2. In the Twilight of PostSpiders

The Tower is a creepy and lonely place. Many an angsty soul would find it a welcome retreat from the Realm of the Joyful. Which probably explains why Raven is most comfortable at night and Starfire is most edgy.

For whatever reason, it was midnight and the two had been roused from their sleep. I saw them in the Main Room as I exited the elevator and made my way towards the kitchen. Incessant dreams of humanoid arachnids kept me up all night, and I needed a glass of water to wash away the images. I had a feeling I wasn't alone.

"I have to know, Raven," spoke a dark Tamaranian Silhouette to the petite silhouette beside her at the windows. "How do humans manage to coexist with such disturbing creatures of so many appendages?"

"You're missing the point, Star," Raven said, her nose in a gothic book by candlelight. "Not every human hates spiders."

"Do you mean to say—"

"I'm rather fond of spiders, yes. They don't bother me."

Starfire thought for a second, then asked: "But tonight you seemed most perturbed—"

"I don't *like* being slimed by giant spider-human hybrids with nothing better to do on a summer evening than make off with innocent people's money," Raven said firmly with her lovely bitterness. "There's a difference."

"Oh…," Starfire nodded. Then, "So if a giant sized spider of mutant, bipedal qualities was to vomit its structural fluid all over you…then it would have a negative effect on your warmth for creepy crawly things?"

"Getting warmer…."

Silence.

"On my planet…," Starfire mused, "…I have a pet Hagthorb with the shiniest fur coat that I love to pet and play with and toss the joy cylinder around with. But Hagthorbs are known for excreting sweat from their glands when excited, and it is a sweat that is composed of the most corrosive materials that can melt through an Abligorthian Tree in a matter of seconds and on the Tamaranian skin that is most unpleasant."

An eerie chuckle floated out of Raven's lips. "Starfire….you and me come from different worlds."

"That is quite true, Raven. I am from Tamaran, and you are from Azza—"

"I was stating the obvious."

"……Oh….and what a delightfully obvious obviousness that was, Raven!"

"Whatever…."

Silence.

I waited. I waited a little longer. I took a few steps towards the kitchen--

"Raven?"

"Yes, Star?"

"What do you think of this newcomer, Noir?"

I froze in my movement and glanced over. The flicker from Raven's candle danced through my shades and made my left eye twitch.

"What is there to think or not to think?"

"He seems quickly to have won Robin's trust, as well as the rest of the team. I think that this addition is most fortunate to our fight against crime."

"Then what's to talk about?"

"Are these not one of those moments, Raven, when you constantly make mention of the 'too wonderful to be legitimate' syndrome?"

"…..you mean when things are 'too good to be true'?"

"Yes…yes, that is the vernacular to which I refer."

"Well, only time will tell, Star. Noir has certainly proved himself by now, or else we wouldn't have him in our ranks. Why, are you doubtful?"

"No! Not at all!"

"Well, if you have any doubts…why not ask him over there?" remarked Raven with a turn of the head and a nod.

I did a double-take.

Starfire looked over and hoisted her hands to her chin. "Eeek! So it is you and you are here!"

I looked defeated.

"Lemme guess….," Raven hummed. "Couldn't sleep?"

I was defeated again.

"Well…help yourself to a glass of water," she gestured towards the far end of the main room where the kitchen area was. "That is what you're here for, isn't it?"

Dumbfounded, I slowly nodded my head and went off in a zombie motion for my source of wandering.

Raven returned to her book without another word. So peaceful…serene. It's a marvel just how empathic she is. If only she were a bit more advanced in her already superb, mental prowess…she could almost read my mind. Such a scenario would rid my life of much of the awkwardness it now entailed. But alas, such as things are, I can't complain.

Raven always has this stonelike quality to her grace. At sometimes, it can be an edgy stone with rusted sides that cut and inject bitter emotion…the very same emotion she denies wielding. A walking (or levitating) paradox is the full embodiment of her; with mystery to boot. She's so ambiguous in and of herself that she not ask me why I come meandering upwards from my cellar room in the middle of the night. She knows. Or maybe she doesn't know, but it's no concern of hers. She's been in that awkward limelight before. She's felt it burn her skin and melt away the residue to uncover a dark gem of stoic wonder underneath. Souls like her don't change, don't regress, don't progress. They just drift on their own and sometimes bump into the drifts of others who are paddling like mad in the deep mires of their own, debilitating anxieties.

As I grabbed a glass container from….from…dang it, where did they keep the cups in that cupboard…

"An instrument to drink out of is somewhere in the top left cabinet…next to the saucers, I think," uttered Starfire with a helpful, pointed finger.

