Greetings. Wow. It's been like, what? Four months? Took me that long to write this piece of- This is like 5.5k of just dialogue. Seriously. Sorry. I was starting to miss you guys.

"So basically," Jason's voice rang across the crackling line of the communicator, wheezing between laughter, "they let me pass five borders without as much as a pat down. Europeans are wild, man."

Robin rolled his eyes, shrugging the comm up to rest against his shoulder. The morning perspective of Jump City was below him, a bright, cold bite in the air as he outstretched his arms. The view of the city atop Coastal Brokers was one he'd seen far too many times during patrol nights, and if memory served, not once by daylight.

"And the babes, dude. The babes," Jason sighs contently.

He allowed himself to smirk, even if for the stupidest reason. For a moment, Robin'd completely forgotten why he called in the first place, but something told him it wasn't to hear Jason rave about busty espionages. Of course, there was reason for him to call so abruptly. There was always a reason.

Despite absolutely loathing him down to the very core of his being (at times), Robin still regretfully considered Jason to be family. He liked to tell himself that whatever hostility they held towards one another after the latter's exhibited involvement in playing vigilante had been wiped away by time and grief.

"I'm glad you had your fun terrorizing Lebensraum."

He then focused on the girl laying on the crumbling pavement of the roof a few fifty feet away, her thinly clad legs suspended off the edge as she stared plainly at the brightening sky, and swallowed hard. They'd spoken not a word after their departure from the Tower; he was somewhere between being appreciative that she'd backed off, and completely shattered over her unexpected stillness.

Alternatively, she handed him fleeting grins that ranged between all-knowing and questionably glacial, though no matter the meaning of her lips, her eyes'd remained calculatingly lukewarm.

Had he said something wrong? No, obviously not. He never said anything wrong. Blunt, and perhaps a bit lacking in empathy. But not wrong. He gulped with little thought, glancing at the communicator clutched by his ear.

Suddenly came a chortling sound on the other line, and he couldn't help but imagine it was Jason being throttled.

"Ah, ah," Jason cooed, "hasn't been Lebensraum since the fifties. You're slipping, Dickie. Besides— terrorizing? Please, I was doing a benevolent service—"

"You stole a 14th century painting that was supposed to be auctioned off at a starting bid of three million."

Robin could almost hear the eye-roll.

"You're not stopping me, are you?"

The elder laughed, for the first time the whole night, in amusement.

"No. As far as the media's concerned, the Titans have no affiliation with International thievery. No matter how serious."

"It was just a heist, dude, not some terrorist act upon Her Majesty, so don't get your tights in a wad. And nearly getting castrated by a seven-hundred-year-old painting wasn't exactly my ideal New Year."

There was a crackling sound on the other line, followed by a stream of muffled expletives and a lot of banging noises. Then came a faint mumble from Jason in the distance after the jingling of locks and chains was heard. His first instinct was profiling the situation, and so far, it sounded like the other was being thrown around in a prison cell.

Another set of jingling noises rang from the other end, causing his eyes to flick back at the comm.

He glanced at Raven, who was still busy eyeing the rise of dusk in silence to notice Robin's odd facial expressions in reaction to the noise on the other end of the comm.

"Jason," Robin started with caution, "where are you?"

When the other line had stayed unresponsive, he shook the comm, pressing it to his ear while his forehead crinkled in worry. More familiar muffled sounds.

Then, "I just crossed borders from Austria to Switzerland."

"No, I mean—"

The ever-so displeased scoff was sent through the communicator, one that stifled whatever retaliation he had in mind.

"A hotel. A hotel in an extremely secluded area where I'm probably the only resident in the wing. Don't you worry your pretty little head. I'm fine. The damn door wouldn't open," the voice on the other line snorted. He would've responded with a jab of his own, but the relief that Jason wasn't captured by Bergenz spies overwhelmed the need to.

Robin bit back a wry smile, replacing it with a dejected sigh.

"Did Bruce call?"

"Does he ever?" Jason hummed.

No.

Of course, both of them knew that. Their guardian's odd parenting habits somehow revolved around the habitual cold shoulder and pretending as if he never had any wards to begin with, no matter how in need of actual guidance they might be.

They should've been used to it; Robin had been for a while. The younger, on the other hand, was always a little miffed that Bruce never bothered, even if he never answered the calls, anyway. Jason would never admit that aloud, not even if Robin admitted he was beginning to feel similarly.

"If it makes you feel any better, I didn't get one either," he shrugged, a despondent smirk on his lips.

