A/N: read, enjoy, review, and all that good whatnot!! btw--while this might seem filler-like, it actually has great importance, so pay attention!

How Long Is Never?

Chapter 7

"This place is old, feels just like a beat-up truck

I turn the engine but the engine doesn't turn.

Well, it smells of cheap wine and cigarettes

This place is always such a mess

Sometimes I think I'd like to watch it burn.

I'm so alone, and I feel just like somebody else

Man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same."

--"One Headlight", The Wallflowers

Starfire lay sprawled on her bed, the sheets uncomfortably twisted around her body, staring at her clock exactly as she had been for the past twenty-six minutes. Make that twenty-seven, she thought dully as the small red digits changed, now showing 5:48 AM. She thought at first to blame the time difference between England and California, but she always woke up early and blaming jet lag wouldn't very well change that. The slightest hint of dawn's pale light was visible beneath the violet curtains drawn across the floor-length windows, and she watched the light slowly creep across the carpet. Another day, another dollar. Whatever that meant.

Frustrated with her inability to sleep, Starfire fought briefly with the blankets before she managed to free herself from their clutches and stumbled rather gracelessly to her feet. She felt like she ought to stifle a yawn, but no such yawn came, and she shuffled stiffly over to the closet, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she did so. She didn't need to scrutinize her reflection to know that she looked absolutely terrible. She hadn't slept, but she had tossed and turned fully clothed all night, and she desperately wanted to take a shower and perhaps wash it all down the drain. She flung open her closet doors, greeted with the sight of a dozen violet uniforms, and a frown tugged at the corners of her lips. Had everything she owned really all been purple? She pushed them aside aimlessly, not expecting to find anything, but as she shoved the purple ones about, she caught sight of her oldest outfit, the one she had worn upon her arrival on Earth, upon her escape from her captors. She pulled it out, fingering the black cloth. That was the only difference; besides the color, it was the same, with the addition of the gray armor that went underneath it.

She draped the garments over her arm and thought about towels. Weren't they kept in the bathrooms? Shrugging to herself, she closed her closet doors and trudged from her room, her feet heavy and not altogether cooperative. She was exhausted, after all. Finding the bathroom unoccupied, she flicked the light on and dropped her clothes unceremoniously on the tiles, rooting in the cabinet for towels. And as she had suspected, hers was the fluffy purple one. The other one was black and stamped with a blue "N". She shook her head. That boy—well, young man now, she conceded—was obsessed with monogramming everything. Some things just didn't change. She nearly smiled as she turned on the faucet, hoping that a shower would clear her head and improve her mood.

And in one way or another, the shower rather succeeded. At least, she could probably fall asleep now, considering that in the hot haze she had almost done just that until shampoo trickled into her eye and swiftly brought her back to her senses. But she was clean and warm and dressed in the old black uniform—she had neglected the ridiculous headpiece somewhere in her room—and she felt infinitely better. Well, maybe not infinitely, but better, at any rate. She dragged a comb through her long hair, which looked redder than ever against the black outfit, pronounced herself ready, and left the bathroom with a bit more of a spring in her step. She bounced slightly on the balls of her feet as she waited for the elevator to complete its descent, thinking that she would have time to become reacquainted with the Tower before the other Titans would bombard her with questions. She would have time to prepare. She would have time to…

She strode from the elevator and through the doors into the common room, sniffing the air gingerly, recognizing the scent as…pancakes. She froze uncertainly halfway down the steps, seeing Nightwing's back to her as he stood in the kitchen, presumably making pancakes. Of course. He had always been an early riser, just like her. Before, she had liked that fact. Now she didn't know what to think of it. But she swallowed her pride and resolved to act normal and controlled and certainly not breakdown like she had the other night; she really didn't want to go through that again. So she walked into the kitchen like she belonged and opened the refrigerator, looking around for the orange juice—her stay in London had familiarized her with customary, appropriate foods.

At the sound of the refrigerator door being opened, Nightwing turned around and almost started at seeing her straightening, orange juice carton in hand. "Hello, Robin," she greeted, turning to the cabinets and selecting a glass, which she then filled.

