Author's Note: Revised & Reposted

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Cyborg had seen blood before.

In fact, he had seen a lot of blood before.

Flashbacks to the chaotic surgery that had given him the body that he had now let would never let him forget how much blood a body contains. It can coat walls. It can stain clothing. It can get absolutelyeverywhere.

Cyborg had seen it do all of this. He still got nightmares about it at times.

With all that blood staining his memories…one would think that he'd have the strength to stomach what he saw in Terra's living room.

But for some reason…he couldn't. Not this time.

Maybe it was the fact that it had been his own blood in those memories.

The blood that was splattered against the walls, dripping from the ceiling, and pooling across the floor wasn't his.

It belonged to the small green, hunched-over figure that looked seconds from falling out of his seat. Beast Boy didn't even seem to have enough strength to even look at him. His skin was as shiny as freshly dried wax, his eyes rolled over and glazed.

All that blood had come from him. Beast Boy. The same Beast Boy he'd talked to on the communicator less than an hour ago. It'd…all come from him.

All that blood…

For some reason, the notion terrified him. Made him feel sick.

Seeing your own body mutilated is one thing. Seeing one of your closest friends in the same condition is a different story entirely.

Just from looking at him, Cyborg feared that he'd come too late. Beast Boy didn't appear to be moving. Didn't appear to be breathing. Blood, bile, and mucus coated his entire collar and chest like the bib of a two year old after dinner.

He looked so dead. As dead as they come.

After Beast Boy had failed to return back to the tower in over twenty minutes after their last conversation, Cyborg had used Beast Boy's communicator to track him back to Terra's house. He almost convinced Starfire to come with him, if only for the possibility they'd stumble into Terra's house and find the two of them making out in some back closet and have Starfire quip in with a standard Tamaranian remark that'd have both Terra and Beast Boy blushing their asses off while Cyborg laughed off his.

He'd even been hoping for it even, more or less to confirm that things had cleared up between Terra and Beast Boy. Lord knew that his team-mate deserved a second chance at love…and Terra's return had been the golden opportunity usually only found in bad Romance novels.

Now…he could be dead. No more jokes, no more laughs, no more-

No. Cyborg shook his head. There is no way in hell that Beast Boy is dead. There is no way in hell I'm going to let him.

Cyborg crossed the room in an instant, flinging aside a chair and skidding in front of Beast Boy with a nose-wrinkling grimace. His electronic eye scanned him over two times over while he lowered his ear to his chest.

"C'mon BB." He whispered. "I know there's still something in yah. Don't you even think about dying."

Nothing.

Cyborg might of well had is ear pressed up against a bag of wet dirt.

No heart-beat.

No breaths

Cyborg gritted his teeth. C'mon, dammit. I know there's something in there, there's gotta something in there.

Then Cyborg saw the mound of crimson gauze covering Beast Boy's shoulder. He raised his head. "Oh no…" He whispered. His eyes trailed down to the floor…and saw Beast Boy's arm. Palm open, muscles tensed, wound raw and red. "Oh, Beast Boy…" Cyborg whispered, then gritted his teeth and pressed his ear against Beast Boy's chest again. His throat became tight. It hurt to talk. He did anyway.

"You can't be dead. You hear me, BB? I'll kick your sorry green ass if you so much as think about it! You got that? That arm is no god damn excuse. No god damn excuse at all! You're not dead!"

thump-thump…

A heart-beat.

Cyborg froze.

thump-thump…

Another.

Faint, weak, but there.

Cyborg must not have heard it the first time. Maybe it just started up right now. It didn't matter. Beast Boy was alive. He knew it. Fuckin' knew it!

Cyborg shook his head. "Thank Jesus…" he whispered, throwing his arms around Beast Boy, his hand taking in a handful of his hair.

"I need you to hold on now." He whispered, yanking off the belt from the pants of Terra's foster-father and yanking it tightly around the stub of Beast Boy's arm. "Hold on real tight. Help is on the way."

Something knocked over a chair behind him. Cyborg glanced over his shoulder and was met with the glinting blue eyes of Terra's, glowing red and wet.

"Terra!" Cyborg jumped up and dashed over, yanking off the duct tape over her mouth and around her legs. As soon as the tape was off, she jumped him, wrapping her arms around his chest and bawling. Bawling her eyes out.

