Author's Note: I'MMMMMMM BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKK! And God bless summer vacation, let me tell you! I'm really, really sorry about how I suck when it comes to uploading chapters within weeks of each other, but since the beginning of summer I've been extremely busy. Let me tell you, it is a relief to finally be in the house I've been moving into all summer…and between that, summer camps, summer jobs, summer work, and babysitting my family's new puppy (she's so CUTE), I admit that I haven't had a lot of time to spend on this fanfic. It's funny actually, here I am with summer vacation ending and I've only been on one vacation so far—my grandparents' house (their food is GURD, yeah). At least they live on the beach. So anyways…..I figured that I'd better put up something so this wouldn't be dismissed as another dead, or otherwise unfinished, fanfiction (I WILL finish this!). And I didn't want you to think I was dead, either, because you guys are the only people who appreciate me in this bitter, unfair world! YAY! (oooooh, and the puppy cares, too! I feed her :P) Oh yeah, and watch out for typos…sorry for any in advance.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in the Teen Titans show or comics.

Rat-tat, rat-tat.

Newspaper clippings, wanted posters, various mugshots, and open files of different sorts, all glared down in the faint, overhead lamplight, from their pinned places on the wall. More newspapers and magazines littered the long desk against the wall, both splayed open and still closed. A laptop sat on the far corner of the desk, screensaver dancing up and down, adding a flash of color here or there to the dim setting.

Rat-tat, rat-tat.

A couple reference books were stacked on top of one another against the desk, either on psychology topics or with genetic themes. On a small but long table at the center of the room, more newspaper clippings rustled slightly in the quiet breeze coming through the ceiling vent. On top of the clippings, mechanical tools and metal parts with wiring spilling out were laid. Next to the pieces, a small silver sphere—or at least what used to be a sphere—glinted in the lamplight, the owner of the other parts.

Rat-tat, rat-tat.

Amidst it all sat the famous Boy Wonder, feet propped up on the desk, masked eyes staring up at the dark ceiling, tensely tapping an overused pencil against the paper-covered surface of the desk.

Rat-tat, rat-tat.

For the past four hours, Robin had remained in this room, shutting of his communicator and trusting the alarm system of the Tower to let him know if he was needed. So of course he shouldn't have been surprised when the door to his personal study swooshed open, letting the shadow of Cyborg's tall ad muscular figure fall into the room. But with the typical reaction of one deep in thought, Robin started out of his chair and nearly knocked the desk over in the process.

Cyborg raised an eyebrow at the birdarang Robin's hand had somehow found and the fighting stance Robin had taken. "Feeling jumpy much?" Cyborg asked dryly, moving further into the room as the door slid shut behind him.

Robin sweatdropped, and the birdarang disappeared under his cape as he slowly sat down again in the chair he had abandoned seconds ago. "I wasn't expecting company," he stated, crossing his arms at Cyborg, who was gazing at the clippings on the wall.

"Huh? Well, you should expect something when you turn off your communicator for four hours and you're no where to be found," Cyborg replied, bringing his attention back to the team leader and away from the collection on the wall.

"Did anything happen?" Robin asked, picking up the pencil he had dropped on the floor at Cyborg's entrance.

"Nope, not really," Cyborg said cheerily. "Just came up here to bug the hell out of ya. Starfire and Kid Flash went to the mall after going downtown to help with a normal bank robbery, and Raven told me where to find you. I think she went with them, too."

"Find me?" Robin echoed, placing the pencil on the desk. "Why?"

The slight smile diminished from Cyborg's face as he grew serious. "It's not to someone's benefit when they shut themselves up in a room for more than a couple hours everyday." Robin opened his mouth to protest, but Cyborg shook his head and went on. "Face it, Robin you're obsessed again…I've only seen you like this once before, when you were hunting down Slade. And I think I know what you're obsessing over this time…" Cyborg gestured towards the table, where the remnants of the silver sphere were—silver remnants that Cyborg and Robin had gathered while back at the scene of the Main Street collapse a day after the event happened.

Robin glanced to where Cyborg pointed, and sighed. "Is it a good or bad thing, then? To be obsessed about helping…"

Cyborg winked. "Remember that you've got a whole city to help, too, is all I'm saying." Cyborg looked around the room, and spotted the reference books—his eyes narrowed. "What I wanna know is this: you've got a hold of something new, don't you?"

Robin stared at Cyborg.

"I mean, don't try to deny the truth—you had pretty much given up on the case…" Cyborg picked up one of the books on genetic sequences, and flipped through. "But this renewed rigor?"

Robin was still staring at Cyborg when the half-android looked over at him, putting the reference book back in its place. "You have an eye for things, man, I'll give you that," Robin said, leaning back in his chair.

"Yeah…but I'm not the only one who's noticed."

