I.

Starfire, stare, down.

Those, she thought, were the words she wanted to connect. But the thought that came out when she connected them was alien. Starfire stared down, Starfire gazes in, Starfire thinking deep...

Koriand'r inglumspulk, she would have said, but no one would understand.

She opened one eye, then the other, pupils quickly adjusting in the brilliant light of sunrise. "Raven?" she asked, hesitantly. The other girl was floating next to her, also in the lotus position, but had not opened her eyes.

"Yes?"

"Would you be willing to help me… express a thought?" she said.

"I'll try," replied Raven, sounding a little dubious.

"Or a feeling," Starfire said. "I am unsure. It is that—my eyes were closed, but my mind was not. It was open, and it was staring, down. At something. It was as if… I were looking for a way to jump off the edge of this roof and fall into the river, and I thought that there I would feel more like myself. As if the water would be more natural for me than this air, like one of those delightful fish creatures. But I could not do it. I could not jump anywhere because I could not think of the word. My mind was intruding. I could do nothing."

Raven opened her eyes. Waiting for her to say something, Starfire saw that the morning birds were awakening in the trees, but their wings could not break the stillness of the air.

"You don't mean suicide, I hope," Raven said. Starfire might have thought this was tactless if she had known more about the concept of tact.

"No," she said. "Such a fall could not even bruise me."

"Right. Well, partially, that's what meditating is supposed to help you do," Raven said. "Find your center and settle into yourself. Delve into your mind."

"I see," said Starfire. "So to express this feeling, I may say, I am delving into my mind?"

"Well, I don't know if that's what you were actually doing," Raven said. "It sounds like you were trying to ponder something, maybe. Or trying to contemplate something."

"I am pondering my mind?" she asked.

Raven seemed amused. "Well, you have to be pondering something in your mind, usually," she said. "Whatever it is you're thinking about."

"But I am not thinking about anything," said Starfire.

"You were thinking about jumping off the roof," Raven said, matter-of-factly.

"But that is not what I was… pondering. I was pondering a concept."

Raven shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Starfire was not quite sure what was wrong with her suit. "I believe I am already adequately dressed," she said. Raven said nothing to that for a while. Starfire had nearly gotten back to the state of sleeping she usually reached when doing the meditating with Raven when her friend spoke up again.

"Starfire," she said, "have you ever read Earth books?"

"I have read the Cosmopolitan publication. It contained much useful information on unusual clothing and methods of flirtation with boys."

"That is not a book," Raven said. "Go find a book, okay? Even a popular book might help you with your expression." Her lip curled. "Though if it's at all possible, you should read the classics."

Starfire recalled something she had seen in a university catalog. "The classics are the epic poetry of ancient Greece, yes?"

Raven seemed taken aback. "Yes, though I was thinking more like…" She shrugged. "Goethe. Or War and Peace. Or no, you'd probably like the Bronte sisters or Jane Austen better." Starfire wondered if she could perhaps get a notepad, but Raven was musing about something else. "Or maybe you should try writing. A lot of people find that keeping a journal helps them think through things." The hint of a smile played about her lips. "Even that banana list…"

But then Raven cast an inscrutable look—something between being startled and being wary—at Starfire, and she fell silent. Starfire was puzzled, but then she remembered. This banana list was a paper that Raven had written for a class at the Jump City Fine Arts School, almost one month ago. It was called the banana list because Raven had had to come up with one hundred ways to compare Robin to a banana. Strangely enough, this had somehow helped to bring Raven and her boy—no, Robin was not in any sense the boy of Starfire at all, at least anymore—Raven and Robin together. The banana list was their fond remembrance. Or keepsake. What was the word?

"Please, Raven, what is that banana list to you?" she asked. "How would you describe it?"

Raven seemed to tense. "It's nothing, really," she said.

"It is not nothing," Starfire replied firmly. "It is important to you. It is a glornarg for you."

"Well, then, it's a glornarg," Raven said. She folded up her cloak and closed her eyes again, and Starfire knew that this meant she intended to go back to her meditation.

Starfire, ponder, keepsake.

Starfire, contemplate, remembrance.

