Ignis fatuus: (1) A phosphorescent light that hovers or flits over swampy ground at night, possibly caused by spontaneous combustion of gases emitted by rotting organic matter.

(2) Something that misleads or deludes; an illusion.

I supposed none of us had really noticed anything wrong until the week after the incident. Looking back, I realize that his silence in the car, when sitting covered head to toe in blood, and during the week after the incident was because he was in shock. His brain couldn't handle what had happened and, by the next few days, his subconscious had formed an illusion to trick the conscious, to protect his fragile psyche until it had healed itself enough to accept what had happened.

But seven days later, when he finally broke his silence, it became apparent that something about Robin was horribly wrong. Beast Boy and I sat at the kitchen counter picking at our food, for once our tofu versus bacon fight forgotten. Neither of us had the heart. So we sat there, stabbing halfheartedly at our pancakes and staring gloomily at the jug of orange juice, when we heard a laugh.

It was strange to hear a laugh that day in the Tower…even Beast Boy was rarely ever seen smiling after that fateful night, except maybe to Raven. But there was something too cheerful about that laughter—it was carefree and happy, a reminder of what had once echoed throughout the Tower.

Then in walked Robin, smiling and talking animatedly to…nothing. Thin air. A nonexistent ghost. Or a figment of his own imagination…

Beast Boy and I stared bewilderedly as Robin sat down nonchalantly, grabbing two plates and pulling two chairs out. He seemed to be observing or listening to someone, facing the empty chair with a look of rapt attention on his face, and then he spoke. To Starfire.

But there was no one there. And there never would be, because Starfire couldn't be there. She was gone, and she was never coming back.

Ever.

Beast Boy broke the shocked silence, leaping out of his chair and yelling desperately for Raven as I looked blankly at Robin, who had a lax but slightly confused look on his face.

"What's up with Beast Boy?" he asked, bemused, glancing at me then at the empty chair beside him.

Moments later, Beast Boy hurried back into the room, Raven hot on his heels.

"What's going on?" she questioned sharply. "Beast Boy barged into my room babbling incoherently about Robin. What happened?" I gestured wordlessly toward Robin, who was facing empty air again.

"Starfire, why aren't you eating anything?"

Nothing would be the same again for a long, long time.

Perhaps I should start at the beginning.

It was a routine night. There were a bunch of robbers holding up a bank, and as usual the pathetic police department couldn't handle them, leaving the job to us. We were confident in ourselves…many times we had taken down armed robbers, what would be different this time? We busted through the door with our usual vigor, launching ourselves into the fray at Robin's proud cry of "Titans, go!" And everything had gone well for a while.

Then one of the robbers pulled the metal box out, and everything changed.

No one noticed it. To tell the truth, even I had passed the small detail, and only recalled it when it was much too late. But whatever the case, he threw the small metallic device, and it sailed through the air, too diminutive and insignificant to be noticed. But it hit its target dead on.

Starfire gasped as the box landed on her stomach, thick wires twisting out of it and immediately and wrapping around her waist tightly, in an eerie mechanical imitation of an anaconda, or maybe an octopus. She struggled to get it off, crying for help. And even when Robin rushed to assist her, Raven, Beast Boy and I too far away to be of use, even when the blinking bright red numbers began their countdown, I realized it was too late.

The explosion was small, barely making us wobble on our feet, but it had done its job. When everything settled, we saw Starfire and Robin, covered completely in dark red blood, one standing and one still floating, shocked. And slowly, ever so slowly, the alien drifted to the ground, landing in our leader's arms. When we reached them, her body was still warm. But her breath had left, there was no pulse to be found, her eyes were closed, and there was a large, crimson opening in her stomach.

Robin's expression was unreadable. He didn't speak for seven whole days.

We lost two people that fateful night: Starfire…and Robin.

"Star, tell me what it was like on Tamaran."

He was doing it again, sitting on the edge of the roof and conversing with thin air. It hurt us to watch him, but what could we do? Raven had tried going into his mind to attempt to heal him, but she had come out shivering, her only explanation being that his mind was too broken, and could only heal by itself.

We were harming him by doing it, but none of us had the heart to shatter his fantasy. It would be too cruel.

I would never admit this to anyone, but sometimes, I envied Robin. Trapped in his own utopia, oblivious to everything in the real world…and he didn't have to see himself or be in my place, or have his heart ripped out every time he saw his best friend, once proud and strong, now reduced to madness. He was protected by his insanity, safe in his own little realm. Oh yes, I'm sure that at one time or another, we had all envied him. Perhaps, every now and then, we still do.

The alarm went off, destroying the silence in the room that reigned merely moments before. Raven drew up the city map on the computer mainscreen, Beast Boy hovering near her elbow.

"It's Plasmus," she said, and we took off.

