Hello and welcome to my first attempt at writing for others:) For now, I'll just do my best and hold on, so any reviews or flames are welcome, as long as they have a meaning to them (please, keep it real, peeps!). If my story sucks, give me a reason why it sucks. Other than that, nothing else for now. I'll try to do my best on updates, but I guarantee nothing, okay?

Disclaimer: If I owned them, Teen Titans would come in contact with a lot of interesting situations and people:) But I don't, so you'll just have to put up with me here.

Please review:D

Ch.1: Crumpled Faith

"I think it's amnesia. . . I'm not sure though."

"Can't you enter his mind and find out?"

"No. . . Entering his mind in such an unstable state could cause a mental collapse."

An involuntary shiver ran down his spine. He could somehow feel that they were talking about him . . . wherever he was, he suddenly realized that in no way could he be dead.

He made a feeble attempt at speaking, but his words and dazed questions came out in a series of moans. The sudden focus on him from the previous conversation he had heard (while still half asleep), was very tangible to him in his weakened state. And as he forced his dazed eyes to open and focus, five figures came into sight.

"Dude, he's waking up!" The blurry green outline, also the furthest one away from him, suddenly pushed past one of the others. There was curiosity evident in the movements as it twitched anxiously.

"Leave him alone, Beast Boy. The last thing he needs now is over-excitement. Don't push it." This voice he recognized from before. It was low and soothing even through the monotone depths and undercurrent of annoyance. It was then he had realized it originated from the figure to the immediate right of him.

He forced his tired head to turn, squinting in the brightness of the light streaming in from the large window behind the one called Beast Boy.

"Close the blinds, B." Another voice said, acknowledging his poor and confused state.

As the blinds closed, everything around him became clearer albeit with the impending doom of a large headache. It was as he tried to ignore the pounding in his head that he noticed he was laying in a bed. His gaze went to his side, where the closest person stood.

It was a girl with ashen skin and a strange stone embedded in her forehead. Her eyes were almond shaped, large and suspicious of every one of his movements. She tucked a strand of lilac hair behind her ear with a delicate gesture as a flash of curiosity came and went in a fleeting instant. A deep blue cloak hid her body beneath its formless shape, held up near her left shoulder by a stone similar to the one on her forehead.

It was her voice he had heard first in this strange, new place.

"I think Raven should take this one alone. Come on guys." A beckon from a young man behind the girl, which he recognized as the second voice in the conversation, trailed behind the three others he gestured out of the room.

There was a sudden silence in the chamber in which he questioned her simply with his gaze, which she returned without even flinching. She suddenly turned away from him.

"You took a big hit. From what, we're not sure. You were just laying there in the sun . . . they were sure you were dead." As his mind digested this information, he realized he honestly didn't know how to feel.

The girl took his silence as her queue to continue, dipping a cloth into a bowl which he hadn't noticed before. She continued her work, wringing it and bringing it to his face, not noticing his flinch.

"You ran a very high fever for a while. I couldn't heal you from the outside in, so we just had to wait it out and hope for the best. Even the hospital had given you for dead."

"I was dying though," He managed to force out in a painful croak, "I remember it."

At this, she shook her head, her chin-length hair shaking slightly with momentum. "You were in a deep coma. I have a feeling it has to do with the healing scar running down your back."

The scar? What-?

It suddenly came flooding back, pieces of the mental puzzle falling into place.

His parents, his new assignment, his failure to complete it.

Draco could feel his teeth grind painfully as his long pale fingers clawed into his skull in an attempt to lock out the sound that was stuck echoing within. His nostrils flared as the familiar smell of charred flesh filled the room, as the clean walls of the new room crumbled into blurring replicas of the small cabin where his mother's life had been taken away. The crushed black velvet chair, the large fireplace, candles, everything was there in that one moment suffocating him with its presence. Then there was the sudden searing pain of the slash down his back--his brand as a coward in Voldemort's court.

It took him a while to realize that the roar of pain, the yelling was his own.

GO AWAY!

Yelling out at her, at Voldemort to please let him go. He pleaded with all of his heart, the scream undertoned by a cruel laugh he had but heard only once before.

He didn't know what happened or how. But suddenly it was gone; all of it. And the girl, Raven, was inexplicably crumpled on the floor beside his bed, shivering and gasping for breath just as much as he was. It was as if she had experienced his nightmare along with him.

The silence wasn't tense. . . it wasn't- well, he honestly didn't know what it was. Her voice suddenly broke through the thin veil of puzzlement that obscured his thoughts and their heavy breathing.

"Robin. . ." She whispered the name at first, as if testing her ability to speak. She swallowed hard, lowering her head into her hand as she called louder in her shaky voice. "Robin!"

A gray sliding door he had failed to notice before opened, revealing the young man she had spoken with while Draco slept, looking alarmed as he kneeled beside her.

"Raven wha-"

"Take care of him." She said in a gruff voice. And without another word, her outline became lined by a black aura as she melted into the floor and disappeared.