Her words were choked with sobs, her breaths as rhythmic as a machine gun.

"Thank god…thank god you came…oh, thank god…I was so scared…I was just so scared I…"

Cyborg pulled her away, holding her roughly by the shoulders.

"Are you hurt?" He asked tightly.

Terra shook her head, dragging a sleeve under her nose. "No…no I'm fine. Beast Boy's the one you need to help! You have to help him! He'll die if you don't!"

Thank you for the update…

Cyborg shushed her once and shoved her communicator into her chest, pushing her back into a chair. "Call for help." He said quickly. "Get out of the house and call for help."

"But I…"

"GO!"

"Beast Boy, he's"

"NOW!"

Biting her lip, Terra shot one last gaze down at her communicator, then back at Cyborg. "Save him." She whispered again, then dashed out of the room, flipping the communicator open.

Cyborg watched her go then whipped back down in front of Beast Boy again. It was clear that Beast Boy was unconscious… but Cyborg talked to him anyway. If anything, to keep him listening to something. To keep him here.

To be honest…it helped him just as much.

"Alright, BB." He whispered, picking the changeling up from his chair and gently easing him down on the table. "Just hold tight now. It's all gonna be alright."

He stood up for a moment, his mind racing. There were medical steps he should go through…medical steps he remembered from his days at the hospital. First aid tips, procedures, methods…god dammit, what were the ones for blood loss?

Step one…neutralize area of blood-loss…right? I gotta make sure he's not still bleeding.

Cyborg leaned over and peeked under the gauze taped over the wound.

It still looked so raw…so tattered…so red.

Cyborg had never witnessed Beast Boy bleed in his life. Seeing so much red on his person didn't even seem possible.

But the wound had stopped bleeding…for the most part at least. The tattered flesh just stared up at him, like canned crimson tuna-fish. Cyborg grimaced, tightened the belt, and desperately tried to remember step two.

"Step two..." He said allowed. "…dress the wound…keep victim from going into shock."

He glimpsed down at the wound again, then to Beast Boy's face. "Shit, he's already in shock. I don't remember what I'm supposed to do for shock! What the hell do I do for shock?"

Calm down first. You're the only think keeping him alive right now. You know what you have to do for shock. You've been in shock. What did they do for you? Remember dammit!

Cyborg closed his eyes and breathed heavily through his nostrils.

"…"

"…"

"First step…is to make sure victim is able to breath. Check for vomiting or any other signs of liquids clogging the airways."

Cyborg swallowed, turning back to Beast Boy and the foamy red blood dribbling over the corner of his mouth.

That qualifies. Cyborg thought, and continued. "If so…turn victim to on their side, to prevent choking." He did so, easing Beast Boy over, his ruined shoulder facing the ceiling. Cyborg then leaned in next to his mouth, heard breathing, and leaned back up, sighing heavily.

"…step two…is…something about elevating the feet. Elevate the feet. Something about circulation. Jesus, there's got to be something around here I can use."

He glanced around the kitchen, muttering to himself like a pack-rat looking for the remote. "Elevate the feet…something to elevate the feet…"

His eyes finally came across several cereal boxes and a box of graham crackers. "What the hell." He muttered and snatched them up in an instant, lifting Beast Boy's boots and sliding all three boxes under.

One of them was a box of Lucky Charms. Jesus, if there was a time for a cereal to live up to its name...

Cyborg took another two steps back, plastering his hands over his scalp looking over his work. Beast Boy didn't move, his remaining arm hanging loosely over the side of the table. "Oh, Jesus…" Cyborg hissed, leaning in and checking Beast Boy's heart-beat again.

thump-thump…

thump-thump…

Still there.

Still beating.

Cyborg sighed, snatching the gauze back up again and pushing it down on the stump of Beast Boy's arm. "You're gonna make it." He whispered. "You're gonna make it through this. I'm just going to get a few more things to put over you're arm now, okay?"

He glanced downwards at a black cloth lying crumpled at his feet, stuck in a sticky puddle of dried blood. "That'll work." Cyborg said and quickly leaned down to pick it up.

It was a handkerchief.

A black handkerchief.

