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While sleigh bells rally elsewhere, Robin hears his own splitting through his head. He cracks a single eye and with foggy vision, he identifies his Communicator on the nightstand little more than an arm's reach away. For a heartbeat, the Titan is uncertain if disaster is calling him, but then he remembers where he is and reaches over to reassure himself.

The alarm stops instantly upon contact, and in his heavy quarters, Robin pushes himself up on an elbow. He had fallen asleep and his bed is in a state. He hadn't done more than lie on his sheets but an afternoon of siesta had certainly shown its work.

He had programmed his Communicator to alert him at twenty-two hundred hours. By the way the darkness pours into Tim's room, it understandably is his ten o'clock alarm rather than the city burning. He stifles a yawn and pulls himself across the length of the bed to his feet. Toes brush against the boots he had pulled off hours ago. They were dropped close in case of an emergency, but this Christmas Eve certainly stands as a silent night—at least in California.

No trouble in the city, and no inmate-metas stirring across the water in Alcatraz. Combing fingers through his bed-hair with one hand, Robin feels about for his gauntlets. He really didn't need to stay in the Tower after all, though Tim won't complain about the free time to sleep.

He had decided to rest while most of the Titans were leaving. One of the disadvantages of having Christmas over the weekend meant that commitments would be challenged—the city expected the Teen Titans to be close at hand, yet the Titans had family.

The senior members had announced their plans weeks ago, with Gar at a party full of celebrities and actors; Vic seeing Prague and Starfire in Mexico. And Tim, Tim would be with Dick.

Robin catches himself grinning as he pulls a generic, water-proof sweater over his head. With half of his uniform going into a sack, Tim will cover himself in civilian attire and retire from his duties here well-rested. Cyborg had installed that new tunnel that sunk under the Bay and lead to shore. From the city, Robin can thread through thinning traffic to one of the lots that Batman keeps, borrowing one of Dick's bikes, and then speeding across country to where Nightwing is waiting.

There's a drug bust planned in Santa Rosa and it's been months since Tim's had the chance to hang out with his idol. He's also been holding out for the chance to play with the Chopper Nightwing had restored.

And Kon says I never do anything cool, smirks Boy Wonder as he slings his supplies over his shoulder.

Like the other Titans, Superboy had retreated earlier—an hour before Robin had set his alarm. It seems that the entire Super-family would be gathering at the farm in Kansas. Kid Flash had probably left at the same time. Wonder Girl had been absent since the morning.

This leaves the Tower dark, and hollow. Robin takes the stairs soundlessly, listening to the whir and clicks of Victor's security system. He's moving through sensors that identify him as familiar. Robin is almost at the door when he feels something else.

He stops instantly, focused on his surroundings. Thinking rationally, Robin notes that something has alerted him. There had been no whisper of foreign movement, though. Nothing had caught the edge of his vision. The air stays the same, and still, Robin wants to shiver.

Ghosts.

He frowns and calls on the only explanation he can think of. "Raven?"

"Yes, Timothy." The texture of the room changes and then she's there, at the edge of Robin's line of sight. "No, I apologize. You want to be called Robin."

Tensing his shoulders against the goosebumps that increase up and down his back, Robin confirms her statement with a hum. Immediately, something Batman had once told him comes to mind.

When you encounter Raven, you can't trust her. She's spent her life hiding her emotions. She's spent her life being anything but honest.

If Raven notices the dark look that Robin tries to dismiss, she acts otherwise. Voice soft and almost inaudible, she asks, "you seem to be in a hurry."

Robin straightens, his back to the door and his bag slipping comfortable along one shoulder. "I have a little time at the moment, but eventually I'm meeting Nightwing for patrol."

Where Raven's cloak does not cover, Robin sees shadowed, pale skin. Her eyes are hard to pick out and Robin is grateful that he had kept his domino mask on until he hit the city streets. It's not common for him to feel so exposed around her, but Robin keeps company with the other during the day and with the Titans around.

It seems strange to see Raven nod, and maybe smile. "Richard, yes. I miss him."

