Author's Note:This fic may be slower to update than my previous one, so try to be patient with me.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans, the ROM or the Fairmont Royal York Hotel.

Chapter 2 - As the City Sleeps...

Stepping out into the cold, Raven shuddered and protectively pulled her hood up to shield her head from the wind. She was wearing her long woollen jacket that went past her knees, scarf looped and tied meticulously around her neck, covered most of her face. Thick mitts on her hands and long, black, leather knee-high boots on her feet. It was the middle of a bitter December and Jack Frost had been making his rounds. Everything but the black of the road was white. She could vaguely make out the spotlights that light up the face of the building and the street lights. Raven squinted as she toed the ground to make sure she was stepping on the sidewalk. Satisfied with finding hard concrete under her shoes she walked the short walk to the subway. Thank God that the subway is right here. Bless the man who decided to but the line underneath the museum.

She made her way down the steps to the station to appropriately called Museum. All that could be heard were the shlock shlock of her heels hitting slush on the tiled stairs.

Why the hell did I wear heels? Shoulda worn flats. Sensible people wear flats in a snow storms, but nooo. Not Raven Roth, she has to be different. Raven slowly, cautiously made her way down the dangerously slippery steps. Suddenly, just when she thought she was safe, she slipped down the last four steps. Hitting the cold hard ground so hard that for a while she couldn't get up.

Getting up, she dusted off what she could of the drity browning slush now attached to her wool coat. She could feel eyes of other commuters mocking her. As she walked to pay her fare, she realised the heel on her right boot had broken off. Limping and cursing to herself she made her ways, scowling, to the turnstiles. She could see people stilfling laughter around her. Shoulda worn fucking flats.

Emerald green eyes watched as heavy snow drifted from the sky. Garfield Logan looked out of the cab window and crooked his head to the side, massaging the back of it with his hand. It had been a long ride in from Chicago, given it was only a few hours but the hustle and bustle of airports were exhausting on their own. Gar could easily afford his own airplane and a limo to drive him around, but he preferred to stay anonymous. Just another face in the crowd. Besides, he wasn't so big a name as to have people recognize him outside of Chicago, London and various parts of Africa.

The orange taxi pulled up to the front of the Fairmont Royal York Hotel, the best hotel in Toronto. The driver got out to retrieve the bags from the trunk. A bell boy came and took over, placing the two bags on a trolley, he like to travel light. He smiled his debonair smile and handed the taxi driver the fare, with a good amount of tip. The driver beamed at him, bowed and said many thank you's before getting back in his cab and driving away.

Gar looked around the front of the hotel, pulled his collar up and went inside.

Finally reaching the warmth of her loft, Raven began the exhaustive task of removing all of her winter wear. Article of clothing by article of clothing, Raven took off everything, save her underwear, and threw it all into her hamper. She then headed to the bathroom and ran a bath. She walked out into the kitchen and put on a kettle.

She went through her regular ritual of coming home, taking out her cup, choosing a type of tea, reaching into the freezer to sneak a bite of ice cream, the usual.

Raven leaned against the counter, the cold black marble against her bare skin shocking her for a moment, waiting for her water to boil. She wiggled her toes on the hardwood floor that crept in from the living and dining rooms. She sighed and looked into her reflection against the silver sheen of the kettle. Reaching a hand up behind her head, she pulled out her hair tie and shook out her hair.

God, I'm not normal am I, she thought as stared at her reflection. Her pinked cheeks as a result of the cold contrasted with her skin. Her complexion was what might have been called 'fair' in Shakespeare's time but now would be referred to as 'sickly pale'. It wasn't like she could help it, she was born with ivory white skin bordering on grey.

And her hair. God, how she hated her hair. Why did I even bother growing it? She hated taking care of her hair, which was black with undertones of purple in certain light. She studied at the distorted half-naked woman in black underwear in front of her. Then she remembered… she'd left the tap on.

Rushing to the washroom, Raven turned of the tap testing the water with her fingers. She went back to the kettle, which had been boiling by now, moved it to a holder in the counter and turned the stove off. She poured the water into the cup and walked back to the washroom, cup in hand, taking occasional sips. She then laid the cup down on the floor next to the tub, stripped off her underwear and stepped in.

