Jump City by evening. Most pedestrians had fled to a safe distance, aware of the carnage that must follow a superpowered confrontation. They lingered on the outskirts of the mall, watching the striking tableau. Darkness had truly fallen, and against the backdrop of the city skyline floated the alien girl, her fists glowing brighter than the neon stars which dotted the landscape. Across from her, Robin loomed from the rooftop shadows like a gargoyle perched atop a Gothic cathedral, a nightmare haunting the conscience of a mediaeval peasant.
They were frozen for a moment, the girl armed with fire, the boy cloaked in shadow. A heartbeat passed, then another.
"Now," said Robin, and vanished. Had the birdarang in his hand blurred before the nearest streetlamps went out? He must have thrown smoke grenades, or did clouds of night rise from the ground to swallow the Haberdasher and the Milliner?
Starfire hovered far above the roiling clouds of blackness, poised to strike. From a distance, the light from her fists traced patterns in the air, like two fireflies doing a slow, sad dance, never meeting.
Within the cloud of smoke, there were screams and flashes of light. A rattle of gunfire. Metallic clangs and a loud thud.
A body was flung from the cloud, tumbling and rolling across the asphalt. It came to a painful halt, and a second soon followed.
The Milliner and the Haberdasher did not get up again.
A piece of the night detached itself, became dark red and pine green, took the form of Robin. He nodded his head towards the first responders, who swarmed towards him from the distant barricade of cars, converging on the two unconscious figures. Within minutes the Haberdasher and Milliner were restrained, transferred onto stretchers and carted away.
Starfire landed softly beside Robin. He whirled to face her.
"Star! Are you okay?"
"Of course I am." Starfire's green eyes stared deep into Robin's mask, as though searching for something behind the blank synth-polymer of its surface.
"Star. We've spoken about this before. You know–"
Starfire held up a hand. "Yes, Robin. We have spoken about this. And my answer has not changed."
"I just want you to be safe."
Starfire's expression did not change. "I know you do. And there are times it makes me feel cared for. At other times, it does not."
She looked up at the night stars, the tilt of her face inviting Robin to follow her gaze, as if reminding him of where she had come from.
"Robin, there is no safety in this universe. I know you lost your parents when you were small. Perhaps you are protective of me because you think if you had done more, you could have foreseen the danger before it took your loved ones.
"I do have parents. I did everything they asked of me, everything that was meant to keep me safe. I loved my sister and was dutiful to my people. And still I was taken from my home, while those closest to me did nothing, or betrayed me." She encircled herself with her arms, as if to guard against the cold of space. "The Gordanians did terrible things to me. I endured. I learnt that I am strong. I gave up my freedom once, in the belief it would buy safety for my loved ones. I was lied to. I will not be a prisoner again."
"But, Star…" Robin's voice brought her green cat's-eyes back to Earth, made them turn their glow on him. His tone was almost pleading. "Don't you think it's because of those experiences you have a dangerous relationship to risk? You grew up in a warzone. You could have been killed at any time, so you learnt you had nothing to lose. You didn't have a future to plan for."
Starfire frowned. "Which of us is exposed to more risk? My body is far more durable than yours. Besides, do you think being raised by the Batman, who lived in shadows and trusted no one, gave you a normal relationship to risk? None of us is normal, Robin. And it is fortunate for the people of Earth that we are not, or we would not be doing this job."
Robin looked at Starfire. She looked back at him, steadily.
"I just… feel…," Robin wished he knew what to say.
Starfire gently took his hand. "Yes, Robin," she said. "You feel. This is what it means to care for another person. It means to feel all the pain of another living soul, to fear for them, to bleed for them. It means letting them go in a world that can hurt them, where nothing is certain. It is the weak spot your training cannot cover. There is no solution in your utility belt. I told you there is no safety. Not in love."
She turned to leave. He squeezed her hand tighter as she moved away. Their arms stretched to their full lengths, as far as they could go with their fingers entwined. When she could go no further without breaking his grip, she looked back at him over her shoulder.
Her eyes were galaxies of green stars, the fall of her hair the red tail of a comet.
He was back in the circus. He was on the highwire, but not with his parents. He stood at one end of the tightrope, holding onto Starfire as she pulled away from him. The height was dizzying, the fall into the abyss stomach-churning. His palms were slippery with sweat.
Slowly, fighting every instinct, fighting every muscle, he prised his fingers away from hers, one by one. He let go.
Starfire was not like him. Even if she fell, she knew how to fly.
When he finally got into the shower, he let out the breath he'd been holding all day. He turned up the heat and pressure, letting the water blast his body. Bringing his focus inwards, he ratcheted down the tension in each of his muscles. The control didn't come as easily as it should have. When he'd lived with Batman he'd meditated and trained every day, no excuses. Batman had spent years creating the routines and micro-environments needed to condition his mind and body.
Titans Tower was… chaotic. Robin had grown to love the energy of the place, but it had taken a while to adjust. Bruce would never have put Raven's reading and meditation nooks next to the TV, where Beastboy and Cyborg bickered over video games. He wouldn't have tolerated a fridge full of Cyborg's big breakfast fry-up's next to Starfire's fungal jellies and Beastboy's dairy-free cheesecake. There were too many distractions for mind and body.
Distractions. Diversions. Conflicts. Places where the organic, undisciplined energies of five very different people were allowed to mingle, clash, and feed off each other.
Messy. Inefficient. Home.
Robin kneaded the back of his neck and grimaced. He imagined his skin turning porous to let the heat in.
