Chapter 10 – Patrol

I stood in front of my vanity mirror, my belt stocked with as much equipment as I could fit inside. I had been practicing all day, both with Cyborg and on my own with the discs. I felt the confidence.

I apologize. I do not wish to lie, or be a misleading narrator.

I felt more confidence than I had all week. Perhaps saying 'I felt the confidence' is untruthful, because a swarm of flanorgla flies inhabited my stomach, and I was still unsure of whether or not I should pull my hair back or leave it down, and I could not yet pick locks. But I was nimble and I was able to hold my own in a fight.

Let it not be forgotten that this was a Monday night, and it was very likely that I would meet no complications on my first patrol of solo.

My earpiece and communicator were still in the operations room. I left them there when I was speaking to Raven. I was glad of an opportunity to see her once more before I left, so it was no bother.

Raven, Cyborg, and Beast Boy were sprawled on the couch, Raven and Beast Boy sitting quit close together and Cyborg a few cushions away from them. I did not wish to interrupt the moment Raven was having with Beast Boy, so I picked up the earpiece that connected to the Tower's communications center and I placed the small device in my ear. My communicator snapped into place over the buckle on my belt, taking the place of the green gem on my old uniform and putting the Titans symbol at the center of my uniform.

I ran my hand over the pouches in the belt once more to assure myself that everything was prepared, and nervously I swept my fingers through my hair.

"Ready?"

I spun around, alarmed. Robin was leaning casually on the doorframe, and he spoke conversationally. "Yes," I answered shortly, too nervous to think of anything else to say. Truthfully, there was not much more to say. Robin had been avoiding me since our last encounter several days ago, and I was surprised that he sought me out now.

"Good," he said, his voice full of approval. "Let's go."

I froze. Let's go, he had said. Let us go. Us. "I think you are forgetting that it is my turn to patrol tonight," I suggested weakly.

He considered for a moment before shaking his head. "Nope."

My awkward, polite smile slipped into a displeased frown. "You are planning on accompanying me?"

"Yep."

I glanced over my shoulder. Raven, Beast Boy, and Cyborg were watching us, their movie forgotten.

"I do not require accompaniment. I realize that you mean well, but I assure you that I have acquired the skills needed to venture out on my own. "

He only lowered one eyebrow in response. Raven, Cyborg, and Beast Boy agreed that I was proficient enough to patrol on my own. It had taken Cyborg some convincing, but he agreed. And when we four had informed Robin of this together, he nodded at us. I had not expected a fight.

"If you insist on going out tonight," I said icily, offended now, "perhaps you should patrol on your own. We may switch days."

"Nope," he said infuriatingly, shaking his head. "You need practice in the field. It's better if you go out tonight." He kept his tone irksomely light and pleasant.

"Then I will see you when I get back!"

Robin sighed. "How do you plan on getting around, Starfire? You can't possibly have practiced enough with the jumpline to swing."

"I am perfectly capable," I snapped.

Perhaps I was being stubborn, but having Robin accompany me on my first time out was truthfully the worst idea anyone could have come up with. Robin made it difficult to focus. Robin made me self-conscious. Robin made me want things I could not have.

"Yo, Rob, if you want someone to go with her, I'd be happy to—"

"No, Cy," Robin said firmly.

"It's okay, dude." Cyborg rose to his feet. "I ain't really busy, anyway."

"Cyborg. I think the front end of the T-car needs aligning, doesn't it? And the oil needs to be changed."

Cyborg furrowed his eyebrows at Robin. "What? The oil don't gotta be changed for another two weeks, and the front end—"

"You might as well do it now."

Robin was using what Beast Boy called 'the Bat-glare'. He looked somewhat intimidated. I was growing even more annoyed, because Cyborg had stood up for me and Robin was punishing him for it.

Raven was not standing, but she had turned on the couch so that she was facing us. "Robin," she scolded, and he lowered an eyebrow at her. She turned her attention to me and said, "I'll go with you , Star."

I sighed. I did not wish to ruin Raven and Beast Boy's time together, although I am sure that neither of them would mind very much. Besides, I would need to begin getting along with Robin again at some point. Perhaps it was better to be alone with him if we had the responsibilities of a patrol route to distract us.

"It is the okay, Raven," I told her softly.

After raising her eyebrows at me to be sure, Raven fixed Robin with her sharp look once more. I appreciated her concern, but I was more than capable of looking after myself and I was feeling awkward.

I snatched my commincator off the counter and pressed it into place on my belt.

"Bye, Star," Beast Boy called, peeing at me around Raven. "Good luck."

"Thank you, Beast Boy," I said, and I slipped past Robin into the hallway.

Flustered, I leaned back against the hallway and meant to sneak a glance at the back of Robin's head, however he followed me out more quickly than I was expecting and I accidentally caught his eye.