Robin looked down at his hands. "Remember how everybody's favorite caped crusader requested a certain somebody's genetic mapout?"

"You actually gave it to him? I thought you might've been a tad pissed when he asked, but I wasn't exactly sure, you know…" Cyborg winked again.

"Cute. But seriously, you can safely assume when Batman decides to help, his help is worth accepting." Even if I hate to admit it, Robin added silently. He hated to admit a lot of things, lately.

Cyborg nodded absently. "So were you right? About trusting his help?"

"Absolutely."

"Meet me at the coordinates I'm about to send you—once you arrive, you'll see me no doubt."

"Right. You gonna tell me what this is about?"

"You'll be happy enough when you find out for yourself. And it's best we don't discuss it over a signal that can be traced and picked up. Besides, I thought you liked surprises."

"You thought a lot of things about me."

"That I did. Don't shoot me down. I'm sending the coordinates now."

"Got them. You better not be wasting my time."

"You shouldn't speak that way to someone who's willing to do you a favor."

"I didn't ask you for any favors. And if this is about what I'm starting to think this is about, I definitely didn't ask you to do this."

"I take it back—I'm not doing it for you. By the way, change clothes if you get the chance. It wouldn't be a good idea for you to waltz in here wearing green tights and a cape."

"They're not tights, and you wear a bigger cape."

"But I'm not wearing one now. I expect you in fifteen minutes, over and out."

The communicator inside Robin's helmet gave a small beep and the soft crackle of static resumed, signaling that the conversation was more than over. The night was a good one for cruising through the suburb streets of Jump City, stars starting to twinkle out from the blanket of darkness enveloping the sky as the last of fiery orange and red sinking below the horizon. The hot air of the day was slowly cooling in a moist breeze blowing in from the bay, and the bright, colorful lights of downtown silhouetted the city against the sunset. All was peaceful with the onset of the night—until the R-cycle gunned through the streets, engine roaring as it sped top-speed to the coordinates labeled and glowing on the visor of Robin's helmet. Cape whipping behind him, Robin silently apologized for the disturbance, but if he knew anything he knew that Batman would expect him in fifteen minutes; and as much as he hated to admit it, Robin would not give Batman the chance to call him on tardiness.

Robin sighed into his helmet, steaming up the visor a bit, and wondered exactly what Batman would present to him as soon as he showed up at the appointed rendezvous. It had to be important if Batman had the nerve to pull him out of…an outing…with Starfire. His old mentor rarely interrupted his personal life, or life in that matter, anymore. And if this was about what Robin was now more sure of than not, it was an action somewhat understandable—but only if the news was absolutely terrible or absolutely excellent. On the plus side of it all, Robin had been able to tell Starfire had been rather disappointed that their time together ended so abruptly, which left Robin feeling guilty but with hope.

It didn't take long for Robin to pull up behind a small, almost run-down diner further into the suburbs. The neon sign reading 'open' flickered repeatedly in the fading light, and a few cars were parked in front of the diner, people grabbing a bite before heading home from work or whatever. Robin carefully observed his surroundings as he guided the R-cycle to a spot between a huge dumpster and the side door of the building. Deeming the area secure, a few minutes Robin walked out from behind the diner, vigilante costume discarded and in its place sneakers, worn jeans, a black shirt, and a lightweight tan jacket. Shades covered his eyes, though the use for them was definitely absent, the moonlight now gently spilling to the earth from the night sky.

The quiet tinkling of a bell filled the diner as Robin pushed open the door, causing a middle-aged, tired-looking waitress to lift her head from fooling with the cashier behind a counter directly opposite of Robin. She nodded to him, then went back to pounding buttons. A steady beeping of a timer going off echoed into the diner from the kitchen in back, the smell of fresh-baked bread and fried foods wafting out as well. Low murmuring came from a small television mounted on one of the walls, and the only conversation in the diner was between two men sitting in a booth on the far side of the diner, with the occasional soft laugh or chuckle. All the other customers were sitting on stools at the counter, bent over their food—except for one, of course, who was staring directly at Robin from his seat in a booth to Robin's right.

Robin waltzed over to the man, sliding into the seat opposite of him, and said matter-of-factorly, "And how are you, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce Wayne, the famous industrial billionaire of Gotham City and otherwise the equally as famous vigilante Batman, raised his eyebrows as Robin sat across from him. "Sun glasses, Dick? A little off on your timing, you know."

Bruce himself was dressed in casual wear, a cap pulled over his head to give some protection of his face—no one would recognize him as Batman, that was for sure, but it would be just as disastrous if somebody recognized him as his billionaire self, too. A leather suitcase and a shoulder bag occupied the space beside Bruce in the booth. Robin's eyes flickered towards the suitcase and bag, wondering what contents they held. "Next time I'll bring a cane so my disguise is more complete," Robin replied to Bruce, unsmiling. Bruce just raised his eyebrows again.