That had been stupid, hadn't it? Spending his evening sitting in a cafe, then talking to a suspect, then launching into rooftop acrobatics against the Haberdasher and Milliner? There was a time when the Boy Wonder could perform death-defying stunts without warming up, executing a routine that would defeat an Olympic gymnast (with perfect form and flawless landing), followed by hard endurance running to keep up with Batman. But he wasn't the Boy Wonder any more. He was the Man Wonder, and feeling the years as they added up.
He dried himself off before slipping on his bathrobe and mask. Prior to leaving the bathroom, he gave his reflection an appraising look.
There's nothing wrong with my hairstyle, he told himself. It's not stale, it's iconic. Masked heroes are supposed to represent constancy, stability. We reassure people in a rapidly changing world. No one would take Superman seriously if he got one of those broccoli-head perms and an earring in an attempt to be cool. He embodies a timeless ideal, not every passing fad. He aspires to an image of clean-cut American values.
And what image did Robin aspire to?
The opposite of Batman.
Really? Was defining yourself in opposition to your mentor any better than trying to be him?
Shut up.
He got dressed and made his way to the living room. The lights were dimmed, so he almost missed the figure of Raven, meditating near the windows. Her shrouded blue form was silhouetted against the nighttime vista of the bay.
He poured himself a mocktail and sat at the kitchen counter, quietly swiping on a console to distract himself. A few minutes of peace were all he got, however.
The doors burst open to admit Cyborg and Beastboy, talking loudly and carrying boxes of pizza.
"Robin!" Beastboy exclaimed. "You're here! Does this mean you're joining us for TV night?"
Robin groaned. "That was tonight?"
"You never check your messages. I have to put keywords like unsolved and homicide in them to even have a chance of getting past your spam filter."
Cyborg said through a mouthful of garlic bread, "Try using someone else's account, BB. Pretty sure anything from you goes straight into the trash. That's what I do."
Robin got up. "You might have to wait for Raven to finish up in here," he said, jerking his head towards her.
"No need," said Raven, getting to her feet and turning up the lights with a wave of her hand. "I actually agreed to this. Against my better judgement. Where's Starfire?"
"She said she wanted tonight to herself." Cyborg's human eye flickered in Robin's direction as he spoke. "Her shopping trip got interrupted by a couple of goons. I think she's actually switched off her communicator."
"Good for her," said Raven.
Beastboy gasped. "No! She'll miss tonight's plot advancement!"
"I'm sure she'll survive."
Beastboy turned to Robin. "Come on, dude," he said, "Tonight's my night! I picked a really good show. Even Raven likes it, and you know how hard she is to please."
As Raven and Cyborg settled on the couch, Beastboy looked at Robin with wide, boyish eyes. The other two Titans didn't say a word, but Robin sensed they wanted him to stay as well.
Robin thought of Paulie Macarthur and a life spent alone in a tiny rented room. He thought of Batman, living in a mansion with every convenience money could buy, except intimacy and trust.
He smiled. "Fine," he said, "but this better be good. What're we watching?"
"Yes!" Beastboy leapt into the air in triumph. "I just know this is one of your faves. It's the classic Western, First Star at Sundown."
"Nice," said Robin, vaulting the couch and landing next to Cyborg. "Which episode?"
"The one where the wealthy oil baron cheats an honest rancher–"
Raven and Cyborg yelled together, "Don't spoil it!"
They spent the next hour watching the show, but frequently joking and laughing, enjoying each other's company more than anything. Beastboy was so excited, his running commentary had to be occasionally kept in check, but nobody minded.
"We didn't have tech like this where I grew up," Raven mused. "I guess we didn't need it, being empaths. And Earth's history had taught the monks to distrust technology. They'd seen it disconnect us from our humanity. But these movie nights have been a real eye-opener for me.
"Most people can't close their eyes and see into other minds, or phase through dimensions to distant planets and planes, as I can. Imagine being the people who saw this broadcast when it first came out in the 50's. All these people from different parts of the world, gathered around their TV sets, watching the same images at the same time. Hearing the same words and voices, seeing the past recreated for them by the writers.
"Seeing the close-ups, the expressions, the perspectives the director wanted them to see. The monks never told me technology could create connection and empathy as much as short-circuit it. Well, they never told me a lot of things. So thanks, Beastboy. I guess the screen can teach us alot about other people's minds. Even if, in the case of most shows you pick, it teaches me that I never want to enter the minds of most male filmmakers at all."
"I reckon you're welcome, ma'am," said Beastboy, whose head was propped on his arm as he drooled at the sultry Silver Age beauty on screen. "And how about that Miss Millie? Whoo-ee, if she ain't hotter than a Talladega summer. Hhh-why if she so much as winked at me, I declare I'd rob a bank for her right that minute."
Cyborg added, "Y'all, that was an interesting ethical question the episode raised. The sheriff was bound to uphold the law, even when it went against his conscience. Even when it protected an unjust man who used his wealth and power to exploit those weaker than him. I guess he found a way to work around it, by using a technicality to get out of following the letter of the law instead of its spirit. But was that right? I mean, should a lawman pick and choose which of the laws he enforces? I bet Robin loved that. What did you think? Robin?"
But Robin didn't hear. Surrounded by comforting voices, his belly filled with hot food, he had drifted off to sleep on the couch.
He was still there when he woke with a start an hour later. Someone had placed his shoes on the floor, and his spare weapons and utilities were in a neat pile on the table in front of him. A warm blanket was tucked around him.
For a second he thought he was back in Wayne Manor. As he swung his feet onto the ground, the blanket fell away, revealing his pajamas. He saw the stars shining through the windows of Titans Tower and remembered where he was.
Somewhere in Gotham, under the same night stars, Batman was hunting his prey.
It was time to resume his own chase.