"Look," he began, seeing that he had my attention, "I just think it's a good idea that—"

"I appreciate the sentiment," I interrupted as I began walking to the elevator that would bring me to the garage and to our tunnel off the island. "I do not, however, appreciate being cornered and surprised."

Robin kept pace with me easily, although he did need to walk markedly faster than usual as I was walking quickly and my legs were longer than his. "I didn't mean to corner you," he protested.

I did not wish to argue so I did not answer. I pressed the call button for the elevator and it opened immediately, which was a relief. I stepped inside and Robin reached across me to press the Garage button. He pushed his fingers through his hair nervously, which made me spitefully glad that I was not the only one who was uncomfortable.

When we entered the wide expanse of the Garage, Cyborg was already sprawled under the T-car and music was playing from a booming box on the ground beside him. I do not think he minded doing work on the car, but I felt guilty that it was because of his intrusion on my behalf that he was doing it now.

Robin mounted the R-cycle and that is when I noticed that he was holding both his own helmet and the spare helmet. He held it out to me expectantly.

"Oh, no," I said, and I pushed the helmet back at him. He knew that I did not like the R-cycle, and I especially did not wish to be so close to him at this moment.

"Come on, Star," he sighed. "It's either that or walking."

Walking through the long tunnel with robin would be painful. It took nearly fifteen minutes to traverse on foot, and the idea of walking with the bay pressing in all around us made my stomach knot. It would be quiet, as well, and we would need to fill the silence with conversation. At least on the R-cycle it would be too loud for that.

"Very well," I conceded, although I frowned to make sure he knew I was not happy with the arrangement. I took the helmet and jammed it on my head, glaring at the small smile he gave me as he slipped his helmet on. I mounted the vehicle behind him, taking care to put as much space as I could afford between us.

"Starfire, you're going to have to hold onto me." He sounded exasperated, which only made me even more eager to remain where I was.

"I will be the judge of that. Your overprotectiveness is misplaced."

He looked at me over his shoulder, a severe frown pulling at his mouth. "I'm not being—I just—Fine." Rigidly, he leaned forward and revved the engine once, I suspect in order to give me one more chance to grab hold of him (which, of course, I did not), and he took off.

The movement was jarring, and I wondered vaguely what Robin would do if I fell off. The Artificial Intelligence on the bike had kept it from toppling over during our encounter with doctor Light; I reassured myself by assuming that the same feature would not allow me to fall now.

Robin took a sharp turn out of the tunnel and I took hold of the body of the bike, squeezing with my knees and balancing myself with my hands behind me. He accelerated further and I could not help but hold onto his shoulders. The wind made his cape flap back, which made it very tempting to burrow my face into his back, or at least inch closer to keep it down.

After a few minutes of twisting through streets of the city, which were suddenly unfamiliar to me without the advantage of an aerial view, we stopped at the back of a factory. Robin removed his helmet carefully, his hair spiking up in its trained position as though he had never been wearing the obstructive headgear, and I placed mine next to his on the empty handlebar.

We stood at the foot of cement steps, which led to a paint-chipped door. I had not seen this place before and I did not know what we could be doing here.

A flick of his fingers produced a lock pick, which Robin slid into the keyhole on the door and began fidgeting. "You're going to have to learn to use one of these," he mentioned, his voice cheery, "now that you can't rip doors off their hinges anymore." There was a click followed by the opening of the door.

The place was dark, but Robin was seemingly familiar with it. He easily flipped on a light and soft yellow light spilled over us, accompanied by loud humming noises. There were large cylindrical tubs spaced evenly around us, and a strong smell stung at my nose. There was a walkway that stretched about thirty feet up, the vaulted ceiling far above that.

"We're going to do a little training," Robin announced.

I glared at him and crossed my arms. "There are many simulators and obstacle courses at the Tower with which we could have—"

"Nothing's better than the real thing," he said seriously, and it sounded like something he was not only telling me but that he had been told himself. A rule, perhaps. I was too busy pondering that to answer, so Robin continued. "This is a paint factory. Convenient to us because of the catwalk." I tilted my head at the catwalk, which was held in place by spindly framework that stretched up to the ceiling, like a downside-up bridge. "All you have to do is get up there from here."

"This is a joke?" I demanded, indignant. He supplied my belt with a grappling hook gun. Surely he must know that all that was necessary was pointing that and shooting.

"No," he answered patiently. "You have to learn to use the weight of the hook. It's not as easy as I make it look."

I ignored him, feeling a strong urge to indulge in the Earth habit of rolling my eyes. I snatched the device from the correct compartment in my belt, took aim, and—

"Nope."

I glared at him, lowering my arm. "What could I possibly have done wrong?"

He approached me cautiously, which was somewhat satisfying. "Do what you were doing before."

