"Excuse me?"

Garfield jumped, feeling a tug at the bright circus costume he had been forced to wear. Looking down, he found a small girl with wide blue eyes, holding a sticky cotton candy in one hand, her innocent gaze fixed on him. He crouched down and gave her a smile. "Hey there. What's going on?"

"Are you Mister Beast Boy?" Her voice was curious, almost too curious.

"I am," Garfield said, his grin widening a bit, despite the odd feeling creeping up his spine.

"Why are you dressed like that?" she asked, pointing at his red-and-black spandex suit, which was much too bright for his liking. "Are you a performer? Are you on a secret mission?"

"No, no," he laughed, brushing it off with a shrug. "I'm just helping out a friend tonight. Are you enjoying the show?"

"I am! I love the elephants," she said, clutching her cotton candy tighter, as if she could take it with her into the next dimension. "Do you like elephants?"

"Yeah, they're pretty cool," Garfield said, chuckling softly. Then, his smile faded slightly as he asked, "Where are your parents?"

She didn't seem to notice his change in tone. "They're at the port-a-potties," she said, matter-of-factly. She gestured toward the row of temporary restrooms, her voice so casual it might've been about the weather.

Garfield stifled a laugh at her bluntness. "Gotcha."

Suddenly, her eyes sparked with something he couldn't quite place. "Do you know Raven?" she asked, her voice taking on a strange intensity.

The mention of Raven immediately struck a chord. Since her sacrifice to the Chaos Lords, Raven had become something of a public obsession. People speculated about everything, from her powers to her secret identity. Some were willing to pay anything for a glimpse of her unhooded. Garfield hesitated before answering. "I do know Raven."

The girl's eyes widened, her excitement palpable. She dug into her pocket, pulling out a small, black ring with a purple gem embedded in it. It looked like something you'd find in a vending machine—cheap and sparkly. "I've been carrying this for forever," she said seriously, her voice low as if she were sharing a precious secret. "Can you give this to Raven? It's a present. I won it at the duck game."

Garfield studied the ring carefully. Something about it set off a small alarm in his head. They had been warned about magical objects and unvetted gifts ever since the Titans started dealing with the darker corners of the supernatural world. Constantine, Zatanna, and the others made it clear: be cautious and all gifts were to be scanned by a member of Justice League Dark. "I'm not sure about that," Garfield said slowly.

The girl's eyes grew impossibly wide, her gaze turning into something far too innocent for comfort. "Pwease?" she asked, her voice soft and pleading. She looked up at him with an expression that could've melted any heart.

He had no defense against it. It was the same look he used when he shifted into a kitten to get out of trouble. "I—I don't know…"

"Please, Beast Boy," she repeated, her voice suddenly low, seductive—far too adult. It was the kind of voice that made him freeze, a chill creeping up his spine. "For me?"

Garfield recoiled, the world seeming to pause. "Excuse me?"

The girl giggled, that childlike innocence suddenly back in full force. "I said pwease."

Garfield's stomach twisted, unease curling in his chest. But she was just a little girl, right? Nothing could be wrong with a harmless gift, could it?

"Okay, okay…" he said, fumbling slightly. "I'll give it to her."

"Thank you, Mister Beast Boy!" The girl squealed, her voice a sharp contrast to the disarming sweetness moments before. She bounced on the balls of her feet in glee, almost knocking her cotton candy out of her hand.

"Careful!" Garfield warned with a soft laugh.

"I'm careful!" She spun on her heel, suddenly noticing the man and woman emerging from the port-a-potties. "I have to go! Bye-bye!" Without another word, she darted off, her tiny legs carrying her faster than he expected.

Garfield watched her go, a strange tightness in his chest, and for a moment, he wondered whether he should toss the ring in a nearby trash. Deciding against it, he placed the hard, cold ring in his pocket.

"Yo, Beast Boy!" The crackle of his earpiece snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm here!" he responded, fumbling with the communicator.

"Where are you? Rob's about to go on! You need to get to the guy's trailer, now."

"I'm on it," Garfield muttered, shaking off the unease. He stood and started walking toward the trailer, the little girl's face already fading from his memory. He slipped the ring into his pocket, thinking nothing more of it. He didn't even question how she had seen through his magical disguise.

Several yards away, the little girl crested a nearby hill, tossing her cotton candy aside. Her small form shimmered and stretched, transforming into a tall, striking woman.

"Remember, Enchantress," a voice whispered in her ear, cold and commanding. "Last chance."

"So," Black Canary crossed her legs and settled back into her chair, "it's been two months since Bialya. How have you been?"