"Wait!" Robin called. "I'm coming with you."

I looked at Raven uncertainly, and she glanced back, doubt clear in her eyes.

"I think it won't hurt," she mouthed to me, then gestured for Robin to follow us.

The battle with Plasmus was long and harrowing. Short one member, it was a difficult battle to fight. My heart nearly stopped when I saw Beast Boy plummeting to the ground, unconscious. But I couldn't fly—and then I saw Robin looking at Beast Boy too, and I knew he was safe. Until…

"Starfire, catch him!"

My heart sunk, and terror constricted my throat. I had to shout for Raven's help, do something, but I was paralyzed with the fear of losing yet another teammate. Then the sorceress noticed Beast Boy's fall, and levitated him to safety a mere second from impact. She glanced at Robin quickly, and in that moment I saw the pure anger and hate in her gaze.

"What were you doing?" she shouted, displaying emotion for the first time in three months. "Beast Boy was in danger! He could've been killed, and you were standing there staring at him like an IDIOT!"

I was horrified at the way Raven was yelling, and saddened by the look of confusion and hurt on Robin's face.

"I…I don't know…Raven, Starfire missed, you can't blame her…she…I…"

Without another word, Raven, fuming and enraged, teleported Beast Boy and herself home.

Robin never went on any more mission with us.

He seemed to notice a few things about her the others never did. Robin noticed that she never spoke, instead communicating through expressions, hand gestures, or pictures. He knew there was something off about it, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Do you remember the time we went on the Ferris Wheel?" he asked her, bringing out the scrapbook and rummaging through the pages of pictures. She merely smiled gently at him, nodding. He didn't know why she was so sad.

In fact, it seemed that Starfire had been…different, recently. He knew something big had happened, but he just couldn't remember! All he could recall was a feeling of terror, grief, guilt…and red. A deep, warm, wet crimson color, metallic and coppery in taste. He knew that this was the key to his forgotten memories, but he never dwelled on it too long. It terrified him.

He had once asked Raven why Starfire never talked. He often wondered, hurt, if Starfire was mad at him, and if it was his fault. Raven had given him a look, with hundreds of hidden answers in them. But she had answered that she didn't know.

"But doesn't she ever talk to you? Is it my fault? Did I do anything wrong? You're the only other girl in the Tower, and I know she confides in you a lot," he pressed on, trying to squeeze an answer out of her. She shook her head, then quickly excused herself, rushing out of the room, the hood of her cloak hiding her face in the shadows.

In fact, he noticed that none of his teammates had been acting normal. They never seem to notice that Starfire is there, nor did they talk to her. And Starfire, usually so loud and sweet and social, never interacted with them, either. And the girl always seemed to disappear at times. She would never be in her room at night, nor on the roof in the morning like she usually would, but would randomly appear to him. Starfire never ate, and when he offered her food she would politely refuse, shaking her head slowly, gesturing that she had already ate.

One day, though, she finally spoke.

"Robin, I have to go soon."

"Go? Well, it's getting late. I should probably go to bed too," Robin answered, politely hiding his shock that she was speaking.

"No, Robin, you misunderstand," Starfire said sorrowfully, eyes cast towards the ground. "I'm going away…and I won't be coming back."

Robin leapt to his feet, shocked. "B-but…where are you going?" He reached out for her hand, perhaps coming in contact with her for the first time in half a year, and to his amazement found his hand sliding through her fingers. He gasped and stepped back, confused, staring at his hand.

"Robin, I do not belong in this world anymore," Starfire explained. "I must leave, I cannot stay any longer."

"N-no…please…don't leave me, Star…"

"Robin, it is time to accept the truth." And before Robin's very eyes, Starfire's form faded, growing fainter and fainter, before completely dispersing. In an matter of seconds, she had vanished.

Then the tears came, quickly and silently, sliding from his eyes down his cheeks and dripping to the floor in soft little taps. Flashes of the night came back to him: standing there soaked in something warm and sticky, holding a body as if afraid it would evaporate, horrified by the fact that it was quickly losing warmth—it was adding to his grief and pain. But somewhere, deep inside him, he knew this pain was helping him and so he embraced it, welcoming it with open arms.

They say when you truly love someone, you will bear the pain of letting them go. But Robin always did have a selfish streak in him. Perhaps he loved her too much, and he grasped onto her desperately, refusing to look the truth in the eyes, instead sinking deeper and deeper into memories. Yet it had been memories that brought him back. And in the end, he did let her go, and that just proved how much he truly loved her.

He would never forget her. Would he move on? Maybe. Would it ever stop hurting? He didn't know. Would he let the memories of her fade away? Never. But would he accept that she was gone? Yes.

They say when you truly love someone, you will bear the pain of letting them go. But he loved her too much, and clung onto her, no matter what the cost…

Have a heart. Please review.