Chapter 4

Starfire kept her eyes on the steaming mug of tea that she held in her hands. She knew what was coming, and she dreaded it. They had sent Nightfire to her room, to unpack and give them time to work "stuff" out. No-one was speaking, the Titans were watching her, and she was watching her tea. The Titans were trying to think of questions they could ask, without breeching the major subject. Starfire had to have a reason for not coming back, right? And it had to be big, because they thought she loved them, right? And what about Nightfire? Meanwhile, Starfire was carefully planning her answers, to the questions she knew she'd have to answer eventually.

"Where have you been?" said Beastboy.

"New Harlem." she said. New Harlem was a bad city, full of slums, cheap diners, and strip clubs.

"You have a nice daughter" said Cyborg.

"Thank you," she said, and the silence closed in again. Starfire tried to seem at ease,

"She has three names, you know? Her real name, her Tameranian name is Korilaire. Laire means "gift" on Tameran. She chose Claire for herself, it kind of sounds the same, doesn't it? And Nightfire, I called her that because," her voice was becoming choked with emotion, " because she was born during the night on the fourth of July. I could see the sky through the window, and all the fireworks made it look like the whole world was celebrating her birth. Like a true princess." The room fell silent again and Starfire kept looking at her tea, she swirled it around a bit without drinking any. Nightwing's head was screaming questions, but he remained silent. There were so many that they eventually just fell into white noise.

"Do you want your old room back? We kept it just the way you left it" said Beastboy.

"Thank you" said Starfire. Why was this so hard? She put her still full mug down on the table and stood up. "I think I'm gonna go…..unpack" she said, and with that she turned and left the room. The Titans looked nervously at Nightwing, they remembered what he had been like after she'd left, but he was just standing there, not moving a muscle.

When Starfire got to her room, and unlocked the door for the first time in twelve years, it was like walking into a house that your bestfriend had died in. The curtains were closed, shrouding the room in darkness, and it smelled distinctly musty, but apart from that everything was just as she remembered it. She slowly walked towards her bed, running her fingers across her bedside table, she looked at them and saw a thick coating of dust. She looked away and was startled as she saw herself in an old mirror, also covered with dust. It suddenly struck her how much she had changed, she was no longer the happy, care-free girl she had been. Instead the woman she saw was sad and just a shell of a human being. She didn't even look like herself any more. The curtains waved in the faintest of breezes, and Starfire fell to her knees. She rested her arms on her bed and buried her head in her hands. Then she cried, she let all the emotion that was clogging her system to flow out of her. The regret, the loneliness, the guilt, everything just tore through her body. She was racked in sobs, loud and constant. She bunched the bed covers up in her hands and fell to the floor, letting the pain take control until she fell asleep.

She awoke a few hours later, feeling empty inside, but a good kind of empty, the kind that can be filled with good things. She wrestled herself to her feet and strolled over to the curtains. Grabbing them harshly, she threw them open and was blinded for a second by the sunlight. Turning to face the room, she felt the sadness creeping back because the light only threw the dust and dirt and cobwebs into sharp relief, but she pushed it away. Next she grabbed her make-up bag from her purse, she marched to the bathroom to fix her make-up, as much of it as there was. She flicked on the overhead halogen light and looked at herself. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were red from crying, and her foundation had been rubbed off on one cheek. She sighed and started to take it all off. Ten minutes later she looked somewhat like her old self. Her hair was still brown, she couldn't take the die off, but she'd taken out the contacts, so once again she was the orange-skinned, green-eyed alien-girl who had lived in the tower so long ago. She smiled, and looked at herself from all angles, before picking up her powder and starting to put everything back.

Another ten minutes later, she left her room in search of cleaning products, she treaded carefully, trying to go unnoticed. She wanted to stay in her denial for as long as possible, she didn't want to face the reality of her former team-mates hurt and questioning faces. She was succesful, and tiptoed back to her room, her arms full of rags and various polishes. She dumped them on her bed, and opened the windows wide, letting the summer air circulate through her room. She sighed as she began to clean, and was finished in an hour and a half.

Nightwing hadn't left the tower, he had gone to visit his old room. He flicked on the lights, and eyed his bare and dusty room. He had taken most of the furniture when he'd moved out. All that remained was an old chair, a small bedside table, and some newspaper clippings. He smiled as he remembered how obsessed with work he had been, even at such a young age. It wasn't a happy smile, he knew how much he'd missed out on. Playing video games with BB and Cy, going to quiet cafés with Raven, he had never learned to play the guitar, which he had always wanted to. He could have cooked with Starfire, that would've been fun, he never sat with her while she watched the sun go down…. How could that woman be his Starfire? He collapsed onto the chair and put his head in his hands. His eyes fell on the small table, with its one draw. He reached out and opened it, just for curiosity's sake, and he saw that there was a picture inside. He frowned and lifted it out. It was a picture of Starfire back when they had still been a team, she was facing away from the camera, but was looking over her shoulder and smiling. Smiling at him. He remembered now, there had been a lul in crime, so they had all gone to the park. They had been playing with frizzbees, and she was just about to throw it when he came up behind her with the camera. He'd called her name, and she'd turned and saw him, and smiled. He must have missed it when he'd packed his things. God, how many nights had he lain awake, staring at that photo, trying to find the courage to tell her how he felt? And what had happened when he did? She was taken prisoner and killed. Except, of course, that she hadn't been. Nightwing shook his head, what the hell would happen next?