Suddenly, Starfire felt as if she could not stand being on the same roof as Raven. Her friend Raven, dismissing her own glornarg, refusing to acknowledge to Starfire what it was, hiding her relationship with her boy—with Robin behind a screen, like she hid everything else.

"I am hungry," she said, shortly. "I will find something to eat."

Inside the tower, her anger seemed only to intensify. It was beyond rational thinking now. Raven had not said anything intentionally provocative. She had just been herself. Starfire would have liked to be herself, too, only her self was stuck on Tamaran, in a different language and a different mind. In fact, Starfire realized, perhaps it was no longer there, either. Perhaps she was not much of a Tamaranean now either. Now she might be a creature of the divide, stretched across a gap, foreign to all eyes, comfortable in no habitat.

She idly grabbed a bag of spinach out of the refrigerator. It belonged to Beast Boy, she supposed, but he would have to take it to the deal. What was that phrase? Oh, no, it was "deal with it." She sighed.

"Deal with it, Beast Boy!" she yelled, uselessly, slopping mustard all over the vegetables. She had half the bag down her throat when a green head poked around the corner, followed by a half-metal head.

"Uh… sorry, Starfire?" said Beast Boy.

"Oh." She blushed. Typical. "No, I am sorry," she said. "I was talking to myself."

Beast Boy seemed to want to let it go at that, but Cyborg did not. "So… why did you say 'Beast Boy', then?" he asked.

"It is nothing! I am all right! All is well!" she screeched, grabbing her salad and dashing out, leaving a trail of spinach leaves behind her. She might have been able to face either one of her friends alone, but the curious—aura—that arose when there were several people—

There was a word for that too, surely. Some expression or colloquialism that Starfire did not know. She once again wondered, why did she not know? She had kissed her—well, it would be of no use to avoid thinking about that, she had kissed Robin, and accordingly she should have had the same grasp of languages that he did. She knew Blackfire had had no such problems. Starfire was not one to leap immediately to the conclusion that something must be wrong with her—for example, she had taken her Transformation entirely reasonably, rationally, and without having run to another planet, after all!

…perhaps Starfire did have a slight history of overreacting to some problems.

She made herself calm down and think about it. The way that Robin would have, calmly, logically, and comprehensively. Perhaps something was wrong with her ability to transfer languages, or perhaps it was just incomplete transmission, and it simply had not finished copying things like idioms. But Starfire had clearly gotten a good grasp of the technical vocabulary Robin had so much of. She understood—even welcomed—discussions about chromium detonators or xenothium. These were things with precise physical analogues, and therefore which translated as directly as possible into her native language. It was only things which did not match up with the concepts Starfire already understood—for example, why having two people discussing a personal issue would be more pleasant than three people. Perhaps she should be proud. On Tamaran, she was not sure the concept of a "personal issue" existed.

The phrase she had been seeking finally bubbled up to the surface of her mind. "A crowd is made up by three," she said to no one in particular. But that was not right. The precise phrase was…

"Three's a crowd," she said. She rolled the apostrophe around her mouth. What noise did it make? She could tell it was a different noise than that of "threes". Or was it? Was that perhaps the paranoia of a foreigner? No, no native speaker would have noticed anything, even if it were there. In a language, it was important to know what to notice, and what not to notice.

But Blackfire knew exactly what to notice and what not to bother with. She had been flawless, as usual. She understood personal issues. She had always been more sinister than she appeared, at least to Starfire, but she was also charming and relatable and she did not have problems with local idioms. So what would Robin do? He would make an experiment to test whether it was something wrong with her ability or just that particular instance.

Hmm.

Starfire came back into the room, determined to carry through with her test. One way or another, she would know. Beast Boy and Cyborg were back to playing video games—did they not have other hobbies? Cyborg had said he was thoroughly tired of painting murals and that the T-Car was fully functional, but surely there was something else they could be doing. But now that she was thinking of it, none of her friends had a large diversity of interests. Robin might come the closest—he did a little of everything, but mostly trained.

No. She would stop thinking about her boy—about Robin all the time. It was unseemly. She walked over to the TV and stood by the couch where her two friends were sitting.

