Raven was frustrated. The writing wasn't resolving itself into a recognizable message, and she'd been working on it for nearly two months. She was beginning to think that its resemblance to Ancient Sumerian was more distant than she thought, or possibly even completely coincidental.

She placed the printouts onto the small table and rubbed her eyes, feeling a small headache begin. She glanced at the other occupant in the room and said, "I suppose it could be worse."

There was no answer. Just steady breathing. A knock upon the door sounded.

Raven sighed and flipped the hood of her sweatshirt up, concealing her identity. "Come in," she called.

A doctor entered the room looking at a clipboard and spared a glance towards the young woman sitting in the room's only chair. "Ah, Mrs. Roth. Have you noticed any change?"

She shook her head and responded, "No. He seems to still be unresponsive, and he has not woken."

The doctor nodded sympathetically as he examined the man laying recumbent in the hospital bed and said, "It may take time for your husband to awaken. Please, have faith."

A single, smooth nod was her only response. In a way, the doctor was rather impressed with the stoicism exhibited. In another, he was worried that she may not be handling this situation in a healthy manner. With another glance at the clipboard, the doctor jotted something down and then stood. "Well Mrs. Roth, I'm sure I'll see you again."

"Indeed."

The door closed.

Raven sighed and looked again towards the young man in the hospital bed. She seemed to sigh often these days. Pulling her hood down, she approached the patient and placed her hands upon either side of his head. After a moment they began to glow with an azure light, but no matter how she focused she could not affect him with her healing abilities. Looking down at the face below, she couldn't help but ask...

"Who are you, Jon...?"

The sun was warm on my face, but the rest of me was cold. My eyes wouldn't open, but I heard someone breathing nearby. Every now and again there was the sound of rustling paper, difficult to hear overlaid as it was by a persistent and regular beeping. A smell in the air caught my attention, a crisp antiseptic smell that barely covered an underlying stench of human illness.

A hospital.

I struggled to move, but my muscles were mutinous and refused to obey. The beeping increased in frequency as I bent my will upon movement. Just one muscle twitch, the smallest joint on my right hand for example, would suffice. Once one bowed to my will, I figured, the rest would fall in line. The beeping increased further, echoing my heart rate as I finally managed to slowly and stiffly move my hand. A gasp came from my right, and I suddenly felt my cold hand engulfed in warmth.

"Jon? Jon can you hear me?" The voice was distantly familiar, but my mind was sluggish and I couldn't attach a face or name to it. I tried to squeeze my hand, but I couldn't tell if I'd succeeded. There was a clicking sound, and then a quiet chime. I continued to pull myself from the depths of unconsciousness, each inch a victory, every stair song worthy. There were questions being asked of me, but I didn't recognize the voice and ignored them. Somehow, I knew that attaining consciousness was the most important goal for me. Again that familiar voice spoke, and I paused despite myself.

"Jon, squeeze once for yes and twice for no. Understand?"

I squeezed once, and then continued to rise to the top. It was similar in sensation to kicking up from the bottom of a deep pond. It was terribly dark, cold, and quiet at the bottom, and there was almost no way to know which way you were going. The farther up you kicked the more tired you became, but everything was warmer, clearer, brighter, and you knew that if you could just get to the top you'd have air and everything would be alright. If you didn't make it, however, then you'd slip back into the depths.

Ignoring the voices as they spoke, I kicked hard for the surface. I could see the sunlight against my eyelids, feel the stiff sheets against my back, and note the flatness of the pillow below my head. With a deep shuddering gasp, my eyes flew open and my arms tried to rise. They refused to cooperate, however, and merely flopped a bit. With my lungs full of air, I managed to cough out a word that was equal parts confusion, concern, hope, and anguish.

"Rachel?"

"I'm here, Jon. How are you feeling?" Raven was sensing a wealth of emotions, somewhat overpowering after the time spent in his company when he was unconscious.

