Chapter 4
"… if I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country."
– E.M. Forster
November 11, 9:49 p.m.
Jump City, California
The city breathed light-hearted ignorance that Tuesday night, but city lights and friendly nights escaped him. Yesterday Cyborg walked these streets accompanied by green boy enthusiasm and leader's subtle energy, but tonight he moved alone, slightly cold, with only "I'll be back," to reassure her. He fell from crowded boulevards to lesser streets and faded into alleyways where lights flicker and dogs bite; and tightly clutched in a metal fist was a bunched-up uniform and beaten communicator, orange-and-black.
"I…" There had been a loss of words from Raven too early that morning, a rarity that clouded Cyborg and reassured his shock, which masked fear and hate and anger and betrayal, only to fuel the disbelief. To imagine Raven in some goddamn alleyway playing with his best friend's life, even worse Slade breaking Robin because of her careless disregard…
And he did nothing.
At least Starfire cried.
He exploded only after timid goodbyes. Cyborg had stalked across the living room, an empty couch and a pleading Starfire the only audience to a fury he held only for Brother Blood – or maybe for his father, he wasn't sure – but he screamed and raged and cursed, blaming himself, blaming everything else: Raven, faceless and unconcerned; Beast Boy, too quiet, too distracted to object; Starfire, a bloody mess but ever faithful; and Robin – damn Robin who refused to tell a soul, who was so selfish in his selflessness, who decided it better to lose some bet instead of trusting in them, his friends, his family!
… but morning had rushed to day and day dragged on 'til night, and after hours of security tapes and stale barbeque chips, the fury so vivid died to a dull anger – deep in his chest, apparent on his face, but only stiffening his actions instead of exaggerating them. And now he wandered through damp alleyways towards slums but failed to find the peace.
The dumpster that gripped the edge of the alley laid alone, roof caved in, sides graffitied. He stood for a moment, a haggard breath escaping his trembling lips, then kicked the dumpster deeper into alley space. Gripping the communicator tighter, he kicked harder, forcing it to dip to its left. Another kick, another, tougher and tougher, 'til it laid murdered on its side, guts of garbage pooling from its mouth. His arm flung back and he pelted the communicator into the remnants, watching it sink into the mass.
He stepped back, shoulders loosening and fists unfolding, but could not rip himself from the sight. Anger snapped deep down inside and he rushed forward, metal overcastting the communicator, a foot rising to collapse it into night. He tensed then, but the shatter never came; instead, a memory flashed of the night after that first apprenticeship, when kitchen lights blinded and coffee dripped so loud, but Robin wouldn't mumble, wouldn't gabble, so Cyborg must have imagined that moment of swallowed pride, of insecurity; must have made up Robin apologizing more to a water bottle than Cyborg himself – god, must have been so stupid to believe him when he lied through his fucking teeth and promised to never leave again… but couldn't have missed the instant he said he'd never hesitate to make that sacrifice again.
And he kept his word.
… his foot landed to the communicator's left and slipped between the garbage bags, and the communicator nearly tumbled underneath; but a lone, trembling hand drew it back into existence, up past trash and uniform and grime, only to find the reflection of an 'S', taunting, nearly laughing – enough to hang his head.
Perhaps-maybe – no… there wasn't time for investigations anymore… there wasn't time for actions or justice; just a month to wait around useless as Raven did what she thought was right: to doom a team, to ruin a life, to unsettle everything they had ever worked for… and oh how he still hated her; hated her and her heavy eyes and her trembling when she had hugged him and said goodbye; hated Beast Boy and his pseudo-loyalty and his avoidance when he walked out that door; hated Starfire and her misplaced faith and her optimism at all the wrong moments; hated Robin and his pride and his so-called selflessness when he sold his life; but he especially hated himself for loving them so much... for his willingness to betray every moral, every conscious thought just to see one of them smile.
He snatched the uniform and mangled it over the metal 'S'. He had Starfire to get home to…
In that next hour, he submitted the Titan's daily report… and signed as Robin.