"Beast Boy," she said, "I wish to apologize again for my outburst."

"Don't worry about it, Star," said the shapeshifter in an almost Raven-like monotone, not looking away from the screen.

Starfire wrung her hands nervously. "And I also would like to ask you a question, please."

"Shoot."

"How many languages do you speak?"

"Umm... hmm…" Beast Boy continued to make such noncommittal noises for some time, though the fury of the competition did not leave him. It was like the gas released by a warrior in the course of—Starfire realized that that metaphor was probably untranslatable.

"One!" he finally finished.

"He barely speaks that one," Cyborg said.

"Whatever, Raven."

"Good," Starfire said, biting her lip. "In that case, here is my apology."

She bent down, gently turned his head, and in one smooth motion kissed him, hard, making sure lip contact was maintained for at least fifteen seconds. She noticed that his tongue seemed to be involving itself as well, and, to be thorough, made sure that she did the same.

As she released him, she became aware that Cyborg was emitting some kind of incredibly high-pitched sound, and that his jaw was somewhere near the floor, and that the TV had a large flashing "FAILURE" sign over the racetrack in the video game, and that Robin, a little bit—increasingly, a large bit—red in the face, had walked in at some point, and that Raven had followed him, and that even she was slack-jawed, and that once again, the toasting appliance had exploded in a flurry of black energy, and why was it always the toaster?

Starfire realized she was panicking. Her combat instincts had appeared. Her hands were nearly alight with green energy—a single twitch might turn them on. She was scanning the others with a practiced eye.

Cyborg seemed to have suffered some kind of complete neural shutdown. Raven was blinking furiously, her eyebrows knitting into an irritated expression that seemed more penetrating than usual. Beast Boy was sputtering. "Huh, buh, whuh, Stuh…" His head snapped up. "Dude!"

And Robin was looking completely infuriated, angry—perhaps jealous? Starfire wondered whether that was analysis or hope speaking. And if it were hope, she suddenly thought with a flash of fury, she should crush it utterly, for it was unworthy. Raven had taken her boy—had taken Robin—no, she had not taken anyone. Robin and Raven had chosen each other and that was not something to be violated.

But, perhaps shamefully, she did not crush it.

"Well," Raven finally said, "I'm looking forward to the explanation for this one."

Starfire gave the explanation as calmly as she could, under the circumstances.

"…and by this time, I have watched enough television to realize that the Tamaranean information transfer mechanism is also an expression of affection on Earth," she said. "Only belatedly have I realized that the context of this affection is also, um." She blushed. "R-romantic."

"You got that right," Beast Boy said. His eyes were still somewhere rolled into the back of his head, and his expression was somewhere between exhausted and nervous. And perhaps somewhat pleased.

Raven and Robin both issued steaming glares at him.

"Dude," Beast Boy said, again in a lax and unfocused tone. "Why are you worrying about it? She's not your girlfriend."

Starfire felt with another flash of anger that there was surely no need to point that out. She was unlikely to forget that anytime she saw her—saw Robin, or Raven, or any human, for that matter. The growing intensity of Robin and Raven glaring seemed to indicate that they agreed with Starfire.

"Be that as it may," Robin said, "it's inappropriate for you to—" He broke off rather inarticulately with a few struggling grumbles. "To hold it for so long, Beast Boy!" he finally finished, practically spitting the words on the floor. "You're—that's taking advantage of a—that's just—couldn't you and Cyborg go back to—"

Raven seemed to think that this was funny, though Starfire did not understand. As usual. However, as Robin continued to stumble over his words, Raven looked increasingly wary, shooting strange glances at Robin. What was he saying that was worrying her?

"I was the one who prolonged it for that period," she interrupted. "My tutors always informed me that fifteen seconds was a sufficient transmission time."

Robin barreled onward. "No reason for you and her not to if you want to, but I don't see why you'd want to—"

Now Beast Boy was talking, too, and not sounding as light-hearted as usual. "Well, Robin, I don't see how it's any of your business even if it was like that! You've already got the girl you wanted—"

"No one has gotten anyone," Raven broke in. "This is a misunderstanding that—" The conversation broke into tumult, and Starfire tried anxiously to process the words, bemoaning how long it was taking.