Jon's eyes roamed around the room, surprisingly alert for someone that had just woken from a coma. His voice was raspy and his first attempt at speech produced only a dry, wheezing cough. After accepting a sip of water from the doctor, he responded "Like I didn't just get shot."

Small chuckles filled the room.

The other person in the room spoke up. "Jon, my name is Dr. Randal White. I'm going to ask you a few questions, alright."

An answering nod was accompanied by, "Certainly, Healer. Forgive me if I don't show the proper respect."

At Dr. White's questioning glance Raven replied, "He's... not from around here."

Nodding to indicate understanding, Dr. White turned back to Jon. "What is your name?"

"Jon Roth."

It was only through habit and willpower that Raven did not visibly react. Dr. White continued with, "In what year were you born?"

Jon frowned a bit and his brow furrowed in thought. "I'm... not sure. Somewhere around the mid-eighties, maybe." He looked towards the doctor apologetically. "My tribe doesn't use the same calendar as you, and I'm not feeling up to working out the conversion." The more time he spent alert, the more control he seemed to gain over his body. He started inching his way into a more upright position, and was assisted by Raven. He shot her a look of thanks.

"What's the last thing that you remember?"

"You mean prior to this line of questioning?" A nod. "I remember getting shot rather clearly. Everything else seems to be a bit dark after that." A pause, and then, "When may I go home?"

Dr. White smiled in an understanding fashion. "We're going to have to keep you here for a bit to make sure that you won't lapse back into a comatose state. We also need to evaluate you to see how much damage has been done and whether we need to rehabilitate you. It could take awhile."

"I see. Do you mind if I have a moment with my wife, Healer?"

An absolutely huge grin covered the doctor's face. "Not at all. I must say that you seem remarkably alert, and I'm sure that you'll have a swift and full recovery." He then gathered his things and left the room.

Raven turned to look at Jon, but Jon kept looking at the bed. "How are you really feeling?" she asked.

"Honestly? More than a bit tired and incredibly stiff." A yawn revealed the truth of those words. "Can I ask you a question though?"

"As long as there are no guarantees that I'll have to answer it."

A dip of the head indicated acceptance of these terms. Gesturing towards the bed, Jon asked "When did we get married?"

Raven followed the gesture and saw that she was still holding Jon's hand. Unsuccessfully fighting a blush, Raven tried to discretely remove her hand from Jon's weak grip. He couldn't help but grin at her before his expression drew grim. "I really must get back home as soon as possible."

She looked at him flatly. "You just woke up from a month-long coma after being shot five times. You only started breathing on your own last week. You heard what the doctor said, you need to be here for them to evaluate you."

Beginning to look somewhat panicked, Jon said "A month? I've been here for a month?" He began to get out of bed, throwing the covers off and lowering the bar on the side before being forcedly halted by Raven.

"You can't," she said firmly. "Why is it such a big deal, anyway?"

Jon cursed his weakened state. He had a good nine inches on the girl and probably outweighed her by at least eighty pounds, but enforced slothfulness did not do a body good. "I have an... experiment that I left running that... requires attention. I must get back there."

Raven scoffed. "There were no experiments when I was there."

"Well, you may not have recogni-" Jon paused as the meaning to her words filtered through. He was becoming weary, and his mind was slowing despite his best efforts. Stifling a yawn and fighting against the darkness at the edge of his vision, he asked "Why were you at my home?"

Suddenly Raven had difficulty meeting his eyes. Her gaze darted across the room, resting briefly upon the EKG machine, the rail holding the privacy curtain, the printouts of the symbols she had been trying to translate, and anything else to avoid looking directly at the man in the hospital bed. "I needed to find more information about you. See if you were taking any medications, were allergic to anything... see if you had a record of your full name..." she trailed off. It wasn't often that Raven felt guilty, but she had invaded his privacy in a very thorough manner.

"Makes sense. Thanks, by the way." Jon started to slide himself back down to a more supine position. Raven assisted, which earned her a thankful look. When he was positioned more comfortably, he said "My full name is Jon. My tribe doesn't use family names, although 'Roth' does sound very nice. Your family name?" A hesitant nod. "Rachel Roth... it suits you. I'm still a bit confused about why we're married..."