Growing past the initial surprise that Robin had felt upon the unexpected encounter—he had been certain that he'd be the lone watchmen this evening while the other Titans entertained themselves with festivities—Robin wonders how Raven had escaped his assessment. Furthermore, why is she spending Christmas Eve alone?

Conner is with the good side of his family, eating turkey by now. Bart is eating many turkeys. Cassie, Kory and Vic are in various versions of paradise and even Tim is planning to spend the so-called holy night with the embodiment of grace and charity. Jack Drake still believes Tim on a ski-trip with Bruce Wayne's ward. It's close to truth. His father is reacquainting himself with Dana this weekend. It all feels precise, with everyone in their rightful places.

Watching Raven, something disturbs Robin. Something feels wrong. "Are you...alright?"

Raven ducks her head at the question, entertained. "Thank you for sympathizing, but I am content with my solitude. Even on Christmas."

Robin nods carefully, sensing no hint of underlying deception or even self-doubt—though if anyone could fool him, Bruce's certain it's Raven. He mentally shakes the thought loose and concedes that she probably is satisfied with seclusion. The quiet must be nice if it's true that Raven suffers from the emotions and thoughts of others...

He keeps himself from catching his breath, controlling the urge to distrust her any further. Robin's trained so that his sentiments weren't obvious. "But there's something else?" he asks.

"It's a small thing, or a big thing," she cryptically answers, glancing up at last.

She's a Titan, Robin reminds himself. "Is there anything I can do to help."

Raven maybe flashes a smile; humble and without teeth. While Robin is used to picking details out from shadows, Raven is quite above other shadows. "Cassandra has told me something, and I have felt disturbed ever since."

His brows furrowing, Robin finds it easier to focus with the reference to his familiar friend.

"She mentioned a phone call," Raven continues. "She had been talking to her friend Cissie."

Robin nods, aware that Wonder Girl had made it her personal mission to befriend the newest Titan.

"I sensed that she was distressed," states Raven, murmuring now as if her words could place her in troubled territory. "Cassandra found out that Cissie's mother would be taking Cissie to Hawaii for Christmas, but her mother wanted it to be exclusively a mother-daughter trip. Cassandra was bothered, but then she had to leave when Diana called. I didn't intend to investigate, but I did reveal for myself the real source of Cassandra's concern."

Robin keeps his frown internal, aware that his own investigations often include invasions of privacy. And yet...he can't bring himself to admit a breach of standards.

"What did you learn?"

Raven holds still for a moment, immovable. She finally shifts, and Robin cannot be certain if the shadows in the room shift with her. "Cassandra inwardly believes that Cissie should have encouraged her mother to buy a third seat on their flight out. She also believes that she is responsible for not doing anything herself regarding...Greta."

Robin does frown now, turning away to search at a far wall. "Arrowette and Secret are room-mates." He knows that they aren't active vigilantes anymore, though he remembers them as such.

"They are."

"In Pennsylvania," Robin recalls, pretty certain that he is right.

"Though Cassandra herself had duties to attend to in Themyscira," explains the darker Titan, "she was briefly haunted by the thought of Greta spending the holiday alone."

Robin can sympathize, having had a few empty Decembers of his own while his mother and father toured in more humid climates. He had braced against the winter with his private box of treasures—newspaper words with black and white pictures.

The room stirs around them, and for an instant Robin wonders if Raven is toying with the colours he sees. He can distinctly recall the rustle of pages and the muted glow of the television. Every night, he'd haunt the news and listen for any stories of Batman and Robin. He'd open presents sent from great distances under his Flying Graysons poster. Expensive gifts to almost replace the lack of company...

Robin blinks, and there is no trick of the light. Raven looks away, not capable of meeting Robin's bewildered stare.

"I'm sorry."

He doesn't want to feel himself go cold, but Robin thinks it may be starting.

She sighs. "I've brought up something that has made you uncomfortable. Or perhaps it is just myself that puts you on guard."

"Raven," Robin begins. He shakes his head. "Rachel...it's fine. I'm fine. And I trust you. Just give me some time to understand that trust. You have earned it, long before I came along."

The shoebox with his cut-outs had articles from Robin's start as a Titan. Different Robin...

