Kinda fluffy. :)

Raven wasn't in the tower the next morning. Not in her room, not in the living space, and, thankfully, not in the gym. Robin found a note in his office after half an hour of worried searching that read, in Raven's spiky cursive:

Stop freaking out. Be back later this afternoon.

He smiled a little in spite of himself and tore up the note, then went to go find Cyborg for a quick consultation on their mystery tech expert. The computer repair place was innocuous enough, but the man they found there was yet another service provider to jail-break-in-guy (they'd been calling him that for lack of a better name) who was prematurely warned of their arrival. He wasn't much of a fighter, but his explosives didn't provide the most fun Robin had ever had. When Raven returned close to sunset, he was swearing under his breath as he probed what felt like a dislocated shoulder.

She came in through the door for once, her usual teleportation discarded along with her uniform. She wore a sweatshirt, torn jeans, and combat boots. She raised an eyebrow when she saw him, but he detected concern behind her sardonic expression. He grimaced in return.

"We found computer geek."

Wordlessly, Raven crossed the room and pushed his hand away from his shoulder. He winced as her fingers found the injury.

"He was working for…oh fuck."

She had pressed down on his shoulder.

"Sorry."

She gave him an almost-sympathetic glance.

"I have to pop this back in before I can heal you."

She hadn't let go, and he tilted his chin toward the ceiling as pangs shot from his shoulder to his elbow.

"Sounds peachy."

She smiled briefly.

"I'll give you a countdown. One…"

There was a nasty crunch and a moment of blinding pain, then the too-familiar relief of Raven's healing energy. Having let out a yell, Robin got his breath back.

"That was mean."

"Hurts less when it takes you by surprise."

"Yeah, but you were also having a little sadistic fun, admit it."

Raven folded her arms across her chest, having finished her work.

"I am half demon."

He rolled his shoulder and followed her into the kitchen, imitating her voice under his breath.

"I'm half-demon, I like sarcasm and playing with people's bones la de fucking da..."

She ignored him, probably justifiably, and put the kettle on the stove. Robin detected a slight tremor in her hands. He leaned against the counter, still massaging his shoulder.

"Computer guy was working for the same mysterious recruiting guy we heard about at the jail. It's kind of like he's rallying people…like, leading a political movement or something."

Raven sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't do politics."

He rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, none of us do. That's why this whole superhero schtick works out for us."

As a sharp whistle rent the air, Raven poured a steaming mug of something that smelled like roses and pine needles, offering it to him silently. He wrapped his hand around the glass and waited while she prepared her own tea and settled herself against the opposite counter.

"That's probably why we're being targeted. People don't like feeling cut off from their protectors."

Robin ran a tired hand over his forehead.

"Yeah…yeah, that makes sense. God, we're doing more harm than good these days."

He told her about the problems with the police force he had uncovered. She sipped her tea.

"Problems like that are the ones we can't fix," she paused, then added bitterly "Take down all the villains you like, you still can't stop the police from shooting people left right and center."

Robin found himself remembering a particularly vivid conversation he'd had with his adopted father one afternoon. They had just finished training, and Robin remembered turning to leave when Bruce put a hand on his shoulder and asked him what he thought the nature of evil was. I don't know…sometimes people just like to hurt other people. Bruce shook his head and sighed. If only it were that simple. The problem is, Robin, that evil exists in all of us. It's there. It's pervasive. And it's pervasive because people lie to themselves about it. They hurt the people they love most, tell themselves it was to protect them. They want power, they join the police force, they call themselves heroes. But there are no heroes. Just those of us who prevent suffering where we can. Robin had stood, digesting this. Bruce gave his shoulder a squeeze. It's a lot to take in. But if you're serious about this, if you want to help, you have to know. He had stared out the window for a moment. Even if there were heroes, they wouldn't come in the form of gun-carrying police officers.

"Bruce said something like that once."

Raven led the way to the couch, and he couldn't help but notice the way she sank into it as though exhausted by standing.

"Smart guy."

"He is, yeah."

He sighed as he placed his cup on the table in front of him.

"I just don't know how to deal with this one. It's never been this way before, it's always been cut and dry. Us versus them. Now it's like us versus propaganda."

"You'll figure it out. If all else fails, we know whoever this is will attack eventually."

Robin frowned, playing out strategy in his head. He hated waiting for someone else to attack him. It almost always put you at a disadvantage; you never knew what to expect from your enemy when the element of surprise was one of their tactics. Shaking his head, he glanced sideways at Raven, who was staring blankly into her mug.

"How was your day?"

She smiled tiredly.

"Not as exciting as yours."

He eyed her expression, her weary body language, her slightly bloodshot eyes.

"But clearly eventful."

She nodded, but refused to meet his eyes, staring instead into middle distance where the sun was setting over the waters that separated them from the rest of the city.

"I went to a therapist…like you asked."

Robin sometimes treated Raven as he would a shy animal or some sort of bird. No sudden movements, not even conversational ones. It annoyed him to no end sometimes, but it was usually the best approach to take with someone who had an almost pathological fear of talking about her feelings. Said fear probably made therapy a not-ideal situation for her, which explained a lot about her demeanor just now.

"Oh."

She laughed, but the sound had a biting quality.

"Yeah. Oh."

By instinct, Robin kept the tone light, putting his feet up on the table.

"Did you talk about your childhood? They always ask about your childhood."

She shot him a familiar faux-irritated glance at his mocking tone, but didn't join him in his sarcasm.

"You speak from experience."

He grimaced, but good-naturedly.

"I'm an orphan. The foster care system doesn't just let you traipse around without some serious counseling. First there are grief counselors, then trauma counselors, then psychologists, psychiatrists, the works."

Raven smiled a little.

"Sounds like a party."

"Oh, it was. Trust me, nothing like sterile rooms and expensive knick knacks to improve spiritual well-being."

"Mmmm. I wondered about the knick-knacks. This guy seems to have a thing for globes."

He drained the last of his tea and put the mug on the table, where it clicked hollowly.

"Globes aside, was he okay? Or did I just give you some really bad advice?"

She ran a hand through her hair, still refusing to look directly at him.

"He was fine. I, clearly, am not."

"Ah."

"I believe his exact words were 'Well, Raven, it seems we have some work to do'"

He made a sympathetic face, trying to read her expression without being blindingly obvious. He didn't quite succeed, but Raven didn't seem to take offense. Instead, she blinked slowly at him and stood up.

"I'll be all right. If this is going to be a weekly thing, I might as well get used to it now."

She left the room, again without her usual hovering.

"Good night, Robin."

"Yeah," he muttered "Good night."

Thanks so much for the recent in-depth reviews! I'm so glad you guys find the characters believable; I work really hard at that. xxxx times infinity.