I nodded/bowed in thanks and searched the area provided for me; finally rewarded.

Starfire smiled at my success. A warmth of joy wafted from her emerald eyes as if she was proud of my learning my way around the place so suddenly.

If there be no words for me, I still must confess. Starfire is the most adorable creature that I've ever encountered. I can never sum up in any other individual a greater source of compassion, innocence, and companionship. Such goes a lot in saying, since I had not known her for too long a period of time before coming to these conclusions. But it's so evident in her: the extent of her generosity…of her scope of respect and admiration for all things living and good. It warms me to see her exist, yet pains me to see the implications of her persona. Alien to our world as she is, she opens herself up to awkwardness and the risk of non-acceptance. But, no matter how incompatible she can be with humanity, she keeps on trying. She's brave for that reason, as she is for many. And thankfully she has found a fine set of friends to embrace her slowly into this realm of conflict and justice for the soul sake of surviving it together.

Starfire joined in last before I did—so I learned. She was the newcomer prior to me. But, by the looks of it, she was the newcomer after me as well. Annoying as it may have been to a few, one couldn't help but smile….and be grateful.

"You must certainly be parched to desire liquid sustenance at so late an hour as this," quoted she across the room, in her trademark symptoms of interstellar jet lag. "Or perhaps it was the thought of arachnids that—"

"The next person who says the word 'arachnid' gets electrocuted with a prosthetic toenail," mumbled Cyborg, suddenly in the room.

Surprised, I glanced over at him. This was turning out to be quite a party.

"Well, this is turning out to be quite a party," he said exactly, glancing at everyone in the room.

Starfire blinked. "Party? Does that mean Beast Boy will be wearing a shade of a lamp again?"

"Ha ha…no, Star. That happens only once a year."

"You seem…quite awake," Raven muttered from her book.

"Don't mind me," Cyborg leaned against the kitchen counter near to me. "Sunshine phoned me on the electrobed. She said she's gonna be a few hours late on account of the latest vampire novel."

Raven blinked directly up at the window before her. "If you're referring to me, you've got ten seconds to get out of here before I use your head for a bowling ball."

"Awwww," Cyborg grinned. "But then, Raven, I wouldn't have the joy of hearing your sweet song voice anymore."

"You want spiders? You'll find a handful in your cereal in the morning."

"Lovely. Hey Noir, make way. I've got a midnight sandwich in here with my name on it." Cyborg wandered over and yanked open the door to the large fridge. A huge wall of light suddenly burst out and screamed its way through my shades. I almost dropped my glass of water in jerking my head away.

Almost immediately, Cyborg realized my predicament and he rushed to close the refrigerator door. "Oh shoot! I'm sorry, Noir. I forgot how much you hate sudden flashes of light. You okay, man?" His voice was hushed and he had a hand on my shoulder. It was very protective of him…not exaggeratingly so. He was truly concerned to the max, is all.

I simpered and gave him a thumb's up. I certainly wasn't offended in any fashion. However, I was sweating.

"Okay, hope everything's cool, man." Said the android. He gave me a compassionate smirk then slowly opened the fridge, upon which I redirected my eyes to the softer parts of the room.

Cyborg is a man who—I believe—has known what death is. Beneath that shattered, blue and onyx exterior is a boy whose boyhood was stolen from him by some unnatural means. I mean, it's not everyday that you're forced to exchange half of your body mass with electronic prosthetics. It hurts me to think that there was an incalculable wrong committed to him, but it's most likely so. I can taste traces of everlasting anger in his being. For the most part, we can all thank our lucky stars that it's mainly during bits of combat with the enemy that his temper shows through—and in such times it is towards both our pleasure and advantage. But on a constant basis there's a piece of Cyborg that respects all life for its potential to survive. And from the very start of my presence in the Tower, I've owed my ability to function to Cyborg. He—more than anyone else—helped me to adapt. In spite of my condition, he did his best to 'talk' to me and paid me more attention than anyone else could muster. In such a fashion, I think we have formed a common ground…and I would be at a loss without his camaraderie. I truly would be.

"Let's see if I remember how to do it…," said Cyborg between sandwich gulps.

That was a sign for me that it was safe to turn around. And as I did so, Cyborg stood—leaning back against a counter—and signed swiftly with his hand a simple expression.

--How much wood could a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood—

I took a swig of water, placed the cup down, and replied lackadaisically:

--A wood chuck could chuck all the wood he could if a wood chuck would chuck wood—

"Amazing," Starfire remarked, leaning her chin on her hands. "I can only imagine what intelligent conversations the two of you are having."