Then came a snarky bite from the receiver.

"Why in Heaven's name would that make me feel better? God knows he'd rather chastise me about being more careful than argue about responsibilities and morals and whatnot with you. Which is fucking odd, Dick, considering you're the one on the same side of law as him."

Robin tensed, grip clenched around the comm. It was the most obvious secret that his issues with his father did not stem from occupation, but rather pride (1). Sickening, heavy pride that was the only thing he had left in common with Bruce. Sometime down the road, that would probably be gone, too.

"You were always his favorite." Jason's voice was small, a strange occurrence that was rarer than any.

There was a desperate shove against the sudden awkwardness that engulfed them. The conversation was heading into a danger zone— a topic he did not want to justify otherwise, again. Not because of the pity in his voice, or what lie it could've been. But because it was true. Was. But Robin didn't want to dig further into that hole again. It was one he'd visited way too often, and each time it just got deeper.

"Nah, Barbra was," he tried, "Still is."

He heard a frustrated garbling on the opposite end, accompanied by a slow exhale of air.

"Yeah..." the other responded, "Didn't call her either, though."

The relief that came was soured and... wrong.

"God," he barked out a sharp cackle, "It was Christmas."

"He doesn't celebrate Christmas," Jason retorted rather defensively, "and neither do we."

"Touché," Robin answered, sensing that if he chose to argue more it'd probably only make the call more difficult, "Have any plans for the rest of New Years?"

The other voice laughed, a warm one that brushed off the tense subject that had both of them firing vague, jabbing comments.

"Dick, a 24-karat golden frame nearly smashed my baby-makers into my stomach. I think I'll take a break for a while," the other was surely grinning, "Besides, it's gonna take the feds some time to realize it was me."

That made both of them laugh, himself a little more.

"How's that girlfriend of yours, by the way?" Jason continued, "She still hot?"

A rush of something foreign pooled in his chest, something cold and frigid, that felt suspiciously similar to misery and desperation. Robin shook his arms, clearing his throat as if it'd help remove the feeling from his system.

He hadn't even bothered to correct Jason on the fact that they'd broken up months ago, too bothered by the discomfort that seemed to seep in every direction. After a moment of clarity, he prayed it'd left. One look at the rising daylight told him completely otherwise.

Starfire.

Oh, Jesus. Starfire.

"She's..."

He didn't know. He didn't know anything about her. Not even if she was...

A slight prod to his eye caused them to shoot open, glaring at the city at his feet. Cars were beginning to emerge. Business men were starting to yell. Children screamed. Pedestrians strolled. The city was awakening. And there was no better spot to see it all than the Coastal Brokers roof that he loved so very much. The same one that Starfire hated.

Well, Starfire never hated the Coastal Brokers building. She hated heights. And that particular building happened to be the tallest one in Jump.

It wasn't that she was scared of them. Not in the same sense ordinary people were, at least. She was terrified of the slips in control during flights. The moments she couldn't regain balance and had to depend on someone else. Most of the time that someone else ended up being him.

If not for the slight waver in her step when landing from a flight, or the flashing part of her lips in protest that disappears quicker than it comes, then for the shaking of her strong figure on the broken ledge of a building that one night on patrol.

He was sure it was that very building.

"Dick?"

The crumbling debris from the crushed pavement on which they'd been standing on had knocked her right onto the edge of the roof, and the split second before she plummeted would engrave itself in his mind through guilt and if only's.

She'd turned around to look at him, face relaxed.

Robin liked to think it was because she knew he was there.

The fall would've been a pretty hard one. Had he not caught her in time, that is. There hadn't been an exchange of words. He hadn't asked her if she was alright- he'd made sure she was. Instead, they traded faint smiles and called it a night.

Other times, when he'd catch her gazing off the edge of the roof, he'd realize how... alone she looked.

"It is an elongated drop," she'd whisper, slouched and small against the howling wind.

Then he'd appear behind her, making himself just as small, for her sake, and say, "Not one you can't take, I'm sure."

She'd smile brightly like she did, though her eyes still screamed something he could never put his finger on. It was a murkiness in the green. A speckle in the shine. As if she were the last person in the world, and there was nobody to save her from that inevitable fall. Except there was.

He would always catch her, he always had.

"You're freaking me out... Are you okay?"

She never fell.

"I'm divine."

But they fell.

Apart, they were the epitome of elegance. And then they exchanged glances. Held hands. Shared a kiss or two. Profusely blushed and looked away from one another. And fell.

Together, they plummeted. And not because of love.

