So...It's been awhile.

I apologize for the obscene delay for this chapter; Real Life got a bit heavy in the last months. Couple that with the fact that I'm having the hardest time finding someplace to write, now that I accidentally broke my laptop's screen.

Anyhow, from now on I'll be more organized and have the chapters ready in a respectable amount of time.

As always, check out the (brief) Red notes at the end. Enjoy, adn please review; reader input is invaluable to me.

Disclaimer: Don't own Robin. Don't own Batman...I have no reason to live but the hope that one day I may come to acquire them. But for now, the Teen Titans, Batman, and the JL will remain with their respective owners.

"They're not calling for you." Raven told him matter-of-factly, her voice dulled through the thick glass.

"I know," Robin answered, adjusting the rubber suit's buckles. "That's why it's not me who'll answer."

"Robin… Dick; it's always you. The mask can't change that." That comment, he chose to ignore, focusing instead on getting the boots on.

"Someone has to go, Raven."

"I know that. Why can't Robin go?"

"Because Robin can't answer the Bat Signal. If he did… I f I did, then…"

"What about everything you said before, about not wanting to be Batman? Was that all talk?"

"You know it wasn't; this is different. I'm only pretending, just for tonight. I'm not…becoming him." A sigh, then a barely audible, "At least not yet."

"Robin…" She hated the plea in her voice, but she was desperate. Something inside her now knew that Robin shouldn't wear Batman's mask----if not ever, then not tonight at least. Through the fog, her mind's eye saw him----a gargoyle, crouching, deadly and alone.

Or was that her?

Robin reappeared, wrapped to the neck in the unmistakable skin of the bat; only his face remained his own. That changed when he peeled off his eye mask, exposing his marbled green orbs for a second, before pulling the cowl over his head. The transformation was complete----Robin was gone, and only Batman remained.

"Robin, look-----"

"You can't call me that." At her indignant stare, he amended. "Not now, Raven; not while I wear this suit."

"Fine. You want to go like that, go ahead. Let's just go."

"You're not coming."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Raven doesn't work with Batman---it would look suspicious."

"You're not going alone."

"Don't tell me what to do; I can take care of myself."

"I know that!"

"Then?"

"I just..." dropping her gaze, she continued softly, almost ashamedly, "…don't want you to go by yourself."

"Oh." She looked small and vulnerable; it was the first time he'd seen her so. He realized she'd just broken through; she'd taken a chance for the first time. That single sentence held more insight, more closeness, more…intimacy than any heated kiss or ardent caress. It revealed feeling, a tiny morsel of it, but feeling still----for him. Even when she'd first kissed him-----had that really been only a day ago?----it'd been more about him than her, he sensed. He still had no idea what had been going on in Raven's mind---or heart---for the past day, he recognized. Actually, he only vaguely understood what he himself was feeling----something intense, transcendent, overpowering. How he wished he had time to explore it.

But some things can't wait. He only hoped Raven could.

Robin suddenly became aware that he was still staring at her; that, and his arms were aching to wrap themselves around Raven's form. Yet, he hesitated, knowing he had no idea how to go about it. That intimacy thing again----some things are much more meaningful than I give them credit for, he thought. The moment had passed.

"You don't need to worry." He told her confidently. "I won't let anything bad happen----not while I still owe you dinner." Not while there's so much pending between us, his easy smile said. Raven didn't smile back, but Robin felt sure she understood.

"It's not about something bad happening." It's about being near you while you experience a possibly traumatic, potentially life-altering episode.

"I know. But I'll still go alone." He slid into the driver seat of the Batmobile, relishing the cool leather and sleek fit. His hands gripped the steering wheel, familiarizing themselves with its alien texture. Bruce drove this car, he told himself, just like this. He wondered if he looked anything like his mentor.

He did.

One last look at Raven, and then he was a black blur down the tunnel.

At 4 am, Cyborg was up. He was loath to leave Bee, glistening and beautiful, but he wanted to be back in Gotham by daybreak----the better to orchestrate a quick return, he gathered. Besides, natural sleep being of no significant use to him, he often grew restless, lying still through the long, nocturnal hours. Just another abnormality I can never be rid off, he reminded himself, and instantly regretted. He would be rid off it; it might take him years of research, but he would be human again---one way or another.

Shrugging, he got behind the wheel. These days, angst was available at a moment's notice. He missed more carefree days, when he could just shrug off the events of the day and sit down for a night of video games. As it was, villains wouldn't be the death of him----stress would. Bee had told him that once; on the fourth time they met.