I held my tongue—as if that was hard to do—and smiled in a direction away from her as Cyborg spoke.

"Elementary, my dear Starfire," he said dramatically. "Though I must admit it takes plenty of years to….chip away at the woodwork."

I sniffed a silent laugh.

Starfire looked confused. "Why, whatever do you mean?"

"Don't bother, Star," Raven said amidst her vampires. "Boys will be boys…even mute boys."

"I understand that Robin knows a little bit of the hand tongue."

"Only a little, Star," Cyborg exclaimed smugly. "Only I have studied enough to truly get it down pat. Robin's too busy using his hands to smash in thugs' faces rather than learn to talk with symbols."

"On my planet, people talk with their hands," Starfire beamed. Then her smile blinked away as she added, "But it's only during mating season."

"What's this about mating season??" uttered Beast Boy as he wandered into the Main Room wearing green PJs and rubbing his eyes.

"All the bats are out tonight…." Muttered Raven.

"Beast Boy!" Starfire smiled jubilantly. "You wish to join us in the discussion of arachnids, sandwiches, and Tamaranian handlove?"

"…..," Beast Boy blinked. "How long have you guys been out here like this?"

"We couldn't sleep…," spoke Raven.

"Dude…it's like an epidemic!" the green elf exclaimed. "Why is it everytime we fight off that creepy Fang guy, I get the willies all night and think something's sneaking up on me?"

"Calm down, man," Cyborg said and extended his meal to him. "Ham sandwich?"

"Bleah! Man, Cyborg….you're sicker than that spider freak. I'd rather have him sneak up on me than eat that atrocity you have hanging out of two slices of bread."

I tapped Beast Boy on the shoulder.

"H-Huh?" he spun around and nearly spit out his internal organs in shock. "WA-AH!" He jumped and landed somehow on Cyborg's laughing shoulders.

I smirked and waved at him for the first time that evening.

Starfire giggled.

"Duuuude! Noir! That's not funny! How long were you there behind me?!"

I shrugged.

"He's made for the shadows, you know that bro."

"Yeah…I'd knock his lights out someday if he's not too careful, Cyborg. And I mean it. This dude creeps me out!"

Beast Boy….this dude humors me out. But I guess it's only natural….so natural that none of us are willing to admit how truly funny he is. The fact of the matter is—someone that funny doesn't deserve to exist so. It's rather depressing. More depressing than Raven's gothic nature will ever amount to. But we all love Beast Boy for what he is—utter harmlessness. Sometimes—I swear—he's only useful in combat for distracting the enemy. But that can be one of the most valuable things, right? That is to say, his charisma is so fulfilling…so charming…and so inspiring. The fact that he's gone through all the same struts and difficulties as we have. And knowing that he's been so nonchalant and awkward about it and yet has still survived fills us with a reason to keep existing each day. Perhaps that's why we keep our true opinions of Beast Boy secret from him. It's the best we can do to preserve him in his purest form.

"Ya know…," the elf schemed, "…while we're all out here…we might as well do something to occupy our time."

Raven coined. "You mean bore ourselves until sleep hides us from the ever-waking thought of spiders?"

"Ooh! I know!" Starfire gasped with a bounce. "A communal recital of the Eighteenth Chronicle of Hoosblarg's Odyssey Across the Kamensplork!"

"……………...Well, I've got something better!" and with that, Beast Boy whipped out a red-and-black deck of playing cards from some suspicious corner of his PJs. "Who's for a round of UNO?!"

Starfire blinked. "What is this….Ooh-Know?"

I looked at Raven.

Raven looked at her book.

I looked at Cyborg.

Cyborg moaned and finally exclaimed: "Okay…I'll explain the rules. BB, cut the deck. Raven…how about lighting another candle or two?"

The girl sighed, folded the book down, and went about her sudden new task. "Very well then."

"Oooh! Joyous of joys!" Starfire quirped. "How I do marvel at your human rituals of slapping around paper cards and selling property!"

"Wanna join us, Raven?" Beast Boy exclaimed with a raised eyebrow. "If I remember correctly, you still have a score to settle with me."

"Yes, the very fiber of my being desires defeating you at a game of colors and numbers and general monotony," Raven muttered. "Since I have nothing else to do…I might as well do the egotistical thing and….'challenge' you again?"

"YEEHA! I knew you couldn't contain yourself! Number One Uno Master Beast Boy is gonna whip you good again!"

"Man, you know you just said 'Number One One Master', right?" Cyborg criticized. "I mean, technically speaking, of course…."

"Pfft. You're no fun."

"Y tu no puedes hablar espanol si su vida necesita este."