The tired-looking waitress Robin had seen upon first entering the diner suddenly appeared next to their booth, small tablet in hand and reaching for a pen behind her ear. "Felluhs," she greeted. They both turned their attention to her. "What can I getchuh for this evenin'?"

"Just two coffees, ma'am." Bruce's gaze flickered towards Robin, who remained sitting impassively.

"Decaf?"

"No thanks, ma'am. And could you bring some extra cream?"

The waitress nodded, and went back over behind the counter. After a few moments, the clanking of dishes could be heard in the kitchen. A breeze blew in with the tinkle of the door opening as one of the men from the counter departed. Faint music from the television began as the evening news switched off, leaving commercials for perfume to garage tools. Robin remained silent as he and Bruce waited for their coffee, the latter staring distractedly out the window. Robin was itching to know what exactly this meeting was about now more than ever with the mystery suitcase and bag mere inches away, but forced himself to keep still and not fidget. He couldn't believe how relieved he was when the waitress finally brought out the coffee, along with a few creams. As soon as the waitress left and Bruce fixed his coffee to his liking, Robin could hardly take it anymore.

"So?"

Bruce looked up from the coffee at his voice, and saw the faint lines of anticipation on the unhidden part of Robin's face. With the corner of his mouth tugging the tiniest bit, Bruce reached into the shoulder bag and pulled out some papers, sliding them across to Robin. Immediately picking them up, Robin scanned the content of the papers while Bruce sipped at coffee. Robin was glad the sunglasses hid his dread and slight puzzlement with every new page he read. By the time he had finished looking through the stack, Bruce was watching him intensively, one hand still around his coffee mug. Robin glanced from the papers, to Bruce, and back again. "So," he said again, laying the papers on the table. "What does it mean?"

Bruce took another sip of his coffee, carefully watching Robin and fighting a little bit of his own inner battle. He knew what he was about to discuss with his former pupil could quite possibly crush him, anger him, and give him false hope at the same time. And Bruce didn't necessarily want Richard to suffer more…it was unfair for this…it wasn't…

Bruce set down his coffee rather lazily. "What it means," he replied honestly, "is that I've been able to figure out the extent of…damage…that's been done to your friend." Robin looked at him expectantly. Underneath the sunglasses, his left eye twitched.

"…I just don't know how to fix it."

"—Wait a second, are you saying that Batman freaking figured out what happened that day?" Cyborg interjected excitedly as Robin told him exactly what he had been doing that Saturday while the rest of the team were stuffing themselves with pizza. Robin watched as Cyborg began pacing back and forth. "That's amazing! Now all we have to do is get him to send his research to S.T.A.R.R. labs, and they could probably cook up some reverse radiation that could do the trick! Why didn't you bring this up before, Robin? Now everything…"

Cyborg suddenly trailed off, realizing the team leader wasn't exactly jumping around in a spasmodic fit of joy. "But it's not that simple, is it?"

Robin gave an almost bittersweet smile, and shook his head. "No, it's not that simple…it never is."

Robin didn't reply instantly to Bruce's remark, his mind racing in circles as he processed what he had just read and what Bruce had just said. The papers Bruce had handed him were various lab analysis and research on nothing other than Beast Boy's genetic code—and Garfield Logan's genetic code, for that matter. Robin was guessing Bruce had compared the two genetic codes front to back, and had compared the changes between the two and analyzed the differences versus a considerably 'normal' human genetic code. After a while, the reports were too complicated for Robin to understand, hence the skimming, but he had gotten the gist of what the subject matter consisted of. Finally, he made his mouth move.

"So…"Robin's mind was racing behind his mask of a face, more rapidly than before if possible. "You…can tell us…what happened?"

Bruce stared at Robin, noting how slowly and hesitantly he spoke. Smart boy, trying not to set himself up for disappointment. Bruce sighed, and casually glanced around the restaurant to make sure everyone was minding their business. He had already went over the place for any suspicious stuff, but it never hurt to be sure. Then Bruce took a last sip of his coffee, put the mug down, and leaned forward with his elbows on the table. He knew this would be a long discussion.

"You know his past history, correct?" Bruce began. Robin nodded slowly. "How he contracted the disease known as Sakutia while in Africa, and his father 'cured' him? Good. It is important to know that the type of radiation that our friend was given as treatment for the disease has a specific isotope signature—that is to say, an extremely unique signature."

"A traceable one?" Robin interrupted, wondering what Bruce was getting at.

"Yes, a signature that can be traced, tracked, found very easily; but only if you know what you are looking for." Bruce paused and shuffled through some of the papers he had given Robin, straightening them. "And what you are looking for could be anything subjected to the radiation, seeing as the half-life of this particular isotope is extremely long—almost sixty-three years, I believe."