Cyborg stopped as something clicked in his head. Slowly, his jaw began working, as if chewing on a thick leather belt. He glanced over his shoulder at Terra's foster-parents still propped up in their seats.

Two black handkerchiefs of either of their faces. Same as Chang. Same as the others.

He did this. Cyborg realized, turning back and gritting his teeth. The same son of a bitch did this…

As if prompted, the back door opened and a tall, black figure casually stepped in, as if he hadn't of just been blown through a window. He carelessly wiped some broken glass from his shoulder, the front of his shirt now sporting a large, circular burn.

"That…hurt." He said matter-or-factly.

Cyborg was on his feet in an instant, standing defiantly between Beast Boy and the boy in the doorway. His arm was reformed into his sonic cannon, his legs spread in a police-man's firing stance. His face was rigid.

"You're the killer." He said, sighting down the barrel with a squinting growl. "You're the one we've been hunting."

The boy tossed back his hair, rubbing his temple while his other hand casually pulled a cigarette out from some unseen pocket. "You know, you're little green friend asked me the exact same thing. You're quite a witty little bunch, you Titans."

"Put your hands up."

He placed the cigarette in his mouth and padded his pockets for a lighter. Not finding one, he sighed. "Damn. Must have dropped it."

"Put your hands up or I'll shoot."

The boy removed the cigarette from his mouth, flicking it over his shoulder and giving Cyborg a resentful head-shake.

"You're not going to shoot me." He sighed. "You're not going to risk a fight in here with you're friend on the table." He glanced from Beast Boy, then over to Cyborg. "In fact, all I'm asking is that you let me collect my things. Let me get them and I'll be on my way. Simple as that."

Cyborg felt his teeth grit again as his eyes drifted back over to Beast Boy, his feet propped up under a box of Wheaties and Lucky Charms, the edge of his shoulder swathed in dirty maroon gauze and tape, his breaths bubbling in the back of his throat like a tired, leaking motor.

Goddamn it. The boy was right. Cyborg wouldn't be willing to start a fight. Not while Beast Boy was in such critical condition. Not after all he'd been through. Not when help was so close.

The boy observed Cyborg's indecision and raised his hands. "I assure you. I just need two things."

Cyborg took two more defensive steps towards Beast Boy, the boy's head still in his cross-hairs. "Go get them. And keep your hands where I can see them. Move."

The boy bowed graciously. "They said you were reasonable." He said, taking several long, slow strides into the room, his arms still up. Cyborg kept his sights trained on him, circling around the table to always put a barrier between Beast Boy and the boy.

The boy stopped at the chair Beast Boy had been seated at and knelt down and grabbed the sleeve of Beast Boy's dismembered arm. He hefted it as casually as luggage, tucking it under his arm and standing back up. Something about his casualness almost made Cyborg fire…but he controlled himself, biting his tongue instead. Biting it hard.

The boy stopped at the edge of the counter, next to an overturned food cabinet and a smashed oven. He reached for something that had fallen beneath a box of pancake mix. He held it up, dusting batter off it.

Beast Boy's communicator.

"Stop!" Cyborg barked, taking a more focused aim down the barrel of his arm.

The boy glanced up surprised. He blinked stupidly. "What?" He asked.

"The communicator. Why do you need it?"

The boy glanced down at the communicator, then back up to Cyborg. He looked distressed. "I…can't tell you."

Cyborg's sonic cannon charged up with a high-pitched whirring sound. "Then put it down."

The boy inhaled slowly through his nostrils, closing his eyes. "Look." He whispered. "I'm begging you. I need it. I truly need it. If my word means anything to you, then believe me when I say that no harm will come of your friends as a result of it."

"You've already harmed one of my friends."

Again, that distressed look. "I had to. That's the only reason I did it! That's the only reason for all those deaths! Oh, if you onlyknew!"

"Yeah. If only. Now put it down."

"You won't shoot."

"I will if I have to."

The boy regarded him for a moment, shook his head. "I don't believe you." And started to place the communicator into his pocket.

BLAM!

Cyborg's shot exploded through the section of wall less than a foot above the stranger's head.

The boy winced.

"Believe it." Cyborg said simply, aiming the cannon back to its original target.

