"Raven."
Robin poked his head in through the panels timidly. Numerous apologies rapidly flicked through his mind as he decided their standoff wasn't worth wrecking the team; however, when he finally arrived at the doors to the hospital ward, taking a deep breath before entering, no answer responded to his light knocks.
Now, he was awkwardly standing half way in and out of the room. Thankfully, Raven wasn't there to ridicule his strange stature.
In fact, he did not see the gloomy Empath anywhere.
Taking this as a welcome sign to enter, he plunged his feet in, lightly tip-toeing, eyes peeled for anything.
Unfortunately, this also came back to bite him when his gaze finally found her.
Standing, half naked, on a stool and trying to shift her glance as her back remained turned to the mirror, Robin didn't know what surprised him more.
The fact he actually found himself longing to keep staring without her notice,
Or
That the hated tattoo was somehow spreading across her skin.
Once again, he found himself in quite the predicament.
His mouth opened and a tiny, infinitesimal sound escaped as he first saw the mark and its nefarious expansion, even though he knew that any gasp or peep out of him would of course alert her to his presence.
It did, and slowly, like a train wreck, her hardened stare was not set upon her reflection, but now turned to him.
If this was a fight, he would have ducked and rolled for the fire in her eyes was quickly approaching, threatening to disintegrate.
She was heavily considering it.
"Robin…" she growled with more malice than a bloodthirsty wolf as she immediately covered herself. "Get. Out."
Any other day, any other time, he would have obeyed without protest.
Idiotically, he remained standing right in her warpath, the shock of the moment rooting him into the ground.
Face collapsed into a snarl of infinite anger, she charged. First tying her gown tightly back, she then snapped her elegant fingers at him.
Without any muscle flex, he moved, thrown aside by her anger and black energy. It engulfed his chest and moments later he was back in the hallway. Only this time he was flat on his back, the door shut firmly in front of him.
"Sorry," he mumbled inaudibly before pushing himself up and sauntering back the way he came, apologizing for any earlier event whisked clear out of his brain.
Hearing his light footsteps clunk away, she sagged down against the door, sighing in harsh relief.
Who did he think he was? She thought as her face returned to its normal monotone. Coming in and… she breathed in. Watching…What a prick!
Crossing her arms as she sat on the frigid tile, she glanced around the room in a huff. The ward, the constant watch of her teammates, and the irritating mark were corroding her patience, making it nearly impossible for her to stand the sight of them.
She needed a break. Robin had suggested it, and maybe he was right. Even though at that moment she wanted to shoot and stuff the pigeon boy, he did give…tolerable advice.
Rubbing her temples and unclenching her stiff jaw, she ran through some ideas. Meditating or anything magical seemed to be out of the question, now that Slade was making a playground out of her mind.
Peering at the window suddenly, she raised a brow as the sunlight streamed blissfully in.
Would they mind if I stepped out for a while?
Musing over the new idea, it was out of the question, but so tempting. Crammed in this room all day, no news, no tea, no friends, although the latter may have been for the best, she shuddered as she contemplated that Beast Boy could have easily been the peeping Thomas.
Her edgier side screamed for her to ditch them all, they had made her soft by keeping her cooped up for so long. Hours crept slowly, but the days blurred into one another. Fresh air would do her good.
Timidity patiently sighed for her to remain and stay until everything was figured out. Besides, sunshine was overrated.
Tugging on her lip with her front teeth, she peered around expecting someone to surprise her again.
Finally, the warring in her head ceased, and a green cloak of belligerence emerged victorious, not surprisingly.
5 minutes and I'll come straight back.
Quickly snatching her normal clothes from the back of a chair, she changed, and without any regrets, flung open the glaring glass panel and jumped.
The breeze of a summer day greeted her skin, and she closed her eyes in bliss. Blue cloth swirling around her body, she spread her black-as-night wings and skated across the sky.
Deep down she was really a free soul, one that always needed to explode out of her monotone shell at some point or another. She only wished the urge to be unchained came at a better time, one that was not so bleak and terrifying.
Like it or not, Slade was the personification of a nightmare. Where he treaded, doom followed. Always leaving a scar, even if it wasn't on her back- like a carbon footprint, it spread and corrupted, fouled every pure and righteous thing in its path.
Now, it was threatening to dissolve her, disintegrate everything that made her stereotypically "good". After all, who would be the easiest to taint? Who was already born with bad intentions?
The simplicity of this epiphany was lost on her carefree mind at the time, all she knew and felt was the warm wind flicking her hair in front of her face and pulling it back like the tides under a full moon.
"Raven?" a familiar voice called through the shut panels. "Look, I'm sorry…"
Robin knocked as light as he could, wondering if the hours she had spent in her room had let her cool down and regroup. Guilt and embarrassment brought out the red in his pale cheeks; he tapped the steel door again.
No response sounded, and his anxiety began to rise in his stomach. Was she asleep?
He began to turn away, poking an angry bear once was bad enough, he wasn't sure if he could handle tempting the fates by jabbing her again.
One step and he instead whirled around; stifling the voice of reason down and yanking open the pane decisively. The boy never did learn when to let a problem sit.
"Ok, look, I just wanted to sa-" he began again, but was cut off by anger, confusion, and ultimately apprehension collapsing the walls in his throat.
Gone.
She was gone. The bed was empty, the bathroom teasingly silent, and the curtain that hung above the window was fluttering suspiciously in a simple, summer draft.