Robin raised an eyebrow in question at that comment, but let Bruce continue knowing all his questions would more likely than not be answered in time.

"Now when our friend's Sakutia disease was cured, his father was the only known scientist on the globe to actually be working on a particular mechanism that would isolate the common ancestral gene between different species—which instead he used to isolate the Sakutia in his son's body and cause it to go into a dormant state." Bruce paused and shuffled the papers some more. "Sakutia is a rare virus that disrupts the human body at the genome level; the virus is actually capable of writing false DNA codes and rewriting original ones. It tears apart the body molecule by molecule. But there is one known radiation, the type I spoke of earlier, that can stop Sakutia…but in the process, due to reversing the already 'whacked' genes the virus causes, the victim's genetic code becomes unstable by chain reaction, and: tadaa! We already know what that results in, a living human circus.

"Unfortunately, there was only one scientist that managed to 'cure' the effects of Sakutia—our friend's father—and the secrets key to that disappeared into the vast, African jungle just as his life did. Many still don't understand exactly what happened inside our friend's body, and it doesn't help the fact that he refuses to participate in a few trials, either."

"Okay, so that was a complete background check of everything we already know," Cyborg commented impatiently, interrupting Robin once again.

Robin eyed him. "Yes, but hold on a second—Batman didn't tell me that info for lecturing purposes."

Cyborg cocked his head a little in curiosity. "What do you mean by that?"

"Just keep listening, and you'll see." As an afterthought, Robin muttered, "Besides, not everyone has a computer for memory, so…"

"What was that?"

"Nothing…"

Bruce had laid out two papers from the stack in front of Robin, and now watched as the boy studied them. He was silent for a couple minutes until Robin looked up from the papers. "So…this one is the metahuman mapout and this one—the human mapout?"

Nodding, Bruce enforced Robin's suspicions. "Yes," he said. "And both are of the same person. Before a certain dosage of a certain radiation, and afterwards."

"But…" Robin reviewed the papers one more time in a glance. "These analyses determine there are few drastic changes in the genetic code, then. How is that possible? I saw, along with the rest of the team, that the changes were definitely major!"

Bruce nodded absently, as if half-agreeing with Robin's words. "You're right. I had a private team of geneticists help me with this research, and those results are supposedly foolproof." Bruce suddenly gazed intently at Robin, then, any thoughtfulness gone. "But that's not even half of it. One thing that puzzled the scientists and myself is this; the entire human genome has been practically decoded and recorded by now. However, an interesting pattern surfaced in the genetic mapout of our friend after the said radiation—after he became 'homo sapien' again. It was another code, similar to one found in the metahuman mapout, but at the same time completely different."

Robin peered at Bruce, questioning.

Bruce sighed. "The only explanation for this mystery…gene, perhaps?...is rather unpleasant. But according to the comparisons and research made, it's the truth. As a metahuman, our friend was protected from the Sakutia virus; in his body, the disease was dormant, therefore the cause of his powers. As an ordinary human, however…" Bruce hesitated, shaking his head.

"What?" Robin suddenly asked, almost fearfully. A sense of impending doom came over him. "What is it?"

Bruce stared directly into the shades that Robin's eyes hid behind. "The loss of his powers signified a reverse of the dormant state of the disease. Garfield isn't safe from Sakutia any longer."

"Oh, snap." Cyborg's human eye widened in shock, his mind registering in nanoseconds what exactly that meant. "You can't be serious."

Robin just sat silently.

"But…but that means…" Cyborg stumbled around his words, his eyes staring beyond the wall he was glaring at as he went over all the possibilities that it did mean. Then his gaze suddenly switched to Robin, eyebrow twitching. "And you've been SITTING on this since Saturday! What's wrong with you, man?"

Robin winced at Cyborg's raised voice, the exact reaction he had predicted from the half-android. "I know I should've said something earlier—"

"Why didn't you say something EARLIER?" It appeared that Cyborg wasn't paying Robin any attention. "This is terrible, both for us and the city!"

"Cyborg."

"We can't have an outbreak of a rare, fatal, African disease—"

"Cyborg."

"Along with the possible death of—"

"Cyborg!"

Cyborg stopped ranting, realizing that Robin was up out of his seat and yelling at him. "What?"

Robin sighed, rubbed his left temple, and sat back down. "There's nothing to worry about. There won't be—"

"An outbreak!" Robin whispered fiercely across the table at a seemingly unfazed Bruce. Robin had been 'yespering' (A/N: yelling while you're whispering…quite the oxymoron) at him for the past two minutes, and Bruce decided it was best for the kid to get it out of his system.