Wait. Robin thought that Beast Boy was taking advantage of a what? An alien who did not know any better? Beast Boy thought that Robin had the girl that he wanted? That seemed extremely insensitive. And worst of all, Robin could not see why someone would want to—what? Kiss her?

"Excuse me, Robin," she practically screamed, her two hearts leaping around in tandem in her chest cavity. Everyone quieted down, and Starfire plunged on, ignoring her feeling of embarrassment. "Please, what do you mean by that?"

He abruptly glanced up at her. "Nothing! Nothing," he said. "Carry on."

"I wish to understand," she said, feeling irritation welling up once more.

"Look, Star," he said, quietly, in the tone of voice he always used when talking to her, reassuring, competent, and calm. "I'm sorry I said anything. I was just… stunned. What you want to do with Beast Boy is your business. And in this case, it was just a test, right? Of languages." He swallowed, visibly. "So what were the test results?"

There was a pause. Starfire eventually decided to accept this, partially because it was clear from the suspicion Raven was displaying that she was not going to do the same. She could ask her dark friend later what all of it had meant. She cleared her throat.

"Um… well, I have not noted any differences in either my mental processes or my practical speech. This seems to indicate that," she swallowed, "something is wrong with me."

"Not necessarily," Robin said, clapping a hand on her shoulder. That felt most—normal. But it was rare, recently. "For example, it could be that the English in your mind can't be overwritten, so to speak. Or Beast Boy's English is worse than yours."

"Well, that last one sounds like a distinct possibility," Raven said.

"Hey, that's what I said," mumbled Cyborg. Starfire looked at him; he appeared to be recovering with a full system reboot.

"Uncool," Beast Boy said.

Robin started to pace the room. "The next step would seem to be making some trials under different conditions." Starfire recognized and appreciated this tactical mode of Robin, putting aside personal considerations in order to work on a problem. At tense moments like this, which did happen occasionally despite their friendship, it was always a relief. But, she told herself, stop thinking about Robin all the time. He has barely spent two hours with you in the last month.

"If you tried Cyborg—he has a database where he could access languages, theoretically, but I don't know if that counts as his own knowledge of a language," Robin was saying. "Well, we'd have to try it to know. If it does, unless your ability isn't working at all, you should still get some languages. If it doesn't, then, if your ability is working perfectly, it should update your knowledge of English."

She processed the words a second late again. "You mean, kiss Cyborg?"

"We should really try to control that factor, though," Robin went on. "The databases, I mean. It would probably better if you tried it on someone else. Raven knows seven languages—"

Upon seeing a sudden look of death appearing on Raven's face, Robin seemed to realize what he was saying. "No! I mean, don't kiss Cyborg. Or you can. Don't kiss Raven. I'm going to stop talking for at least fifteen seconds."

"I hear that's the regulated time length for all sorts of activities," Raven said. "Look, Star, let's figure this out later. Next time, tell the person before you kiss them."

"I informed him that I was going to apologize," said Starfire.

"That wasn't an 'I'm-sorry' kiss," Beast Boy said.

"Yes," Raven said shortly, "it was an 'I'm-experimenting-on-you' kiss." Starfire wondered why Raven seemed to be annoyed about it now. Perhaps Raven simply did not like positive emotions. No, that was surely not true. She was dating—but in any case, why would she be upset over Starfire kissing Beast Boy?

"As opposed to the 'I'm-experimenting-with-you' kind that she'll be having with you?" Beast Boy shot back.

"Don't get your hopes up," Raven said, her voice colder than before, if that was possible. "Star, just ask next time and we'll avoid this entire issue." She swept out of the room. Casting an anxious look at the others, Robin followed her out.

Starfire thought it would be best if she now kept her mind on other matters. "Cyborg, may I try an experiment—"

Cyborg leapt to his feet and dodged aside. "MaybelaterStar," he yelled. "I gotta recharge my uhhhhh shoe. Bye!" He zoomed out of the room.

Beast Boy looked up at Starfire with a strangely hopeful grin.