3

"They have donuts? Why didn't anyone tell me they had donuts?"

Robin sighed and stepped to one side to allow Beast Boy to beeline for the boxes of Dunkin's, trusting (perhaps unwisely) that the shapeshifter's common sense would keep him from making a pig of himself. Cyborg followed in short order, which left Robin with the ladies, who definitely needed... tending to, in this environment. People were starting to calm down, at least; the interior sheltered the team from direct view, encouraging people to go out about their business. And the service looked near ready to start. With a consistency fit for migrating herds, people were flowing through the hallways towards the enormous main foyer. He was about ready to pull the other boys from their gorging when he saw the coffee next to the donuts, and allowed himself a brief delay to grab a nice black cup, sighing as he sipped down the scalding beverage.

A slightly wrinkled man with a broad frame, one of the few people in a formal outfit like Robin himself, walked up with an air of business-like friendliness. "Excuse me, would you be the Titans?"

"That's us," Robin replied, stepping forward to shake his hand.

"I'm a greeter here. The Pastor thought you guys might like someone to help you to your seats. And, ah, ward off the overly enthusiastic fans," he added with a laugh.

Robin had meant to laugh too, just to be polite, he really had. But all he could manage in the discomfort of this building, so much the antithesis of the uncompromisingly analytical lens he saw the world through, was a polite smile. He hated being here. He hated the coffee and the donuts. He hated the soft, meek tan carpet, the gentle lighting that put people at ease, the pastel flowers and vines on the egg-white walls. All traps. And he would probably hate the service even more, but it was his job to pretend otherwise, so he kept the smile up.

He got the team back together and they politely followed their greeter guide in a swaying, uneven line as the man cheerfully but firmly kept the remaining few pestering fans at a polite distance. The foyer's sheer space engulfed them, making Robin's teeth tighten against each other. It was all cheap psychological manipulation, meant to impress upon people the grandeur and majesty of a figment of their imaginations. Bah! Who could believe in a God that let monsters like the Joker and Slade run loose, causing havoc and harming innocent people? There wasn't a God, of course. It was so obvious. The fact that there wasn't was why the world needed heroes. Robin had no idea why everyone else didn't see this incredibly simple and blatant fact.

Other than Beast Boy grinning and waving a little too long at a few girls in skirts, there were no real problems on the way through the main worship room. Even Cyborg didn't make a sound with his feet as they all plodded through the extra-thick carpet, but he grinned and bobbed his head and looked almost like he was at home, if a home he hadn't visited in a long while. Raven, meanwhile, more or less shrunk into herself, eyes settling on the black and brown horizontal grain of the wooden pews, on the bronze light fixtures, on anything except the people who were now trying to stare, point and whisper without being too obvious and doing a bad job of it. Raven wasn't the one Robin was worried about, though. He knew she would behave unless seriously provoked, and the sheep would follow the shepherd when it came to a lack of Satanic-slash-gothic-slash-vampire-New Age-slash-whatever accusations. Starfire was the true wild card, lacking even Beast Boy's basic understanding of How To Behave In Church. She appeared to be getting along so far by imitating those around her with an extra layer of her natural bubbly amiability, though, which he saw with relief was so far working just fine. No one was worshiping her yet. There were a lot more points in her direction, and a lot more eyes directed at her, but things weren't going crazy. And that was really all Robin wanted out of religious people. For them to not be crazy. It was a simple enough wish, but one he still felt scared to hope for.

They were, indeed, right in the front, in their very own aisle roped off by red velvet. Of course, the pulpit was substantially elevated. All the better for the preacher to look down on his congregation, Robin thought to himself sourly, his face still a a second mildly friendly mask behind the first one. But this was no time to be basting in his own resentments. No, he had to keep an eye out for Ashton. Surveying the pews behind them under the pretense of taking in the architecture, he saw that the woman was nowhere to be seen on the ground level. That was probably for the best. An encounter was probably inevitable, but delaying it until after the service when people would be busy going home would be best. The balcony level harder to make out, but there weren't many of the sorts of dresses Ms. Ashton seemed to prefer as far as he could tell. He held back from getting out his binoculars, as much as he wanted to. Too conspicuous. On the other hand, perhaps Cyborg could zoom in without being noticed...

