A/N: Just trying to illustrate Cyborg a bit better, since nobody focuses on him enough, as well as capturing his friendship dynamic with BB ( :

Cyborg glanced at the glowing green numbers on the clock—1:21 am. He'd been making minor adjustments to the T-car for over six hours, now. He sighed and reached over for a wrench, absently rubbing his human eye with the other arm. If he looked in the mirror now, it was sure to be bloodshot. But mirrors, and the truths they revealed, were something Cyborg wanted to avoid right now.

"You know, running away from your problems isn't gonna make them go away."

"What are you doing up this late, BB?" He tried to make his tone sound breezy and unconcerned. It didn't work out. The green changeling hopped up on the T-Car, crossed his legs, and fixed Cyborg with a probing stare.

"I was about to ask you the same question. You've been down here, what, five hours? You vanished down here as soon as the sun went down. I haven't had anybody to beat at video games!" Beast Boy grinned, trying to make up for his earlier seriousness by punching Cyborg lightly on the arm, wincing when his knuckles made contact with the unyielding circuitry.

"I just had to fix up some burnt out wires, scratches, dents—that kind of thing. I'll be up soon, okay?" He avoided his friend's eyes.

Beast Boy flopped down to the half-robot's eye level. "You and I both know that thing is flawless by now, so cut the crap with me at least, Cy. I want to know what's got my best friend doing his best impression of Raven on a bad day, hanging around in a dark room all by himself." He winced at Cyborg's flat expression. "Okay, not funny. I didn't mean that," he said, biting his lip. Now was not the time to make jokes, but he'd just wanted to cheer his friend up a bit.

"It's okay," Cyborg replied, eyes still downcast. He put his tools down and rose, creaking a little after not having changed positions for several hours. He'd have to oil his joints later. He gave a derisive snort at the thought—it seemed even his own "body" was intent on reminding him of its artificiality. Normal people didn't oil their joints. Normal people had blood in their veins; he had electricity running through wires.

He turned to the small calendar tacked to the wall. Barely discernible under his own scribbles—repair dates, birthdays, reminders to pick up some machine part or other—was a neat red circle around August's tiny number 5. He raised one mechanical hand to it, feeling the strength of the artificial limb. Without thinking he could tear the calendar off and rip a hole in the wall, a feat he could have never accomplished...before. Even as an athlete.

His sensors picked up a light touch on his shoulder. Though shorter than him, Beast Boy was resting his hand on Cyborg's shoulder, a comforting gesture. He understood the significance of that little red circle.

"If it helps, you're the coolest dude I've ever met, half robot or not." He gave his friend a reassuring smile.

"Thanks, BB. It's just...today makes it three years since...the accident. It's hard to remember what life was like before that." Cyborg rested his head against his arm, still touching the wall.

"Locking yourself away from us isn't going to make it stop hurting." The words were spoken gently, but they rung true. Beast Boy was more perceptive than most people thought despite his usual immaturity. "We all know that. We're—"

The patronizing (as he interpreted it) tone grated his nerves. Cyborg whirled around. "Don't pretend to know what I've been through, dammit! I could never walk out in public without a hoodie covering my face from everyone! Before, it was because I was the black kid in a bad neighborhood. Now I'm even more of a freak!" he shouted, echoing the first thing he'd ever said to the scrawny changeling.

Beast Boy narrowed his eyes and stepped forward, unafraid despite their obvious difference in size. "You're not a freak! Don't you dare fall into a spiral of self pity, Cy; in case you haven't noticed, we're all freaks by your standards. I'm green, for crying out loud! Raven's an empath fighting her inner demons, Star's an alien who doesn't even know our customs, and Rob's the Boy Wonder!" The shape shifter pleaded, trying to knock sense into the half-robot. "But we're a family. And we're heroes. We lean on each other."

For a long moment, Cyborg glared at the green Titan, and it seemed there'd be a fight. Cyborg gave up and sighed, almost seeming to visibly shrink. His shoulders stooped. Suddenly he seemed a lot less like a highly armored and equipped robot and more like a tired young man. "You're right," he acknowledged wearily. "It's just hard sometimes." Wordlessly Beast Boy wrapped his arms around his friend, unable to think of anything wise to say that didn't sound like a greeting card.

An almost awkward silence fell between them after they broke the embrace, one of very few since the pair had met. "Well..." Cyborg broke the silence uneasily.

A playful light gleamed in Beast Boy's eyes, and he grinned, exposing his fangs. "Hey...bet I could completely trounce you in a race," he challenged.

"You're on, man!" Laughing, the two friends loudly made their way to the common room.

I'll never be whole, at least not in the physical sense of the word, Cyborg thought as he and Beast Boy exchanged cheerful banter. But here...it doesn't seem as hard as it did alone.