"Uh…hey," he stumbled over the words, blinking as if he didn't quite know what to make of her. He slowly faced the stove again, flipping the pancakes in the frying pan he held, almost not catching one of them in his unease.

"Pancakes?" she asked coolly, knowing that he was off-balance from her presence and enjoying that fact to no end. He was so rarely nervous, it was nice to be reassured of his humanity every once and awhile.

"Yeah…" he affirmed, staring at the golden-brown circles a little too intently. "Do…do you want some?"

"Sure," she chirped, finding two plates and handing one of them to him. He slid a few pancakes on that plate and then on the other, and they sat down at the table and commenced eating them. She had finished her breakfast and was about to rise before he finally spoke.

"Five years. That's a long time," he observed, masked eyes not meeting hers, fixed on his syrup-strewn plate.

"That it is," she acknowledged, drumming her fingers on the table, enjoying the little clicking noises her nails made.

"So…where've you been?" he asked, entirely fascinated with spinning his fork between his gloved fingers.

Starfire looked at him sharply, unable to believe her ears. He was asking her where she had been. He didn't know? What? "You…Raven never mentioned…?" And you never asked? she added silently, feeling her heart sinking. So he hadn't cared, then…

He shook his head, his fork abruptly falling to his plate with a clatter. "Nope. She just said that you'd left and gone away somewhere. I guess she didn't feel the need to elaborate on that one." He was silent for a moment before repeating, "Where were you?"

"London. England," she added, though she knew he wouldn't need the clarification. How many Londons were there, anyway?

His eyebrows rose, but that was the extent of his expression. "London. Wow. I thought you had a bit of an accent, and now I guess I know why. London," he echoed, leaning back in his chair. "Hm."

"Is that somehow intriguing?" she asked, arching one eyebrow.

"Not really," he replied casually, apparently having recovered his composure during their silent repast. "It's just…really far away."

"Yes," she confirmed, "it is."

Silence descended heavily on the two Titans, who were both wholly absorbed in their empty plates. At last, unable to bear just sitting there any longer, Starfire rose to her feet and cleared the table, stuffing their plates in the dishwasher, catching sight of the microwave's clock as she did so. A little after seven. Time flies when you're having fun. She saw Nightwing standing also from the corner of her eye, going to the stove, grabbing the frying pan, and sticking it carelessly in the sink. She stood where she was, hands resting on the counter, shoulders tense, and waited for him to speak. Somehow she knew he would.

"By the way you're dressed, I'm guessing that you're an official Titan again," he said quietly, leaning back against the counter a few feet from her.

"That would be the idea," she agreed, her shoulders tensing further, preparing herself for a possible attack. Would he snap at her again, tell her that she didn't belong, that she wouldn't be allowed to be a Titan again?

But he merely nodded, looking as though he were mulling something over in his mind. At last, he said, "You've been gone for some time. If you're going to be patrolling, you probably need to re-familiarize yourself with the city. Remember that people drive on the right side of the street and all that."

She cracked the slightest smile at his last comment, picking at something dried onto the counter to distract herself from what she wanted him to be suggesting. "I suppose I will. Don't want to get unnecessarily run over."

He laughed at that, even though it wasn't much more than a half-hearted chuckle. "Yeah, wouldn't want that. Well, there's no time like the present," he said more briskly, "and since I'm the only one up, I guess that makes me the tour guide."

"Indeed it does," the Tamaranian conceded, inclining her head slightly. Exactly what she had thought he would suggest. "Any reason you're being nice to me now?" She glanced up at him briefly, unable to read his expression.

He shrugged, one lift of his broad shoulders. "You're determined to stay, so I might as well."

She decided to accept that for what it was and not push anymore. X'Hal knew that his friendly exterior might be replaced by the furious one from last night, and that was a side of Robin that she did not want to see again anytime soon. "So how are we getting to the city?"

"Can you fly? Without being filled with unbridled joy and all that?" he inquired.

Starfire pushed away from the counter, walking from the kitchen. "You'd be surprised," she said in reply, hearing him following her. "I trust you're taking the R-Cycle? Or is it the N-Cycle now?"

He sighed. "It's the N-Cycle," he admitted, running a hand through his jet black hair. "But as I'm supposed to be giving you a tour, I think that'd be rather hard from the back of a motorcycle."

