, boxed up and tossed out to be there for her. To make sure she was okay.

Just…surreal.

For a few minutes of self-indulgent whimsy, Jinx found herself put in Raven's place, in her life with her friends, imagining what it might've meant, how it might've been different.

Then it occurred to her: all that concern, it hadn't just been for Raven.

They cared about her, too. Maybe not as much, but a little. Enough to say so. A start.

That connection, that support, as if a door had swung open in her mind, she considered for the first time—really believed—she could have it, too.

She winced at the thought.

She could've had it before. Maybe. If she'd let them, Kid Flash and the others. But she hadn't…gotten the same vibe from them, hadn't connected.

She hadn't tried.

Probably she still wouldn't have tried, had her situation not forced her to shut up and listen. Or maybe being invisible had made it easier for them to open up, or her thing with Raven, or with Cyborg, or both. Or just her history, with all of them. More than she'd had with Kid Flash or any of his circle, she had history with the Titans. This group.

Maybe.

Lots of maybes.

Outside, lots of stars.

With a sigh, she put her thoughts aside.

Not long after, she left the common room, headed back upstairs.

On her way, she passed by Starfire's room again and stopped reflexively at a very particular sound.

Just like that, her depth dried up and her Cheshire grin resurfaced, and she skulked closer to the door and the intimate sounds beyond. With a quick, side-to-side glance as though anyone could see her anyway, she prepared to pass through the door—not far enough to set off the warning talisman, hopefully, but enough to get an eyeful.

And promptly found herself several feet in the air above Raven's bed.

She fell to the mattress with a pomf and blinked twice, then focused her attention irately on the empath still hovering nearby. "Ah, c'mon!"

Raven peeked one eye open. "Hm?"

"Oh, don't gimme that," Jinx accused, scrambling in a huff to the edge of the bed. "Ya couldn't give me one? Just one?"

"Sorry," Raven said.

"No you're not," Jinx groused.

"No, I'm not," Raven admitted. "Unless you count babysitting Casper the Pervy Ghost."

Jinx smirked. "Disembodied soul."

"Whatever."

"I'm told there's a difference," Jinx said.

Raven touched down and stretched lightly. A black spark arced in the air nearby, although thankfully didn't break anything, when Jinx caught her by surprise and held her from behind. Blindsided, Raven didn't react at all, simply let it happen.

Then, Jinx let go and sat back down. "They really care about you," she said, all humor aside and suddenly sounding rather small.

Raven offered a fledgling smile. "They're my family."

Without saying anything more, Jinx lay down on the bed. Raven followed, and they took their usual position with her facing up and Jinx close by. This time, however, Jinx took Raven's wrist and rolled over, pulling the empath along into a spooning position.

Raven felt Jinx's snarky demeanor give way to isolation, which Raven had expected, but more than that, loneliness, which she somewhat hadn't. Not…separated loneliness, as might have been expected of one cut off from the world the way that Jinx was, but of…something else. Something more individualized, more personal.

So, unfamiliar with the act itself, but familiar enough with the nature and the intent of it, Raven allowed herself to be maneuvered into position, if that was what Jinx wanted.

She slid one arm underneath Jinx's pillow to keep it out of the way, while Jinx held the other draped over her body and wriggled closer.

"Tighter," Jinx said quietly, and Raven obliged by tightening her hold.

The act seemed to ease Jinx's mind, at least somewhat, and although Raven could only assume whatever had come over her had done so because of something she had realized or experience during her nighttime travels, she did not question it. Perhaps there would come a time for questions, but not now.

For now, later had come. As Raven had suspected, Jinx was seeking comfort, and she would freely give it.

And so, they slept.