"Why didn't you come to me sooner, or at least let me know this issue was a bit more urgent! We have to put him in quarantine or something. I could be facing a pandemic of a rare, fatal, African disease by this time! How could you have let me give Garfield the boot when—"

"The Sakutia virus is only passed from bodily fluids of a monkey to those of a human?" Bruce interrupted. Robin instantly shut up, mouth still a tad agape. "Relax, Richard, Sakutia isn't an airborne virus, like influenza, but instead is more like rabies…but even less contagious than that. Sakutia isn't a communicable disease, and cannot be passed from human to human easily. Look at it this way: Sakutia is now a part of Gar's genetic code…that's the way the virus works, and why it's so confusing to scientists and so rare in the world. The only way Garfield could pass along Sakutia would be to…donate blood or someth—actually no, that wouldn't even work. While Sakutia bonds to a human's DNA after it is transferred from the monkey's body, it wouldn't bond to another human's DNA because it is already in the grafted state. As a gene or DNA strand, not as a virus, and most humans don't go around absorbing other people's DNA, so technically—"

"BRUCE!" the waitress and a few of the customers glanced over at Robin before turning back to whatever they had been doing. "Bruce," Robin said a tad more quietly, "you lost me…so. You're saying that we don't have to worry about him transmitting the disease?" Bruce blinked, and nodded. "Good. How do scientists—or you for that matter—know so much about Sakutia anyways…I thought it was a rare and mysterious disease, not an article in the encyclopedia."

"How? From the only survivor of the rare and mysterious disease, of course." Bruce shook his head. "Why else do you think he has an extreme fear and hatred of hospitals? Germ phobia?"

Robin stared.

"But back to the point." Bruce cleared his throat. "The fact that the virus isn't contagious is a relief, but not the major problem here. Garfield is the one with the Sakutia disease…and you've probably already ran across the thought that although he has survived the disease once—" Bruce paused and took a sip of his now lukewarm coffee. "—most likely he will not survive it again."

Robin was silent for several minutes, having an inner battle for control; Bruce could see that much. It was understandable—he had just told the teenage hero the detail he had known but did not want to admit. This was difficult news for anyone to take, especially for an individual used to saving everyone and fixing everything. Bruce knew the feelings Robin was trying to cope with right now, seeing as the Dark Knight had dealt with them countless times before already.

So of course he gave a bittersweet smile when his former sidekick asked in a forced nonchalant way—

"So what do we need to do?"

Robin smiled when Cyborg asked the exact same question he had asked Batman on Saturday, unwilling to give up. He sighed in response, though. "I'm not entirely sure, Cyborg…that's what I've been trying to figure out with four hours of solitude."

Cyborg snorted. "Whatever, man, quit the leader act for a minute." Robin looked over at Cyborg, who was now staring determinedly at the wall right above the door of the room. "Look, whether you want to admit it or not," Cyborg began softly, "the whole team, all of us were friends since the beginning…and now, we're more likely than not something more. Starfire and Raven are going to be upset, and more than a little, when they find out about this…because we are going to tell them." Cyborg glanced at Robin for conformation, but his gaze was met by the back of Robin's head. "We have to go get him," Cyborg continued, "and tell him the truth. S.T.A.R.R. labs might have something that can help, and maybe the radiation can be developed again—Batman sounded like he knew what he was talking about, along with all those scientists from before…"

"No, Cyborg."

Cyborg's brow furrowed in anger at Robin's firm voice. He opened his mouth to angrily counter Robin, but instead—

"Remember, Cyborg? It's not that simple. It never is."

"The disease hasn't awakened yet, Richard, simple as that. Or, well, I guess it's not that simple, when you read into it…" Bruce took a sip of his now nearing-cold coffee.

Robin frowned. "Hasn't awakened? Do you mean—"

"Yes, it's still dormant. There's still time. But right now, I'm going to tell you to take thirty seconds of that time and tell me what all this means. Push to the side everything you're feeling right now, and just tell me what this all means."

Robin glowered. "Who says I need to listen to you?"

Bruce didn't speak, just watched Robin. After a grumble, Robin did exactly as he was told; and in under thirty seconds, his eyes widened under his shades in realization. Bruce smirked into his coffee, interpreting the slight jaw-drop Robin gave for what it was. "And what does it all mean?"

Robin slowly crossed his arms, seeing all the connections Bruce had pointed out to him with an emphasized point, and lecturing tone, a detailed description."But who? Who would do such a thing and who would have the technology to do it?"

Bruce took another sip of his now cold coffee. "I'm glad you don't believe in coincidence either, Robin." He waved the waitress over.

"Yessir? Oh, it'll be three dollahs and sixtah-seven cends."

"Here, then. Keep the change."

"Thanks, fellahs."

Getting up, Bruce took the stack of papers and slid them back in the shoulder bag. He waited for Robin to get up, then took the suitcase out from its spot in the booth and handed it to the Boy Wonder. Bruce nodded to him, saying so only he could hear him, "Take care, Robin."

And then he was gone.

Cyborg was leaning against the wall once again "So what was in the suitcase he gave you?"

