She wandered a crowded street with no direction in mind, scuffing her feet on the pavement until the light started to fade and the reunion must have been long over. Well, who knew. Maybe some of those young hopefuls were still hanging around, trying to persuade each other to restart their little 'club.' But the Teen Titans needed to be more than a club to be the Titans.
She actually had no idea where to find the missing Titan. All she knew was that there were foster parents involved—and how that had happened to a Teen Titan, especially Raven of all people, she still couldn't be sure.
A red and yellow disk, probably four inches across, whizzed past her ear, thudding into the dreary concrete of a building. Turning, she saw Robin walking towards her, towards her, past her to retrieve it. He didn't see her—at least, didn't identify her. And it was like he was invisible to the rest of the street, too; no one noticed his worn costume or tattered mask. In a world of this much color, a few more fading hues didn't stand out.
Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring people pushing around her, she watched him as he walked away. And without warning, without preliminary sniffles, she began to cry, to sob violently, eyes scrunched up and hot tears seeping over her face.
No one stopped, though a few people cast her looks of disgust, but apparently Robin heard her. Even 'retired,' he still couldn't seem to resist helping someone, because he was walking back toward her now.
"What's wrong?" he asked as he came close. She sniffed, took a deep breath, dragged a hand across her face.
"Bad day," she said, trying to muster a laugh. It turned into a cough.
"Hey, you're—" he began, a hint of recognition dawning on his face.
"Yeah," she acknowledged, scrubbing pale tear-streaks from her skin. They didn't seem to want to go away. "Hi."
"Hi," he echoed, then sighed and ran a gloved hand through a nest of black hair. "Bad day for all of us."
She made a sound, half chuckle, half snort. "Maybe you didn't spend a whole lot of time in the other room. Best day of some of their lives. Those kids're all for bringing the Titans back together."
With a hint of derision masking a hint of despair, he said, "Like that'll ever happen."
Neither of them seemed to know what to say after that. Instead of standing there awkwardly, he grabbed her wrist and steered her out of the path of oncoming people, so they were positioned on the edge of the sidewalk, really too close to rushing cars for comfort. The metal creations screamed by, leaving blistering smoke and choking behind.
"I'm looking for Raven," she said finally, looking slightly to the side of his head rather than into his eyes. He looked uncomfortable, more nervous than he ever had as leader. He couldn't really be normal if he tried.
"A lot of people stopped looking for Raven a long time ago."
With a dip of her head, she acknowledged, "I was one of them. But I started again."
"When?"
She looked at her wrist as if she had a watch. "A few hours ago."
He was silent. He wasn't looking at her. Finally, he asked, "What's your power? You're not in-costume, so I can't tell."
So he still didn't know her; at least, not out-of-costume. She felt a stab of disappointment. Costume, she always hated to call it that. As if they were all kids on Halloween. Rather than answer, she shrugged. "Guess you'll have to guess, then. Don't you like that game?"
He accepted her evasion with further silence. She didn't know what to do if he wasn't going to help her. She couldn't wait here in this fugue.
As she mustered the courage to walk away, he said quietly, "I'm not going after Raven." Before she could respond, he added, "I can tell you her foster parents' names."
"I'll find them," she agreed.
Adopting the tone he'd once used to issue orders to his team, Robin let out a stream of directions that showed he surely hadn't forgotten Raven as well as he'd tried to pretend. They told her precisely how to reach Raven's last-known address, but Robin had reached the end of the list while she was still processing the first two lines. Memorization wasn't her power either.
"Sorry," she said. "I got exactly none of that."
He stared at her for a moment. Then: "Heck, I've never backed down. I'll show you."
She wasn't sure if she wanted that. She'd seen him already, in his corner and his despair. She'd seen him and the others. Now she just needed to see Raven and she could let it go.
But, he did look marginally lighter at the thought of doing something. "Okay," she said, realizing just then how blank and even her every word had been that day. Except when she'd been crying. Could she muster no emotion for her old friends? Even if they didn't really remember her.
She forced a smile and followed him up and down impassive streets and past detached grey buildings until they reached an area more given over to housing. "Utopia Lane," she read, looking up at the sign. "It must be a good place to live."
"For her sake," he said, "I hope it is."
Hearts in their throats, they trudged up the road, eyeing each house with a critical stare. At last reaching a dull brown one with a dull brown car in the driveway, Robin stopped, and the girl stopped beside him.
"You done here?" she asked wryly, and saw him hesitate.
"No. I'll stay."
Nodding, she paced up the driveway towards the white front door. Before she'd even stepped onto the porch, two average-looking people came through the door, stopping in surprise when they saw her.
"I'm looking for Raven," she explained. "Is she here?"
"Rachel," said the woman severely, as if using Raven's old name, her real name, was a crime, "is already in the car. She's moving."
The girl looked surprised. "Are you abandoning her?"
"Of course not," snapped the man. "But we can't help her anymore."
"Oh. I see." She didn't, though. "Can I see her, before you go?"
Both hesitated. Uncertainly, the woman twisted around her finger a strand of mousy brown curl. "That's not a good idea," sighed the man.
"Dear," said the woman quietly, "maybe Rachel should get to see her friends one last time."
"That's not a good idea, honey," the man repeated.
"We'll be okay," the girl said mildly, and turned to walk toward the car. Robin came forward to meet her.
"Where is she?"
"In the car. Guess she's moving."
"Just her? Not her parents?"
"They can't help her anymore."
She stopped to peer inside the car window. She didn't see anything but some curtains around the back.
Trying the door, she found it unlocked, and climbed inside. Clambering over the front seats, she grasped at the drab, dried-blood curtain and pulled it away.
On a different day, she might have shrieked. As it was, she merely fell back onto the seat, a gasp on her lips.
Raven grinned up at her, smile so wide and menacing her mouth might have been filled with shark's teeth. Her eyes, naturally so tranquil, were crazed; there were only two of them, but they shone red.
She'd been strapped in, buckled up and tied down. She thrashed wildly against her bindings, eerie grin never faltering. Overcome, the girl who was free scrambled back out of the car as the foster parents approached.
"Are you taking her to an asylum?" she asked accusingly. Neither adult would meet her eyes.
"That's as bad as abandoning her," snapped Robin, coming up behind, fury evident in his face even behind his mask.
"Not if they can help her!" cried the man, anguished.
"They can't," said Robin grimly, surely. "A family would be better."
"You didn't see her," whispered the woman. "She did. Ask her." She pointed at the girl, eyes pleading.
"We're taking her," announced the girl.
"You can't!" argued the man. "You can't help her. Doctors can."
She turned to meet Robin's masked eyes. He hesitated infinitesimally, then flung one of his disks at the feet of the parents. It exploded into smoke.
Ignoring the coughing and shouts of outrage, the girl dove back into the car, undoing every binding she could find. Raven's flailing grew more feral; her inhuman grin grew the same. With difficulty, the other tugged the former Titan from the back seat, ignoring the bruises and the cuts blooming from Raven's resistance. Robin appeared to help her, wrapping his arms around Raven's shoulders as she was pulled from the car.
The smoke was clearing. "I'll carry her," he said, and lifted the broken girl without waiting for a response. He raced off; the other girl cast a glance back at the parents, waving away a dark cloud and staring after their shattered daughter.