"Uh…..no tango chimichanga…."

Cyborg laughed.

"Is this how we play Oooh-Know?" Starfire asked. "Ooooh! Pretty colorful cards!"

"Not exactly, Star. Hey Noir, come join us, Man!"

I shuffled over with my glass of water and sat at the table of candlelight and Uno cards as the small circle of Titans gathered.

"You've played this before?" Raven asked.

I nodded with a smile.

"Fancy that," she said.

"You see, Star, the point of the game is to match the other player's color or number with that of your own. So, a two for a two or a red for a red or a—"

"Where do the explosions come in?"

"…..I beg your pardon?"

"On Tamaran, explosions tend to accompany the displacement of numbers and zeros, and it is most unsettling."

"Dude! I so want to play poker on your planet!"

"I think she was referring to intergalactic wargames."

"Oh…so Ooh-Know is different?"

"Yes, Star. No explosions in Ooh-Know."

"It's gonna be a LONNNNG hand when it gets to her."

"Oh, are we still talking about Tamaranian handlove?"

"Ehhh??"

-SCHWUMP!-

The elevator doors closed. We all looked up as a fully awake Robin in a t-shirt, sweats, and his face mask entered the main room. He too had the case of bed-interruption.

"Well," he smirked. "If I'd known all you guys were here, I would have brought our gym equipment for training."

"Yeah, go lay an egg Robin," Beast Boy stuck his tongue out. "We're just playing UNO to pass the time until—"

"Visions of spiders stop dancing in our heads. I know," Robin smirked with a nod. "Care to cut me a hand?"

Starfire winced. "Oh Robin, but that is most painful."

"Err…"

"Don't ask," trademarked Raven.

"Hiya Noir…welcome to the club," Robin sat down beside me. "So…let's get this game started."

"Well, Cyborg's still explaining the game to Star and---saaaaaaay. Dude! How's he gonna play?!" Beast Boy suddenly retorted, pointing at me.

Raven looked at us both, then asked me: "Got a hand symbol for 'Uno' that we all can understand easily, Noir?"

I shrugged, humored, and lifted a finger.

"Works for me," Robin smirked.

"Pfft…when I said go lay and egg, I meant go lay an egg."

"No fighting now, let's keep this a clean card game," Cyborg smirked, taking his seat after explaining everything to Starfire.

"How about this…," Robin smirked. "Winner takes the next week's supply of ice cream."

"Or how about some piece and quiet during reading time?" suggested Raven.

"This is gonna be a wyrd game with him joining," Beast Boy again gestured to me. "I swear, I'd die for a poker face like that."

Cyborg—the first to look at his hand—grinned wide and retorted, "Oh, you'll get plenty a chance to wish you were dead soon, little man. He he he he!!"

"So much for poker faces," Raven managed a smirk.

So did I.

"Dude, lemme see what you have!"

"Hey man! Not the rules of the game!"

"But I wanna see! I want your cards!"

"Settle down, everyone," Robin said. "We may be competing…but remember, no matter what. Twenty four seven…we're still a team. Keep in mind. Order. Diligence. Support."

Everyone silently nodded. For once, they all resembled me. It felt wrong.

I looked towards Robin. The ultimate mystery. The shadow who comes and goes when he needs to more than he pleases. He was taught by the best, and the more I learn about who exactly that 'Best' is, the more I grow to envy him. He's like the task of unraveling the other four Titans all in one. And yet, I realized to actually manage to do so—as inherently impossible as it is—would be a crime. He is our leader. He earns our respect. He earns our humility. And to assign him anything greater than common familiarity would reduce his deity-like stature in my eyes and certainly in the eyes of my new companions alike. Thus, it has become my goal moreover to abide by him than it is to figure him out. I only hope I can be all he expects me to be….I can only hope I'm all that everyone expects me to be.

More than the mere ghost of Noir.

"Okay then," Robin fanned out his cards and set forth his authority. "Let's get this game started!"

"Here here!"

"Sure."

"Allright!"

"….."

Robin placed the first card down, starting the pile. It was a red eight.

Not more than a second had passed when Starfire—completely possessing seven cards in fan—randomly slammed one of them down over Robin's and joyously chirped: "Ooh-Know!!!"

"Awwwww."

"Duuuude."

"Rrrrrgh."

"Star?!?!"

She looked wounded…confused.

Robin chuckled. "It's okay, Star. Let's start over."

"Yeah, Cy's got overbalanced cards."

"I DO NOT!!"

"Heh heh."

The candlelight flickered against my shades as we played, talked, and laughed into the murk of night.

And once again, I was happy.