He remembered seeing her for the first time----she'd appeared beautiful, if a little scrawny, even then. But he'd been smitten with Jinx's sugar curls and swift smile and had failed to see anything remarkable. The second time, he'd been mad----who did this girl think she was, getting in his way, trying to kick his villain's ass? But she'd left him with a wink and a coquettish throw, and it kept him restless for more than a couple of nights. The third time…well, it was the beginning. Never again could he manage to look away. She was supple, courageous, intelligent…she could kick anyone's ass, and she was a complete tease. Perfect.

Starfire slept an uneasy rest. Visions plagued her normally blank subconscious, dreams and nightmares that she could've done without. There was her, in full Tamaran armor, fresh blood on her hands. Whose? And then Raven, with her four plague eyes, singing doom and death to her ears in the raspy voice of a rusty wheel. Cyborg was missing----there was a blank space were he should've been standing, a deep, deep silence when he should've been talking. Beast Boy shivered, wrapped tightly unto himself, half beast, half something else, muttering and snarling every once in a while. And there was Robin, dead, torn. And it was his sweet, red blood on her hands, she instantly knew, the coppery nectar of his being that stained her skin.

Starfire awoke, and like a ghost she stood and left the room. The kitchen was easy enough to find, she remembered, and she could use a cup of hot mustard.

Beast Boy would have never woken up before nine. Just one more thing that had changed. Before, his sleep was black and heavy, completely devoid of any images. Now, he smelled tender meat and blood in the air, and the moist dirt under his naked feet. He felt the forest, the desert, the sky…and it drove him crazy, made him restless. He tossed and turned and rolled and fell from the bed more than once. Finally, he gave up, and stood up.

He paused at the door, wondering if walking the manor's hall at night could somehow be interpreted as a breach of trust. Shrugging a tremor of guilt off, he left his room.

The streets of nocturnal Gotham he would always remember as the ultimate playground. He could truly fly there, for blocks at a time, swinging and jumping and free falling, never worrying thanks to the strange Neo-Gothic architecture that never failed to provide him with perches aplenty.

This time, however, Robin could only half-glace at them as he drove through narrow streets. Perhaps later, then, he thought as he stopped in front of large, seemingly abandoned warehouse. Why is it always a warehouse? And how come they're always abandoned? You'd think they'd stop building them by now, if they're only going to end up empty… Shrugging, he climbed off the Batmobile and began escalating the wall. This place better have a skylight.

When he dropped through the skylight, it was the most powerful he'd ever felt, with the black cape of the Batman flying around him and the horrified looks of the surprised evildoers.

"It's him!" they shouted, terrified. As Robin, he seldom got such exaggerated reactions. He barely had time to grin, and then it was kick, dodge, punch, flip, kick, as they assaulted him from all sides. A punch came straight to his face, and he enclosed the fist in his hand and flipped the attacker over his head, sending him straight into a wall. A fan kick aimed at his shins came from the ride, and as he jumped to avoid it, he was surprised by how difficult the suit made it. He punched the kicker in the face and in the gut, then back-flipped away from the unconscious body----and action that felt slow and mechanical, devoid of its usual fluidity. He staggered upon landing; the Batman suit was definitely not made for his style of fighting.

So, if I'm to play Batman, the suit's not enough…I have to move like him. With that in mind, he planted himself solidly on the ground. Remember. He threw a batarang at a charging pair; the rope line entrapped them, simultaneously banging their heads together and knocking them out. A bullet grazed his shoulder, and he reflexively dodged to the right, jumping against the wall and running horizontally over it for a couple of strides before the costume's boots began to slip. He pushed himself away from the wall, crashing into two men; one was knocked unconscious, but the other clung to his back and tried to club him in the head. Robin rolled, grabbing the man's arm and twisting it against his back until he heard the shoulder pop. Then, he hit the man in the back of the head with the heel of his hand----another one down, but how many to go?

Only two; one of them was already throwing himself against him, but Robin rolled to the left and unto his feet. A swift kick rendered the thug unconscious. Robin hardly had time to look up before a cloud of bullets rained down on him. He ran fast for cover behind an empty metal crate, peeking on the side. His attacker was the last man standing; he was directly across him, about twenty feet away. In his hands, he furiously held tommy gun.

Robin narrowed his eyes; something about the man was not quite right, though it was hard to tell in the half-light of the warehouse. The attacker was tall and slightly gawky, dressed like a 30s gangster in the striped suit and checker shoes that were all the rage amongst Gotham mobsters. What appeared to be two mirrors stuck out from the sides of his head-----to each his own, I guess. Still shooting, the man began walking towards the crate. Robin stayed still, and the pellets ceased. Again, he peeked from the side----the aggressor brought a hand to the back of his head, as if to scratch. When the hand reappeared, there was a cigarette on it. Puzzled, Robin squinted----and gasped; the man's head was facing the wrong way, in a 180° degrees turn. Apparently, the mirrors functioned as rear-view mirrors that allowed him an almost normal vision of where he was heading-----and what he was shooting at. Intrigued, Robin had to shake his head----this was no time for his curiosity to take charge.