Raven played with the multiple rings on her fingers, her gaze dropping as she considered the question. The days following her rescue had been rough. Enchantress had vanished without a trace, and the Chaos Lords had been suspiciously silent—a silence that kept Justice League Dark on edge. A quiet Chaos Lord was never a good thing.

Her own recovery had been just as unsettling. She'd spent a week in the Watchtower infirmary. It had felt strange, almost surreal, to be cared for by the Justice League.

After that came the mind walkthroughs—Martian Manhunter, Constantine, and Doctor Fate probing her psyche to ensure there was no residual damage from the Chaos Lords' torture. Only after they cleared her was she allowed to assist in the planet-wide recovery efforts.

Despite the scale of destruction, places had rebounded quickly, thanks to the combined efforts of heroes and alien allies. Schools, like Gotham Prep, even resumed a month after the attack. "I'm fine," Raven finally said, her voice measured.

"Fine? No night terrors?"

Yes. Raven shrugged. "Nothing horrific. Just the usual ones." Black Canary didn't buy it, and Raven knew it. She just didn't care enough to elaborate.

"Okay," Canary said, jotting something in her notebook. "How's the tutoring going?"

"Um…" Raven rubbed her arm. "Barbara, Harper, and Richard are helping me now. We only meet once a week." Tim had explained that he couldn't tutor her anymore; Bruce needed his help at Wayne Enterprises. "Supporting superheroes isn't cheap," Tim had said, mimicking Bruce's dry tone. "We still have to make money."

"Actually," Raven added, "Richard and Tim are on that circus mission with everyone else, so it's just Barbara and Harper tutoring me now. Harper really enjoys it."

"Does Harper know you as Raven?"

"No," Raven replied. "Just Rachel."

"How do you feel about being benched?" Black Canary asked.

"I don't feel anything," Raven said flatly. "It is what it is."

"Okay," Canary said, shifting gears. "How do you feel about graduation? It's six weeks away."

"I'm passing my classes," Raven said. "I still have three quizzes and a final in Calculus, but as long as I score higher than a 74 on each, I should be fine. Hudson University is happening in the fall. My mother is very excited."

"And you? Are you excited?"

Once more, Raven shrugged and said, "It is what it is."

"Okay," Black Canary said with a smile, though it wavered slightly when Raven's face remained unreadable. Changing gears, Canary closed her notebook with a snap. "Alright, I'm bending the rules a bit here, but I have to ask—every single teammate from the rescue mission mentioned this. Apparently, you and Tim have shared a few kisses."

Raven's eyes widened, then her shoulders slumped, and she groaned. "Oh no. Not this."

"And you didn't think to mention it?" Canary teased, her tone light with a hint of playful hurt. "I'm honestly a little offended."

Raven tugged her hood lower, hiding her face behind the shadow of it. "It was just a few," she muttered, waving her hand dismissively.

"Just a few?" Canary raised an eyebrow. "Raven, I'm pretty sure 'a few' doesn't capture the depth of the situation here." She leaned forward slightly, her expression turning more serious. "How do you feel about Tim?"

Raven stiffened. "What do you mean?"

Canary tilted her head. "I mean, it's not exactly subtle. Tim's been obvious about his feelings for you for months now. You two have shared several intimate moments. How do you feel about him?"

Raven hesitated, her eyes flickering as if searching for the words. "I feel…" She paused, biting her lip, the weight of her emotions pressing down. "I feel… I don't know." It was the truth, even if it was hard to admit. Before her ordeal with the Chaos Lords, she had been ready to let her walls come down for him. Tim was different—kind, persistent, and patient in a way few people were with her. But now? Now it was all clouded. The pain and torture she had suffered left her unsure of herself, unsure of what she could offer him. "The Chaos Lords, they…" Her voice trailed off, and she huffed in frustration. "Everything that happened, it just… it makes me wonder. There will always be someone who wants to use me. It's like a constant target on my back. And that's not fair to him."

Black Canary studied her carefully, her voice softening. "I get that. But you can't live like that, Raven." She leaned in a little, her words coaxing. "Tune everything else out for a moment—forget about the Chaos Lords, forget about everything. Just focus on you and Tim. How do you really feel about him?"

Raven shut her eyes, letting the silence settle around them. The faces of the past few weeks seemed to blur, but one remained clear: Tim's smile. His laughter, his bright eyes that always seemed to see through the darkness she kept locked away. His patience when she was distant. His quiet strength. And despite all the walls she had built, there was something undeniable there. Something real. "I'm not in love with him," she said with surety.

Black Canary's gaze softened. "That's fine."

"But…" Raven hesitated, shoulders sagging. "I really like him. I didn't mean to, but I do."

"Have you told him?" Black Canary asked, her voice gentle, no longer teasing.