"Cyborg," he murmured quietly, trying to lean over Beast Boy. "Try to maintain proper posture, will you?" he added at Beast Boy, who had sighed irritably and sunk down like a spineless thing.

"Well, I can't do that if you're leaning over me," he snapped back.

The service was about to start! There wasn't much time now! "Sorry, sorry, just... Cy, can you use your-" No, it was too late, he'd just have to assume Ashton wasn't up there. "Forget it, actually." He sat back and tried to look calm again while the other two stared at him briefly, then shrugged.

The seats were, though he hated to admit it, very comfortable. A lot better than the usual pews. Even the backs were padded. Of course, all that meant, he reminded himself, was that Second Independent had done a good job taking money from people by means of emotional manipulation. At least some of that money was going into practical things to make people relaxed, though, instead of being entirely wasted on the needlessly overblown architecture. As the service began, Robin had his suspicions confirmed that Whittaker was indeed barely much older than he himself! Brown-eyed, blond, and annoyingly friendly. Probably just out of college. He wondered how the man had managed to get such a high position in a church this successful. But then, churches were largely ruled by social favors. Likely Whittaker knew someone or was related to someone. For an opener, the congregation was asked to sing along from the printed service handouts. Initially Robin just wondered how much donation money it cost to print the things out every week, but then he realized with panic that they'd walked right by the stacks of handouts coming in and hadn't gotten any! Of course they had, the man had been leading them, why hadn't he given them handouts? Now they would look disrespectful for not singing the stupid...

Oh, wait, there were handouts in their pew. He'd been sitting on his. He let out a sigh of relief and opened it up, blinking when he saw it was customized, with his name printed on it and little (intended to be) mildly humorous footnotes addressed to him personally. The pastor really was pulling out all the stops to win them over, huh. He wasn't falling for it, though! His parents were dead, there was no God, end of story.

The opening hymn was mercifully short. It wasn't one that Robin was familiar with, but that didn't mean much as he barely knew any. It was very generic, all about peace and fellowship under a loving God. Yeah, Robin knew that was how it all started. And then later on came the 'God wants you to picket homosexuals' funerals and bomb abortion clinics' stuff. His biggest worry was that Starfire would have disregarded his very specific instructions on moderating her tone and volume during the singing, but she was very well-behaved, even subdued, while her smile remained as bright and beautiful as ever. He wondered, not for the first time, why it was that he found the curves of her body so much more enticing in that modest puritan dress when he'd seen her in far, far less on a regular basis for years. Raven was, of course, barely audible. Beast Boy, apparently, had decided that enthusiasm even in a religious song was better than singing with boredom, so his unskilled but cheery voice had a clear presence that made Robin proud despite himself. And of course Cyborg was the star of the show, as it were, apparently familiar with the hymn itself as well as having not only the enthusiasm for it, but the innate bare modicum of talent and the sense of appropriate word stresses and pauses to really do the song justice. One verse, and then they were seated again.

He forced himself to really listen through the initial announcements and news, but it was all a dull waste. Just mentions of donation milestones for missionary groups, of church supper night, of schedules for minor charitable activities. There was, very noticeably, absolutely zero comment on the Titans or Ms. Ashton's newfound ambitions. The complete lack of attention was so conspicuous that during this segment of the service Robin noticed more than a few people looking pointedly in their direction and murmuring to their seatmates, and he couldn't blame them. It was obvious the pastor wanted them to feel at home, and was doing that by trying to make them as comfortable as possible. Even Whittaker's brown eyes kept moving normally instead of focusing on the Titans. Robin considered himself a fairly adept reader of expressions, and he was impressed with Whittaker's self-control. It might have been any other service on any other day with any other congregation, except for the special printouts. Starfire was particularly attentive, and that was probably unavoidable, but still, he worried that she would be impressionable to the manipulative ways of the church. On the other hand, she apparently already had her own religion (was that why she had all those weird holidays, or were they separate things? He made a mental note to ask her), and hopefully wasn't in danger of converting.

A few more, irritatingly longer songs. There wasn't much surveying he could do during them without drawing attention, and Beast Boy quickly grew impatient with anything that had significant repetition. Which was basically every hymn ever. So Robin was very grateful when the time came for the sermon. Beast Boy could go to freaking sleep if he wanted, the only one who'd know would be Whittaker. Sitting at front had advantages after all.