Raven gave a shadow of a smirk. "The hospital thinks we're married because they would only let immediate family and your spouse visit you. You also needed someone to be able to make some medical decisions for you while you were out of it, and as I know a thing or two about healing..." She frowned a bit. "How did you know that your last name was supposed to be Roth? And how did you know that I was impersonating your wife?"

A lazy grin appeared beneath tired eyes. "I saw the name on the chart in the reflection of Healer White's glasses. As for the marriage thing..." a yawn interrupted before he finished in a mumble, "... I guessed."

Raven quirked an eyebrow. "Clever," she acknowledged.

Jon gave a twitch of his head that may have been a nod, but he was already mostly asleep. He managed to slip out one more comment before the waters closed over his mind, however. "Good night, darling."

A fluorescent light tube shattered on the other side of the room, but Jon was too deep into sleep to notice. Raven just blushed hard and grumbled, "You'd better sleep you smart-ass son of a ..."

By the time someone came in to investigate the noise, she was already re-centered and back to deciphering the printouts.

I'm not sure how much time had passed while I was sleeping, but the room was dark and the window showed stars and a sliver of moon. Rachel wasn't anywhere in evidence, but that wasn't too surprising. Visiting hours were likely over, and there was only kindness and perhaps a feeling of guilty obligation tying her to me in the first place. Gazing about the room, I took note of the bags hooked to tubes that disappeared into my arm. Probably to keep me from dehydrating and starving. Shifting about a bit caused a strange sensation in my lower body, and I realized with a vague sort of horror that I was probably hooked to a urine catheter. Likely, I was too out of it last time I woke to notice. Upon reflection, I considered myself lucky that I didn't accidentally tear it out in my aborted dash for freedom.

Finally my wandering eyes found the call button, and with a grunt of mild effort and a bit of stretching I managed to press it. A soft chime sounded, probably from outside the door. After a few moments a woman arrived carrying the ubiquitous clipboard. "Mr. Roth," she said as she noted something on the clipboard. "Awake again I see. That's excellent."

"Thank you, Healer, but please call me Jon." My voice sounded dusty and disused. "Is there any chance I could get some water?"

Dear God, I would never consider water to be a boring beverage ever again. I could practically smell it in the pipes as it was being poured, nearly taste its humidity on the air. I felt my glands attempt to produce saliva, but they seemingly weren't up to the task quite yet. And when those first drops rained upon my parched tongue it was as though a flight of angels had descended to sing songs of glory and praise.

Water. Thank God.

After clearing my throat and mouth of dust, I turned to the woman that was patiently waiting. "How long was I out this time, Healer?" She cocked an eyebrow up, but consulted the chart and replied, "Only twelve hours this time. Far better than the month-long nap you last took."

I couldn't help but grin wryly. "Yep, I'm a regular Rip Van Winkle." I gave her my most endearing and pathetic look. "Is there any chance I could get some food? I feel like I haven't eaten in weeks..."

Thus began my recovery.

For a week or so, I was treated to the finest physical therapy Jump City had to offer. I was finally able to walk with the assistance of a cane, and the therapist warned me that I may never be able to walk without it. Since I knew a bit of healing magic I wasn't too concerned.

Also during this time Rachel continued to visit. She tended to show at the beginning of the visiting hours and stayed throughout, usually working on something that I assumed to be schoolwork. Occasionally her phone would ring and she'd disappear for a bit, but by and large she just seemed to be there to keep me company. I was a bit concerned for her schooling and asked if she was missing school to visit me, but she simply turned the corners of her mouth up in a vague smile and said not to worry about it.