The water was scalding hot, but to someone who had just come in from a snowstorm, it was heaven. Raven quickly got comfortable in the tub. Sinking in all the way, submersing her head as to wet her hair then rising up slowly. Her jet black hair sticking on either sides of her face. Her head rested on the edge a she closed her eyes, the ambience of the bathroom calming her, lulling her asleep.

Raven awoke in the tub 20 minutes later. She realised where she was and began swearing in her head. Good one Raven. Real smart, falling asleep in a bath tub. She looked over at the maple clock on the wall. 10:35. She sighed, resting her head back again.

Looking around the washroom she felt at ease. The ceiling lights were turned low so as to not blind her when she looked up. To her left was the stone wall with various sizes of grey limestone. The stone leaked past the tub and spilled onto the floor. The rest of the walls were a calming beige. Neutral. Peaceful. Chinese brush paintings of flowers and various characters surrounded her, all framed in cherry oak frames. To her immediate right was the porcelain toilet and just beyond it was the sink. White marble tops with the same cherry finished cabinet drawers.

Raven reached over the toilet and grabbed a hold of her towel. She stood in the tub, waited for some of the water to drip off and rung out her hair. Then she stepped into her plush grey shag carpet and wrapped the towel loosely around her. She reached down and took the already cold tea.

Heading through the doors leading to the bedroom, her hands fumbled along the wall looking for the light switch. The light came on revealing her room. The wall above her head board, a rich navy blue and her beech finished Laguna bed accentuating the room. The entire room was finished in either beech wood or blue. Blue being her favourite colour. The wall opposite of the blue wall had a big Chinese character, bordered by smaller characters, hope. Each image mounted on borderless glass frames. She laid the tea cup down on her dresser.

Raven dried herself off, slipped on her blue cashmere robe and headed towards the double French doors leading into the living room. The huge loft windows over looked a sleeping Toronto. Street lights dulled out by thick falling snow, lights in building flickering off. She laid a hand against the window and watched the snow fall on the city, her hair dripping water down to the cold hardwood below her feet.

Gar leaned back on the plush sofa of the large one bedroom suite he was staying in. Papers of all sizes laid out on the coffee table in front of him, blueprints, print outs of each piece, copies of the security measures that Victor had planned. All of which Dick had copies as well.

Coming to Toronto was pleasant enough. Pearson Airport worked as efficiently was airports are expected to. Hailing a cab wasn't all that difficult. Even the receptionists at the lobby were extremely nice and ready to be at his every beck and call, all of course after finding out whom he was. The lobby was magnificent enough to impress him. Lounge chairs scattered around, marble tiles on the floor, golden chandeliers hung down from high ceilings. A clock ran from the middle of the room. They had offered him the Royal Suite which would have been a two bedroom suite with a large living area featuring a wet bar and decorative non-functional fireplace. It came with a conference table that seated up to 18 people and could also easily entertain 30 people. But Gar didn't need any of that stuff. He just needed a room big enough to hold press conferences and work.

Gar sighed as he got up and poured himself another glass of Scotch. He sighed as he took a sip; it had been a long couple of months concerning this exhibit. The British Museum had been giving him hell about transportation and said they would not ship the artefacts until the security was well in place. Meanwhile, the Royal Ontario Museum had already cleared all of the floor space and was only waiting on the display pieces.

All this work he was doing had to make him wonder what the hell Dick was doing. It seem like he's just the rich face for the project and is only in it for the publicity. "Oh look at me I care about the children." Victor has been very supportive the past couple of months and with only three months to go before the grand opening everyone, save Richard, of course, was working their butts off.

Gar walked over to the huge windows facing Lake Ontario. He ran his tongue over his 'fangs'. His canines had been abnormally pointy since his permanent teeth grew in. Not so much so as to make him look like a vampire but enough that if he bit down someone he could probably tear off skin. Feral jade eyes watched snow fall. Tomorrow he would meet the curator of the ROM. He had heard very much about her and was rumoured to be a beauty comparable only to Nefertiti. He chuckled at his own ugly Egyptian pun. She was also rumoured to be extremely gifted at what she does and around his own age, single no less. He smiled at himself, thinking about what fun tomorrow would bring. Although he couldn't see much of it, he knew Toronto was down there somewhere; sleepingcovered in a blanket of February snowfall.