"And now I'd like to talk a bit today about what makes a hero," Whittaker opened up, and Robin stiffened as the proverbial hammer dropped down, the multiplied cloth rustle of practically the entire congregation sitting up and paying extra-close attention loud in his ears. So this was it. There went all the inconspicuousness. Whittaker was going to turn the Titans into his own personal message, wasn't he? Robin could only hope it wasn't something that the Titans would have to officially object to. There was going to be enough of an unavoidable scene with Ashton as it was.

The introductory ramble was predictable enough. Pointing out the ills of the media for giving people false impressions of heroism, and the tendency of people to value flash and style over substance and results. After ten minutes of that, though, Whittaker launched into the meat of his message with enthusiastic hand gestures and very little looking down at notes. That was when thinks got moderately interesting for the four out of five Titans with the attention spans to actually pay attention (Robin forgave Beast Boy, who was still awake and at least pretending to listen, which was frankly better than Robin had expected of the changeling).

"But we were each made the way we were for a reason, and each given gifts to help make the world a better place. James says that every good gift comes from above, and he's not just talking about the really special, interesting ones we'd all love to have! We can't all be rich. We can't all be famous. We can't all be what we want to be or do what we want to do. But we can all be who we were MEANT to be, and do what we were MEANT to do. If you can learn second languages easily, you have an incredible gift, the gift of communicating with people around the world. If you're patient with children and enjoy their company, then you have the gift of helping them grow up, of forming their little lives into happy and productive ones. Even if your gift is just the ability to care and do your best at wherever you're at, it's still a gift. Are you working computer tech support? Pretty miserable job, isn't it? People call you only when they're angry and frustrated. But you have the power to make their lives a little better, and maybe even the power to save money and precious information, just by doing your best at your job and helping people out without getting mad right back at them. Yes, God gave us the apostles and the prophets, but he also gave us those who speak in second tongues, those who teach, and those who use their time for the benefit of others."

"If I had to sum it up, I'd put it like this: as long as we're doing what God meant us to do, we're each heroes in our own way. 'Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who empowers them all in everyone.' And on that note, I'd like to close us in a few minutes of prayer."

Robin kept his eyes open just long enough to make sure the girls and Beast Boy were behaving appropriately. Although, since it was a prayer, he supposed there was no harm in them messing up with everyone else's eyes closed. Nonetheless each Titan bowed his or her head in imitation of those around them, and shut their eyes. Robin did so last, sighing in relief. He didn't listen to the ritualized words, considering them utterly meaningless and probably just a recap of the sermon in brief anyway. The formulaic part was almost over. Now that they'd given in to Star's whims, they could get to the real meat of the mission, and find a place to chat with Ms. Ashton in private. Perhaps Whittaker could help with that, if he had a spare moment. Whittaker didn't look like the kind of person who'd be too busy to provide assistance, but Robin didn't want to have to draw attention, either. Perhaps he should just have everyone split up and mingle for a while till they spotted the woman...

No need for plans at the moment, actually. As the service was breaking up with the generic bustling and murmuring of the well-behaved crowd, Whittaker was stepping off the platform to approach them, one hand stretched out. Robin stood up and shook.

"Thank you for being here today. I know these may not be the circumstances either of us would have asked for, but I can't help but feeling it a blessing from the Lord anyway."

Robin's grin went a bit snarl-ish before he managed to tame it back from its ricture of distaste. "Thank you for having us. The individualized printouts were a nice touch. Do you have a place we could speak privately for a second? We won't take much of your time."

"Sure thing! Right this way." Whittaker hooked a thumb over to a small, well-concealed door to one side of the platform, and the Titans followed.

There weren't enough chairs in Whittaker's small, knickknack-cluttered office for all of them, so they all stood, Whittaker leaning against his desk casually.

"So, about Ms. Ashton..."

"I'd just like to start out by saying, I'd stop her if I could. I know this has got to be a lot of trouble for you kids. But it's really out of my hands."

Robin raised an eyebrow. "She has more influence than you in the congregation?"