At some point or another Rachel informed me that she had taken the liberty of removing the books from my efficiency. She said that she was storing them at her place, and that they would likely be safer there than at mine. I grudgingly agreed. If she knew enough about the books to realize that they would be a target of sorts than she likely knew enough about them to either keep them closed or handle them appropriately. With my tenure at the hospital dragging on, it was also extremely likely that my wards had failed. The only security my place had aside from the wards was a broken lock, and I was further assured that her home had a state-of-the-art alarm system.

That the both of us were dancing around the fact that we were mages didn't exactly surprise me. The tradition of my people kept me from informing anyone that didn't already know about magic of the fact, and it was my understanding that other mages followed a similar protocol. Of course, this made it extremely awkward when two mages met and suspected that the other practiced the arts magica, since neither could come out and say it. It made for some amusing lingual gymnastics.

Finally the day came when I could check out of the hospital. Rachel had brought me a change of clothes, and I was more than happy to slip on something that was disconcertingly less familiar than a hospital gown. The strangeness began when I was going through the check-out procedures and noticed that they had yet to speak of payment.

The counter ran at a height about level with the bottom of my ribcage. The woman behind said counter was looking over my paperwork and told me that I was good to go when the proverbial light-bulb went off in my skull.

"I'm afraid that we're forgetting something," I said genially. "I'm not sure exactly how much a hospital visit costs, but I'm certain that it's more than nothing."

She just shook her head and began to speak with a big smile. "No need to worry Mr. Roth. Your bill is being paid for by-" her voice cut off as she looked over my shoulder, and her eyes widened. I snapped my head around to look over my shoulder, just catching the tail end of Rachel putting her hood back up. She raised an eyebrow at me as the woman behind the desk continued speaking. "-by an... anonymous benefactor!" It was my turn to raise an eyebrow as I turned towards the woman once more. "I'm afraid I must insist. Despite appearances, I am very much able to pay for my own care."

It was immediately apparent that I had inadvertently placed her in a difficult position. She kept trying to give me runaround, citing patently fabricated hospital policies and so on until I finally stopped her with a raised hand. "Could you at least," I said, "tell me how much this benefactor payed for my care?" After a few more looks and words, she did. A week later, Jump City General Hospital received an anonymous donation in the exact amount she had cited.

I try to pay back kindness offered me whenever feasible.

As Rachel and I exited the building, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness. She had been exceedingly kind and, if my suspicions were correct, exceedingly altruistic. Still, I knew that such actions could result from simple guilt, and she'd have more than ample reason to feel such. My next set of actions, however, banked on the supposition that she harboured some genuine interest in me, if not outright affection.

It was strange. I had been pondering this moment in the lonely hours of night for several days. I had not yet forgotten the yearning I felt upon our initial meeting, the feeling that she was shade in life's metaphorical desert. Yet, at this moment of truth I felt unaccountably nervous. I who had healed a centuries-old division between sister tribes, unlocked the deepest secrets of magic, and befriended goddesses... was nervous. It was laughable. It was pitiable. It was... really very human. Despite all else, I still had less than a quarter-century under my belt. Besides, wasn't my duty to gather knowledge and experience? This was certainly an experience, and I was certainly learning a lot. For example, I was learning that I was a coward, and that my mind had a tendency towards blathering like an idiot to avoid confrontation.

This would not be a story I would be proud to tell my tribe if I didn't take some sort of action.

"Rachel," I said, and although my heart was jumping and my thoughts were trembling my voice held to its training and spoke smoothly. Thank God for small favours.

She simply turned to look at me, an ephemeral look of curiosity writ upon her face.

Best to get this over with quickly. Less chance to bungle it up that way. "Would you care to accompany me for dinner this evening?"

There was nothing ephemeral about the look of shock on her face.

Raven looked towards her companion with naked shock. "Well," she thought to herself, "at least that explains the nervousness..."

"W-where did you have in mind?" she asked with only half a mind towards the answer. The other half was desperately attempting to reign in her emotions. Happy in particular was probably doing back flips.