That was not love; he'd be damned if it was.

"...So like I was saying," the voice on the receiver said slowly, "How's banging the alien chick?"

This time, Robin was paying attention, and the jab from Jason hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Jason," he said snippily, "You know we broke up. Last August. It's been a while. "

He could hear the groan that was replied, followed by, "Wow, that sucks. But you did bang her, right? At least once."

Robin cleared his throat again, overwhelmed by annoyance. "Sure." Of course, he would've opted for a sudden topic change, but without a certain answer, he was sure Jason would only keep pestering him.

"Aw, Dick," Jason mocked gently, "Grow a dick."

"That's so fucking original, Jason."

"You don't even know the meaning of fucki—"

"Can we not?" Robin hissed lightly, teeth grit. The headache had returned, though this time it wasn't because of reminiscing alien relationships.

"Sorry," the intangible voice apologized half-heartedly. "I didn't know you were so sensitive about her."

He wasn't. Despite that, he thought of her too much, anyway. Too much that it hurt.

To the first kiss they shared. The kiss of the century, Beastboy and Cyborg liked to call it. And there was a time that he really believed so, too.

To the sweetest smile he'd ever seen. A manifestation of happiness, and later the salt to his wound. To her beautiful nature that could be topped by no other. She was not perfect. Though few may see, far from it. But she was the one thing that he had that nobody else did, and that in itself was beautiful.

To the times she'd made him believe in happy endings. When she'd made him feel loved. Even if it was only knee deep.

But also to the times that weren't so happy. The times that left a dry sensation in his mouth and a bitter need to have the last word, even if there was barely any talking involved in the first place. To the attempts at understanding, the trying and pretending. The dry tears that felt so wrong, so wasted.

To the screaming that never happened, the raised voices that should've happened. The emptiness between that was a million times worse than the red, heated anger that should've been there. Instead, the feeling of disappointment and hollow guilt.

To the endless nights he told himself he loved her, that he wanted her. Even though they slept in separate rooms again and barely made eye contact out side of battle. Even though the tabloids had glorified the one smile he'd given her when they'd defeated Plasmus in under fifteen minutes without harming a single brick of public property, and he'd caught her scanning the page, face void of emotion, and tossing it right into the recycling bin. Even though she'd still hugged him every now and then, but they both knew that it didn't feel quite the same.

To the eyes that actually glanced at each other across the dinner table, not in flirtation but rather in pleading. For an end.

To the golden pair (that was never really a pair in the first place) that crumbled not with a scream, but with a whimper. Just as T.S Eliot had predicted.

To the girl he'd never really loved like that. But he wished he somehow could've.

He was okay with having Starfire as his last relationship. Optimism seemed like a good way to die. Her, it was always her. As a teammate, companion, but most of all, friend. And he'd never see her again, would he?

"I'm just..." Robin tried to cover the crack of his voice, humming lowly, "Can we please just talk about something else?"

Jason's line stayed silent, the only sound audible being his even breathing. "Of course," he finally answered, "How's the team?

The tensing of his figure wasn't unintentional. Blood running cold and color draining from his face, he blinked slowly. Oh, yeah.

Oh. No.

The Team. The... team that was his family. His family that he's spent the last six years with.

His family that kicked ass with favorably exotic looks. His family that had a playlist of the Violent Femmes, Tupac, and Tamaranean baroque music, which was annually played at their Holiday dinner hosted at the Tower. His family that preferred cheap Target spandex over officiated Kevlar, his family that made midnight trips to the grocery store simply for packets of string cheese.

His family that forced him into finally watching Love Actually (which was the sole reason he hated romcoms), then sat through an entire six hours of his Al Pacino marathon. His family that ate waffles every Sunday morning, regardless of the havoc outside.

His family that was uncharacteristically organized about laundry and more often than not procrastinating on dishes. His family that made Fruitloops cake and drank orange juice mimosas for everyone's birthday. Every year.

His family that...

That was... gone. Gone.

No way in hell he was openly admitting to anyone that the Titans were missing. Nobody could know.

Chaos would surely ensue; lawyers from City Hall requesting fund cancellations, citizens placed in craze while villains across the coast pounced at the chance to be a part of the havoc. Bruce would probably call for once, and only to yell at him along with the rest of the League. Paparazzi would flood the Tower, and hiding would definitely not be an option.

And he wanted to grief alone. Preferably in tranquility.

But—

"They're good. For the most part. Tired, I guess. We busted some creature tearing up the old library last night," he shrugged, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Jason was silent on the other end for a long time.