The boy's eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth bared as bits of plaster, isolation, and wood came raining down from the hole over his head. "You don't understand." The boy whispered. "You…just…don't…understand."

Cyborg huffed. "Understand what? Your logic? Your morals? Your fuckin' ethics? Is that what I'm not 'understanding' here?"

The boy's expression continued to darken. "No." He said, opening his black, inky eyes open again. In the flickering light of the kitchen, they almost looked as if they were simmering, like two boiling pools of oil. The boy's face was livid.

"You're not understanding the fact that I'm not a bad person. The fact that I don't like killing. The fact that I've been searching for something all of mylife…and now have an opportunity to grasp it..." He paused, lowering his head for a moment. "…and the fact that I'm willing to do absolutely anything…to get it."

He took a definite step forward. "Anything."

Cyborg blinked, glanced over his shoulder at Beast Boy, then forward again. He smiled.

"I see." He said quietly.

And fired.

The boy's hand was up in a fraction of a second, his voice suddenly booming. "Azarath, Metrion, ZINTHOS!"

Instantly, a wall of black exploded from the ground, flying to the ceiling and expanding from wall to wall before Cyborg's shot even reached it. The beam hit the obsidian barrier and reflected like a ball from the bat, punching a hole clean through the ceiling, through the second story, and into the afternoon sky with a raucous explosion of debris, dust, and smoke.

The boy's hands closed and the shield fell in upon itself like black tin-foil, reforming into a spear which he grasped. He hefted over his shoulder, took two bouncing steps, and hurled it directly at Cyborg's chest.

It was a perfect shot. Cyborg was hit.

Hard.

Before he could even get his bearings, the metal Titan was against the far wall; a good two feet off the floor and about a good foot into the wall. The obsidian spear of energy quickly oozed down the shaft and spread like a fueled fire across Cyborg's entire body, locking him in place.

The boy kept his hand raised, taking several long, leisurely strides over to the struggling Cyborg. He had a sad look again.

Cyborg strained his head, looking down at the boy with a gritted, tensed grunt. "Who…the hell…are you?"

The boy slowly pocketed the communicator and stared slowly back up at Cyborg, fist still raised.

"I…am nobody." He said quietly. "I am a shadow. A memory. A lost, lonely black-bird without comfort nor nest." He paused, a particularly wistful tone suddenly lofting into his words. "And so is the one I seek."

Distantly, Cyborg thought he could hear sirens somewhere down the street. Ambulance and police sirens.

The boy's ears perked up and his gaze turned towards the door. He'd heard them too. He studied the air for a moment, then his gaze lowered back to Cyborg's. "I have to go now." He said flatly. "I shall promise you again that no harm shall come to any more of your friends as long as you stay out of my way. If you just do this…" He stopped to swallow, almost nervously. "…then thenext time you see me…shall be the last time you'll see me."

With one last weak grin, the boy turned and walked out the door, holding out his hand and summoning his hat from the rubble of the house. He flung open the door, casting one last forlorn glance to Beast Boy on the table. He stopped for a moment, dusting his hat off and speaking lightly over his shoulder to Cyborg.

"I'm glad you came when you did." He said, securing his hat once again over his head. "I envy the friendship you have. I'm glad that you were able to save it. It's so important to hang onto those things."

Then, with a flourish of his coat, the door slapped shut. From outside, Cyborg could clearly hear police cars opening from the front of the house and more than a few footsteps come clattering down the hallway.

The shield around Cyborg dissipated into a thin black smoke and Cyborg collapsed to the ground, feeling numb all over and very, very confused. At that very moment…he didn't know what to think.

Cops and paramedics began flooding into the rooms, more car doors slammed, and more voices sounded through the house. White suits and blue suits ran by him on either side, radios buzzed, and Beast Boy was instantly surrounded by paramedics.

Cyborg felt a hand grasp his shoulder and an older, stern faced police officer kneeled down in front of him.

"Are you okay, son?" He asked dryly, scanning him up and down. "You look like hell."

Cyborg paid no attention. Tripping clumsily over his own feet, Cyborg pushed the man aside and stumbled across the room, flinging open the back door and running out into the small, grassy back-yard.

But…of course…the boy was gone.

Ending Author's Note: More coming