I've been, in between chapters, writing little "interludes" of character development and such, mostly for my own benefit. I made a little post on Tumblr earlier asking if people wanted to read them, and I got several votes of yes, so here's the first one! I really plan on having M'gann and Robin be tight friends in this story. Blaaaaah.
Takes place between chapters two & three.
M'gann could not sleep. That was the long and short of it. The sound of the crackling, sparkling stars popped incandescently in her temples until she could ignore them no longer and floated silently up the stairs to the observation deck atop the mountain, feeling disturbingly human gooseflesh crawling over her shoulders.
She sat there now, perched impossibly on the metal railing with her knees at her chin, and the maritime breeze twisted around her hair like curious fingers. She sighed softly, amber eyes wandering through the constellations until they found the dim redness of her distant Mars. Her chest grew pinched.
She closed her eyes and shifted her skin, unraveling the creamy tan to allow the enveloping, comfortable green she was so accustomed to. The change poured down her in gentle waves, like the tide far below her, and she leaned her head back to expose her neck to the sky, relishing in the calm that overcame her now that her forced façade had been set aside.
She saw the dark red surfaces of the caves of Mars painted against the insides of her eyelids and she wanted to sleep, to dream, to allow her mind to meander with aimless contentment through the nacreous, misty astral pathways. But everything within her was heavy and stubborn, tenacious with the crippling presence of gravity; she hummed softly to herself, a song from home, and took scraps of comfort from the faintly recalled melody.
She should have heard the footsteps long before they reached her, but so lost was she in her own introspection that she let her guard tumble.
"It's a nice night," a light voice said from beside her, and she gasped loudly, bones bristling – sharply, she whirled to her right, mind buzzing with action, and felt her thoughts freeze at the sight of the diminutive, impish boy who stood at her elbow.
"Robin!" she exclaimed, and her skin shifted back to its Caucasian state of its own accord. "H-Hello."
"Hi," he replied nonchalantly. The feeble sliver of the moon glinted against the surface of his Ray Bans. His dark hair shivered against the indolent gusts of wind, and his hands were in the pockets of his warm-looking burgundy sweater. "Couldn't sleep?"
M'gann, after a moment, replied, "No… I couldn't."
"Yeah, neither could I. Always have trouble sleeping when I'm not – y'know, at home," Robin muttered distractedly, exhaling bluntly as he stretched his arms behind his head. "Good to know I'm not the only insomniac around here, though."
"Artemis doesn't sleep," M'gann blurted out very abruptly, as the vague image of a girl dressed in green flickered through her mind. "Not often."
Robin turned his head at last to look at her, eyebrows low and frowning behind the sunglasses.
"Who's Artemis?" he asked hesitantly, lowering his head skeptically at her. She thought she caught a glimpse of eyelashes before he raised his chin again.
"I—" Her voice was tight, and she swallowed dryly. "I do not – don't know, really. Sorry. She could… be anyone. It happens sometimes…"
"You let your mind slip into someone else's?" Robin suggested with a knowing (but empathetic) smirk. "Yeah, I guess it must get lonely in that dusty ol' noggin of yours."
"It's… it isn't lonely, really," M'gann murmured, and it was a lie. "It's just… different. It's quiet. Like that radio station Superboy always listens to, with all of the static. It is – it's like that."
"You're really picking up on the contractions," Robin observed, clearly pleased. "I've taught you well, young Martian. Our finned friend should join the class."
"Oh, I don't know," M'gann said with a smile. "Kaldur's manner of speech… suits him. I think. I think it gives him… dignity."
Robin let loose a carefree chuckle.
"Hah. That's one word for our man Kaldur'ahm." He inhaled, and M'gann, in a moment's lapse of self-control, allowed her senses to meld with his – she could feel the salt in the air twisting up through his nose, could share in the clean pleasure he derived from it. Her mind retreated after a brief moment, before he could notice its company.
"I've never been near the sea until now," M'gann whispered. "When… when I first came to Earth, with Uncle J'onn, he showed me the vast blue surface of your planet… the rolling oceans and the endless waves. I had never seen anything so beautiful."
"Never really looked at it that way. It was always just the ocean to me," Robin confessed indifferently, yawning behind one pale hand.