Jon looked at her with a kind of chagrined expression on his face. "I didn't really have anyplace in mind. I was only here for a couple weeks before being hospitalized and didn't exactly get out much during that time. I was too busy setting up my alarm system. I figured we could go somewhere of your choosing." It was interesting to note the dichotomy between the emotions he was projecting and the emotions he was expressing. By his facial expressions and vocal tone he seemed calm if a bit off-balance. Her empathic senses, however, were reeling with waves of nerves, hope, and... was that affection?

"Allow me a moment?" she asked.

"Of course."

She thought a moment, trying to isolate that strange feeling. It wasn't as though she had never sensed affection before. Indeed the Titans were often awash with such feelings, but this was a different flavour of affection, similar to that which she read off of Robin when he was... near... Starfire...

Oh. That was... not exactly surprising, but still rather unexpected. Furthermore, there was a not insubstantial amount of interest that she reciprocated with, but...

"You don't even know who I am."

"Allow me to find out," Jon replied. Raven looked up in surprise. Either he could read minds or, more likely, she had mistakenly spoken that last aloud. "Over dinner?" he suggested with a small grin.

"I can't do this. I'll just tell him that I can't and make sure that his books get returned to him," she thought to herself. Looking up, she caught his eyes and found her mouth replying without input from her brain.

"How about Arabian?"

The more time I spent with Rachel the more I was convinced that I'd somehow missed something.

Occasionally when we were about, people would turn towards her and start to speak, only to pause as if uncertain. In the corner of my eyes I saw several people following our progress, looks of bemusement mixed with the intermittent flicker of awe and then doubt. It was stunningly akin to the looks people flashed celebrities when they were encountered in the local drug store. You were fairly certain that they were who you thought they were, but they weren't exactly dressed like they usually dressed, and normal people don't meet celebrities at their local five and dime. Rather than embarrass yourself, you keep quiet because, "No, it couldn't be... can it? Nah..."

With every hobbling step I became more convinced that Rachel was somebody of some importance, possibly a wealthy individual of some local renown, or the daughter of somebody of the same description. If so, she seemed remarkably down to earth. After a time I could no longer resist, and said in an aside to her, "Are you going incognito? Because it only seems to be half working."

I was treated to a sideways glance and a wry, mumbled reply. "How could you tell? And it's working well enough." I wasn't sure what Rachel normally wore, but her outfit of hooded sweatshirt and black jeans seemed to be rather unextraordinary. Very average.

We eventually arrived at the restaurant, and proceeded to order and consume our food. Dinner conversation was light and inconsequential, consisting primarily of me doing what I do best... telling stories.

"You're joking," Rachel said as I was winding up one of my more humorous tales regarding a friend of mine that I'd met in Japan. She had a pleasantly uninhibited smile on her face, completely caught up in my story.

"Nope," I replied with an answering grin. "He was still half-asleep and wandered into the bathroom. And since I had seen him go in, I followed. Remember, bathing is a more social activity in Japan than it is here." At her nod of understanding I continued. "So he walked in on his fiancée, who was more than happy to see him. He, however, was a bit more... reserved, you could say, about the relationship. She jumped onto him, he freaked out, both of them without a stitch of clothing," Rachel was chuckling quietly at this point, "and then I walk in on the two of them, also completely naked. Remember now, she was essentially family, so I was less than comfortable. And then her great-grandmother, her tribe's elder and my point of contact for diplomatic relations walked in to see what all the fuss was about. I thank God every day that she, at least, was wearing clothes."

Dinner was eventually over, and I ordered a hookah. Rachel declined, saying something about being a "role-model" to the community. That, I decided, was as good a cue as any for starting the information exchange.

"Rachel," I started, "are you familiar with a little game called Questions?" She answered that she was not. "The game is rather simple. The players, generally two, take turns asking one another questions. They have to be answered honestly, but each person receives three chances to refuse the answering of a question. The game ends when a player without any more 'passes' refuses to answer a question. Easy enough?" She nodded, a look of mingled resignation and interest on her face. "Excellent. You may begin the questioning, if you'd like."

After visibly gathering herself, she began.