Taking advantage of the pause, Robin jumped clear over the crate, landing right behind the man. Indeed, there was a face staring straight at him, with steel-gray eyes that shone almost amused. Wasting no time on horror, Robin dropped and aimed a fan kick at the man's shins. The thug fell on his back, rolling so that his face was facing away from him again. Instantly, he was shooting again and Robin had to shoulder-roll away, simultaneously taking another batarang from his belt. Upon stopping, he threw it at the man. When the cable wrapped itself around the tommy gun, Robin pulled with all his strength, effectively wrenching the firearm from the assaulter's grasp.

"So…" the man rasped, his voice throaty and dry, "the little bird's decided to follow in big Batdaddy's footsteps?" Robin froze; had he heard right? "How…sickeningly honorable. And here I thought we'd be rid of the Bat for sure…" here he chuckled, two sad barks that quickly turned into a cough.

Robin's blood was boiling in his veins, his vision not red, but completely gone. Every muscle in his body tensed, while something inside him cried out to pounce on that stupid son of a bitch. He fully knew what he was capable of, how his hands could easily tear the man's body to shreds, kick that sick sick smile right out of his unnatural face. A shudder went through him, the less primal part of him desperately bidding him to regain control, reminding him of principles that seemed unfounded now.

The man now turned on his heel, face away from him again, and drew out another firearm. "This ain't Jump City, kid, and you ain't the Bat. And even if you were…well, we already know how that ended."

And the Robin leaped.

The man didn't stand a chance, even with the gun in his hands and a hail of bullets in the air. Robin dodged them instinctively, hardly noticing them, eyes set on the criminal. In one move, he had knocked the gun of his hands and had pinned him against the wall, face away.

"Well, this won't do at all." He muttered, harshly rolling him so that they were face to face. "Who are you, scum, and what do you know?"

"They call me Torque, kid." The man rasped, not fazed at all. Was that a smile? "And I know enough."

"What exactly is 'enough'?" Torque barked a mocking laugh.

"You think I'd tell you, kid? Ain't nothing you can do to me that's worse than what you see."

"Oh, I think you'd be surprised," Robin narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping into a rasp. Torque's smile faded slightly.

"See me, little bird? He broke my neck, left me for dead...but I survived. And then I went against your old man, and now he's six feet under. I'm fuckin' indestuctructible, and I answer to no puny boy with a circus clown fettish." Robin slammed him against the wall.

"Listen here, Torque. My patience is not what it used to be. I've no idea who 'he' is, but frankly, I don't care." He slammed the criminal again, for good measure. "Now, I'm disinclined to believe that a scrawny rat like you could take on Batman, let alone win----after all, it didn't take much for me to pound your low-life ass, did it?"

"However, I do believe you know something. And because I'm a nice guy, I'll give you thirty seconds in which you will decide to reveal this information to me. If you turn down my offer, I'll find myself obligated to use," he took a batarang from his belt, "other means of persuasion, the likes of which you might not find pleasant."

"Stupid child! Do you think I w-----" A third slam agianst the wall cut Torque short.

"One. Think carefully----or I might decide to make your legs match your head." The smirk was completely gone from Torque's face, and his eyes were dead serious. Sweat slid down his face, and a nervous grunt escaped his lips. "Two."

"Fine, I'll talk! You've got some nerve, kid." The criminal's eyes shifted nervously, glancing around the warehouse as if to check for eavesdroppers. "Look, I had nothin' to do with it----that beast wouldn't hire me, of all people. He's the brute who did this to me; we're not on talking terms."

"Spare me the sentimentalism."

"I deal with info, kid, that's what I do. Back in old Bludhaven; I sell gossip to the highest bidder, that's how I know."

"My patience is running out."

"Fine; I'll give you the short version then."

Cyborg had decided to let himself in through the kitchen door. It was probably locked, but picking locks was hardly rocket science. Better than waking anyone up, he reasoned.

When he did, he was greeted with three of his fellow Titans, sitting silently around the table, each staring at his or her own drink. "Yo, Titans, whazzup?" Three death stares narrowed him in.

"Hey, Cy." Beast Boy finally greeted him a in an exhausted voice. Cyborg took the seat between Raven and Starfire.

"Hey. What are y'all doing up so early?"