Raven is watching him carefully. "I want to be a good friend. Perhaps as a New Year's resolution...but it's wrong of me to inquire into all of the feelings that the Titans have. It would be easier for me to help by knowing, but it's not wanted because nobody knows me yet. And now I'm aware of someone who is ordained to be spending a Christmas feeling alone -- I don't know Greta beyond what Cassandra, Conner and Bart have told me."

Something heavy grips at Robin as he finds himself absent as a contributor—he never talks about her. Not anymore...if he ever had to begin with.

Greta had never been a Titan, but she might as well should be. As a member of Young Justice, some of Robin's most prominent memories are empty without her. The first time he had lied to Batman had been because of Greta; she had shocked him with her powers by forcing him to face his own mortality; they had gone to Apokolypse and back, and in the end, she had nearly destroyed everything. All just to see his face...

Tim...

How it had ever eluded him in the first place—his friend is alone on Christmas Eve and she doesn't have the luxury of a dream that Tim had once had, to keep her going.

Just memories, equivalent in the rare photographs and media clips recording their days in Young Justice. All of these will be lacking of any sign of Robin, since Batman had ordered him then to void the limelight. And yet, she'd remember him.

He knows she would, and it hurts him.

Raven pulls herself back, sounding pained. "You're feeling it again."

"You're not the bad friend," Robin asserts. "I've been...negligent."

If he thinks hard enough, this can be fixed. He's Robin, after all. Even all those years ago there had been the promise that any problem could be solved. Batman isn't the only one who needs a Robin.

Raven had trusted him with her dilemma. He'll start here, by helping her. Maybe he has helped already, maybe...

"You miss Dick. Earlier, you said that you missed him."

Raven seems to sway. "We were sometimes close. He feels like...laughter. Like—"

"Christmas," Robin finds himself murmuring. "Yes. I know. He and I were planning to, well, make memories. But if I go visit Greta, I'll need a replacement."

As Raven rises—should could be levitating—her face seems to become clearer. She looks awed. "I can teleport you there. Perhaps not specifically to the building, but within a few blocks."

"I can find her then," Robin nods. If he could find Batman, he could also find someone neglected without the help of a star.

-

When he knocks on the door, it is almost midnight. After informing Nightwing of the modification to their plans, Raven had sent Robin to a dark, icy street with a glittering layer of snow over everything. Compared to the clouded-drizzle of festive San Francisco, Pennsylvania took more after Gotham in dress.

Robin had been recovering from the slight disorientation from travel, when he realized with shame that he hadn't prepared a gift. He had to pull Oracle away from her celebration with the Birds for help in finding a shop still open.

All of the town's businesses had been closed, save for one. Pulling the mask off of his face in an alley, Robin had come running down the street with hopes of catching the owner before he locked up. A credit card and a generously promised tip allowed for Tim to be successful.

"Oracle," he had once more addressed, slightly breathless and speaking so that the owner wouldn't hear him. "What do girls like?"

"God, Tim," she had buzzed in his ear. "You're not allowed to take after Dick in this way. When you shop for girls, you'll know the right thing when you see it."

Robin's line cut out then, interrupting a snide back-ground reply from someone else. Perhaps it had been the exhaustion from the emotions undergone from his encounter with Raven, but Robin could care less about how Huntress thought of him now. Or Black Canary, and the other blonde one...

His mood had lifted exponentially when he found it.

The package is clumsily wrapped, which is not at all like him. His watch shows the time as he knocks on Greta's door again—feeling out of place with half a uniform under his civvies as he stands in a quiet dorm.

The diary had been beige and had a tiny lock—perfect for keeping secrets in, though Robin wishes that he had had more notice. He could modify the book for unparalleled security. For now, his feeble offering could live in the shadow of a perfect gift.

A lock rattles—to Robin's satisfaction. Then the door cracks open and a pair of eyes peek out.

"...Robin?"

In the background, a television plays infomercials and a microwave hums. There is the smell of pizza.

He ducks his head and says, "Greta, you're allowed to call me Tim."

Her face flushes slightly, but she smiles. "Merry Christmas...Tim."

"Merry Christmas."

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