"A disc."

Cyborg raised an eyebrow. "A disc?"

Robin nodded. "A disc of all the research he had done so far, including the files I had looked at in the diner, records from the scientists he had hired, and millions of leads."

"So, he was handing over the investigation to you?"

"Probably. But I think he'll come up with a few interesting details every now and then. It's not like the Batman to let go of a case without his own follow-up and theories."

"He'll be helping then."

"Yes."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

Cyborg let out a long, low whistle. "This is trouble."

Robin rose from his seat and began pacing back and forth in front of Cyborg. "We have somewhere to start with, because we know two things: one, the perpetrator has at least one accomplice."

"Right, the noir attacker at the street collapse," Cyborg agreed. "But what's two?"

"He or she has to have known Mr. Mark Logan, currently deceased." Cyborg's attention zeroed in. "He is the only known scientist, as Batman pointed out numerous times, that had been working on the type of radiation and technology able to isolate genes. And thankfully, the technology needed to save his son. Technology very similar to the type used by the attacker. Radiation with an isotope signature very similar to the type used by the attacker."

Cyborg nodded. "We'll start with old friends, family, colleagues."

Robin grabbed a disc that had been sitting on the desk. "Here, I want you to take a look at this, copy everything to your database, and study every detail."

Cyborg took the disc from Robin. "Right. But let me ask you a question, Robin. Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you tell the team? Some bastard is trying to kill our friend, as far as we know. And something tells me you haven't been buddy-buddy about this with…a certain Garfield Logan, either."

Robin shook his head. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Cyborg, but…word can't get out about this, okay?" Robin stopped pacing. "Like you said, if Starfire or Raven find out, they will not be pleased—and I don't want anyone doing anything rash. We can't let whoever's after Gar find out that we're on their tail; we'll lose any time we might have right now if they decide a fatal disease moves too slow."

Robin looked over and glared at Cyborg for a response. "Okay, man," Cyborg said after a slight hesitation. "I understand. But also understand that if I have to, I will do what I think is best for my friends' safety. All of them."

"Fair enough. Just remember, behind-the-scenes you should work on this case as if your life depends on it." Robin's eyemask narrowed.

"…Because someone's does."

"What. The. Hell. Is. That."

Starfire grinned foolishly from behind one of the most revolting things Raven had ever seen in her entire life. It was pink. It was hot pink. It was tiny. It was really tiny. And most repulsively, Raven noticed it was in her size. Her size.

"Isn't it most delightful?" Starfire sighed, the stupid grin still glowing on her face. She was completely oblivious to the horrified and disgusted grimace Raven had on her own face. "When I asked the man of the clerk what the expected summer attire for a young woman at Earth's beaches is this year, he pointed me directly towards these wonderful pieces of clothing!"

"Really now?" Raven asked in monotone, continuing to eye the pink bikini warily.

"Yes!" Suddenly Starfire frowned. "But in all honesty, I believe this is very similar to the suit swimming that I acquired my previous summer on Earth, though the man of the clerk assured me it was the 'latest buzz in fashion'. Kid Flash also told me it was 'sexy'." Starfire's lower lip protruded slightly as she searched her mind for the meaning of the word. "That is good, is it not? To be 'sexy'?"

Raven rolled her eyes. Kid Flash would be the one to say that…"In a way," Raven replied to Starfire's curiosity. "I'd rather not explain."

Starfire raised her eyebrows, but then her face lit up again as she remembered what she was holding out to Raven in the first place. "I bought a suit swimming for myself, but this one I acquired for you, Raven! You are in need of at least one for this summer, I know this! And Kid Flash recommended this particular suit." Starfire smiled brightly. "He said you would be 'very sexy' in this selection."

Raven struggled to keep her temper and reddening cheeks in check. "Did he now?" she said through gritted teeth. The nerve. "I'm going to kill him."

Starfire's happiness was replaced with worry as she sweatdropped, feeling very tiny as she realized Raven's anger. And that was the exact moment none other than Kid Flash decided to show up—or rather, blur up.

"Okay, ladies, who wants some food? There's still nothing edible in the Tower, so I took the honor of grabbing some hot dogs from the food court—plenty of mustard like you asked for, Starfire—and…what?"

Kid Flash interrupted himself, noticing Starfire was giving him the most pathetic, apologetic look, and Raven was quite coincidently throwing him a death glare. It took him two more seconds to notice the pink bikini Starfire was clutching in her hands, and then a smirk slowly spread across his face. Snickering, he commented slyly, "What, not the gracious type, Raven?"

Starfire put the swimming suit back into the shopping bag that already carried her own as Raven's temple twitched. "Please, friends," she said nervously, "let us return to the Tower and feast upon the heated dogs, and forget this business of killing—"

"Normally, I would pound you into the ground right about now for giving Starfire ridiculous ideas," Raven dryly informed Kid Flash, leaving Starfire with a hopeless look on her face.