"Couldn't sleep." Beast Boy answered. "I came downstairs and found Raven sitting here, O.D.ing on tea."

"My sleep too was fitful. I transversed to the kitchen in search of a cup of mustard to calm my subconscious, and found Friend Beast Boy and Raven."

"And why didn't y'all just go back to bed after your drinks?" At that, Beast Boy and Star turned to Raven.

"We're waiting for Birdboy to return."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know." Raven answered truthfully. "He was answering the Bat Signal."

"Oh. And how come nobody's with him?"

"He didn't care for company." Raven answered.

"So you just let him go alone? You know he ain't right these days; someone should've gone with him----follow him, at least!"

"Perhaps someone would have, had Friend Raven woken Beast Boy or I up." Starfire interjected, and Cyborg sensed he'd just stumbled into an old argument.

"Maybe I would have, except I, unlike some, respect other people's wishes." Raven shot back.

"This has no merit if it endangers the life of a friend!"

"Robin's fine, he can take care of himself!"

"I know he can-----but you know how imprudent and reckless he can become through one of his obsessive pursues."

"Hey, hold on a minute," Cyborg cut in. "What's he obsessing over this time?" His question went unnoticed.

"His 'imprudence' and 'recklessness' have probably saved countless lives!"

"But they have nevertheless endangered his own too many times!"

"The risk is his to take. You can't control him."

"I am not trying to control him-----it is only that I, for one, care about his well-being!"

"Oh, and I don't?" Raven's temper was beginning to flare, and they all heard the threat in her voice.

"Raven, Starfire, calm down." Beast Boy interrupted, but was ignored.

"To be honest, I-----"

"Star, please, that's enough!"

"You think you are the only that-----"

"Raven, please!"

"Shut up and let me finish!" Her eyes flashed red for a second.

"Yes, it is obvious that she has plenty to say."

"You-----"

"What's the matter with you two?" Cyborg asked; he'd never seen them fight like this before. Beast Boy broke the subsequent silence.

"Well, Star and R--------"

"One word, Beast Boy." Raven narrowed her eyes.

"Do not threaten him!"

"Yeah, Rae, that's not cool. Let the man talk; I want to know what's gotten into you two."

"Oh, I can tell you what----"

"Star." Cyborg cut her off. "I want to hear Beast Boy out."

"Um, well," he turned to Raven, apologetic. But really, what's the point? It's not a secret if four out of five know. Of course, knowing is not the same as saying it out lout… He turned to the other girl. Poor Star…I swear, I don't know what Robin was thinking…if I had a girl like Star, I would never even look away... I can't believe this is all over Robin; he's not even that good-looking…. I thought we were stronger than this. But now we're like a cheesy soap opera----all that's missing is someone to come up with a lethal disease… Oh, wait, that's me. Perhaps fortunately, Beast Boy was saved form having to answer by the exaggerated roar of an engine as it swept by the foot of the hill. Instinctively, everyone turned to Raven.

"Yes; it's him."

Starfire thought she might be sick. When they'd followed Raven out of the kitchen and into the infamous silver closet, down the stairs and into the Bat Cave, it felt like revisiting a bad dream, one which only got worse as the Batmobile rolled in and Batman stepped out.

"No way..." Beast Boy breathed, eyes wide. Starfire felt herself shaking, and was barely able to contain herself as the Batman climbed up the stairs and stopped in front of them. Without a word, she walked up to him and with her hand ripped off his cowl. Eyes like a storm gaped at her. Star looked right into them-----and slapped Robin.

The slap resonated through the cave, bouncing off the walls.

Red Notes:

Short and sweet, cause I'm anxious to post this.

First off, I'd like to apologize for the delay----I tried my best to work it quick, but I just didn't have any time, at all. But, I've come up with what I hope is a much more effective working system, which will allow me to update sooner. It will, however, also cut the chapters shorter. How shorter? 3000-4000 words, as opposed to the usual 5000-6000. Hopefully, this wont be a problem.

Torque; some of you might recognize him from Nightwing. I must warn you, however, he's not the character he is in the comics. I just took the name, and a tiny morsel of the story----besides that, I've twisted him to fit the story.

Some of you may complain that the plot is moving too slowly----never fear; I'm done building up pent-up angst. Next chapter will just unroll, and fast. You'll love it; I already do.

I know this Notes aren't quite as explicit as prior ones, so if you have any questions, leave them as a review, or email me at and I'll either email you back or answer next chapter.

Even if you have no questions, I'd love it if you'd leave a review. Reviews make my day, and, believe it or not, they really speed up my writting. Thank you to all the people who have already reviewed---I'll love you forever.

Red Room Flare