"Is that so?" he hummed, "I haven't read about any novel-consuming beasts in Times yet."

The older raised an eyebrow, huffing incredulously at the statement.

"You read?"

"No, Dick, I find out all knowledge of disappearing Titans via mind-control. You got me."

His head cocked to the left, eyes squinted in confusion.

"Disappearing Titans—?"

Suddenly, a gust of something horrible swept into his vision. Venom seeping up his throat and spilling all through his mouth. This terrible, dreadful feeling bled straight into his sight, drowning his lungs and ruining his mood. It was prickly, flashing, and constricting, as if he'd held his breath for a whole hour in a toxic vat. No, no, no, no.

For a second, Robin contemplated bashing his skull against the brick wall behind him, only pausing last second when Jason spoke again.

"You're good at quite a number of things, kid, but lying isn't one of them."

Had Robin not been so consumed by the utter rage and worry of Fat-Mouth-Jay knowing, he would've gladly corrected him with the satisfying fact that Robin was, in fact, the older of the two, therefor could not be addressed as 'kid'.

But in all seriousness, how did Jason even know? There's wasn't a single person out there that could've known. Robin wasn't irrational enough to publicize West Coast's largest Teen Hero Headquarters gone AWOL. Nobody knew. Not a soul could've known—

Shit. Robin howled internally, pinching his nose bridge in frustration.

Jinx.

A jumbled mess of profanities rushed through his mind, majority of them mixing together to form a whole new level of explicit. Oh, God. Bruce was gonna kill him.

"Is that why you called—?" Robin hissed, slamming his palm against the side of his head.

"Okay— Dick, just— Just calm down, okay?" Jason sucked in a breath. "First of all, dude, you called me— Heaven fucking knows why! After like, what, seven months of silence? Hey, by the way, my eighteenth birthday was fabulous, thanks for asking. Second, it's not that big of a deal. Just breathe, alright? Before you make us all age eighty years."

"I called you to— you know what, never mind why I called. Who told?" he growled lightly, already expecting the answer.

The other barked a laugh, sharp and condescending, which did nothing to soothe the headache that'd suddenly slaughtered his skull.

"Don't play stupid, Dick," he chuckled pitifully, "it doesn't suit you."

"Jason," Robin paused, eyes narrowing and hating the pleading undertones of his voice. The ringing was coming back to his ears, and he didn't like it at all.

"God, the witch, okay?" he responded curtly as a muted noise was heard. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Robin groaned, slamming his forehead against his fist in frustration. Of course she did, that bitch. This was her way of slapping him in the face with a handful of karma after he walked out on her three days ago at the club.

"When— what? I swear to all that is Holy, Jason, if you tell anybody- and I mean anybody-I will personally-"

"Relax, dude," the voice on the other line reassured, and Robin could practically hear the roll of his eyes, "She just texted me. I didn't tell the old man. And nobody else down there knows."

Robin exhaled violently, pinching his nose bridge and bringing the comm away from his face to groan.

"Oh my God," he muttered, smashing his forehead against the wall behind him. "Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God. Oh my God. She texted you? She texted you?! Jason- texts can be traced!"

"I'm well aware of that, thank you, which is why I use a disposable phone. Motorola flip-thingy. As for Jinx, the government doesn't even know she exists."

He couldn't see, there was just a void of red anger surrounding him. None of this week had gone according to plan; starting from the missing teammates right down to the damnable contract that Jason probably knew about. And then, a sudden rush of cold air in his lungs. Holy shit. The contract. The girl in the alley. The demon- the soul. The-

"What do you know?" Robin managed to get out as evenly as possibly.

Jason sighed for the umpteenth time.

"Besides the fact that you're teammates are MIA and the southern half of the west coast is probably going to go up in flames within the next week? Literally nothing."

There was a gush of relief that filled his system, the pressure from his chest released from the confinement of his ribcage. He glanced beyond him, straight at Raven, suspicion and shivers creeping up his spine.

This was going to be a beautifully long day.

"When're you getting back?"

"Gosh, you do care," Jason laughed, though less enthusiastically, "and in about a day or two. Depending on air traffic."

"Look, Jason," he murmured into the comm, fingers toying with the volume button, "I don't have much time, nor patience, but hear me out, okay?"

"...Okay?" the younger answered suspiciously after a long pause.

"I need a favor."

"Are we there yet?" Raven's voice was barely audible against the morning breeze.

He tilted his head, cradling it in his lap. The droopiness of his eyes was very real, now. So much that he hardly registered her question.