"I was going to," Raven admitted, rubbing her forehead as the exhaustion of the past weeks caught up with her. "But then everything happened with the Chaos Lords, and now…I don't know."

Black Canary let the words sink in, then leaned back, giving Raven space to breathe. "Raven, you're a hero. You will always have a target on your back. That won't ever change." Her voice was firm, but not unkind. "But that doesn't mean you have to keep everyone at arm's length. Especially not Tim."

Raven opened her eyes, but her gaze was far off, as though she was trying to distance herself from the emotions running through her. "I don't know how. It's just different now. I'm… different."

"And how is it different?" Black Canary asked softly, no judgment in her tone, only understanding.

Raven swallowed hard. "I thought I could let myself be happy, but every time I let my guard down, something happens."

Black Canary paused. "I get it. But Raven, listen to me. This life we live—it's rough. And it's a hell of a lot easier when you've got someone who understands, someone you can lean on. Even the strongest heroes need that. Don't push him away because you're afraid he'll get hurt. Sometimes, letting someone in is what keeps us grounded."

Raven's lips twitched in what could almost be a smile, but the weight of her thoughts held it back. "I understand what you're saying," she said softly.

"Do you?" Black Canary teased, nudging her gently.

Raven finally allowed herself a small chuckle, the tension easing just a little. "Empath," she gestured to herself with a half-smile.

"Right," Black Canary smirked, then got to her feet. "Well, enjoy your day at school."

Raven's smile faded as she straightened up. "Not possible."

"You've only got six weeks left," Black Canary chuckled. "You'll survive."

Tim glanced at the unusually quiet 14-year-old beside him. "You okay, Dick? You're usually chatty after a mission."

Dick shrugged, his gaze fixed on the train window as the countryside blurred past. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"Come on, kid," Tim nudged him lightly. "We've got a long ride ahead of us. Talk to me."

Dick frowned, glancing over. "Why did we have to take the train? Why couldn't we fly back with everyone else?"

"We haven't been photographed in public much lately. You know—keeping up appearances." Tim offered him a small smile. "Now, tell me what's really bothering you. I have a pretty good idea, but I'd rather hear it from you."

Dick sighed deeply. "The mission...the circus... Maybe B was right. Maybe I wasn't ready to face it." His voice wavered. "They were right there, Tim. Haly and Jimmy. They were standing next to me, and all I wanted to do was tell them it was me. But I couldn't," he said, referring to the fact that the Team had been wearing magical disguises.

Tim stayed quiet, letting Dick speak.

"It's been four years," Dick continued, his voice breaking. "I should be better by now. It shouldn't affect me like this."

"Says who?" Tim asked gently. "Dick, grief doesn't come with a deadline. It hits in waves. We were at your ground zero-the source of your trauma. Of course, it's going to affect you. I'd be worried if it didn't."

"But…will I live with this pain forever?" Dick asked as he swallowed a sob. "Does it ever get better? Do you ever stop missing them?"

Tim leaned back, his gaze unfocused, his voice soft. "No," he said after a moment. "When someone you love dies, it's like they leave a wound—a deep, jagged one. And no matter how much time passes, it never fully heals. Sure, the bleeding stops, and eventually, it scars over, but the scar…it's always there."

Dick glanced at him but stayed quiet, sensing Tim had more to say.

"At first, the wound is raw and the pain unbearable. You're barely holding yourself together. Over time, you learn to live with it, but that doesn't mean it's gone. Scars aren't just reminders—they're sensitive. They itch. They ache. Sometimes, they burn and it feels like the wound was never closed in the first place."

Tim's voice grew distant, and he gestured absently with his hands. "And sometimes, it catches you off guard. You'll hear something, smell something, or see someone who reminds you of what you lost, and it's like tearing the wound open all over again. The pain is sharp and fresh, and everything comes rushing back to you. And you wonder how you'll ever move on." Tim paused. "But over time, those moments happen less often. The wound doesn't open as easily. The scar becomes…less irritable."

Dick swallowed, his throat tight. "Does it ever stop hurting?"

Tim gave a small, sad smile. "Not entirely. But it gets easier. Eventually, you find things—or people—that make it hurt less. Like a lavender balm you didn't even know you needed. They come into your life from another universe, and suddenly, the scar doesn't burn so much anymore. You don't even notice it half the time when they're around. It's like they remind you there's more to life than the pain."

He paused, and for a fleeting second, there was a softness in his expression that Dick couldn't quite place. "They don't make the scar go away—it'll always be part of you. But she makes it easier to carry. She reminds you that healing doesn't mean forgetting; it means finding a way to move forward. And suddenly, the sun is shinier, the moon is brighter, and this weight on your chest is lifted. You can breathe. I mean…the scar is still there, but, because of her, it doesn't bother you as much."