I assumed the position, aiming as carefully as I could.

"Okay. You wanna keep your arm bent." Robin stepped behind me and put his hand on my elbow, bending it gently. "And, um, keep your feet apart." He put his foot between both of mine, nudging them shoulder width apart. He put a hand on my back as he did that.

My heart fluttered in my chest and I could feel my face heating up. I was most certainly displeased with him, but I could feel his breath against my hair and the firmness of his hand on my back.

"Good," he murmured, his voice soft. "Now… You wanna have your weight kind of on your toes. Like your about to jump." He leaned forward and his front touched my back, and I hastily leaned away.

Was he unaware of how oddly intimate this was, or was he doing this on purpose? Which would be worse?

"And… When you hold it, your first two fingers should go on the trigger…" He slid his fingers from my elbow across my forearm o my wrist, and he carefully positioned my fingers correctly. "And the rest grab the handle firmly." At some point in the exchange, his hand on my back moved to my hip.

"Robin," I interrupted, my voice coming out in a pathetic squeak.

"Yeah?"

I bit my lip. "I believe I would be more comfortable if you were not… quite this close."

He was still for a moment. "Oh." He cleared his throat and removed his hands. "Oh. Sorry. "

The few inches of space he gave me did not help that much, but now that he was no longer touching me it did not feel as though my thoughts had been replaced with the static that sometimes appears on the television.

Robin cleared his throat before continuing to instruct me. He was still very close, but I suspected that the exercise required a certain amount of proximity. "Now aim carefully. You have some leeway with this, since it's designed to begin arcing to wrap around ledges and people."

I did as instructed. "Pull the trigger." I tensed and pulled the trigger, but I was not pulled into the air. The jumpline extended from the gun to the air, and the hook twirled neatly around the railing on the catwalk. Even though I had not really accomplished anything and Robin was instructing me the whole way, I was pleased with myself.

"Good. Now to pull yourself up, press the button beneath the trigger." As he spoke, he wound the line around his hand.

I was unprepared to be whisked off my feet and hurled up toward the catwalk. I do not know quite what I was expecting. Something similar to flight, I suppose. This was not like flight. It was jerky and too fast to think. So fast, in fact, that I did not realize until it was too late that i would need to perform a flip or another type of acrobatic trick to clear myself over the railing rather than crash into it. Robin, however, was used to this, and he pulled my body over the railing. Because of my inexperience, our landing was messy. The gun was pulled from my hand, jerking my arm back painfully. We fell forward, and Robin wrapped an arm around my waist so that I fell on top of him, and he did not let go until we rolled onto our sides.

"Star, you were supposed to let go of the trigger once we got higher than the hook. Otherwise it keeps retracting the line."

I was pointedly not looking at him as I pushed myself away from him into a sitting position, but I heard laughter in his voice.

"You did not tell me," I muttered.

"Sorry." The laughter was replaced with an apologetic tone. "Is your arm hurt?"

"I may have strained my bicep," I admitted, and I squeezed my arm. This, too, was new. Tamaranean muscles did not pull or tear or generally break as easily as human ones. The fatigue and ache from exercise was the same, but even that came on quicker since being Transsubstantiated.

Robin cupped my arm in both hands, but I did not wish to be examined or fretted over. "Robin," I mumbled, pulling my arm gently out of his reach. "I am fine."

"Oh." I could sense the hurt in his voice and I winced to myself. How had I become the one to balk at Robin's advances? How had we switched roles so completely

"Okay. I get that." He walked over to the railing and put one foot on it, aiming the grappling hook at the wall about twenty yards away. "The point is made to sink into walls. It's pretty straight forward. Just aim—" he punctuated that point by pressing the trigger and making the hook sink into the wall, which was interesting as the metal walls seemed mostly seamless— "and make sure you land with bent knees." He demonstrated, and as he landed on the wall I could not help but be glad of the space between us.

I copied Robin's previous stance, putting one foot on the railing and aiming at the wall. It did not really matter where the hook landed, but I wished to practice my accuracy. I pressed the trigger, and the hook made a satisfying noise as it sunk into the wall. I took in a steady breath and exhaled calmly before jumping. Perhaps I should have allowed Robin to examine my arm, because as soon as the line pulled it, a sharp pain that I was not expecting went through my biceps all the way down my arm through my fingers. I hit the wall heavily and the gun slipped out of my grip. At first I was not afraid of falling, but then I realized that in my altered form a fall like this could possibly be fatal, and it would hurt very much at the least. There was nothing I could do to stop myself. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, an image of Crux with his ray gun flashing against my eyelids.

My fall changed course as something knocked into me. Robin's arms closed around me, and again he rolled us as we hit the ground. Even doing that hurt a little. I must not have sustained anything more than bumps and bruises, but I was used to falling much higher than this and cratering the ground when I fell while sustaining no damage. I felt helpless and so very breakable.