"But I'm too cute for that, right?" Kid Flash grinned at his wit, but the grin disappeared as Raven's eyes turned white and her hands glowed with obsidian energy. "Whoa, calm down! Besides, you should've seen the clerk's face when he was helping Starfire—now that's perverted—er, ignore that last comment!" Kid Flash eyed the tendrils of energy creeping towards him. "I'll—geez, okay, I'm gone!"

Kid Flash vanished in a blur of yellow and red, heading back to the Tower and leaving Raven with a slightly satisfied feeling as the black energy dissipated. Starfire had watched the whole thing from behind her shopping bag, and now heaved a sigh of relief. "So you will not kill the Kid Flash, then, Raven?" she asked hopefully.

"Not today," Raven said wryly. Starfire simpered, and Raven turned towards her with narrowed eyes. "And how did you know that I needed a swimsuit for this summer?"

Starfire sweatdropped again, and immediately gave a nervous giggle. "Um, of course it did not have anything to do with entering into your room uninvited, Raven! I would never do that! Now I must…return to the Tower! Yes! And…enlighten friends Cyborg and Robin about the 'latest fashion buzz' for this summer! Farewell!"

Raven watched as Starfire hastily departed. "She. Went. In. My. Room." The muscle under Raven's left eye twitched, and she prepared to teleport back to the Tower. Being friends with a perky alien did have its downsides.

"The kid was supposed to be 'ere an HOUR ago!"

Raven turned at the sound of the yelling, looking for the owner of the strongly accented voice. Several other people were looking around, too, annoyed that the moderate buzz of conversation bouncing through the mall had been interrupted. It didn't take long to find the culprit, for he was exasperatedly waving his arms at the skylights above, seated on the edge of one of those indoor mall fountains, not too far from Raven. Probably a little older than Raven herself, his bleached-blond hair stood out from the rest of the crowd, along with the bright yellow t-shirt adorned with a huge smiley-face he was wearing. His accent sounded like he was Australian or something. Looking like the typical high school student out to make a little racket with his friends, Raven turned again to leave once more until she heard by chance one of his friend's reply.

"Chill, Nick, Gar said he had a doctor's appointment—things like that can take a while, you know."

Raven froze, and turned once more to actually look at the bleached-blonde; he was rolling his eyes, and surrounded by a group of about six people—four guys, two girls. They all were high school students, too, and had pretty much the same style as the Australian guy…Nick. Most were wearing black or rocker-styled clothes. Raven couldn't decide who had replied to Nick's outbreak, but she was suddenly, and a bit guiltily, interested in the conversation. Realizing that she was a Teen Titan, and still in costume, Raven racked her mind for something to do. She, Starfire, and Kid Flash had attracted a fair amount of whispers and stares while they had been browsing the mall at Starfire's request. Raven was sure she would attract even more attention than that if she was to remain staring blankly, and quite frankly a bit stupidly, at a group of normal teenage-civilians.

Luckily, it was a group of high school kids—Spencer's® was almost right across from the fountain the group was hanging out by, and that was the type of store Raven didn't mind staring pointlessly through the window at. It would at least be normal, Raven concluded as she sauntered towards the store, listening carefully to the group. She used her powers to diminish others awareness of her, so somebody wouldn't randomly come up and ask for her autograph or something: a useful trick she had learned to use on the Titans' outings early on.

Another one of the guys snorted at the last remark. He was shorter than the other guys in the group, but still had an athletic build—his head of dust-brown hair shook back and forth as a wicked smirk crawled across his face. "Who says Nick actually cares about Gar? He's just upset because he can't scream 'NOOGIE!' and scare the shit out of any old people nearby."

Most of the group laughed at this, and Raven raised an eyebrow.

Right…

"Aw, shuddup, Michael, you're just disappointed that Benji wouldn't lend you the five bucks you needed to buy that album back there," one of the other guys chuckled.

Michael sniffed. "System of A Down deserves to be bought by me, and if I remember correctly, you're the one who owes me those five bucks, anyways. Benji won't be giving you any money, either."

John crossed his arms across his chest. "Five bucks? For what, dork?"

"I bought lunch for you Tuesday cuz you left your lunch money at home."

"Tuesday? No I didn't!"

"Not last Tuesday, three weeks before that."

"What! No way, man, you're lying!

"Am not!"

"Yes you are, asshole!"

"Who you calling asshole, bitch!"

"WHAT? Why you little—"

Raven rolled her eyes as the two began a scuffle. It didn't take long for John to get Michael into a headlock, and Nick plus a dusty-blond guy to get involved trying to break it up. One of the two girls, a redhead in a black tee and shorts, shoddy skater shoes adorning her feet, was rolling her eyes, too, annoyance and exasperation written all over her face. Exactly what Raven would be feeling herself, if she was in the situation. The corner of Raven's mouth tugged just the tiniest bit.