"The warehouse?"

"No, Heaven."

As she spoke, the blaring of cars and chatter of voices rose, indicating the awakening much more than the finally blue above.

It took the power of a pause and a breath to realize that Raven— who was a whole different era of frightening— had told a joke. And it took the power of three more pauses to realize that he actually found it hilarious.

"I mean...it's in Jump. So not far."

Her eyes lazily opened, staring at him with the funniest dullness he could imagine.

"Groundbreaking."

Despite feeling the heat rise in his face, Robin bit his tongue from remarking with something equally as condescending and sarcastic, choosing to seat himself like her, legs dangling off the roof. Only he was wise enough to place himself a good four feet away.

Running a hand down his face, he closed his eyes, abruptly noticing how tired he was and how little sleep he'd received in the last thirty-six hours. It was a miracle he was still cognitively functioning.

"We're close. Very close."

Suddenly, he didn't feel the need to one up Raven. Or argue.

"We've been wandering buildings," she mumbled, throwing a pebble off the side of the roof.

"Aren't you observant."

This time, Raven sat up, pinching her nose bridge and brushing the flakes off of her face. The bubbly victory inside him felt more nauseating than it should've.

Especially when she started to crawl. Literally crawl. But for some reason it didn't look as sultry as it should've.

Starfire would never crawl. Starfire held far too much dignity and air for that type of behavior. He knew it wast right to compare the two. That was unfair to both parties. After all, demons were not princesses, and princesses were not demons. And Raven was not Starfire. Which was a matter of bitter alleviation.

Then she was standing. Uncomfortably close. So close that their foreheads were grazing, and he could see the lines on her lips. She smelled exactly like he expected she would. Ash and vanilla. Booze and roses.

He wasn't sure if the brush of her nose against his was intentional, but he leaned in anyway. Even within such close proximities, she looked so ready.

But she didn't raise her voice. She didn't get angry. She stood there stoically, staring at the flickering midnight headlights lining her vision. He wondered if she'd ever gotten a chance to see the city like this.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" There was still an abrasiveness to her words, though Robin thought maybe that was just natural for her. The question still caught him off-guard, forcing him to reevaluate this whole plan of his. He shrugged, making a rumbly sound with his lips, causing her to stutter back a step, though remaining within elbow's reach.

Robin crooked a smirk of sorts.

She looked prettier when she didn't have the upper hand.

"Would it make you feel better if I said yes?"

He watched for her reaction, expecting a blow out, a scream, a frown, anything. Instead, she stared blankly at him, that same shrewd gaze unwavering as if to say, 'You're not funny.'

"Just— where is it?" Raven sighed, uncrossing her arms from their defensive stand and gesturing at the yellow comm still clutched tightly in his fist.

Robin breathed through his nose, pressing a few buttons on his communicator, a tiny red dot popping up right next to his current location. Right across the street, matter of fact.

Gripping it one last time with a toss for reassurance, he flashed her shaky rows of crisp whites.

"It's close. We're close."

So he'd lied. The warehouse was gone. It'd been gone for a while.

Two years, actually.

GummyBearsAreAwesome1: Thank you :) I will try my best!

Enumuri: Oh stop! You're making me blush; And you are the sweetest! Chapter 2 was a real doozy to work on, and I couldn't think of an appropriate, non-clichéd way to introduce Raven. AH! I love that you loved the poetics of it, because I think that was one of my favorite parts as well. But yeah, thankyousoomuch!

Celces: Yeah, sorry about that. I know a lot of people don't like smoking, and find it unattractive, but I figured Raven liked to do things to purposefully piss people off. Sorry you didn't like it, but thanks for the review!

Poison's Ivy: Yay! I was worried the snark and dark was way overdone, but I guess it's better to be consistent, right? Thanks, dearie!

doitforthefic: Oh my gosh, and here I thought this was an angsty HBO soap opera that airs after 3 am. I really don't want to make it overbearingly angsty, though (this fandom has too much of that already). Raven's heritage is actually something I really struggled with, because the show gives her the perspective of self-loathing due to it, except this story is literally about her being proud of herself (demon eyes and all). Anyway, thank you so much!

A/N:

(1) Did you catch it? *wiggles eyebrows*

Yes, Jason. Because Jinx is probably hungover and Robin really needed someone other than Raven to narrate about. I just had to talk about Starfire. His relationship with her/the Titans is not void because of the contract. It's not RobStar, I just didn't want to ignore Robin's past feelings for her.

Yours faithfully,

Yellerumbrellas.