Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans. But I would like them for Chanukah.
AN: For other writers… Best (free) dictionary and thesaurus I know of.
Chapter 4 – Beautiful Lies
I can hear the soft shuffle of feet from up the cavern. Beast Boy, while late visiting for the first time since she died, has arrived. I let out a tiny sigh of relief. As much as have I hated coming here and listening, I think I would scream if Beast Boy did not come.
In the months since I started coming here, first to destroy her, then to watch Beast Boy, and finally to listen to Beast Boy share our lives with a statue, I have become addicted to the little bits of emotion that I am seeing through Beast Boy.
Since that fourth month after her death, Beast Boy's visits have been frighteningly similar. As have mine. I arrive early, bend reality to listen, and sit on the rock ledge high above him. He brings her flowers and talks. Sometimes he cries. Sometimes he laughs. And I listen to it all and instead of experiencing my own emotions, I experience Beast Boy's.
And I wonder why I do it.
Why do I come to this cave and watch Beast Boy relive his life for Terra? The good and the bad. The boring parts and the heart stopping adventures. And why does it hurt deep in my chest when Beast Boy cries? And why do I want to burst open when he giggles about our adventures?
I have been denying the truth for months now. I don't want it to be true, but I've known since the sixth month he came here. I deeply care for Beast Boy. I don't know if I love him. It doesn't feel like the starry-eyed lovesickness that Starfire talks about after she reads one of those romance novels she has recently become enamored with.
Sixth months after Terra's death found me listening in to Beast Boy as he spoke to Terra's statue. Again he had brought her flowers, orange blossoms this time. And he started telling her about life in the Tower. He was talking to her statue in the easy-going way that he would talk to Cyborg. How he used to talk to her when she was alive.
I had been mesmerized, listening as Beast Boy told the story of the Titan's past month. His voice lulled me, his emotions took me on a journey I had not been ready to experience directly. And as I listened I realized something. Of all the Titan's, as annoying and frustrating as he can be, right then, Beast Boy was the most important part of the team.
I had almost gasped aloud when that thought entered my mind, stopping myself only because Beast Boy might have heard. How could I think that that obnoxious, easily distracted, unfunny green thing was important? And yet…
I had come here first to destroy the last remnants of our betrayer. His betrayer. I had been paying ever more attention to him since her death. First to see that he was going to be okay, then because it had become a habit. I had been coming to the cave to listen to him recount our lives, even though I knew listening to him was wrong.
And I could not stop myself.
That day I told myself that my concern was merely the one that a friend – no, a teammate – would have for another teammate. And once again I lied to myself.
Beast Boy's visit on the anniversary of her death confirmed what I had long known and dreaded. My concern for him was not merely what one teammate has for another.
That morning, we had held a memorial service for Terra at the Tower. Robin had spoken a tribute to her, recognizing her fall and her redemption. Starfire had broken out in tears for her lost friend with whom she had frequently gone to "the Mall of Shopping". Cyborg had tried to comfort her while keeping an eye on Beast Boy. And I had done my best to stay out of the way.
Well, stay out of the way and watch Beast Boy.
Where Starfire cried, Beast Boy seemed to withdraw. When Robin spoke of Terra's final sacrifice, Beast Boy's eyes moistened, but he did not cry. And when Cyborg had tempted the green teen to join us for a vegetarian meal in Terra's honor, Beast Boy merely said, "I can't. I'm not hungry." And he had walked away from the Tower, headed to the streets of Jump City.
When Robin got up to go after him, it was I who spoke. "No, Robin. Let me," I had simply stated.
Inside I was churning, worried that Beast Boy would do something stupid, and terrified that I would only make it worse.
I followed him for a while, only slightly surprised to see that he was going to the cave. When I had become sure of where he was going, I had twisted space and stepped through the black wound in reality to my ledge. There I wove the fabric of space so I could listen to him.
That day, he had shuffled in, precisely on time and fall to his knees in front of her statue. And he cried. And as he sobbed out how much he missed her, my heart hurt. Each soft muttering of, "I miss you so much," twisted in my chest. And then I knew. I could no longer tell myself the beautiful little lies.
As much as I cared for Beast Boy, I hated her because of what she had done to him. I hated her for the hurt she had caused him.
And for the time she took away from me.