"Hmph, this is so laaaaaame. I wanted to see Garfield today, I wanted to show him something," a perky but whining voice cried over the argument going on. It was the other girl, a blonde with pigtails dressed in…well, actually, not dressed in much at all. She was wearing an extremely short miniskirt with an extremely short yellow halter-top, a shoulder bag balanced on her waist. Raven immediately disliked the girl, not because she was the perfect opposite of Raven, but because of the whiny, pitiful air she seemed to put out. Raven's navy orbs narrowed.

"Relax, Nicole, I'm pretty sure you'll see him tomorrow, if not today," commented the only guy not fighting. His hair was jet-black, and his clothes didn't differ much, either. Black shirt, black wristband, brown cargo pants. The redhead was standing next to him, and he drew her closer with an arm around her shoulders. "We'll wait a little longer, then head off to the diner."

Nicole stuck out her lower lip, pouting. "But it was really important…"

"Yeah, I bet your bust is," the redhead muttered, but Nicole didn't seem to notice. Her eyes suddenly grew very round.

"Oh no! You don't think he's avoiding me, do you? What if he doesn't like me?"

The redhead threw an expression of mock horror on her face. "God FORBID! Avoiding you! The chance that he got caught in traffic is less likely!"

Raven would've snickered—she was starting to like this girl. The guy next to her nudged her a little, but he was smiling. Nicole frowned, and gave a small "hmph". At least she could tell mockery when it happened…didn't seem like she could really tell much else, the way the others were interacting with her.

"What is the doctor's appointment about, anyway?" Nicole sulked.

The guy shrugged, and looked at the redhead. "Yeah, Kassie, did he mention? You were the one he called, right?"

Kassie sighed. "Yep, he called about five minutes before I got here and met you guys. Sounded pretty pissed, too…" She grinned. "It was kind of funny, actually. Have you ever seen Gar pissed?"

The guy shook his head, and Nicole gave a vixen smile. "I bet he's hot when he is…well, hotter than usual. Most guys are." She winked at the guy, who just blinked.

Kassie's jaw twitched. "Yeah. Well, he sounded pissed, but when I asked, he just said it was a check-up he forgot about. He's had a cough lately, and I think he's coming down with a cold—probably getting some medicine."

"A cold? That sucks…and finals are coming up soon."

"Psht…not for him!" The Michael kid suddenly appeared on the other side of Kassie, rubbing his neck. Apparently, the tussle had ended—the other three guys rambled up, as well. "Remember? The lucky bastard doesn't have to take any final exams cuz he wasn't here for most of the semester."

"A cough you said?" John asked. "I hope the doc hooks him up with some syrup…"

"Huh?"

"What?"

"You druggie!"

"Ohhhh…John, you're an idiot."

"Like that's news."

"Hey! That wasn't very nice…I'm your brother, you know. Feel the love!"

"Get off of me!"

"I want some luvin', too, mates!"

"NO! Nick get off—"

"Argh—he's crushing me—!"

"I can't believe I'm being seen in public with you guys."

"Hey, Nicole, how about some luvin', sincerely Michael…"

"Uh, no. And don't refer to yourself in third person, loser, it's creepy."

"Ouch! Michael's hurt, baby!"

"Whatever."

Raven frowned slightly at the mention of a doctor's appointment. From what she knew, it would be luck if you managed to get Garfield Logan within one hundred feet of a doctor. And a cold…that couldn't be good news, either. Hopefully the radiation didn't have anything to do with—

Wait.

Raven stopped thinking, and instead stared ahead directly into her pale reflection in the store's window. She would not do this; wrap herself up in thoughts of matters that didn't involve her. She was letting go, not holding on—she was checking in on him, not playing the part of a empty-nest syndrome mother. Normal kids go to doctors all the time. Normal kids get sick every once in a while. Normal kids worry about final exams and homework. Normal kids meet their friends at the mall to hang out.

"Um…excuse me, Miss?"

Raven swung around to come face-to-face with a boy around her age, wearing the Spencer's® employee shirt. His hair was spiked slightly with gel, and he had various piercings in his ears and eyebrows. She blinked at him and he gave a small smile, to Raven's amusement also blushing a little. "I…er…do you need help with anything, Miss Raven? You've been hanging around outside our shop for a while now."

Raven blinked again, then suddenly came to her senses. "Right," she droned. "I apologize, I was just…looking."

Before the guy could say anything, Raven swept away. She gave one last glance at the frolicking, laughing teenagers at the fountain in front of her that had seemingly adopted Gar Logan into their midst. Raven smirked as obsidian energy surrounded her as she teleported back to the Tower, earning a couple stares from passersby. Yes, Gar's friends—if they were anything else.

Figures.