"Well... not exactly. It's more like an even split," Whittaker explained with a wry smile. "She's very involved with the suppers and soup kitchen work, and she's been working alongside many of the older members for many years now. I've only been pastor for a year and a half, and right now I'm considered a bit too liberal for the more conservative members. I was lucky to get the position, honestly. A lot of the younger members are with me on most issues, but I can't push around the more, err, seasoned folks." Starfire wrinkled her brow, opened her mouth, then closed it with a little smiling blush as Cyborg hastily whispered an explanation of the turn of phrase into her ear. "I don't think Elizabeth will have the clout to make a truly independent, long-lasting church. But she might make a pretty big wave for a while. A fad, if we can so demean it by calling it that. Err, I AM assuming that miss Starfire is not an angel, of course. Apologies if I'm mistaken." The friendly grin he directed towards the Tamaranian made Robin's fingers twitch with the held back desire to strangle. That man had BETTER not be flirting with her!

"I do not believe this is the case," Starfire replied humbly with a return smile. "Inquiries with Cyborg and the Wikipedia have indicated that the angel is a being defined primarily as being a messenger from your God. While I may not be from this wonderful planet, I do not believe I have been sent by your God or been directed by Him any more than any other person."

"I thought so," Whittaker said back with a chuckle. "Maybe you'll have a little more luck speaking with Ms. Ashton directly, if you feel up to it."

"Absolutely. No offense, but we need to nip this in the bud, pastor," Robin said firmly.

"Alright, then! Elizabeth helps with the nurseries during this service. I'll take you to them and you guys can talk it all out once the babies are finished being cleared out."

Starfire perked up. "Babies?"

At the same time, Raven... perked down. "Babies," she muttered. Robin was amused. He knew she'd developed an attachment to Melvin and company, but that had apparently taken some time. And she had started to get possessive of them to the point of considering all other infants slightly inferior.

Navigating the church was much easier with the pastor at the head of their little line. People were careful to get out of their way, although there were brief frequent stops for teenagers to high five and college-age members to make a variety of gestures of acknowledgment. Back to the hallways and their pastel greenery, and into a section that smelled faintly of what most nurseries smelled like - cleaning products, baby powder, unwashed baby flesh, and poo. All mingled together to create that inimitable scent of Baby. Robin grimaced, seeing Starfire clap her hands and look absolutely delighted. He REALLY hoped she wasn't getting any ideas.

Ms. Ashton was one of four ladies dressed very similarly to her, long ruffled dresses with baby blue smocks draped atop. They cooed at the babies and paid them a great deal of attention as the infants were passed one by one to patient parents awaiting their alternately squalling or giggly little ones. Relatively little attention was paid to the adults until one of the women noticed Starfire, eyes widening. Whispering went around the room like the happiest of thrown knives. Robin took a deep breath. They could handle this. It was just a few out of touch middle-aged women who'd been too impressed by brushing contact with an alien superhero. This would be resolved simply and easily.

It didn't help that he kept getting the urge to pray to a God he didn't believe in. The closest he came was visualizing the sharp white slits of Batman's gaze glaring down at him in admonishment from a red stormcloud-filled sky.

Robin paused, considering. There was no way he was going to get a genuine reaction to whatever he said from Elizabeth Ashton so long as Starfire was here. For that matter, having a bunch of people around at all was probably a bad idea. What he was going to say was harsh and therefire needed to be discreet. He should have thought of this earlier and cursed himself for the lack of planning.

"You know what, guys, I'll let you go finish up the donuts and coffee. Get to know people. I think it's best if I speak with Ms. Ashton alone."

Cyborg and Beast Boy were only too happy to oblige. The girls, however, had other ideas.

"Are you sure you want to deal with this without any backup?" Raven asked warily, while Starfire just did a suspicious little glare that made her mini eyebrows scrunch up very cutely, preventing Robin from being intimidated.

"It'll be fine." He more or less shooed them in the other direction, which was easier to do right now given that they were trying not to use their powers. Starfire could have flicked him twenty feet with a finger if she really wanted to. "Make sure Beast Boy's staying out of trouble. Star, I promise I'll explain everything on the ride home, alright?"

"Very well, Robin. If that is what you think best as our leader. But... be not unkind to her, or I will refrain from forgetting it." She walked off with her chin tilted a bit up and eyes mostly closed, always a bad sign. He was gonna pay for this later. But later would come later. Handling right now was the important thing.

Always was, Robin thought, his mask feeling heavy on his face.