"What're you suggesting?" she asked almost suspiciously, knowing full well what his answer would be. Strange that she still knew him after all this time.

"Well, I figured that if you could fly, you could just fly both of us to the city and then we could walk or something like that. Or run, if you really prefer," he added in a half-teasing tone.

Starfire paused as they reached the giant "T" doors of the Tower's main entrance, glancing at him to try to determine his motives. But she couldn't really figure anything out, so she agreed to his proposition. Taking one of his gloved hands in her own, she forced herself to concentrate hard on the powers necessary to get her flying. Unlike the times she'd been practicing in London, though, she found it much easier now, and she had a feeling she could attribute that to Nightwing's hand clasped firmly in her own. They soared into the air, and a smile began to spread across her face as the wind whipped through her long scarlet hair as they flew over the bay. The sky had brightened considerably, and now the sun, though still close to the horizon, had cast its light across the sky, reflecting on the buildings' windows and the ocean's waves; the whole scene simply dazzled the eyes. And for those moments, she felt happy again. Five years was a long time never to be happy.

They landed easily in the downtown, which was already bustling with commuters on their way to work and children on their way to school, and two Titans dropping out of the sky on the lot of them caused a bit of a commotion. Soon the two heroes were surrounded by leagues of their adoring fans, who were all shouting and waving pieces of paper in the air in the hopes of an autograph.

"Isn't that Starfire? Is she back?"

"Yeah, it is, it is! Hey, Star, over here!"

"Star! Welcome back! Starfire!"

"Nightwing, can I have your autograph? Please?"

"Man, Star, why the new look?"

"Starfire, where've you been?"

"Yeah, Star, we missed you! We love you!"

Starfire couldn't keep a grin off her face as she graciously signed as many scraps of paper as she could; it was very good to know that the citizens of Jump City were glad she was back. It was a better homecoming than the Titans—well, Robin—had given her. Speaking of him, Nightwing wasn't signing anything and was instead standing rather close to her, almost protectively, and glancing around at everything at once, as if he were searching for something or someone. At length he took hold of her upper arm, tugging on it.

"Let's get outta this crowd, Star. Come on," he whispered, still looking around furtively.

"Oh, you're being ridiculous," she said dismissively, sending him sharp glare. He couldn't let her be happy in any sense, could he? Sometimes he was so…Robin she could just scream. "It's harmless, honestly…autographs aren't going to kill me."

"Beast Boy called you in London about the old case, which dealt with a sniper who shot you, although I hardly think I have to remind you of that," Nightwing hissed, his fingers digging into her skin. "And now you're perfectly willing to stand around in broad daylight in the middle of a bunch of people who are very easily pinpointing your location. Harmless? I don't think so."

"Fine," she snapped, handing a paper and pen back to their owner and smiling apologetically at the rest of them. "Then let's get on with this little tour you insisted I take so we can get back to the Tower where I'll be perfectly safe and you can stop annoying me."

"You read my mind," he grumbled, and they pushed their way through the crowd, heading along a basic patrol route. As they walked down the streets, Starfire couldn't really see how Jump City had changed at all, at least not enough to merit a tour. She recalled the place well enough, and it wasn't until they got to the outskirts of the downtown that she noticed something unfamiliar. There was a new skyscraper there, right on the edge of the skyline and slightly removed from the rest of the buildings. It was the usual office-building type, but as they walked by, Starfire sneezed.

Nightwing leapt back as her starbolt-infused sneeze blasted a nearby bush to smithereens. "Shit, Star! Warn me before you do that!"

She sniffed, putting a hand to her nose to try to dispel further sneezing. "Well, I'm sorry that I didn't predict that," she said scathingly, "but I think sneezing is typically considered a reflex."

"Oh, shut it," he muttered, both of their moods souring quickly, and it wasn't long after that they returned to the Tower. They shared another tense ride in the elevator before they parted ways once again, Nightwing to his study and Starfire to the roof, and they didn't see each other again for the rest of the day.

Starfire pretended that she didn't care and preoccupied herself with being happy that she wasn't sneezing anymore.