"It's… I think it's one of the most beautiful things—" M'gann's throat grew raw from an emotion she couldn't describe. "Everything here is so… connected. So trusting of all other things. Not like Mars. Everyone is… everyone is together."
"I wouldn't go that far," Robin interjected immediately. "The world's far from perfect, M'gann."
M'gann's wide brown eyes blinked, and she glanced at Robin, eyebrows high.
"Y-You can… call me Megan; it is my Earth name…"
"I prefer M'gann," Robin told her. "You do enough hiding as it is. M'gann's that little scrap of you we can all be acquainted with, y'know?"
"I—" The feeling was back in her throat now, grasping her uvula, and she felt a sudden urge to shed tears and crawl away. "I… I'm sorry if—"
"Oh! Don't get me wrong! Secrets aren't bad things," Robin appended hastily, waving a hand. "I've got a million of 'em. But… you know you don't need to hide from us or anything, don't you? Not if you don't want to."
M'gann frowned, biting her lip.
"What… what do you mean?" she whispered.
He pointed to her, circling his finger in a summating gesture.
"That's not what you really look like," he said frankly, "is it?"
M'gann's human heart, like the organ it was supposed to imitate, quickened and slowed all at once and M'gann did not know what to do. Robin's face was unreadable behind the sunglasses, and perhaps she should know how to read it, because faces were the minds of the Earthlings.
"What?1 Of course it is!" she cried rapidly, thinking in shame of her true form and shuddering. "I…"
"M'gann, I understand," Robin muttered, and M'gann was silent. "This isn't the best time to be different, and you're not like we are. That's fine. You have to make yourself look as much like a human as possible. But… I saw you, earlier, sitting out here and… being yourself. You were green."
"N—"
"And you looked just fine," Robin told her with an earnesty she had not yet encountered from him. Her teeth raked over her fragile lips. The inside of her mouth was like the hollow of a tree, and Robin was looking her straight in the eye. "M'gann. You looked just fine."
She gazed wordlessly at him, shoulders tense and knees cold beneath her palms. He bowed his head pensively.
"You don't have to hide from me," he said quietly, turning away to face the ocean again. "If you ever need a break, or… or if you ever need to – just be yourself around someone, then… you know, I'm around. I won't judge you."
The slightest of nostalgic smiles flickered across his face.
"I was in the circus, y'know. You can't judge anybody there."
M'gann watched him silently. Her mind was a tumultuous, babbling mess, but her mouth let loose no words. Robin seemed to forget that she was there after a time, content with staring out at the indiscernible surface of the endless waters, and M'gann could taste the spring on the wind.
After a long time, a very long time, she exhaled through her nostrils and let her feigned skin color fall away. Her green shoulders glistened in the silver moonlight.
Robin glanced aside at her, taking her in. She lowered her head, resting her forehead against her raised knees, and said nothing.
After a few moments, she felt a small hand on her shoulder. She turned her head, cheek brushing her kneecap, and looked at Robin. He was smiling.
"Better?" he asked gently.
She nodded. He squeezed her shoulder once before releasing it, following the action with a yawn and a stretch. He started toward the doorway back indoors, back straight, pallid face satisfied.
"The hour's late, Miss M," he declared, opening the door with a flourish. "I'm gonna hit the hay, so…"
"Robin," M'gann interpolated with such gentleness that he nearly didn't notice. He looked over his shoulder at her curled-in form, eyebrow cocked.
She beamed.
"Thank you."
He returned the expression after a moment's pause, nodding in understanding.
"And – permit me," he implored her, "if you let everyone else see you the way you really are, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't react very differently than I did. We're here for you. That's what friends are for."
M'gann's eyes widened and her breath grew reverent.
"Friends?" she whispered.
Robin smiled.
"Yeah. Friends. See you anon, Miss M!"
He closed the door behind him, and M'gann could hear one of his trademark triumphant laughs from behind its muffling surface. She kissed one of her kneecaps and rested her chin on it, glistening eyes staring back into space, and the wet trails on her cheeks were like nothing she had ever felt, but her lips were upturned in a smile. Was this how crying worked? She wasn't sure. What she did know was that she had to do it, and she had to do it happily.
The sky burgeoned at its usual torpid pace, and M'gann thought of home.