A/N: Fer cryin' out loud! I tried to update this since Wednesday, but I couldn't because ff.n wasn't letting me upload! So, I uploaded it to 'emsscraps' and kept trying. Once again, I took what I know of the canon and played around with it.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

Echoes
by Em

"For rarely are sons similar to their fathers: most are worse, and a few are better..."
- Homer, "The Odyssey"

Paths (03: Omamori)
Em

Every so often, Richard Grayson was expected home. Not his real home, that was Titan Tower and he never left that for more than a few days. No, he was expected home to Wayne Manor, to his adoptive father, his benefactor, and once mentor, Bruce Wayne.

He didn't like to go. Not because, like the tabloids had taken to reporting, he had any sort of serious falling out with Bruce, and not really because he always felt as if he were a scared and lost child once he was within it's walls instead of the self-reliant, independent man he knew he was. Rather, it was because sometimes, if his guard was down far enough, Richard fancied he could see what the future held for him within the cold stone and granite of Wayne Manor. That, to put it mildly, wasn't a good thing.

Not so mildly put, it scared the shit out of him.

Bruce Wayne, Richard had realized years ago, was the true costume his mentor wore. His whole existence was nothing but a mask, cold and devoid of real depth. Nothing about the billionaire's life was real except what he did and experienced as his alter-ego: the vigilante that stalked the scarred streets of Gotham.

Faced with this truth, Richard feared someday ending up just like him. It was why he allowed his teammates to have fun, it was why he played around with them, why he tempted them with junk food and movies, videogames, and pizza runs, why he tempted them with the chance to be people. The mask he wore protected him, but it wasn't him. He held fast to that assertion, but never so hard as when he visited Wayne Manor. He never wanted to party so hard and be a regular guy so badly as when he was faced with the cold emptiness of his mentor's fate.

One day, after one such visit, Raven found him on the roof, mask dangling from his fingers, blue eyes unfocused as they searched the night sky. He wasn't worried, Raven had seen his eyes many times before. What she had never seen before, however, was the look of searching in them, the doubt, the fear.

And with barely a word of prodding from her, he told her all of it. How his greatest fear was being so lost in Robin that he forgot what Richard's life should be like or even that he had a life. How already, it was sometimes difficult to remember where Robin, the vigilante of justice ended and Richard, the guy of 18 began. Of how he was afraid of losing his way and not realizing it until he was in the middle of a cold, empty, and lonely wasteland surrounded by darkness, left clutching only his mask and the tattered remains of a purpose he could no longer completely identify.

She had listened with patient silence, never interrupting, but prodding him to continue whenever he thought he was done by her rapt regard. And when he finally was done, she gently took the mask from his pliant grip and placed it to her own face, as if wondering whether or not it would fit.

"So, what do you think?" she had asked, looking at him through the mask, "Does it suit me?"

He remembered another time she had dressed up in full Robin costume and chuckled, despite himself. "You look very mysterious," he conceded.

She offered him a small smile, "But do I still look like Raven?" she asked.

He smiled, "You still looked like Raven even when you wore the full costume."

The reminder of that day still made her blush and she removed the mask, allowing her hair to fall forward and hide it for a moment, before raising her head to look at him. She handed it back to him, "I suppose," she said slowly, deceptively casual, "that's because in the end, it's just fabric."

If he expected her to say something else about the matter, he was disappointed, for she merely offered him the barest hint of a smile and walked away. He had, of course, understood exactly what she meant to say, and she knew he had. And if he expected her to bring up the subject again the next time he visited Wayne Manor, he was wrong about that too.

In true Raven fashion, what she did do, was a complete surprise.

He approached her as he walked to his motorcycle, on his way to Gotham and Wayne Manor for the night. "For me?" he asked, only barely glancing at the shape dangling from her fingers.

"Yes," Raven answered stoically, "Will you take it, or do I return it?" she asked bluntly.

Robin took the white cord from which the fabric amulet hung out of her outstretched hand and laid it flat against his palm. He looked up at her, a half smile on his lips, "An Omamori(1)?" he asked. Raven nodded. "I never would have guessed you the kind to believe in these good luck charms."

Raven's expression didn't change, "I don't believe that charms can bring you something you wish for, but I do believe that they can serve as reminders to help us find our path."

He looked back at the gold brocaded pentagon shaped amulet resting on his palm and read the Japanese kanji stitched in red thread. "Michihiraku?" he tried.(2)

She nodded, "It is a life compass, that is meant to aid you find the best path in life." She met his eyes then and he knew that every word he had spoken to her that day had not been as easily forgotten as he had initially thought. "I thought you might find it useful," she said simply, turning and walking away before he could say anything at all.

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Notes:

(1) Defined as: "Japanese amulets dedicated to particular Shinto deities as well as Buddhist figures. The word omamori means "honorable protector" and they enclose papers or pieces of wood with prayers written on them, and are supposed to bring good luck to the bearer on particular occasions, tasks or ordeals. Omamori are also used to ward off bad luck and are often spotted on bags, in cars, etc. for safety in travel. Many omamori are specific in design to the location they were made.

They often describe on one side the specific area of luck or protection they are intended for and have the name of the originating shrine or temple on the other. Generic omamori exist, but most of them cover a single area: health, love, and studies, to name only a few." (by Wickepedia. You can find the full article here: http / en . wikipedia . org / wiki / Omamori (remove spaces or just search out, "omamori"

(2) I based this on one I actually found online. I copied the picture and posted it onto my emsscraps livejournal. (I don't remember where online I found it, though.) Look for it on my emsscraps journal under "Echoes: Reference Picture -- Paths"

Thanks: Again, I'll be posting it onto my emsscraps livejournal, eventually, so go there if you asked a question or even if you just commented.

Spoiler: Next week's posting is theme 04: Lost. It's also the last one I have completed. (Well, theme 05 is completed, but I'm not too sure I like it and might change it if I can think of an alternate one.)