Tim fell silent, his eyes distant, as if lost in thought.

"Tim," Dick interrupted, waving a hand in front of his face.

Tim blinked, startled. "What?"

"You turned my grief into a mini first-aid seminar," Dick said, raising an eyebrow.

Tim let out a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess I got a little carried away there. Sorry about that. My point is—it's been almost ten years since my parents died, and I still miss them every day. Bruce has been amazing, but...you never stop missing them. You just get better at living with it."

Dick studied him for a moment, then smirked. "This balm you're talking about—is her name Raven by any chance?"

Tim's face flushed, his composure slipping for just a moment. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said quickly, suddenly very interested in the scenery outside the train window.

Dick chuckled, shaking his head. "Uh-huh. Sure you don't." He waited a split second. "So, have you guys talked since Bialya?"

"Not really. After the mission, we had the worldwide cleanup. Then there was Wayne Enterprises to deal with. And there've been a lot of missions without her."

"How do you think she feels about you?"

"I have no idea," Tim admitted. "She's almost impossible to read."

Dick smirked. "She's as bad as Bruce, huh?"

"Worse, sometimes." Tim hesitated, then added, "But…I think she's special."

"You think she's the one?"

"What?!" Tim's voice rose, drawing a few glances from nearby passengers. He gave them an apologetic smile before turning back to Dick. "What are you even talking about?"

"I'm just saying—do you think you'll marry her someday? Kids? The whole deal?"

"I think Alfred needs to check your head for a concussion."

That evening, Raven greeted Artemis, Superboy, Miss Martian, Kid Flash, and Beast Boy as they entered the cave. "How was it?" she asked, doing her best to sound nonchalant.

"I am starving," Kid Flash groaned in response, breezing past her.

"We got a cool souvenir," Beast Boy said, grinning as he held up a Court of Owls mask.

"It was fine," Artemis replied, giving Raven a smirk that was entirely too knowing. "Tim and Dick had some Wayne Enterprises thing. They're on a train to...somewhere."

"I didn't ask," Raven said quickly, folding her arms as she leaned back against the wall.

"Right," Artemis said, the smirk only growing before she headed toward the showers.

"So…" Miss Martian asked, her tone gentle, "what's the verdict?"

"I'm clear for light duty," Raven answered.

"That's great!" Miss Martian's smile brightened. "I'm so happy for you."

"It'll be good to have you back out there," Superboy added, his voice steady but sincere.

"Oh, Raven!" Beast Boy called out, jogging back toward her. "A fan of yours gave this to me." He held up a ring.

Raven took the ring, holding it up to the light as she examined it. The metal was cool to the touch, unnervingly smooth under her fingers. It was black, with a single amethyst gemstone glinting in the light. For a moment, the gem seemed to pulse faintly, but Raven figured it was a trick of the light.

"Beast Boy," Miss Martian said, her voice firm but still gentle, "you know the rules. We're not supposed to bring unscanned gifts into the mountain. Especially after what happened with the enchanted doll last month."

"A little girl gave it to me," Beast Boy said, throwing up his hands. "She won it from a carnival game! I didn't see the harm."

Miss Martian folded her arms, glancing at the ring with concern. "That's what Kid Flash said about the doll last month."

"It's just a ring," Raven interrupted, slipping it onto her index finger without hesitation. A faint shiver ran up her spine. She frowned, flexing her hand as if to shake off the sensation. "See? Nothing's happening," she added, adjusting her shoulders and neck, though the faint unease lingered. The ring fit perfectly around her index finger. She decided not to question it.

Beast Boy grinned sheepishly. "Told you. Totally harmless."

"Raven," Miss Martian said cautiously, her gaze narrowing as she noticed Raven subtly shifting her weight, her expression tightening. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Raven waved her off. "I'm fine. Just tired." She continued staring at the ring. "It's nothing," she said, slipping her hands into her cloak.

Miss Martian wasn't convinced, her eyes lingering on Raven's movements. "Maybe you should take it off, just to be safe."

"I said I'm fine," she snapped, harsher than she intended. She clenched her fist, hiding the ring from view. "It's just a ring. Let it go." Miss Martian and Beast Boy exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing. "I'm sorry," Raven apologized. "I guess my body is still recovering from Bialya."

"Maybe you shouldn't go out in the field any time soon," Miss Martian said.

Raven waved her away. "I'll be fine. Besides, I'm getting sick and tired of the mountain, and if I have to stay another minute with Constantine, I will lose it."

"Okay," Miss Martian smiled. "Go get some rest. You do look exhausted."

Raven turned on her heel and walked to her room in the mountain. She played with the dark ring. Once again, she thought about removing it; but something compelled her to continue wearing it.