I did not pick myself up off the ground, but in a rather embarrassing display I curled into myself, pressing my hands over my eyes. I missed my flight sorely. Tears pricked at my eyes.

Robin pulled me into a sitting position, clearly worried that the reason for my distress was physical pain. "Are you okay?"

"No," I answered, too upset to be distant with him.

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

He sighed, relieved. "It's okay, Star. It'll get easier. You just need practice."

"No, Robin," I said, my voice tight. "It will not be okay."

He took his hands away from my shoulders and I pressed my hands against my eyes more firmly in an attempt to dissolve the tears that were welling there. "Starfire, I know it seems that way, but—"

"When I got my starbolts from the Psions," I began, bringing my hands away from my eyes to look at them and imagine the familiar green light encompassing them, "I hated them. I was not like other Tamaraneans. I felt like… I believe the term is, a freak." I glanced up at Robin, who was watching me carefully but did not interrupt. "But they have proven useful on Earth. Even on Tamaran, my power was respected. And now my natural Tamaranean abilities have been taken away." I shut my eyes against tears. "I do not know who I am any longer."

Robin pulled me in for a hug, which I reciprocated. "You're Starfire," he said against my hair. "You're a Teen Titan. You can't fly, but you can still kick major butt." I pulled back and he smiled at me, smoothing my hair away from my face. "Your favorite color is green. Your favorite food is mustard. Your birthday is the first day of summer and your favorite time of day is sunset."

"Robin?"

"You have a family of Titans who love you no matter what. And I promise that will never change."

I could not stop the tears now, but these were different from the kind of tears I had been experiencing lately. I threw my arms around Robin's neck and hugged him tightly. "Thank you," I whispered.

Neither one of us had to voice the fact that we made up then, but we both knew. I considered apologizing, but I did not. Robin did not need me to, and I did not need Robin to. That was how friendship worked.

"Is your arm okay?" he asked, returning to business. "That's what threw you off, right?"

"Yes. I believe it is the okay," I assured him. "I was simply not expecting the type of pain. I can continue."

"If it hurts, you shouldn't stress it too much."

"Robin," I said firmly. "I am fine."

He sighed, defeated, and stood, offering his hand to help me up. "Okay. But I'm not gonna go easy on you. If you want to train, you have to do it all or nothing."

"Very well."

Robin smiled at me, pleased with my enthusiasm. "That a girl."

I could not make the heads or the tails of the grammar Robin applied to that sentence, so I simply smiled back.

My smile did not last long, however. The grappling hook is used to aid oneself in acrobatic tricks, catch criminals, pull oneself away from danger, pull someone or something out of danger… The list is quite extensive. And Robin made me practice most uses he could think of. I was not good with the device—my aim varied from true to very poor, my arms became tired quickly, and I could not get used to being pulled in the direction of the line rather than flying and choosing my own course.

Finally, after hours of training under Robin's careful gaze, the gem on my breastplate flashed red and the communicator at my belt beeped. Robin's alerted us, as well, but I reached mine first, plucking it away from my belt before he removed his from its designated pouch.

"Beast Boy!" I exclaimed, happy for the recess from training. "What is the trouble?"

Robin's arm brushed mine as he moved into Beast Boy's line of view. Beast Boy looked between us, confused at our proximity, but he did not comment.

"It's Red X," Beast Boy answered, and Robin nearly snatched the communicator out of my hand. His expression darkened the way it always did when Red X was mentioned. As much as Robin has moved past the mistake he first made regarding the red X suit, I do not think he will ever forgive himself for essentially creating a new villain, and especially not a villain who is so competent and who causes us so much trouble.

"Where?" he asked curtly.

"Art Museum," Beast Boy answered. "Do you want us to—?"

"No. It's probably better that there's less of us for now." Without any more words, Robin snapped the communicator closed and handed it back to me.

I could not help but feel that Robin was being rash, as he sometimes was. With only me at his side, it would be very much as though Robin were fighting Red X on his own, which I am sure is what he wanted.

"C'mon, Star," he called as he began walking toward the exit.

Perhaps I should have urged him to call on our friends for backup, but I was too eager to prove my own usefulness, as Robin was, to think of the advantages that our friends would bring.

Yay! They made up! I've never really written them being mad at each other, and it was kinda fun but I'm mostly over it now. Not that the rest of this fic is going to sparkles and bunnies, but it'll verge on fluffy sometimes?

"Do the biting of me," I growled.

He chuckled and stood back, satisfied to at least get a rise out of me. "Easy, cutie. As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll just get what I—"

Confused by his abrupt stop, I glanced over to where the canister had rolled only to find that it was gone. And so was Robin.

"Dammit," Red X muttered. "Where'd he go?"